Forbidden Kisses

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Forbidden Kisses Page 11

by Laurel O'Donnell


  “You killed him. You killed Tilden.”

  Such anguish underscored her words.

  Gladwin shook his head: “We did not—”

  “You murdered my brother.”

  ***

  The ghastly thought grabbed hold of her mind and refused to let go. The agony of losing Tilden crushed her soul, making it difficult for her to breathe.

  “We did not kill him.” Gladwin obviously wanted her to believe him, but she couldn’t. Not after all she’d learned about the treasure.

  She clenched her hands into her skirt. “I want the truth. How did you do it? Poison Tilden’s wine? His food?”

  “Amelia.” Gladwin tried to set a hand on her shoulder, but she slapped him away.

  “We did not make Tilden ill,” Stephen added with a smirk, “although the rabbit pies he enjoyed at the tavern might have encouraged sickness.”

  “What was wrong with the pies?” she demanded.

  Stephen shrugged. “The tavern owner does not use the freshest meat; ’tis why his pies are heavily spiced. For a small sum…. Well, I am sure you can figure out the rest.”

  Amelia gasped.

  “Why make him sick?” Ryder asked. “Did you believe ’twould force him to tell you his secrets?”

  Gladwin’s gaze sharpened. “Did he tell you about the parchment from London?”

  “Why would he?” Ryder countered.

  “He trusted you.”

  “I was resigning—”

  “You found it.” Stephen pressed the sword against Ryder’s throat. Fear for him broke from Amelia in a shriek.

  “Answer me,” the younger brother said between clenched teeth. “You found it. Aye?”

  “Stop hurting him,” Amelia shouted.

  Blood trickled down Ryder’s skin and ran under his shirt, but Stephen didn’t withdraw the blade. “Damnation! Answer me. In the crypt, behind that stone, did you find the list?”

  Oh, Ryder. What can I say, or do, to keep you from harm?

  “Very well.” Stephen’s tone was filled with menace.

  Panic flared. Amelia lunged at Stephen, but Gladwin caught her arm and yanked her back, heedless of her flailing fists.

  “Ryder cannot help you.” Amelia cried.

  “And why is that?” Gladwin asked.

  “He…does not have the list. I do.”

  ***

  What in hellfire was she doing?

  Ryder still had the list; he’d half expected the brothers to search him for it, but he’d managed to avoid that so far.

  Shock tearing through him, Ryder longed to turn his head and catch her gaze, but he didn’t dare move with the sword touching his skin.

  “Hand over the list, then,” Stephen said, not taking his attention from Ryder. With luck, the younger brother would become distracted; all Ryder needed was the briefest opportunity, and then, he’d send the sword flying.

  “I will give you the list,” Amelia said. “But, ’tis in a…difficult place to reach.”

  Just the right amount of hesitant embarrassment tinged her voice. Well done.

  A flush darkened Stephen’s cheekbones. He looked flustered as he growled: “Help her, Gladwin.”

  “Nay,” Amelia said, “I can get the list myself, if you—”

  The sound of a running animal intruded, along with a ferocious snarl.

  “Honor!” Amelia cried.

  Gladwin screamed and stumbled into Ryder’s range of vision, Honor growling and snapping as he leapt at the brother. “Help me,” Gladwin yelled, trying to shove the dog away.

  As Stephen stole a glance at his sibling, and the sword shifted a fraction away from Ryder’s throat, Ryder lunged sideways along the wall then hooked his right boot around Stephen’s calf. He yanked the younger brother’s foot out from under him. Stephen cursed and fought not to careen backward.

  With a brisk shove, Ryder sent Stephen sprawling on the dirt. As soon as the younger brother hit the ground, he tried to heft his sword, but Ryder stood on his wrist and arm, preventing him from using the weapon.

  His lip curling, Stephen struggled to sit up, but Ryder kicked him in the face. Stephen’s head snapped back, and he collapsed, eyes closing, the sword falling from his limp fingers.

  “Stephen!” Gladwin stepped over one of Ryder’s fallen men to reach where his brother lay. Gladwin had drawn his sword, and as the wolfhound lunged at him again, he slashed out with the blade.

