A Knight of Passion - By Tarah Scott Page 0,32
entered the room, closing the door behind him, and crossed to the bed. He unstrapped his sword, laid it on the dresser beside the bed, then stretched out on the mattress.
“The duchess can no longer harm you or Siusan,” he said.
Riana nodded. “I am grateful.”
“Grateful? Hmm. How grateful?”
She couldn't be angry at the question. She owed him her gratitude, and the amused twinkled in his eyes stated he would take her gratitude in any form she gave it. How much more gratitude would she have to give for the request she was about to make?
Riana walked to the bed and sat on the edge beside him. “The duchess cannot hurt us. But she can hurt Glen.”
He nodded, clearly waiting for her to ask outright.
“I have nothing more to offer. I am yours to do with as you please…”
“I imagine you would again take matters into your hands if I did not deal with the matter.”
“I cannot abandon him.”
“He risked prison for you.”
“I had no idea the duchess would imprison him,” Riana burst out. “Had I known…”
“We will buy his release,” Sir Bryant said.
“The duchess cares nothing for your money.”
“True, but the warden will.”
Riana flushed with memory of the man, his hands on her body, mouth on her cunt when Sir Bryant burst into the room.
“I must tell you what you want to know,” she said.
Sir Bryant grasped her wrist and pulled across his chest. He brushed her cheek with a thumb. His trailed his finger downwards over her chin and along her neck. Gooseflesh raced down her arms. His feather-light touch skimmed across the exposed curve of one breast, then the other. He dipped his finger into her bodice, brushing her nipple. She shivered. He tugged down her sleeve, exposing a breast. He palmed the weighty flesh. His gaze shifted to her mouth and he leaned close.
When he had nearly reached her mouth, Riana said, “My lord.”
His eyes lifted to hers.
“We must speak.”
He tugged her skirt thigh-high and reached between her legs. He brushed a thigh with his fingers, then slipped them between her already moist folds.
“Is this what I need to know?” he asked. “How wet you are for me?”
Her heart raced. She wanted him. Wanted to feel his length deep inside, to know she was safe in his arms…would always be safe. But a man’s cock had never saved a woman. He plunged his fingers into her channel. Pleasure ripped through her.
“What you need to know,” she said in a breathless voice, “is that Her Grace murdered Lord Marr.”
The fingers inside her stilled.
“What?”
“Lord Marr,” she said. “The duchess is responsible for his death.”
“He was killed by a robber,” Sir Bryant said.
“The murder was made to look like a robbery.”
Sir Bryant removed his fingers from inside her and straightened, forcing her to sit up.
“You certainly know how to shrink a man’s cock to the size of a sausage.”
Heat crept up her cheeks.
He eyed her. “You could not have waited five more minutes to tell me this?”
“My lord, I—”
He barked a laugh. “Ten minutes, then.”
She didn’t reply, uncertain whether or not his look of frustration was truly tinged with amusement as she perceived.
He studied her. “This has weighed on your mind.”
“You must know the truth,” she replied.
“So that I may be certain I made a good bargain.”
“It is why you married me.”
“And what of the bargain you made?” he asked.
She frowned. “What?”
“Have you made a good bargain in marrying me?”
“I never dreamed I would have such good fortune.”
“Because I have taken you away from the duchess?”
“And Siusan,” Riana added.
“And Siusan,” he repeated.
Riana laid a hand on his arm. “I will always be grateful.”
“Grateful.” He gave a low laugh. “Fate is a cruel mistress to have turned my plans against me.”
She frowned. “I do not understand.”
He dropped his gaze to her hand where it still rested on his arm and she snatched it back.
He stuffed his hands behind his head and regarded her. “How do you know the duchess is responsible for Lord Marr’s death?”
Riana hesitated, uncertain of his sudden change in mood and topic. “He came to Arundel. The duchess was angry when he refused to financially support Balliol.”
“Lord Marr is a loyal follower of Sir Andrew. She was a fool to think he would change alliances.”
“But he supported Balliol at Dupplin Moor.”
Bryant’s eyes narrowed. “You are mistaken.”
She shook her head. “He regretted it, but it is true. The duchess threatened to expose his involvement if he did not add to Balliol’s coffers.”
Sir Bryant grew thoughtful. “If news reached Sir