Читать книгу A Night of Wicked Delight - Joanne Rock - Страница 3

Chapter 2

Gareth of Domingart wanted vengeance.

He’d penetrated his enemy’s keep. He’d successfully intercepted his enemy’s kin. He had no intention of bartering away his position of power to Edward du Bois’ pretty young ward who appeared as fond of scheming as her deceitful overlord.

“I will take whatever I wish either way,” he assured her, clamping a quieting hand over her mouth. “But the odds of your maid surviving the night will greatly increase if you do exactly as I say.”

He noted how she trembled as he secured her back to his chest to guide her down the staircase. The memory darkened his mood along with any hint of remorse for the woman’s fears.

“In the name of all that’s holy,” his companion, Bronson, complained on the step beneath him as he struggled to change his hold on the other female, “this one has gone and fainted now.”

He glared at Gareth as he scooped the dark-haired maid off her feet, tucking her skirts about her legs to keep them from trailing on the ground and tripping him. She was uncommonly lovely, her skin creamy and unmarked by pox, her lips full and soft. Long, chestnut waves cloaked her shoulders, her hair visible through the sheer veils she wore. There was a hint of the exotic about her eyes. Something about the shape and the heavy fringe of lashes reminded him of the nomadic people he’d taken shelter with for a year while he regained his strength in the desert.

“Onward,” Gareth commanded, unwilling to argue with his reluctant man-at-arms in front of his enemy’s cousin. Bronson did not approve of his tactics, but revenge on Edward du Bois required a strong hand.

If that meant he had to instill fear into his new captive, that was better than inflicting physical harm.

“D’ya have to talk of her surviving the night?” The burly man-at-arms grumbled, holding the little maid sideways while he picked his way down the tower’s narrow, curving passage.

Whoever had constructed Edenrock had not concerned themselves with spacing the steps an even width apart, creating an awkward climb for invaders. Gareth wasn’t sure the odd layout had been purposeful, but he could certainly envision an invading army breaking a few necks on the way up.

“Would you rather we leave her behind for Edward to question when he discovers Lady Emma missing?” he asked Bronson, keeping his voice low even though the noise from the great hall should have covered the sound of their escape.

The woman in his arms stiffened at his words before she made some kind of protest behind his restraining hand. Gareth guessed Emma knew as well as he that the maid would be abused for allowing her mistress to escape. Edward du Bois possessed no mercy.

As Gareth navigated his way to the main floor, he thought it boded well for Emma that she had enough human decency to protect someone who served her. Clearly, she was a person of greater integrity than her cousin.

Or was she?

Memories of Lady Emma’s intriguing offer to do whatever he wished assailed his senses even as he slipped past the great hall entrance. Had this sheltered maid meant to exchange her innocence for the life of her servant? Or was Emma of Westleigh less sheltered than he had guessed? There had been a glint of knowing in her eyes when she’d made her proposition. Although—tempting as the lady might be—Gareth had no intention of touching the kin of his enemy. Abducting the would-be bride was about vengeance against Edward du Bois and not about despoiling an innocent.

Though he would certainly leverage any of her good will to assure she complied with his demands, he did not wish her captivity to be more difficult than it had to be.

“Do not think I will forget about your bargain,” he whispered in her ear as he eased open a creaking side entrance to the keep. There, he stepped over the unconscious form of a guard who had fought his admittance earlier. He lifted Emma higher so her suspended feet would not drag over the man either.

Or had he lifted her simply to feel the slide of her rounded bottom against his hip? He swallowed back an unexpected surge of lust that would only distract him when he needed to keep his wits. Perhaps he had been more enticed by Emma’s provocative suggestion than he had realized.

“Mmph!” His captive made a muffled sound behind his restraining hand, her soft lips pressed into his palm.

Up ahead, an old man with a small peddler’s cart pushed the conveyance closer. Bronson hastened ahead to meet him, according to their plan for escape. Without speaking, he loaded the maid into the back of the cart among the bolts of silk the gray-haired trader had brought into the walled village for sale a few days ago. There was no one manning the gate, thanks to Gareth’s forces, but they would rouse less suspicion among anyone else in the courtyard if they departed Edenrock under cover of the merchant’s cart.

Apparently Emma spied what awaited her, for she elbowed Gareth in the chest with a jab more fierce than he would have anticipated, given that she had little room to swing at him. Wrapping her more securely in his arms, he stepped up into the low cart with her.

“Never fear, Lady Emma,” he whispered, mindful of anyone who might lurk in the shadows and overhear them. At least the lack of a moon helped hide their scuffling about from anyone nearby, though right now he could see naught but a few old women gathered around a fire outside the kitchen behind the keep. “I will lie beside you to ensure you are safe.”

Climbing into the back, Gareth settled her close to him, inhaling the delicate perfume of her hair. The cart lurched into motion as Bronson pulled the coarse hide over the silk and bodies within. Their plan was to take the prisoners to his men’s nearby encampment where they’d remain while he made his demands to her overlord. But as he situated her wriggling form tight to his among the rolls of silk, he knew there would be a change of tactics.

He did not wish to confront this fiery noblewoman in front of his men. Not when their last conversation had been so highly charged. Instead of taking her to the camp, he would bring her to his keep and speak to her in private.

Within the confines of his chamber, behind a bolted door.

He would not take advantage of her, but if she was insistent about trading her favors for his compliance, he would be better served locking her away from himself, where she would remain safe. Untouched. He would sleep among his knights so she would have his chamber to herself. He would not be conquered by his enemy’s cousin, even if she looked at him without the revulsion he’d noted in other women’s eyes.

A few feet away, Emma’s maidservant lay quietly with her hands tied and her mouth bound by Bronson’s tunic sleeve. Bronson would help push the cart past the gatehouse until they arrived at their waiting horses in the forest nearby. Gareth would free the captives’ bonds as soon as they were far enough from Edenrock not to be overheard.

For now, he had his hands full keeping Emma still and quiet next to him. She’d been straining against him in earnest ever since he’d put her in the cart. Not that she was much trouble, her strength was minimal compared to his own. Still, he regretted her discomfort since she hadn’t been the one to betray him. She hadn’t been the one to sell him to an eastern flesh trader in order to plunder Gareth’s keep five years ago.

Nay, that treachery had been committed by her guardian. Emma had done naught but remind him how long it had been since he’d had a sweetly scented noblewoman in his arms.

He cursed the inappropriateness of that thought.

“Be very, very quiet and you will not be harmed,” he warned her, knowing they must be passing through the gate in the castle walls by the way the creaking wheels had slowed.

All at once, she bit the center of his palm, her teeth scraping along his flesh. Gareth’s grip eased for only a moment, but it was enough for her to scream if she’d wanted to make noise.