  “Nay!” Amelia cried.

  Honor yelped and dropped to all fours on the dirt. Blood welled along a gash on the dog’s right shoulder.

  “Call off Honor,” Gladwin commanded. “I do not want to kill your hound.”

  Ryder silently cursed, for he’d hoped to take advantage of the dog’s antics to catch Gladwin by surprise. Yet, he had no wish to see the pet he’d given Amelia years ago come to further harm.

  “Honor,” she called. “To me.” The wolfhound growled at Gladwin again and then limped to Amelia’s side. She moved backward, to stand near another of Ryder’s downed guards.

  Clearly ready to fight in an instant, Gladwin crouched and pressed his fingers to his brother’s neck to check for the pulse of life. Relief crossed his features when he confirmed his sibling was merely unconscious. After years of close friendship, though, Gladwin should have known Ryder would never take a man’s life unless he had no choice.

  Anticipation rippled though Ryder as he drew his sword and readied to attack. Not just yet though. Not until he saw an opening.

  As Gladwin began to rise, Honor crouched down and barked. Gladwin’s focus briefly shifted to the animal, and Ryder rushed forward. Gladwin swung his weapon to meet Ryder’s strike, and the blades clanged together. Again and again the swords clashed.

  With each clang, pain shot through Ryder’s wounded side. Ignore the agony. Your higher purpose is to subdue Gladwin. You alone can protect Amelia, Honor, and the treasure.

  “Yield,” Ryder bellowed.

  Gladwin shook his head. “You should have joined us.”

  “Not a chance.” Both hands on his sword, Ryder brought the weapon arcing down, forcing Gladwin backward. Again, Ryder lashed out, and the brother retreated…but stepped on the arm of one of the fallen guards.

  Gladwin wobbled. Ryder barreled into him, knocking him off balance. The brother fell, his head hitting the ground. His eyes rolled, and his fingers relaxed for an instant. Ryder pried the sword from Gladwin’s hand and flung the weapon away.

  As Gladwin struggled to get to his knees, Ryder heard the rustle of silk close by.

  “Do not move,” Amelia ordered. She’d retrieved her lady’s knife and held the tip against Gladwin’s neck, while Honor snarled down into his face. Judging by Amelia’s expression, she was most sincere about her threat.

  “Amelia,” Gladwin rasped.

  “You betrayed my brother, you hurt and threatened Honor, and you used me. Give me the slightest reason, and I will use this knife on you.”

  Ryder moved around to put his sword to Gladwin’s throat. “Let me take over here.”

  “Must you?” She sounded disappointed.

  “Why do you not go and fetch the sheriff? Tell him we have captured outlaws.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As Amelia relayed what had happened in Lynborn, Nanette leaned forward on the edge of her chair and pressed a hand to her throat. Her eyes looked enormous in the light of the fire in Brindston Keep’s great hall. “You really held Gladwin at knifepoint?” she asked in awe.

  “I did.” Amelia couldn’t resist a smile, for she’d even surprised Ryder with her boldness.

  “Were you not afraid?” the younger woman asked.

  “I was. Terrified, in truth. But, I did not want him to get away.”

  “How brave of you.” Nanette sighed. “I am quite certain I would have fainted and thus been utterly useless.” Reaching down, she patted Honor, dozing by her feet, his wound stitched and ointment smeared across the gash. The healer had promised he would fully recover, and
in a few sennights, would be back tearing around with the other dogs. For now, he was to rest.

  Amelia had sobbed to hear her pet would be all right. Honor had been an important part of her life from the day Ryder had gifted him to her; she wouldn’t have known what to do without her loyal protector.

  While Nanette told Honor what a good dog he’d been, Amelia’s thoughts wandered to Ryder. She’d found the sheriff and had brought him and his men to Ryder in the alley behind the church. Several of the outlaws who’d ambushed Ryder’s guards in the town square had been badly wounded, and they’d been arrested. So had Gladwin and Stephen.

