Ryder was even more handsome than Amelia remembered.
When he straightened from his bow and swept his woolen cloak back over his shoulder, a sinful heat bloomed within her. His face was leaner and more sun-bronzed than years ago, and a few days’ worth of stubble darkened his jaw and chin, making him look rather roguish. His piercing eyes gleamed with both intelligence and awareness of how momentous this moment was between them.
Even as she admired his masculine beauty, however, anger welled within her. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—forget all that lay between them, including the way he’d humiliated her in front of Lord Palmer at Merringstow.
She’d rather not face him now, but he had just saved her and Nanette from peril. Moreover, the only way out of the carriage was through the doorway where he stood.
She was going to have to tolerate him. For now.
Honor licked Ryder’s hand and then jumped down from the carriage to sniff the grass.
“Amelia and I have met before,” Ryder said to Nanette, “but regrettably, I do not know you.”
The young woman blushed. “My name is Nanette, milord. And you are?”
“Ryder Stanbury.”
“I do not know what we would have done without your help. Thank you for saving us.”
“Aye,” Amelia reluctantly conceded. “Thank you.”
Ryder’s gaze shifted to her, and he smiled. “’Tis a knight’s duty to protect damsels.”
His words reminded her of the afternoon long ago when he and Tilden had fashioned swords from sticks bound together with twine. They’d undertaken a make-believe quest along the lakeshore to recover the Holy Grail, which had been stolen by a dragon. She’d wanted to be a knight too, but they’d refused, because she was female, and thus had to play the swooning damsel being held captive in the dragon’s lair. In the end, she’d stormed off in tears.
Amelia wished Nanette hadn’t implied they had been helpless before Ryder had intervened. Such implications only served to feed his arrogance.
“We are indeed most grateful for your help,” she said, refusing to avert her gaze, “although we were managing just fine on our own.”
Nanette made a choking sound.
Ryder’s mouth twitched, as though he fought not to laugh. “Were you, now?”
Amelia gestured to her dagger, hoping he didn’t see how unsteady her hands were. “We have weapons.”
“So I see.”
“Nanette and I would have attacked together.”
“Of course.” Ryder’s smile broadened. “Very wise.”
Aye, he was definitely trying not to laugh. The knave.
“Honor would have helped us,” Amelia insisted.
Ryder chortled.
Amelia scowled, for while she hadn’t attacked anyone before—and she doubted Nanette had, either—it couldn’t be that difficult. Could it?
“At least you found that amusing,” she muttered.
Grinning, he shook his head. “You never change.”
What did that mean? “I have changed since you last saw me.”
His expression softened a little. “I dare say, mayhap we both have.”
She hesitated, for an odd note tinged his words. Even as she wondered if what she heard was remorse, he gestured to her knife. “You do not need that anymore. You should put it away, before you cut yourself.”
Her fingers tightened on the knife’s hilt. “Why would I cut myself?”
“Not intentionally,” he added.
“By accident, then?”
“Accidents can easily happen.”
They could. He’d gotten that scar at his right eyebrow by accident. During his and Tilden’s search for the Holy Grail, Ryder had slipped and fallen on wet rocks. Still…. “Are you suggesting I do not know how to handle a knife?”
“Amelia—”
“Truly, I am curious to know your thoughts.”
“I appreciate you are curious,” Ryder replied, clearly choosing his words with care. “However, there are more important matters that require our attention right now. Several of your men are injured. The carriage should also be inspected to ensure ’tis still safe for travel.”
Shame rippled through Amelia, for she should have recognized those concerns herself. “Are my men going to be all right?”
“I believe so, but you will want to check on them yourself.” Ryder gestured to her dagger. “If you put the knife away, I can help you out of the carriage.”
“That makes sense,” Nanette said, glancing at Amelia.
Indeed, it did. “All right. Ryder, turn your back so we can tuck our daggers away.”
“Turn my back on you, Amelia? That sounds dangerous.”
