***
Lying back in the water dotted with dried rose petals, her braided hair pinned up and her head supported by a rolled towel, Amelia sighed. What bliss. She’d been reluctant to indulge in the bath, but as Nanette had pointed out before disappearing into her chamber a couple of doors down, the water had already been heated and poured. ’Twouldn’t do at all to let the baths go to waste.
“Ye’ll feel much better after a good soak, milady,” coaxed the plump maidservant who’d been assigned to help Amelia. “I do not mean ta be bold, but I dare say, if ye refuse yer bath, ye might risk offending ’is lordship.”
Amelia hadn’t wanted to offend Ryder. Moreover, once she’d seen the tub—twice the size of the one she normally used—she’d been eager to undress and get in. After scrubbing her from head to toe with soap that smelled of rosemary and thyme, the maidservant had left, encouraging Amelia to stay in the water as long as she liked.
Sighing again, Amelia shut her eyes, the quietude of the chamber underscored by the hiss of the burning fire and the rhythm of her own breathing. Oh, but she did feel better. Almost cozy enough to fall asleep.
As she gently trailed her right hand underwater, her thoughts drifted to Ryder. A large man, he’d need a large tub in which to bathe…and yet, the one in which she soaked seemed big enough for two people. A most wicked image came to mind, of her and Ryder reclining together in the tub; his back pressed against the wooden side, and his bent legs rested on either side of her body, while she lay back against his broad torso and water enveloped their touching lower bodies.
The startling daydream sent a shiver racing through her, and her eyes flew open. Why did she indulge in such idiocy? She and Ryder could never be romantically involved, for he, like all Templars, would have taken vows of celibacy.
Deciding she’d soaked long enough, she got out of the tub. Instead of summoning a servant to help, Amelia dried off and dressed on her own. As she pulled on her shoes, a knock sounded on the door. Not a gentle or timid one, but a rap of authority and purpose.
Ryder.
Again, the vision of him lying bold, wet, and glistening in the tub flitted into her mind; she mentally shoved the image aside and opened the door.
He stood alone outside. With his hair tousled, and torchlight playing over his features, he reminded her of the rogue he’d been at Merringstow.
Their gazes locked, and heat raced through her. Her face tingled.
Don’t blush. Find a distraction, and focus on it.
“Ryder.” She reached up to pull out the silver hairpins.
His gaze rose to her moving fingers. “Did I rush you out of the tub?”
“Nay, I had finished.” She turned away to put the hairpins on the table. “Thank you, by the way, for the bath.”
He stepped over the threshold, his leather boots creaking. He glanced over at the tub and then the towel she’d draped on the chair near the fire to dry, before his attention returned to her. The air suddenly felt thick, heavy. Somehow, every part of her seemed aware of his nearness, of the lingering herbal scent of the soap with which she’d washed, of the coolness of the hairpins in her palm. Of him.
She dropped the last of the pins onto the table. They landed with a clink, clink, clink. Her braid slipped down to rest between her shoulder blades.
Such simple, familiar things, and yet, with him watching, they seemed intimate.
Do not be foolish.
“’Twas enjoyable?” he murmured.
“Enjoyable?”
“The bath.”
Of course, the bath. “’Twas lovely. Just what I needed.”
Smiling, he dipped his head. “Would you care to join me now for a walk in the garden?”
“As pleasant as that sounds, I should see my men who are wounded.”
“No need. I visited the infirmary a while ago. All of the injured are doing well under the healer’s care. The captain-of-the-guard was going to begin questioning your men to compile a report for the sheriff and is likely busy with that now.”
“I see. Mayhap I should visit later.”
“’Twould be best. At that time, you can provide your account of the attack.”
That sounded reasonable. “All right,” Amelia said with a smile. “I will join you on that walk.”
“Good.” As she went with him out into the passageway, he added, “Gladwin visited a short while ago. He was concerned about you, but I assured him you were fine.”
“Gladwin is here? I did not realize—”
“I sent him on his way.”
With a cry of surprise, Amelia halted. “Why did you not invite him to stay?”
“Would that really have been best for you? We both know he would have questioned you relentlessly about the attack.” Before she could say a word, Ryder winked. “Besides, after not seeing you for years, I wanted you all to myself.”
He grinned with such boyish mischief, she couldn’t help but giggle.
At a leisurely pace, Ryder escorted her across the bailey, while pointing out the renovations he’d recently made to the keep. In the garden, servants were dismantling rotten wooden borders around the vegetable beds and replacing them with ones of mortared stone. The rock borders around the extensive herb garden looked to have been recently done. As Ryder led her down the dirt path running through the tidy herb beds, she plucked a sprig of rosemary and brought it to her nose, the scent again reminding her of her sinful imaginings.
Ryder pointed to a bench, set near a stone building. “Shall we sit?”
“All right. Does the healer use that building?”
“Aye, to dry herbs and make her ointments and infusions. And, of course, soap.”
“You seem to be managing this estate well,” she said, sitting on the sun-warmed bench. Tilden had also taken great pride in caring for the fortress that had become his and the folk who had owed fealty to him. Knowing that many of his servants had relatives living in the nearby town, he’d donated money to restore the old church in Lynborn that had been damaged during a storm.
