A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight's Tale Book 3)

by Diane Darcy

  She put her hands on his chest and shoved, but he didn’t budge, and only mashed their lips more painfully together.

  She made a protesting noise, and at the same time there was a sudden banging.

  Nate released her, and they both looked toward the door. Whoever was on the other side now rattled the doorknob, and Cara realized Nate had locked them inside.

  “Hey, Nate! I’m going to need that necklace now!” The voice of Steve Ericsson, the director, was easily recognizable, and they both looked at each other, horror etched on their faces.

  “Give us just a moment!” Nate yelled, and then whispered to her, “Turn around, we need to get this off you!”

  Cara didn’t want Nate at her back, but turned anyway. As he fumbled with the clasp the director pounded on the door, harder this time. “Open up! What’s going on in there?”

  “I can’t get it,” Nate rasped.

  He was so ham-fisted, wrenching at the thing, she was afraid he’d break it. “Let me do it!”

  She swung the necklace around and grasped the clasp with her fingers, but it wouldn’t open.

  “Hurry up!”

  “I’m trying,” she hissed back, angry that she’d be doing the walk of shame in front of the director.

  The banging on the door started up again, and Nate finally hurried to unlock it.

  She cringed, caught red-handed as it were.

  “Hey, boss,” Nate chuckled. “Sorry about that.”

  Steve, thin of stature, his thick salt and pepper hair standing on end as usual, looked at Nate, and then through the doorway at Cara.

  The irritated, yet knowing look he shot her, had heat searing her face.

  In that moment, she wanted to kill Nate.

  She felt used and abused. He’d lured her in here, ruined their friendship, and opened the door too soon! Besides that, her mouth hurt from his kiss.

  “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on in here?”

  Nate shot her a malevolent look. “I caught Cara trying on the necklace. I don’t want to accuse her of theft or anything, but ...” he left the sentence unfinished.

  “What? That is not what happened!” Cara defended herself. Granted, Nate told her he’d deny any involvement, but he hadn’t told her he’d do it so viciously.

  The director glanced between the two of them, and he finally shook his head. “You know what? I don’t really care. What I do care about is the fact that one of my makeup artists is wearing the million-dollar necklace that is supposed to be around the neck of my female lead!” He yelled the last two words.

  She stood there, still trying to unclasp the piece, feeling a fool, and on the verge of tears.

  “Come out here into the sunlight!”

  Cara gave up and crossed the space to stumble clumsily down the stairs.

  “I will thank you to take that necklace off now, Miss Jones,” the director demanded. “And after that, you can take your sticky little fingers, and get off my set!” He roared the last words so loudly her ears rang.

  Humiliation hit her in waves and tears filled her eyes. Without thinking, fight or flight instinct kicked in and she shoved past the director, swerved around one of the tents, and ran out into the open field.

  She found herself drawn toward the monument in the distance, some sort of touching stone, or shrine, the religious made pilgrimages to.

  Everyone was looking at her! Or it certainly felt like it!

  More tears welled in her eyes at Nate’s betrayal.

  She stifled the sob rising in her throat and turned around to see the director, and a rather large, thick-necked gentleman wearing a dark suit and sunglasses, walking in her direction. Probably the guard.

  She couldn’t believe Nate, someone she’d considered such a good friend, would throw her under the bus. And why? To save his own hide? Or was it really to get revenge for her lack of interest?

  She kept trying the clasp, tears blurring her vision now, and she felt a sharp slice on her thumb.

  That was it, she gave up. She made it to the stone, place a hand against it while she caught her breath, and turned to see the guard was almost upon her.

  She turned the necklace around so he could undo the clasp at her back, rather than her front. Her hand went to the pendant now hanging at her neck.

  The moment she touched it, the sharp pain in her thumb made her realize she’d just bled on the thing.

  She shivered.

  This just wasn’t her day.

  Bowing her head, she tried to shut out not only the approaching guard, but everyone who’d come out of trailers and tents to stare at the crazy woman. She bit back a sob.

  The quiet whispers and murmurs turned into the harsh sounds of an oncoming locomotive and she quickly opened her eyes and gaped at the huge warhorse about to barrel into her.

  Chapter 4

  Fear drowned out everything as she gasped and took three steps back, only to realize there was a second horse coming in the opposite direction.

  Instinct lifted her right arm into the air though she knew it was pointless.

  Her eyes shut tight against her impending death, as every muscle in her body tensed in anticipation of being mowed down.

  The shrieking scream of a horse had her opening her eyes and she fell backward as the beast, controlled by the knight on its back, reared, pawing near enough to her face she felt air stir.

  The huge rider gripped the horse with muscled thighs, his hand drawing on the reins, pulling the horse up onto its back legs to somehow keep her out of harm’s way.

  From her position on the ground, the furious horse and rider seemed monstrous, the red and black material covering the horse, waving wildly.

  The knight finally got the animal under control, and turned the horse to the side so it landed on all fours, scant feet from her, leaving her unharmed as the rider turned the horse away.

