A Knight in Atlantis

by Diana Bold

  He nodded and crossed the room to her side, offering her his arm. “Just keep by my side and do as I say. I swear I will keep you safe.” And he prayed for the strength and wits to be able to keep his promise.

  * * * * *

  When Rhoswen and Sebastian entered the great hall ten minutes later, the raucous sounds of over a hundred people eating and making merry came to a jarring halt. The cavernous room fell utterly silent, and every pair of eyes turned toward the door. Rhoswen dug her fingers into Sebastian’s wool-clad forearm, beset by sudden panic.

  “Keep your eyes down,” Sebastian instructed beneath his breath. “Do not speak unless Simon asks you a direct question, and even then, try to be as brief as possible. If you contradict my story in any way, it will be disastrous for all of us.”

  “I understand,” she whispered, leveling her gaze upon the dirty rushes at her feet, wincing at the thought of walking across them in her lovely gown. The smelly straw did nothing to hide the animal bones and droppings that littered the floor.

  As they started forward, the low hum of speculation rose around them, no less threatening than the silence. The scents of cooked meat, grease, and the oppressive odor of too many bodies in close quarters pressed in on her, and she had to take shallow breaths to keep them from overwhelming her.

  They passed down a central aisle flanked by two long trestle tables and approached a smaller table on a dais at the head of the room, where Lord Simon reigned over the gathering. His searching stare was riveted upon Rhoswen, and she shivered despite the warmth of the room.

  “You are doing fine,” Sebastian murmured, but from the tension coursing through him she knew he didn’t like the attention they were garnering any more than she did. Though these were his people, she sensed he didn’t feel any more at home among them than she did.

  At last they reached the dais, and Sebastian offered her a seat next to the one he obviously planned to occupy on Lord Simon’s right. She sank onto the hard bench, her heart thundering in her throat as the conversation grew louder, buzzing in her ears like a hive of angry bees.

  “So nice of you to join us,” Lord Simon said, as Sebastian sat down. “I had begun to think I would have to pound upon your door again.”

  “I told you I would be here,” Sebastian replied, an edge to his tone.

  A servant placed a trencher of food in front of Sebastian, then scurried away, warding herself. The fare consisted of a piece of meat covered in some sort of heavy, greasy sauce, steamed greens, and a hunk of flat bread.

  Rhoswen swallowed convulsively, afraid she might be ill if she were forced to eat the bloody flesh of an animal. In Atlantis, they ate only fish, fruits, and vegetables. She thought longingly of Sebastian’s flavorful stew.

  Lord Simon’s gaze burned upon her face, but she somehow resisted the urge to look at him. Sebastian had told her to keep her eyes down, and she could only assume he’d had good reason.

  “What is her name?” Lord Simon asked.

  “Her name is Lady Rhoswen,” Sebastian answered, breaking off a hunk of bread and pressing it into her hand. “We are to share a trencher,” he told her in an undertone. “As my lady, you receive the choicest bits.”

  My lady. She gave him a weak smile and took a bite of the bread, finding it surprisingly edible.

  “And her companion?” Lord Simon persisted.

  “Lord Trevelan.” Sebastian slanted his brother a chiding glance. “He is going to live, in case you were wondering. But it will be several days before he is fit to leave.”

  Simon signaled for one of the serving girls to replenish his flagon of ale. “You are not yourself. I have not seen you this way since your dangerous fascination with Meredith.”

  Palpable tension filled the air at the mention of the woman’s name. “I cannot believe you dare bring Meredith into this.” The anger Sebastian had so far managed to suppress boiled to the surface in a furious rush. He clenched his hands at his sides in an obvious attempt to keep from bashing his brother’s face in.

  Meredith? Rhoswen glanced between the two men, stunned by the maelstrom of emotions swirling between them. She wanted to ask questions, but knew she must hold her tongue.

  Simon cleared his throat, seeming unprepared to deal with the wrath his careless comment had caused. His hazel eyes held an emotion she could only interpret as grief, and she wondered anew about the sainted Meredith. “Perhaps I misspoke. I am glad to see you care about something. I just fear this woman exerts some unholy pull upon you.”

