Forbidden Kisses

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Amelia swallowed hard, while her mind scrambled to think of what he could want from her brother. If Ryder intended to coerce her sibling into playing a wicked prank on one of the other squires or wards, she wouldn’t allow it. She’d go straight to his lordship and admit she and Tilden had visited the puppies. Ryder wouldn’t have any hold over either of them then.

  “I agree to your terms,” Tilden said. “What is the cost?”

  Ryder’s mouth curved into a sly grin. “Not from you. From her.”

  “Me?” How she longed to bolt from the room. Yet, to do so would show cowardice.

  She shouldn’t be afraid of Ryder; not when they’d been friends for so long. While he’d acted like a bullying fool lately, she knew the real Ryder: the lad who was fair, loyal, and gallant.

  Pushing her shoulders back, she asked, “What is it that you want?”

  Ryder laughed and stroked his chin, darkened with several days’ worth of stubble. “Well, now….”

  “You have decided already,” she countered. “Otherwise you would not have made such a proposal.”

  Grudging admiration etched Ryder’s features. “You are right. And I must say, I like this courageous Amelia much better than the somber mouse who has lived here for the past week.”

  Her eyes burned.

  “Be kind,” her sibling muttered. “’Tis her first instance away from home.”

  Dear, chivalrous Tilden was watching out for her, as an older brother would, but she wished he hadn’t revealed she’d been homesick. Refusing to give Ryder the chance to taunt her further, she said, “You have not answered my question yet.”

  Ryder’s gaze narrowed.

  “What do you want?”

  His gaze slid down to her mouth. He studied her lips very intently, and they tingled, as if he’d brushed his fingertips over them.

  An astounding thought entered her mind and caused her belly to plummet. Surely he didn’t want—

  “My cost,” Ryder drawled, “is a kiss.”

  ***

  He’d shocked her—as he’d intended.

  A heady thrill of triumph raced through Ryder as Amelia’s eyes, as bright and blue as the heavens on a frosty winter morning, widened with uncertainty. Her fair skin also looked paler.

  Her rosy-pink lips parted, suggesting she was going to protest. But then, clearly deciding against it, she shut her mouth, and her gaze sharpened with defiance.

  “Ryder,” Tilden said in clear warning.

  “’Tis not too much to ask,” Ryder answered. No harm would befall Amelia because of a kiss, especially one that took place in private. Tilden, the ever-protective brother, would keep what happened in this chamber a secret.

  “W-why do you want to kiss me?” Amelia sounded bewildered.

  Would it be enough to tell her she intrigued him? That she always had? Truth be told, of all of his childhood friends, she’d understood him the most; she’d made him feel important. Worthy. As though who he was mattered far more than his noble lineage or his accomplishments.

  What he felt for her now, though, wasn’t friendship. ’Twas far more complex and consuming.

  “Do I need a reason for a kiss? I am the lord’s son. If I want something, I get it.”

  “Aye, you do,” she said with care. “Surely, though, I deserve to know whether you will be kissing me to mock me, or because you…have feelings for me.”

  His masculine pride rebelled. He didn’t want her knowing how he really felt about her; if the other squires found out, they’d torment him. “Feelings?” he echoed; his tone implied she’d suggested something ridiculous.

  Her cheeks reddened.

  “Are you asking if I fancy you?”

  Tilden scowled. “Stop being an ass, Ryder.”

  A twinge of guilt poked at Ryder, but he ignored it, preferring to pursue the intriguing thought that mayhap, she wanted their kiss to have meaning. Did she fancy him? Almost every woman he’d met did, if not for his looks then his title.

  “I will not kiss you so you can taunt me about it,” she said hotly.

  He grinned. “Will you kiss me, though, if I promise ’twill be good?”

  She made a small sound of distress. Fisting her hands, she rushed for the door. He stepped sideways, almost bumping into two growling, wrestling puppies as he blocked her way out.

  Tilden moved to her side. “Leave her alone.”