  He dropped a lance on the ground as she gasped for air, choked on dust, and tried to make sense out of what just happened.

  She slapped the ground with an open palm. “What is wrong with you?” She hadn’t even known there was a horse like this one on set.

  At her words, the beast turned, gnashing its teeth, and she scampered back, looking over her shoulder at the second animal, now stopped just behind her, a long rope the only thing separating them.

  Her heart pounded as she glanced around at the medieval crowd, looking for a familiar face, even Nate’s would be welcome at this point.

  The guard was nowhere to be seen.

  There was a dais, filled with royalty on one side, the rest of the field surrounding them jammed with people.

  With her elbows on the ground behind her, she choked on more dust and tried to work out where they’d all come from so quickly?

  How had she not realized she’d walked right into the middle of a scene?

  The man in front of her slid off his horse, lifted the helmet off his head and shot her an evil glare before throwing the reins to a young man standing by.

  She watched him tramp over to the stage filled with colorfully clothed aristocracy, and belligerently demand something of the king.

  She was relieved she’d put on the medieval gown, because if they somehow were able to salvage this footage, hopefully she wouldn’t end up getting sued or something.

  She knew she’d been upset, but to wander right into the middle of a joust?

  It was almost unbelievable.

  She really hadn’t seen it.

  She doubted, after their confrontation, the director would believe her, so she decided to simply slink away, and hope for the best.

  Her hand lifted to her throat and she was relieved to find the necklace still in place.

  If she’d lost it, her life would be ruined.

  She certainly didn’t have a million dollars to replace it.

  She looked around the outskirts of the crowd, searching for the guard. At this point, she’d had the humiliation scared out of her. She didn’t care anymore. She just
wanted the necklace off and into the guard’s custody.

  She didn’t want to be responsible for it.

  Stumbling, she found herself moving toward the peasant class, looking beyond, for the black-suited guard.

  No one was in the area but the well-dressed actors. Whoever did the makeup for the peasants, did an excellent job. She saw dirty faces, missing teeth, subservient expressions and wild-eyed fear as she approached.

  Wow. Well-done.

  She glanced further afield, where there seemed to be some sort of sword fighting competition going on, and realized the cameras must be pointed in that direction.

  She still wasn’t sure how all this had happened.

  Had she blacked out while running? Her shoulders hunched a bit, as the yelling near the royals became louder and more furious.

  She kept waiting for the director to call cut on the scene, but he must be letting it play out, hoping he could use the footage in the movie.

  She eased her way into the crowd before turning around to watch the rising action and was almost overwhelmed by the smell of unwashed masses.

  These guys were taking method acting to the extreme.

  She checked for her cell phone, and realized it was missing, left with her things in the trailer.

  Great.

  The knight who’d almost killed her was in a rage, his back to her. She couldn’t make out the words, but could hear the tone, see the clenched fist, and the pointing finger.

  Whatever he said wasn’t gaining favor, because those listening looked on with contempt, whispered, turned away, and outright sneered.

  She searched for Patrice, or even Jackson.

  This felt like it would be such a pivotal scene in the movie that the two main characters would be front and center.

  The second knight who’d almost run her over from behind took off his helmet and his golden hair shined in the sunlight.

  That had to be Sir Rupert Dinsdale, which would make the dark knight Lord Wallace Wolfsbane, the villain of the piece.

  But Rupert was played by Jackson Harrington. And the blond was decidedly not Jackson.

  She looked from person to person, carefully scanning the faces of everyone in the vicinity.

  As a makeup artist, she’d come into contact with many of the actors, both famous and unknown.

  She didn’t recognize one single person.

  Disbelief rolled through her as she continued to scan faces.

  Lightheaded and dizzy, she gripped the necklace at her throat. It was the only thing that seemed real at the moment.

  She watched as the dark knight turned away to scan the crowd.

  Fingers pointed in her direction, and soon those closest to her called out. “She’s here! Over here!”

  He was looking for her?

  She backed away, tried to, anyway, but helpful hands shoved her forward until she was at the front of the crowd.

  She was suddenly afraid of both the knight, and that she might ruin the scene again, as she didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

  The knight strode toward her, his rage unabated.

  The dizziness she felt escalated until her vision blurred and her knees weakened. She could feel blood drain from her face and found herself falling forward.

  Was she fainting?

  Harsh hands gripped her, and she was thrown over a broad shoulder.

  Her last thought?

  She was in so much trouble.

  The lady was in a dead faint.

  He’d never hauled a female like a sack of grain, but didn’t spare a moment of sympathy.

  She had much to answer for, and answer she would.

  As he strode back toward his mount, the focus of every eye, he gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Everything he had worked for, every favor called in, every scheme concocted to get his revenge, now ruined.

  His head throbbed with pent up fury. The Dinsdales were beyond his reach for the moment, and this woman, no doubt their collaborator, was directly responsible.

  He didn’t know her connection to his enemies, but would find out.

  The queen’s niece was to marry at Newcastle next week. He’d not planned to attend. He’d thought to be busy getting his estates back under his control. But mayhap he could go and speak to the king there.