  “There is naught unholy about my feelings for Lady Rhoswen.” Sebastian’s impassioned words brought a rush of tears to her eyes. She did not know what she had done to earn his loyalty, but she prayed he would not live to regret it.

  “I want them away from Hawkesmere as soon as possible,” Lord Simon ordered, using the serving girl’s return with the ale as an obvious excuse to look away from his furious younger brother. “I will not rest easy until they are gone.”

  Nor would Rhoswen. She doubted she’d be able to draw an unfettered breath until she was far away from Hawkesmere and her unsettling jailor.

  Sebastian took a deep, calming breath, and then he threaded his fingers with hers out of sight beneath the table. He squeezed tightly, but she didn’t know who he tried to comfort, her or himself. Simon’s mention of Meredith had rattled him, and she wished she knew why.

  After a quarter of an hour of tense silence, the conversation between the two brothers began again, drifting to carefully neutral topics. She relaxed a bit, hoping Lord Simon had asked all the questions about her he intended to. She sensed he, too, had been rattled by Sebastian’s reaction, perhaps even felt guilty. In any event, the mysterious Meredith seemed to have distracted him from his suspicions about Rhoswen and Trevelan.

  She let her attention wander, frowning as she remembered the way Sebastian had walked away from her while she bathed. She would have been insulted, if not for the fact that he’d been obviously aroused.

  His sense of honor and tremendous willpower both touched and annoyed her. She wished she’d been able to tempt him beyond all reason, but perversely she was even more attracted to him because she hadn’t.

  Unfortunately, she feared his reticence had more to do with the captivity he’d spoken of than her desirability, or lack thereof. When he’d spoken of what he’d had to do to survive, his shame and heartache had been painful to see. Whatever he’d suffered, it only made her more determined to break through his defenses and show him she didn’t care.

  “Who is this shameless harlot your brother has brought to your table, my lord?” The strident voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced up to see a man standing to Lord Simon’s left. A priest, given his manner of dress. He shook a bony finger in her direction. “’Tis rumored the wizard has been fornicating with her in his cursed tower.”

  Sebastian put his arm around her shoulders, as though to shield her from the priest’s words. He turned a fulminating glare on her attacker, and she sensed him gathering himself for battle.

  Before Sebastian could speak, Lord Simon put a hand on his brother’s forearm and shook his head. “She is my guest,” he told the priest, in a tone that brooked no argument. “I will thank you to hold your tongue.”

  The priest subsided, but she sensed his glare for the rest of the meal and feared she had just made a powerful enemy.

  Chapter Ten

  By the time Sebastian and Rhoswen returned to the tower, his nerves were frayed to the breaking point. All during dinner, the mood in the Great Hall had swirled around them, ugly and speculative. He feared Simon had put Rhoswen at great risk by insisting she attend and wondered if that had been his brother’s plan all along.

  Tonight, Father Alric would spread his poisonous lies, and by tomorrow half the castle would believe Rhoswen a witch or worse. The old bastard had long waited for someone to persecute, having been denied the pleasure of going after Sebastian.

  No matter what game Simon played, the stakes had just b
een markedly raised. ‘Twas more imperative than ever that Sebastian get Rhoswen and Trevelan safely away from Hawkesmere.

  As he kindled the fire, Rhoswen paced the room, her expression distant and troubled. She had obviously sensed the danger as well.

  At last, she paused and met his gaze. “Your brother wants you to think he’s doing as you’ve asked, but at the same time he’s dangling me in front of those superstitious fools like bait, knowing they’ll bite.”

  He pushed to his feet, unable to argue. “Miranda says Trevelan needs at least a week to recover.”

  “He’d rather suffer the pain of his injuries than never have the chance to leave at all.”

  He shoved his hands through his hair, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to ease his aching head. “He needs at least one more day to regain as much of his strength as possible. I will help you leave tomorrow after nightfall.”