  Annoyance crackled in Ryder’s veins. He was bloody tired of others telling him what to do and when, especially his father. His sire never stopped insisting that Ryder should be training harder in the tiltyards, studying battle strategies in greater depth, challenging his physical limits in order to achieve more.

  Never enough.

  Always, more.

  “Fine,” Ryder snapped. “I will not expect a kiss.” When Amelia’s shoulders lowered with obvious relief, he added, “Be forewarned. There will be consequences for both you and Tilden.”

  Disquiet shadowed her gaze. He sensed her struggling with her conscience, even as her brother strode past and tugged her toward the door.

  With a strangled moan, she wrenched free of Tilden’s grip.

  “Sis?”

  A fresh surge of triumph warmed Ryder’s gut as, head held high, she skirted the nearby pups and approached him. In her expression, he read dismay and fury, but most intensely, determination. Hellfire, she was beautiful. How he wanted to slide his arm around her nipped-in waist, yank her to him, and kiss her witless—

  She swiftly rose on tiptoes, pressed her mouth to his, and bolted for the door.

  “Hold!” He tried to pursue her, but had to dart sideways to avoid more of the young dogs. In an instant, she was halfway down the passageway and then gone from view.

  From the chamber doorway, Tilden chuckled. “You got your kiss after all.”

  Ryder snorted. “’Twas not a kiss.”

  “Looked like one to me.”

  Irritation simmered. “I have to wonder if you have ever properly wooed a woman, for a real kiss involves not only lips, but tongues.”

  “She is a lady,” Tilden said firmly, “not a servant for you to use on a whim and then forsake.”

  “I am well aware—”

  “Good.” Smiling, Tilden straightened away from the door. “Fair is fair, Ryder. She did as you asked. Now, you are honor bound to keep your silence.”

  ***

  Drawing in a steadying breath, Amelia paused on the wooden landing overlooking the crowded great hall and smoothed the draping sleeves of her cornflower-blue gown. It had taken the maidservant longer than anticipated to help her get ready, in part because Amelia hadn’t been able to stop shaking.

  She’d kissed Ryder. Ryder! It might have been quick, but it had been full on the mouth, the way she’d seen her parents and servants who were lovers kiss. More than once, when she’d been alone and daydreaming, she’d imagined herself caught up in a romantic tryst with Ryder, although the lad in her dreams was the Ryder from summers past, not the arrogant knave he was now.

  Oh, God. She’d kissed Ryder.

  Dizziness taunted her, and she willed herself to calm. She’d done what was necessary, and Tilden would not get into trouble. She shouldn’t dwell upon the kiss any longer.

  Yet, she could still feel the heat and softness of Ryder’s lips against hers. His scent had been most enticing, too; of cinnamon and ginger tinged with honey, mayhap from fragrant soap he’d used to wash before dressing for the feast.

  As laughter floated up from the crowd below, she walked to the stairs leading down to the hall. Cool air brushed her nape, for the maidservant had tidied her hair into a braid coiled around her head and held in place with pearl-studded hairpins. Coolness also swept Amelia’s cleavage exposed by the gown’s bodice—an unsettling reminder that her breasts were larger than those of most ladies her age and that her mother had insisted on the low-cut bodice.

  “Oh, Amelia, you look absolutely beautiful,” her mother had said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchi
ef. “’Twill be well worth the discomfort and expense if you catch the eye of a wealthy lord who wants you to be his wife.”

  While Amelia might or might not meet her future husband tonight, the gown was the most lavish one she owned. After studying her reflection in a polished steel mirror, she’d decided the color suited her well and that she looked grown up and pretty.

  Tilden hadn’t seen her in the gown before. He was going to be astounded.

  And when Ryder gazed upon her? She hoped he’d be astounded, too.

  Anticipation skittered through her as she put her hand on the stair rail and descended to the hall cast in a golden glow by the beeswax candles arranged on the tables and the reed torches in wrought iron holders on the walls. Strains of a vibrant melody, played by musicians at the opposite end of the vast room, underscored the buzz of conversation among the folk who waited for the night’s festivities to begin.