Nanette giggled, as though he’d made a marvelous jest. Before Amelia could think of a suitable retort, he’d turned his back as she’d requested.
Nanette reached down the front of her gown to return her dagger to its sheath. Amelia glowered at the back of Ryder’s head before she pulled at the snug fabric of her bodice to stow her knife. Not a quick or simple task, when her hand was still unsteady, and she had to slip the dagger between her breasts.
Nanette smoothed her bodice. “Done.”
“Already?” Peering down at her bosom, Amelia tried to get the point of the knife to the right angle. She didn’t want to nick her skin and draw blood, not in front of Ryder.
His head tilted. “Finished?”
“Wait. I—”
Too late. He’d already turned to face them. His gaze riveted to her hand, holding the dagger halfway down her cleavage.
Heat smoldered in his eyes. A muscle leapt in his jaw.
Her face grew hot. Surely what she saw in his eyes wasn’t sexual interest. He’d joined the Templars after completing his knight’s training at Merringstow. He’d taken his vows in London at the same time as her brother, Gladwin, and Stephen: vows that had required them to live as monks.
“You keep your knife there?” he rasped.
How keenly she felt his scalding gaze upon her bosom. Painful recollections stirred, and anguish spread through her.
“Why not just give me the knife, Amelia?”
Nay. ’Twould be akin to admitting she couldn’t put the weapon away, and that simply wouldn’t do. He stretched up his hand, but she pushed down on the knife and it slipped into its sheath.
A breath she didn’t know she’d been holding broke from her.
“Well done,” Ryder said. “Now, take hold of my hand.”
***
God’s Holy Bones. Seeing the sharp blade so close to Amelia’s creamy skin had almost driven Ryder to leap into the carriage and snatch the weapon away from her. Before he could act on that impulse, she’d succeeded in putting away the dagger.
He’d been vulnerable, though, for that brief moment. He didn’t like losing control of his emotions.
Even more irritating, she hadn’t moved to accept his offer of aid.
“Come on. Give me your hand,” he said, his tone gruffer than intended.
“I can get down from the carriage on my own.”
Why did she have to be so damned stubborn? He was tempted to outright ask her, but he didn’t want the conversation to become an argument. “I am sure, under normal circumstances, you could get down without assistance, but you have just been through a frightening ordeal.” If she still resisted, he’d mention her shaking hands.
“You may not be eager to get out of this contraption, Amelia, but I am.” Her hips swaying, Nanette crossed to the doorway and, with a coy smile, slid her fingers into his. Avoiding direct eye contact—he didn’t want to encourage the girl’s advances—he clasped her right hand and helped her down to the ground. When he tried to release her, she beamed and pressed his fingers in thanks before letting go.
He turned to Amelia. “Now you.”
She tucked loose strands of hair back behind her ear, clearly hesitant. Sunlight gleamed on the gold ring on her right hand—a jewel that would have been taken from her, if he and his men hadn
’t stopped the outlaws. She could have lost far more than the ring, including her virtue. Thankfully he’d been able to disrupt the attack.
Amelia approached the doorway.
At last.
She extended her hand to grasp his. Her slender fingers were smooth and unblemished, as he’d expect of a noblewoman with a castle of servants to do her bidding.
As his fingers closed around hers, he caught a better view of her ring. The wide band was set with sapphires, rubies, and emeralds.
Shock jolted through him, for unless he was very much mistaken, ’twas his missing ring.
How had she gotten hold of it?
His fingers instinctively tightened, and she pulled back in response. He didn’t let go, though, and in the end, she had no choice but to step down to the ground.
“Thank you,” Amelia said, trying to withdraw her hand.
He held on, for he’d not let her escape just yet. “I could not help but notice your ring.”
Her cautious gaze locked with his.
“Where did you come by it?”
“Tilden gave it to me, shortly before he died.”