  She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “Oh, Sebastian. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “Do not thank me yet.” He pulled her even closer, pressing his lips against the fragrant cloud of her hair. “Do not thank me until the pair of you are safely gone from this place.”

  They clung together, while Sebastian inwardly railed against fate, against his brother, against everything that had conspired to throw this beautiful girl in his path now, when it was too late. He wished he could bar the tower door and keep her here with him forever. More than anything, he wished he had taken her up on her previous offer.

  “Who is Meredith?” Her soft words shattered the tenuous peace he had found in her arms.

  He pulled away, shoving a hand through his hair in agitation. Even after more than a decade, the thought of Meredith still hurt. He could not believe Simon had brought her up, since he had cared for her, too.

  “I’m sorry.” Rhoswen reached out to him, but hesitated when he gave her a warning look. He did not want to be touched right now. Could not bear it. She frowned and let her hand fall back to her side. “I have no right to ask. It’s obvious that you loved her…”

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, I loved her. But it is not what you think. She was my stepmother.”

  Meredith had been his father’s third wife. As a lad of sixteen, Sebastian had been sent south to retrieve his fifteen-year-old future stepmother and her retinue of retainers. When they had been attacked on the road, Sebastian had pulled Meredith off into the woods, and they had somehow escaped the slaughter. During the next danger-filled, chaperone-free week, he had fallen head over heels for the girl, all the while knowing he would have to turn her over to his drunken, abusive father.

  He had considered running away with her, but that would have been suicide for them both. His father would have hunted them to the ends of the earth.

  “Your stepmother?” Rhoswen prompted.

  “She was… special to me,” he admitted.

  “Did you have an affair with her?” Rhoswen’s voice held no trace of judgment, and he forced himself to meet her concerned gaze.

  “I never so much as kissed her hand, but I loved her with all the innocent purity of youth.” He shook his head, allowing the painful memories to wash over him. “My father’s cruelty knew no bounds. During their brief marriage, he beat her half a dozen times. I felt so helpless… All I could do was try to comfort her and wipe the blood from her face.” He swallowed hard. “She died giving birth to his child.”

  He had left for war the next day, so lost in grief he had not cared whether he lived or died.

  And he suddenly realized that Meredith had a lot to do with why he had risked his brother’s wrath to rescue Rhoswen. Perhaps he was trying to undo the wrongs of the past. Meredith had also been lovely and fair…

  “Oh, Sebastian.” She crossed the distance between them and flung herself into his arms once again. “I’m sure she loved you, too. Your kindness and friendship probably made her last months bearable.”

  He wanted to think so, but he feared he had only made things worse, made Meredith want something she could never have. If she had felt one-tenth of the fevered longing he had, her last days had been anything but happy.

  “Share the bed with me tonight.” Rhoswen effectively drove all thoughts of Meredith from his mind. “We don’t have to make love, but I want to fall asleep in your arms, Sebastian. Just once.”

  How could he say no to such a request? He might very well die of sexual frustration before morning, but could not resist this chance to be close to her, if only for one night. “I would like that. I would like that very much.”

  She pulled away and gave him a hesitant smile. “Can you help me unfasten my gown?”

  He nodded and cleared his throat. “Of course. Turn around.” His nimble fingers turned awkward and clumsy as he attempted to maneuver the tiny buttons. He wondered how she had managed it by herself earlier. With every inch of pale skin he uncovered, his ineptitude grew.

  “There,” he murmured at last. “Done.”

  Holding her gaping bodice to her chest, she backed toward the other side of the room. “If you’ll turn your back for a moment, I’ll change into my nightclothes.”

  He tore his gaze away from the lush temptation she posed and turned away, striding to the trunk so he could remove his own tunic. Normally, he would have taken off the rest of his clothes as well, but holding Rhoswen would be hard enough. He needed as many layers of clothing between them as possible.