  As several visiting lords, chatting and drinking wine from silver goblets, glanced her way, she fought the temptation to hug herself and thus hide her bosom. She glanced over the crowd to locate her brother.

  Tilden saw her first and came to her side. “Sis! You look lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  He kissed her cheek then grinned. “I will have to stand guard at your side tonight. You will be inundated by lords eager to court you.”

  She blushed. “Do not be silly.”

  “Silly? Me?” He winked. “Never.” In hushed tones, he added, “I am quite certain Gladwin will ask you to dance tonight. Stephen, too.”

  Amelia waved to one of the other wards, strolling by with several handsomely-dressed pages. Waiting until they’d passed, Amelia said, “Mother will be pleased—”

  “Good evening.”

  Goose bumps raised on her arms, for Ryder had come to her side. “Good evening,” she murmured, acknowledging him with a stiff curtsy.

  He smiled, and his gaze traveled over her, down to her hem touching the herbs and straw covering the floor. When she inhaled, she caught a hint of his spicy scent, which revived memories of kissing him.

  How desperately she longed to walk away and lose him in the crowd. But if Ryder knew he affected her so, he’d have yet another reason to torment her.

  Act as if he has no sway over you at all, despite what happened earlier. Well aware he was still studying her, she focused on a laughing group of squires nearby.

  “Lord Palmer is here. Father is escorting him about the room and making introductions,” Ryder said. “I believe his lordship wants to meet with us squires later this evening.”

  “Why?” Tilden asked.

  Ryder shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Mayhap he seeks men to join the Templars?”

  “Could be.”

  Amelia dared to steal a glance at Ryder. His keen gaze locked with hers, and she fought a jolt of awareness.

  “May I say, you look exquisite in that gown,” he murmured.

  She tried to find mockery in his tone; she heard only genuine appreciation. “You are most kind,” she managed to say.

  “Kindness has naught to do with it. I appreciate a beautiful woman.”

  Ryder thought her beautiful? Did he mean it, or had he just said what he’d said to startle her?

  Before she could further consider his words, Lord Stanbury emerged from the throng. A broad-shouldered man walked at his side; the long white surcoat emblazoned with a red cross identified him as a Templar. Her heartbeat quickened as the two men approached.

  “Father.” Ryder bowed.

  “Milord, may I present my youngest son, Ryder.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Lord Palmer said, bowing in return.

  Amelia’s stomach somersaulted as the men’s attention shifted to her.

  “May I also present Lord Tilden Bainbridge and his younger sister, Lady Amelia Bainbridge,” Lord Stanbury said.

  The Templar knight smiled. “’Tis an honor to meet you both.”

  Amelia dropped into an elegant curtsy. Once again, she wished her gown wasn’t so revealing; the Templars, after all, were pious men who lived as monks. But, she resisted the urge to shield her bosom with her hands.

  As she began to straighten, Ryder said, “With tits like that, she will do well for herself.”

  ***

  Bloody hell.

  Somehow, he’d said aloud what he’d been thinking. The words had just slipped out, beyond his control.

  Surely, though, he’d only voiced what the others who’d watched her curtsy had been thinking? Amelia had truly luscious breasts; accentuated by her tight bodice, they were two handfuls of perfection.

  “Ryder,” his sire snapped.

  Lord Palmer looked aghast.

  Even Tilden appeared stunned.

  Upon seeing their shocked expressions, remorse welled within Ryder. However, there was no way to take the words back, even if he wished to.

  Amelia’s face had gone scarlet. As she fully straightened, her gaze, burning with humiliation, locked with Ryder’s. His shame gouged deeper, for her eyes glistened with tears.

  His words hadn’t been honorable, but he genuinely did aspire to become a knight of the realm, sworn to champion honor and justice and to cherish fair damsels. He would make the situation right. He must. Somehow.

  “Amelia, I—”

  With an indignant swish of silk, she turned her back to him and hurried away through the throng.

  “Amelia!” He hoped his voice would reach her over the rising swell of music and chatter in the hall.

  She did not glance back.