Ryder’s mind raced. Her brother had been among the lords invited to Brindston Keep the night the ring had been stolen. After the evening feast, Ryder had invited Tilden, Gladwin, Stephen, and six other lords to retire the solar; a more intimate gathering in which to enrich friendships and alliances. The wine had flowed—Gladwin, as usual, had kept their goblets filled—and they’d laughed, shared stories, and gotten ridiculously drunk before his guests had retired to their chambers. When Ryder had woken the next morning, head pounding, he’d discovered the ring, which he’d worn on a thin cord around his neck, gone. When asked, all of the men denied having taken the jewel.
Had Tilden in fact taken it? If so, why would he have lied to Ryder about it?
Again Amelia tried to free her hand, but he held on.
“Let me go, please.”
“Did Tilden say where he acquired the ring?”
“He did not. Now—”
“Would you mind taking it off, so I can have a better look at it?”
She frowned. “Why is it of such interest to you?”
Beware. Until he knew what in hellfire was going on, the less he told her, the better.
Deciding to drop the matter for the moment—at least he now knew where to find the jewel—he released her hand. “Some of my men are returning from the forest. If you will excuse me, I will ask what they found.”
***
Ryder strode away, while Nanette’s gaze wandered over him from head to heel. “Just look at him! No wonder you kept him to yourself.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “I did no such—”
“Is he married?”
“Not that I know of.” Honor had disappeared into the woods. “Honor, come here,” Amelia called.
“Was Ryder ever married? Does he have any children?”
God above. As the wolfhound, tail wagging, trotted over to Amelia, she said, “I do not believe Ryder is a father.”
Nanette wrinkled her nose. “You do not know for certain? How strange. He seemed to know you fairly well, since he called you Amelia, rather than Lady Bainbridge.”
True. Nanette obviously wasn’t going to relent until she’d gleaned at least some good information. “Ryder and I were childhood playmates. He was one of Tilden’s closest friends, but he and I have not spoken in years.”
“Heavens. Why not?”
Now wasn’t the best moment to further dwell upon the past. Moreover, since Ryder had been gallant in rescuing them, Amelia would not speak ill of him in front of Nanette. “’Tis a story I might tell you one day.”
“Soon, I hope.” Nanette grinned like a naughty little girl. “I can tell ’tis a good one.”
“Aye, well, as Ryder pointed out, there are more important considerations right now. Come on.” Honor at her side, Amelia headed for the captain-of-the-guard. With a disgruntled huff, Nanette fell in alongside them.
The captain-of-the guard was having his left arm bandaged by one of Ryder’s men. As she neared, he attempted to bow, but she shook her head. “No need for formalities. How are you?”
“I took an arrow, milady, and got a few bruises when I fell from my horse, but otherwise, am fine.”
She glanced at the rest of her guards, still having their wounds tended. “Are the others going to be all right?”
“I believe so, once they have healed.”
The tread of footfalls told her that several people approached. Ryder joined them, followed by three men. “The outlaws got away,” he said grimly.
“Is there no way to track them?” When the others looked at Amelia in surprise—they obviously weren’t used a lady asking such questions—she added, “Surely they left a trail. Broken branches. Footprints.”
“We followed the outlaws as far as we could, milady,” a man-at-arms answered, “but they ran into a stream. Once they went into the water, our chance of finding them was lost.”
“Unfortunate.” And disappointing. The outlaws would likely continue their attacks. In the next assault, folk could die.
Ryder set his hands on his hips. “I suggest—”
“We must get descriptions of the attackers from our men,” she cut in. “While they wore masks, other details, such as their style of clothing or boots or weapons, may be important for finding them.”
Ryder’s wry gaze shifted to her. “I was just going to suggest that.”
“Oh. Well, good.”
“I will alert the sheriff as to what happened here,” Ryder continued. “He will want reports from all involved.”
Honor had also bitten one of the thugs; the wound might help identify him. “The sheriff should be aware that some of the outlaws are noblemen.” As Ryder’s expression hardened, she added, “The one who ordered us out of the carriage was a lord. Honor bit him on the wrist, hard enough to draw blood.”