  Once the brothers had been put in chains, Ryder had sheathed his sword then caught both of her hands and brought them to his lips. “There is no need for you to remain here. All but two of my guards are recovered enough to travel. I will have you escorted back to Brindston.”

  She didn’t want to be parted from him. Not after what they’d just endured, and when he was wounded. “But—”

  Ryder pressed his finger to her lips, as she’d done to him before. “In the tiltyard, you agreed to heed my instructions, even if you did not agree with them.”

  So she had. Reluctantly, she nodded.

  “I must work with the sheriff now, but I will return to the castle as soon as I can.”

  “Promise?” How she longed to throw herself into his arms, to kiss him until they were both breathless, but such desires were selfish when he had far more vital matters to attend.

  “I promise,” Ryder said. “Now, Honor. ’Twould be best if he returns to Brindston on horseback. One of my men can carry him, for he should stay off that leg, at least until the healer has treated the wound.”

  How was Ryder faring? Had someone tended to his injury? Would the wound hinder him from riding his destrier? If so—

  A draft swept across her ankles, and then men’s voices sounded in the forebuilding. One of them was Ryder’s.

  At last. She swiftly rose, her pulse hammering.

  He emerged in the hall with John at his side. Ryder met her gaze and his mouth curved into a wry smile.

  His expression earnest, John said, “I cannot thank you enough, milord.”

  “I am always glad to help you, however I can.”

  John’s gaze flew to Nanette before he nodded and grinned.

  Squealing, the younger woman clapped her hands.

  “Nanette?” Amelia asked. “What—?”

  “John wants to court me,” the young woman said, blinking away tears. “He was hoping Ryder would write a letter of recommendation to my father, and Ryder has agreed.”

  “Are you sure about John? You only recently met.”

  “I know, but he and I think alike about so many things, and I….” Nanette beamed. “Well, being with him just feels wonderful and right.”

  Amelia knew all about that rightness; ’twas the way she felt about Ryder.

  Hugging Nanette, Amelia said, “I am very happy for you.”

  “And I am happy for you,” Nanette murmured, drawing back to arm’s length. She winked and nudged her chin toward Ryder, who drew near with John.

  “All is well in Lynborn?” Amelia asked. Once again, she yearned, so fiercely, to kiss Ryder. She curled her fingers into her palms to keep from launching herself at him.

  “For now, Gladwin, Stephen, and the wounded outlaws are being held in gaol cells under heavy guard,” Ryder said. “While Stephen is refusing to talk, Gladwin is suffering from a guilty conscience. He has given the sheriff the names of some of the other outlaws. A few of them are suspected of having ties to Lackland.”

  Amelia sucked in a sharp breath. “Gladwin and Stephen are traitors?”

  Remorse touched Ryder’s gaze. “They may well be, but we do not yet know for certain. Regardless, they will face punishment from the crown as well as the Templars. The sheriff is going to write to the Temple Church in London. I intend to visit so I can give in person my account of what happened over the past couple of days.”

  She nodded, for she understood what Ryder hadn’t said: that he’d also turn over the ring, cloak pin, and parchment to the Order, and thus his duty to protect the riches would be complete.

  ***

  The quietude of the solar surrounded Ryder and Amelia as he led her inside. Nanette and John, caught up in their own conversation, had settled by the fire, and he’d seized the chance to be alone with Amelia.

  Before she’d taken two steps forward, he drew her into his arms and kissed her, all of his concern for her, desire, and resolve coalescing into an urgent hunger.

  Ah, God, but what he felt for this woman was exceptional. Powerful. Undeniable.

  With a ragged moan, she melted into his embrace. As she returned his kisses with equal passion, his palms flattened against her lower back and slid down to squeeze her bottom and yank her flush against him.

  Perfect. ’Tis how she felt: damned perfect in his arms and with their bodies intimately pressed together.

  A low cry broke from her, the sound muffled by their frantic breaths and kisses. His knightly honor momentarily roused, for he wondered if he was holding her too tightly, or if she objected to his hands upon her. Then her tongue slipped into his mouth, intensifying their intimate contact.

  Ah, God, she wasn’t just perfect. She was going to be his.