  He moved to follow, but a strong hand gripped his arm. “What in hellfire were you thinking?” his father demanded, drawing him aside.

  “I did not consider my words before speaking.”

  His sire glowered. “That was quite clear.”

  Resentment sparked. As usual, his sire had found him lacking. Did it mean naught that Ryder had acknowledged his mistake? That he hadn’t lied or made excuses about what he’d said, but had attempted to make amends with Amelia for offending her?

  While his disagreements with his father usually took place in private, tonight many folk—including their esteemed guest from London, Ryder’s best friends, and his competitors—were witnessing their exchange. Ryder fought a sting of mortification and stared down his sire. “I tried to apologize. I cannot be blamed for Amelia refusing to listen.”

  “You did not try all that hard to apologize.”

  “I did.”

  “I did not hear the word ‘sorry.’”

  Ryder longed to spit curses and storm out of the hall, but he’d be an idiot to disrespect his father on such an important night. So, with effort, he kept silent.

  Shaking his head, Ryder’s sire said, “You have disappointed me. Your mother and I raised you with far better manners than you have shown here this eve.”

  How unfair to bring Ryder’s deceased parent into the conversation. Anguish lanced through him, for he’d missed her every day since she’d died from sickness. He shook off his father’s hold, while struggling to tamp down the awful pain churning inside him.

  “We will discuss this matter again later tonight. Right now, you have a duty to make amends with Amelia.”

  Amelia wasn’t going to listen; she was too upset. “With respect, Father—”

  “Go. Now. Before I banish you from this hall for the rest of the night.”

  ***

  Amelia sobbed as she raced along the landing toward the passageway that would take her to her chamber. Upon reaching her room, she slammed the door behind her and hurried to the fire, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  She sank to her knees in front of the hearth tiles, heedless of the way she was crushing her gown. She wasn’t going to return to the festivities. If her skirts became creased, she did not care.

  With trembling fingers, she wiped tears from her face. Why had she agreed to move to Merringstow? What a terrible mistake. Aye, it had been wonderful to see Tilden, but Ryder had m
ade her days difficult. And tonight….

  Tonight the humiliation had gone too far. The torment within her sharpened into a pang of fury. She was not going to spend a moment longer than she had to at Merringstow; she was going home to Callingston.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Sis.” Tilden.

  Her vision blurred with fresh tears.

  “Please, open the door.”

  She pushed to her feet. A comforting hug from her beloved brother was just what she needed.

  When she opened the door, she saw not only Tilden, but Ryder.

  With an angry gasp, she tried to slam the panel, but her brother thrust out his arm and kept the door open. “He is here to apologize.”

  A disbelieving laugh broke from her.

  “Truly, he is.” Tilden stepped back, gesturing for Ryder to move in directly in front of her.

  How she wanted to believe her brother, but Ryder’s expression remained guarded. He’d never shown any regret for the tricks he’d played on her before. Tomorrow she’d likely experience another prank; more enjoyment for him at her expense. Well, she wasn’t going to allow him any more pleasure from humiliating her.

  When Ryder’s lips parted, as though he meant to deliver the promised apology, she shook her head. “Do not bother.”

  “But—”

  “If you have even the slightest remorse, you will stay away from me.” Her voice hitched. “For good.”

  “Amelia!” her brother cried.

  Before Ryder could say a word, she slammed the door in his face.

  ***

  Two weeks later

  Callingston Keep, England

  “Milady, your father wishes to see you in the great hall.”

  Amelia nodded to the maidservant in the doorway. “Thank you.”

  The young woman smiled, dropped into a quick curtsy, and then hurried away.

  Amelia rose from the chair in the sunlit chamber she and her mother had used for many years as a sewing room and set the linen pillowcase she’d been embroidering on the oak side table. She fought a tremor of dread. Today, her sire might receive word from the lord in Yorkshire he’d contacted about her moving there to be a ward and complete her tutelage. After arriving home eleven days ago, she’d hoped not to have to leave again so soon; but, as her parents had made clear to her since she was a child, as a noble lady, she had a duty to her family to help forge alliances and find a good husband.