  When he finished putting the tunic away, he turned and found Rhoswen already snug in bed, the furs drawn up to her chin. Beautiful. Her pale hair spread across his pillows in tangled disarray, and her blue eyes were wide with excitement and perhaps a touch of trepidation.

  Crossing the room, he pulled the bed hangings closed around the bed, then ducked beneath the heavy velvet cocoon and slid beneath the covers, as far away from Rhoswen as humanly possible. She gave a small huff of laughter, then inexorably scooted closer. He tried to prepare himself, but he still flinched when she wrapped herself around him and pillowed her face against his chest.

  Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, to pull her closer and enjoy the warm press of her soft curves and the enticing floral scent of her hair. He wanted this, he reminded himself. This had nothing to do with the past. Nor even the future. For this one night, Rhoswen was his to hold. If he could not allow himself to enjoy this gift, then Sa’id had won, and what was the point of anything?

  Obviously sensing how hard this was for him, she remained absolutely still, letting him have the time he needed to grow accustomed to having her in his arms. Then, after an interminable time, she pressed her lips against the column of his throat and slid one cool hand between the halves of his linen shirt, gently caressing his chest.

  “I know you don’t like to be touched,” she whispered. “If I do anything you don’t like, just say so and I’ll stop. I promise.”

  “You could never do anything I did not like,” he murmured, his heartbeat accelerating beneath her touch. “It is not you, Rhoswen. This problem I have has never been about you.”

  “You could tell me what it is about,” she suggested. “If I knew, perhaps I could better help you work things out.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing his earlobe. “We only have a few hours left, and I’d like to put them to good use.”

  Her words made him shudder with longing. Even more blood rushed to his groin, making him so hard it hurt. He wanted what she offered, but he did not think he was willing to pay the price. Far easier to control his wayward cock than live the rest of his worthless life knowing Rhoswen knew what had been done to him.

  “We only have a few hours,” he repeated. “And so… I will not tell you my dirty secrets, Rhoswen. I will not fill your head with those dark memories. I would far rather you remembered me kindly.”

  “I think I know how to help you.” She moved away, and when he turned to look at her, she had fastened her own wrist to the bed with one of the scarves he had used to bind her befor
e. “You don’t like to be restrained. You need to be in control so those memories don’t come back to haunt you.” She handed him the other scarf and proffered her wrist. “So, tie me, Sebastian. I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.”

  Rhoswen held out her hand, trembling with emotion. In her gaze, he saw that she was fully aware of the risk she took, yet trusted him implicitly.

  He knelt on the bed beside her, his hands braced on his thighs, his chest heaving as though he had run a great distance, his gaze fastened fixedly on the furs. “I cannot do that to you,” he said at last, though he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. “Rhoswen, it killed me to tie you to this bed when I had to leave the tower, and now you ask me to tie you down and have my way with you? I could never forgive myself.”

  “There would be nothing to forgive yourself for,” she assured him. “This would have nothing to do with coercion, only pleasure.” With her free hand, she slowly unbuttoned the two halves of her pale pink nightshirt, letting it gape open to show the deep shadow of her cleavage.

  His gaze shifted to what she had revealed, and once again, she held out the length of silk. “Please, Sebastian. I want this.”

  He glanced at the silk, then back to the soft curves of her breasts. He prayed she did not truly understand why he hated to feel trapped, but her idea made such sense—would make it possible for him to relax and enjoy making love to her—he feared she did.

  Banishing the horrible thought of what she might have seen when she was in his mind, he allowed his resistance to crumble. She was everything he had ever wanted, and he did not have the strength to fight it any more.

  “I will be gentle,” he whispered. “I would never do anything to hurt you.” He took her hand and fastened the silk scarf around her wrist with reverent tenderness.

  “I know.” She leaned back against the pillows, letting the silk restraints pull her arms above her head so that her breasts were shamelessly displayed, the fabric barely covering her nipples.

  Stretching out beside her, he explored her face with his fingertips, wanting to imprint her features to memory for all time. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, leaning closer and brushing his lips against all the places he had just touched… her forehead… her cheeks… the tip of her nose… her lips…