A Knight of Passion(38)

Doubt flickered across Siusan’s face.

“No time to delay,” Riana urged.

Her sister nodded, and Riana nodded to Glen. His eyes moistened. Riana smiled. He smiled back, then he and Siusan started forward. Riana watched until they disappeared in the trees, then turned her horse south towards Arundel.

* * * *

Dawn had begun a grey crawl across the sky when Riana entered Arundel. The knot in her stomach had grown tighter over the last twenty-four hours. By now Glen and Siusan would be on a ship bound away from Scotland. All that remained was to face the duchess—that and the days she would spend in Sir Ross’ bed until she could leave Arundel knowing the duchess couldn’t harm Sir Bryant.

Riana was left waiting in the duchess’ anteroom, where the older woman had watched Sir Bryant f*ck her only three days ago. Memory of his touch rose with a vividness that squeezed her heart. She would never again feel those large hands cupping her breasts, or his long fingers inside her wet channel. Nor would she hear him whisper deep in the night as he had last night. The door swung open and Riana forced back tears. The duchess stood in the doorway. She stared for an instant, crossed to Riana, and slapped her.

Riana’s head wrenched to the side with the force of the blow. The numbing sting splintered tentacles through her cheek. She slowly straightened and met the duchess’ gaze. Fury and triumph blazed in the older woman’s eyes. Riana gave a low laugh. Then she slapped her back.

The duchess’ hand flew to her reddened cheek and she retreated a step. “How dare you?”

“I warn you, Your Grace, do not push me too far.”

“I can still kill Sir Bryant,” she shot back.

Despite the fear that rammed through her, Riana gave a slow nod. “My presence here must tell you that your first attempt was not successful.”

“Assassins can be bought for a handful of silver,” the duchess spat.

“Aye, and some cost not a single piece of silver.” They stared at each other for a long moment before Riana added, “My sister is beyond your reach.”

The duchess narrowed her eyes. “Then why return?”

“I have no wish to be responsible for Sir Bryant’s death.”

“Why not force my hand by having Siusan marry while under Sir Bryant’s protection?”

Riana gave a harsh laugh. “I will not have my sister bind herself to some fool just to escape you.”

The duchess’ mouth curved upwards in a knowing sneer. “Say what you will, Riana, I have known you too long. You care for him.”

“If so, then you would do well to take care.”

“I should have had you thrown into prison.”

“Aye. But now you risk Sir Bryant rescuing me, as he did the first time.” A lie, but the duchess couldn’t know that.

Fury flashed in the older woman’s eyes, but she kept her fisted hands at her sides. “You will marry Sir Ross this very morning. The archbishop granted the annulment between you and Sir Bryant, and has agreed to perform the ceremony. No one will be able to contest this marriage.”

Riana felt as if the air had been knocked out of her. They would be away from Arundel and married before Sir Bryant could possibly interfere—if such a possibility existed. This was exactly as things should be. Yet despite knowing that, a crippling sorrow swept through her. She had ridden hard in order to reach Arundel, as much fearful Sir Bryant would overtake her as that she might encounter strangers who were unaware she was the ward of the powerful Duke of Arundel.

She had arrived safely only to be undone now by the realisation that while Sir Bryant would go on to live a full life without her, his memory would shadow the rest of her days. Sorrow twisted through her. Even once she left Scotland the ache would remain.

Riana gave the duchess a nod. “We should leave immediately. Sir Bryant is not a man to thwart.”

For the first time since Riana had known the duchess, doubt crossed her face. Satisfaction brought a deeper sense of determination. The duchess had good reason to fear for her life.





Chapter Twenty

At sound of the commotion in the great hall, Riana yanked the hem of her dress above her ankles and started down the hallway at a run. She reached the balcony overlooking the large room, breath sawing in and out of her so violently her vision blurred. She clutched the stone ledge and dragged in a harsh breath in an effort to fill her lungs with air as she stared at the men-at-arms who swarmed the great hall. They weren’t Sir Bryant’s men, as she’d feared, but bore the hammered crest of Sir Fostar.