A Knight of Passion(11)
Thanks be to God that Sir Dunbar hadn’t been in his chambers when Riana sought him out two hours ago. She’d reported to the duchess, who had been furious, but day was fast approaching, and his men-at-arms would soon be rousing themselves. The duchess agreed that he must have been distracted with another tasty wench. Tonight, she would ensure he came to Riana.
That gave Riana today to secure Glen’s release. Once free, she would sneak Siusan out of Arundel, and she—
A grimy hand shot from the darkness between the bars on the left side. Riana leapt back, then cried out at the vicious yank on her arm that dragged her against the bars on the opposite side. Meaty fingers snaked around her waist and pinched a breast through the thin fabric of her dress.
“Let her go, you filthy wretch!” shouted the guard.
Riana twisted and met the feral brown eyes of the prisoner. He seized her bodice and yanked it down past her breast as he jerked her against the bars. Foul breath washed over her face. She gagged in reflex at the rank smell. His greedy mouth latched onto a nipple and sucked. Pain spiked from the sensitive bud. Riana twisted as fingers dug in between her legs. Bile rose.
The guard’s club slammed down on the man’s arm. The wretch growled. The club beat down upon the man’s arm again, and his grasp loosened. Riana jumped back, then whirled in time to miss a swipe from another large hand on the other side of the room. She dragged the bodice up over her breasts, breath coming in painful wheezes.
The guard appeared at her side. “I told you to walk directly behind me.” He added something unintelligible, then started forward again.
Riana stumbled after him, legs so shaky she couldn’t halt her tears. With trembling hands, she tugged the hood over her head, gaze straight ahead as she followed directly in the guard’s footsteps down the middle of the aisle until they passed through a doorway into another narrow corridor, this one, thankfully, without cells. They made a dozen twists and turns through the stone hallways and up and down stairs before finally coming to a large wooden door. The guard rapped once, then opened the door and stepped inside.
“The lady to see you, my lord.”
Riana entered, legs still trembling so badly she feared they would give way beneath her. Warmth washed over her and she started at sight of the inviting fire that blazed in the hearth at the opposite side of the room—and the tall, dark-haired man sitting behind a desk a few feet front of it. The quill that had been moving across a page stilled, and he looked up. This man didn’t fit the lecherous picture the duchess had painted of the prison warden.
Not all men looked the part of letches, she reminded herself. But they were.
Not so. Glen wasn’t, neither had her Stuart been…or Sir Bryant? She shook off the unexpected thought and focused on the man sitting behind the desk. If he wasn’t a man to be swayed by a woman’s body, then he would require coin, and she needed to save every gold piece for Glen and Siusan. Pray God a letch lived behind the intense brown eyes that stared at her.
She glanced meaningfully at the guard. “May we speak alone, my lord?”
The warden motioned with his head for the guard to leave. The man snickered, then left.
Riana waited until the door had clicked shut behind her, then crossed to the desk. “I am here to secure the release of a friend.”
He laid down his quill and looked expectantly at her.
Fear sliced through her at his lack of response. “You do not seem surprised by my request, sir.”
“I have many requests to release prisoners.”
His deep voice unnerved her. “I can pay,” she said.
His gaze raked down her body, then came back to her face. “Indeed?”
“Any price,” she added.
“Who is the friend?”
“Glen Ramsey.”
He gave a small nod. “The duchess’ latest pet.”
Her heart raced. “Is he well?”
His mouth turned downwards. “As well as can be expected.”
Fear squeezed her stomach. “What does that mean?”
“You have seen this place. Who would be well here?”
“Aye, no one, but is he unharmed?”
“Last I saw him. He is strong. He can care for himself.”
“Any price,” she said. “I can pay.”
“How is it a man like him has won the allegiance of a woman like you? He is a deaf mute.”
Anger flared, but she forced back the emotion. She wasn’t allowed indignation. She would f*ck the devil if it would get Glen out of hell. “He is my father.” The lie was slight.