“I suppose I am managing well.” Ryder sat beside her then leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees and link his hands together. “There are matters, though, that I still must resolve.”
Amelia caught self-reproach in his tone. “Matters?”
Nodding, he glanced at her. “For years, I have owed you an apology.”
She inhaled a sharp breath. She hadn’t expected him to ever apologize to her.
Ryder looked down at his entwined fingers. “Tilden was right. I was an ass that day at Merringstow when I wanted you to kiss me.”
Her heart constricted.
“I was even more of an ass when I embarrassed you that evening. I.….” He shook his head, regret etched into his features. “To this day, I do not know why I spoke out as I did. I am truly sorry that I hurt you.”
She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the surprise and gratitude welling up inside her.
“Will you accept my apology?” he asked.
He seemed to genuinely want her forgiveness. “I accept your apology,” she murmured. “’Tis only fair, after your heroism today.”
A faint smile touched his lips. Yet, he didn’t seem entirely at ease.
If they were tackling outstanding issues between them, she’d like them all resolved now. “Is there aught else?” she asked.
“Indeed, there is. I believe you have something of mine.”
***
“I have naught that belongs to you.”
Ryder had expected a denial. Either Amelia was a good liar, or she had no idea of the provenance of the jewel she wore. Gesturing to her right hand lying in her lap, he said, “Your ring. ’Twas stolen from me weeks ago.”
Her mouth gaped, even as the fingers of her left hand instinctively moved to touch the gold band. “Stolen?”
He nodded. “From within this keep.”
“Are you sure ’tis the same ring?”
“Fairly sure. I will know with certainty on
ce I have taken a closer look at it.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I do not understand. How would Tilden end up with your missing jewel?”
“I do not know, but—”
“He would never have stolen it.”
How Ryder wished he could believe that. “If that is true—”
“If that is true?” Hurt and anger sparked in her eyes. “You and Tilden were as close as brothers.”
“Amelia—”
“You know he was not a thief.”
Ryder exhaled a harsh breath and again looked down at his hands, callused from years of training and battle; most of those years he’d spent alongside Tilden. “He was one of the best men I have ever known: loyal, generous—”
“Exactly!”
“I do not want to believe that he took the ring—”
“But you think he did.”
“What I believe is far less important than getting the ring back.”
Her left hand curled tightly over her right, as though to keep him from the jewel. He could easily wrest it from her if he so desired. But, he’d rather not.
“My brother gave me the ring the day he died,” she said, her voice wavering. “He….”
Ryder remained silent, hoping she’d reach the right decision on her own.
“I am not parting with it,” she said firmly. “Not until you prove ’tis yours.”
He had to admire her fortitude. Yet, he had a sworn duty to reclaim the jewel. “I could simply take it from you—”
“You would not!”
“—but that might also be considered theft, and ’twould make us enemies again.” Ryder’s gaze flicked up to meet hers. “I ask that you give me the ring, and once you have done so, that you think no more of it.”
Amelia frowned. “Will you tell me why ’tis so valuable to you?”
If only he could tell her, but ’twas best—safest—for her not to know about the Templar riches. “All I can tell you is that ’twas entrusted to me.”
“By whom?”
“I cannot say.”
“When was it given to you?”
A silent groan burned in his throat, for he mustn’t tell her that, either. “As I said—”
She huffed. “You obviously do not plan to provide me any proof whatsoever. You expect me to just hand over the ring.”
A harsh laugh broke from him. “To be fair, as lord of this fortress, I do not have to offer any proof.”
“Mayhap not, but ’twould be chivalrous of you to do so.”
His jaw hardened. He was not going to be drawn into a debate about whether or not his actions were honorable. “Enough, Amelia. I want the ring. I ask that you give it to me.” He held out his right hand, palm up.
She remained still, her gaze defiant.
“Let me be clear,” he said quietly. “You, Nanette, and your men will not be leaving here until you relinquish the jewel to me.”
Chapter Six
Amelia glared at Ryder. Sunlight rendered her fair skin the color of porcelain and enhanced the brightness of her eyes. She was beautiful even when furious; her loveliness stole his breath.
“You dare to hold me hostage?”
Since she clearly wasn’t ready to give him the ring, Ryder lowered his hand to the bench. “Hostage is a rather harsh word.”
“But ’tis the truth, aye?”
He smiled. “I would prefer to consider you my honored guest. After your ordeal today, folk will understand that you are not well enough to travel.”
She snorted. “I am hardly a helpless damsel.”
“On that, we both agree.” When she appeared startled, he continued: “Today’s attack would have been upsetting for anyone. If folk question your stay here, I will tell them that you did your best to remain strong, but having known you since we were children, I saw through your façade and knew that in truth, you were suffering from shock.”
“Oh, for God’s—”
“I will also say that for your own wellbeing, I advised you to remain here. So did the healer. You accepted.”
“I will dispute your words.”
“You can try,” he said. “Here, I have final say on all matters.”
She abruptly stood, her hands fisted at her sides. “I am not staying here, Ryder.”
“Give me the ring, then.” He held out his hand again.