  Primal instinct took over, his arms shifting to scoop her up. Breaking their kisses for the barest moment, he laid her on her back on the coverlet. The mattress creaked as he settled on his side beside her, his left leg sliding over her limbs to pin her down.

  He nipped her bottom lip. “Amelia,” he groaned. “I want you.”

  She stilled. Caution wove into the haze of need within him, and he lifted his head to gaze down at her.

  She trailed her fingers along his chin. Even that small touch made his skin burn.

  “I want you in my bed,” he said softly. “To pleasure you. To make you quiver and cry out, and afterward, to hold you in my arms while you fall asleep.”

  Amelia smiled. “I want that, too—”

  Thank God.

  “—but, what of your wound?”

  “’Tis not so bad.”

  She tugged at his garments. “Let me see.”

  Her fingers on his bare skin would be his undoing. Lifting the bottom edges of his tunic and shirt, he showed her the linen bandages wrapped around his ribs. “The healer cleaned and stitched my side before I came to the great hall. She said I will be fine.”

  “Good.”

  Tell Amelia what is in your heart. Do not wait another moment.

  “Reuniting with you again after so long,” he said, his tone roughening, “has resolved the conflict in my soul. I want a life filled with love, and to have a family. With my wife and our children, I will share all that I have, all that I dream of doing, and all that I am.”

  Her gaze softened.

  “I would like that wife…to be you.”

  “Oh, Ryder,” she whispered.

  He caressed her cheek. “In truth, I vow you and I were destined for each other since we were very young.”

  “I think you are right,” she murmured.

  “Will you marry me, Amelia? I promise to give you all you deserve, all that—”

  “Ryder.”

  If only she hadn’t interrupted his attempt to be romantic.

  “You have won my heart. You do not need to persuade me.”

  “Not even with a kiss?”

  She laughed. “Well, maybe with a kiss.”

  He kissed her so passionately that when they broke apart, they were both breathing as though they’d run all the way from the bailey.

  Holding his gaze, she said, “I will.”

  Joy leapt within him. “You will…?”

  “I will marry you. As long as each day, you kiss me as you did just now.”

  He mock frowned. “Must I continue to persuade you that I am, and always will be, your gallant knight?”

  She winked. “Nay, I just love the
way you kiss me.”

  About Catherine Kean

  Bestselling, award-winning novelist Catherine Kean is a Kindle Unlimited All-Star author of medieval romances. Her love of history began with visits to England during summer vacations, when her British father took her to crumbling medieval castles, dusty museums filled with fascinating artifacts, and historic churches. Her love of the awe-inspiring past stuck with her as she completed a B.A. (Double Major, First Class) in English and History. She completed a year-long postgraduate course with Sotheby’s auctioneers in London, England, and worked for several years in Canada as an antiques and fine art appraiser.

  After she moved to Florida, she started writing novels, her lifelong dream. She wrote her first medieval romance, A Knight’s Vengeance, while her baby daughter was napping. Catherine’s books were originally published in paperback and several were released in Czech, German, and Thai foreign editions. She has won numerous awards for her stories, including the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence. Her novels also finaled in the Next Generation Indie Book Awards and the National Readers’ Choice Awards.

  When not working on her next book, Catherine enjoys cooking, baking, browsing antique shops, shopping with her daughter, and gardening. She lives in Central Florida with two spoiled rescue cats.

  Connect with Catherine

  Website

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  Also by Catherine Kean

  A Knight’s Desire

  A Knight to Remember (Novella)

  A Legendary Love (Novella)

  Bound by His Kiss (Novella)

  Dance of Desire

  My Lady’s Treasure

  One Knight in the Forest

  One Knight Under the Mistletoe (Novella)

  One Knight’s Kiss (Novella)

  That Knight by the Sea (Novella)

  Knight’s Series Novels

  A Knight’s Vengeance (Knight’s Series Book 1)

  A Knight’s Reward (Knight’s Series Book 2)

  A Knight’s Temptation (Knight’s Series Book 3)

  A Knight’s Persuasion (Knight’s Series Book 4)

 

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