  He could petition for a private audience.

  King Henry had been willing to condone the rematch once, and might again if Wallace did not wait too long. If the king returned to London, Wallace didn’t know when he might get another chance.

  The weight of the female hanging over his shoulder, her arms swinging behind him, barely registered.

  That this small piece of fluff should have spoiled his plans was beyond grating.

  He would not have thought to question her until it was too late, and she’d disappeared, but with the king’s permission, his suggestion, no less, she was now under his authority. He would not release her until she revealed aught that she knew.

  He handed her to the squire he’d borrowed upon his arrival. The boy was well-trained, and had already loaded his saddlebags and gear, no doubt in anticipation of Wallace’s hasty retreat.

  His jaw tightened. The boy wasn’t wrong.

  He held out his arms, and the female was transferred back to him.

  This time, rather than holding her over his shoulder, he held her in one arm, her face pressed to his chest as he rode out of the crowd.

  When he finally reached the edge of the fairground and moved toward the trees, he looked down, registering for the first time that she was a beauty.

  Flaxen curls spilled about her shoulders, contrasting with the brilliant red of her gown. With her eyes closed as if asleep, he could see her lashes were longer than any he’d seen.

  Her parted lips were just a shade too dark for the color to be natural, and where her cheeks should be pale, instead they were lightly brushed with color.

  In short, the lady looked to be a painted harlot, like many of her aristocratic ilk.

  The necklace she wore gleamed in the sunlight, obviously of great value. Her payment for using him ill?

  If so, she’d certainly been well rewarded and had earned it.

  He couldn’t help but wonder at the Dinsdales’ plot. The lady throwing herself in front of his destrier had been more likely to achieve her death, than not.

  And yet here she was, completely unharmed, so he couldn’t say their plan hadn’t been to their favor.

  With so many against him, and with no chance of saving his honor this day, he headed for home.

  He had few friends in this crowd, no one to stand beside him, and was afraid if he stayed, he’d end up doing murder.

  He should have run the female over.

  Barring that, she was the only one left for him to take his anger out upon.

  His lips set in a grim line. Once she’d told him all there was to know, he’d take her riches, strip her of pride, and set her to work in the kitchen.

  Until he could have his vengeance restored to him, she would pay the price for her treachery.

  Mayhap it would inspire her to turn against the Dinsdales.

  Whatever she was to his enemy, she could become to him.

  Chapter 5

  The rocking motion was quite soothing.

  Cara was slow to wake, but her chilled feet forced her back to consciousness.

  She opened her eyes and it took a moment to realize what she was seeing.

  The dark knight. Holding her in his arms. And they were on a horse?

  His face, sharp, slightly cruel, was somehow made scarier by the fact that in repose, he was incredibly handsome.

  Perhaps that wasn’t the right word. He had dark facial hair over a strong jaw, a nose just a shade overlarge, high cheekbones, tanned skin. Overall, a nice, very masculine face.

  He met her gaze and they stared at each other for a long moment.

  Eyes she’d have sworn were black, turned out to be a dark, predatory, olive green. His lashes and eyebrow
s, as dark as the hair hanging to his shoulders, accentuated his features.

  Maybe it was his air of calm, but she managed not to freak out. She didn’t sit up, perfectly comfortable where she was, not wanting to disrupt the almost dreamlike quality of the moment. “Where are we going, and why are we on a horse?”

  The man snorted. “You’d prefer to walk?”

  She ignored the fabulous accent — probably fake anyway — in favor of turning her head to look in the direction they were headed. There was nothing to see but a dirt road, trees, long grass, bushes.

  She knew she’d been fired, but this was certainly a unique way of escorting someone off the property.

  She remembered the man’s rage, and wondered if perhaps he’d been fired as well.

  With a start, she remembered the necklace and touched it.

  The fact it was still around her neck shocked her more than anything.

  “Perhaps you thought I’d steal it?” he grated.

  Her eyes met his again and it took a moment to work out what he’d said.

  “No, actually, I didn’t think you’d steal it. I’m just surprised they let me keep it.”

  He snorted. “I’ve no doubt the king would have taken it if he’d noted the piece. Instead, he gave you to me.”

  “Um …” She appreciated that the guy was trying to stay in character, many actors did, and who was she to say whether it improved their skills or not?

  But it hadn’t been a great day for her. And since she was still in possession of the necklace, she doubted it was going to get better anytime soon.

  That the guard wasn’t already breathing down her neck was surprising, but she didn’t doubt he would find her.

  Somehow, she was going to get the blame for this, too.

  So, while she might appreciate the skill of a good actor, this just wasn’t a great time, and she wasn’t the right person to practice them on.

  “Look, can I just say you did an excellent job with that last scene. Very impressive. Especially the way you improvised. And your accent is to die for. And I know this is weird, but I seem to have passed out for a while.”

  She lay passive in his arms, but if she sat up, she’d have to crane her neck, and since she was comfortable for the moment, stayed where she was.