“Did you by chance recognize his voice?”
“Nay, for he disguised it.” She might have chatted with the man at feasts and other celebrations. She may even have danced with him.
Her surroundings suddenly blurred. She blinked hard, to find Ryder had caught her elbow to steady her.
“Are you all right?” he asked with concern.
“I-I am.” In truth, Amelia felt rather lightheaded, and not just because of her unsettling thoughts. From where Ryder touched, unfamiliar hot-cold tingles spread along her arm.
“You do look a bit wan.” Nanette also looked worried about her.
“We should get you somewhere safe before we expect you to answer more questions,” Ryder said.
“I agree, milord.” The captain-of-the-guard glanced at the forest. “We do not want the outlaws to return.”
“Return?” Nanette nervously echoed.
Amelia’s head ached; the strain of the ambush was catching up with her. She was simply not up to fulfilling her plans for the day. “I must get a message to the tavern in Lynborn. We planned to meet Gladwin, but—”
“Worry not,” Ryder said. “I will see it done.”
“All right. Thank you. Now, if you do not mind, I would like to go home.”
Ryder shook his head. “My keep is nearer. I will send a man-at-arms on ahead; he will tell the healer to prepare for the wounded.”
“What a marvelous offer.” Nanette sounded delighted.
’Twas indeed generous of Ryder, but Amelia would rather not be beholden to him in any way. “Many thanks, but—”
He let go of her elbow to catch her right hand and gently kiss her fingers. “Please,” he murmured, as Nanette cooed like a maiden about to swoon. “Allow me to be chivalrous.”
’Twould be easiest to refuse Ryder’s offer. With Tilden gone, though, and so much unrest in England, Amelia would be wise to rekindle her friendship with Ryder, for she might need his help again one day. And, after his gallant rescue, she’d be a fool to risk offending him, above all, in front of his men.
Chapter Four
With a gritty thud, the drawbridge of Brindston Keep settled into place across the moat. As Ryder spurred his horse forward and its hooves clattered on the weathered planks, a sense of pride wove through him. While the fortress still needed some repairs, ’twas in far better condition than when he’d received it from the crown.
The previous liege, who’d fallen into disfavor for not being able to pay taxes owed to the crown, had died five months past. The castle had been without a ruler until it had been ceded to Ryder. He, Gladwin, Stephen, and Tilden had journeyed home from Crusade together, and not long after they’d arrived in London at the beginning of May, he, Gladwin, and Stephen had been awarded their estates. Tilden had been informed of his sire’s death and thus his inheritance of Callingston Keep.
Thanks to his late father’s diligence, Tilden hadn’t inherited any debt. Concerned about the financial ruin of his estate, Ryder had sold some personal effects he’d inherited from his parents as well as tapestries he’d bought in France on his return to England. The tapestries had been a good investment, for he’d raised enough coin to pay off what was owed with some left over.
Gladwin and Stephen hadn’t been so lucky. They were struggling to find ways to eliminate their estates’ debts. A regrettable circumstance, but they’d needed to be ceded lands bordering Tilden’s and Ryder’s, and not just to support each other as allies. Somewhere on one of the four estates, they’d hide the Templar treasure.
While they’d met twice to discuss where to conceal the hoard, no firm decision had been reached. And then, three weeks ago, the ring Ryder was to protect had been stolen.
Thankfully, he’d now recovered the jewel. Aye, Amelia still had it, but with her secured within his castle’s walls, he’d ensure the ring would once again be in his possession.
He might be leaving the Order, but he’d end his career as a Templar with honor, and with his obligations to them fulfilled.
Ryder neared his fortress’s gatehouse and heard Amelia’s carriage rumble onto the drawbridge behind him. What would she think of his home? Mayhap ’twas foolish of him, but he wanted her to be impressed.
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