She glowered as if he offered her a white-hot piece of iron that would scorch her skin.
Ryder shrugged. “I can be patient for a little while longer.”
“And I can be very stubborn.”
“I know. I remember.”
She crossed her arms. “Am I to be an honored guest here forever, then?”
Bold words. He couldn’t leave them unchallenged. “If necessary, I could make that happen.” Indeed, he could if he married her. By taking her for his wife, he’d have legal claim to all that was hers, including the ring.
She’d never wed him willingly, though, and he’d rather not be bound for the rest of his life to a woman who despised him.
Ryder rose from the bench to see tears glistening in her eyes. He hardened his heart to the tug on his conscience.
“Against my better judgment, I chose to trust you,” she said, “to believe you offered me hospitality because you wanted to repair our friendship. I realize now that all you cared about was getting the ring.”
Ryder scowled. He hadn’t just cared about the jewel. He still didn’t.
“How foolish I was to have ever believed you had changed.”
The anguish in her voice cut him deep. Words crowded on his tongue. He wanted to take hold of her hands, insist he was as worthy of her trust and friendship as Gladwin; but, if he admitted now how he really felt about her, she’d never believe him.
Amelia turned her back on him and strode away.
***
Ryder was the most infuriating man. Infuriating, arrogant, and…regrettably, the most fascinating male Amelia had encountered in months, which was even more infuriating!
Amelia marched toward the garden gate. Ryder watched her; she sensed his gaze upon her back, but she wasn’t going to glance over her shoulder and reveal that he unnerved her.
She also was not going to be his captive. As soon as possible, she’d find a way out of the keep—even if that meant she had to walk all of the way home to Callingston.
Amelia was halfway across the bailey when Nanette called to her and waved. The young woman stood with a group of squires who’d obviously just come from weapons training. Their faces sweaty, the young men had stripped off their tunics and shirts to wash by the well. The bare-chested lads were enjoying Nanette’s ogling, and she appeared delighted to have their attention.
Upon reaching Nanette, Amelia drew the giggling young woman away from the men.
“I am still talking with them,” Nanette grumbled, turning back toward the well.
“If one of them wishes to see you further, he will make his intentions known.”
Nanette sighed as she smoothed her hair. “You are right. Besides, I was only chatting with them while on my way to find Ryder.”
Oh, nay. “I do not—”
“Stop trying to dissuade me. ’Twill not work.”
“You are going to end up disappointed and hurt.”
The young woman grinned. “Will I?”
Nanette might not be so enthralled if she knew they were Ryder’s hostages. “I just came from speaking with him,” Amelia said. “You should know that he—”
“Oh, look. He is headed toward us. Tell me what you were going to say later, aye?”
Before Amelia could say a word, Nanette strolled away.
Amelia shook her head. She’d done her best to warn the young woman. Hopefully, Ryder would be gracious and not crush Nanette’s feelings too badly…unless, of course, he was interested in wooing her.
Not possible. Not when he’d taken Templar vows.
She stole a glance at Nanette to see Ryder had stopped to talk to her. He grinned down
at her, while the young woman smiled up at him. Confusion and jealousy knotted inside Amelia, and she hurried to the chamber where she’d bathed. Entering the room, she found the tub gone, all evidence of the bath cleared away.
Honor lifted his head from where he lay by the fire. Someone had given him a padded bed covered in fabric that looked fit for a royal hound. A gift from Ryder, no doubt.
She shut her chamber door, leaned back against it, and groaned.
***
“My father enjoys hunting boar,” Nanette said, her lashes fluttering. “Mayhap one day soon, you and he can hunt together.”
“Mayhap,” Ryder said. Such activities were excellent for forging alliances and sharing news of import. Yet, from the excitement in her eyes, the young woman clearly hoped such a hunt would end up with her betrothed to him.
Unfortunately for her, that would never be.
As the young woman chatted on, Ryder’s attention shifted to Amelia, her glossy braid swaying as she walked to the forebuilding. How he longed to undo her plait and slide his fingers into her hair, as he’d dreamed many times at Acre. He’d savor the soft silk of her tresses against his skin while he kissed her and persuaded her anger to become desire.
“—know each other better,” Nanette said.
“Mmm?” As his gaze returned to the young woman, she smiled, stepped closer, and trailed her index finger across his tunic. Warning stirred, for some folk at the castle knew he was leaving the Order. They might see him and Nanette together and make assumptions.
She was not going to convince others that romance was blossoming between them or trap him into marriage.
He caught her hand and pushed it away.
She tittered, her expression coy. “Milord.”
“I am sorry, but I do not care for you in that way.”
Dismay touched her gaze. “Not even a little bit?”
“Nay.” Determined not to bring her to tears, he said lightly, “You deserve a roguish lad closer to your own age, who will spoil you and make you laugh every day.”
“I hope there is such a lord for me.”
“I am sure there is.”
“My parents said….” She cleared her throat. “Never mind.”
A twinge of sympathy brushed his conscience, for he knew very well the expectations noble parents imposed upon their children. His father had been relentless; how relieved Ryder had been to join the Templars and go to the East, and to experience life free of his sire’s control.
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