A Knight of Passion - By Tarah Scott Page 0,1

Riana suppressed a bitter laugh. Apparently murder was as easy to grow accustomed to as was fornication.

But until Siusan was safely away, Riana couldn’t forget that the duchess’ cruelty was matched only by the duke’s depravity. She choked back a recollection of the day he had stripped away her memory of how sweet love could be and replaced it with understanding of how a man’s cock could foul a woman’s every orifice. Riana bit back tears. Curse the war that had taken her father and husband. Even God had deserted them. But she wouldn’t wait for God or anyone else to save them. Tonight, she would end this madness. Riana closed her eyes and released a slow breath. Fail, and the duke wasn’t the only threat they faced.

The duke and duchess secretly supported Edward Balliol, Scotland’s puppet king of Edward III, King of England and self-appointed Lord Parliament of Scotland. Most of Scotland had been retaken by Sir Andrew Murray, leader of Robert the Bruce’s faction. But King Edward III intended to wrest Scotland from him at all costs.

Two months ago, one of the Disinherited—the Anglo Saxon Scots led by Balliol—had secretly visited Arundel, and Riana learnt the duke and duchess had plotted with him to finance Balliol. She’d passed the information to Sir Fostar, who had fought alongside her father and husband.

Sir Fostar warned Riana that Scotland would bring a sentence of forfeiture against the duke, and seize his wealth and land. If Riana and Siusan weren’t far away, they would become casualties in the political aftermath. They couldn’t return to their mother—her new husband would shun women branded as followers of the English king. Riana envisioned her and Siusan wandering the streets and, eventually, forced into a brothel.

She glanced from the goblet laced with poison to the door. Her pulse raced. Tears rushed to the surface and burned her eyes before she could halt them. Once the knight appeared, there would be no turning back. Her heart twisted. She was as big a fool as the duchess. There had never been any turning back.

Chapter Two

Riana glanced at the low flames in the hearth. The hour had grown late. The knight should have arrived by now. Trepidation surfaced. If the duchess grew bored and went in search of him, and by some slim chance looked in on Siusan, their lives would be over. Her stomach roiled. Only one alternative remained until he arrived…if he arrived.

She faced the bed.

Heavy curtains hung between all bed posts save the one against the wall where the picture hung, and the curtain facing the fire was open so that firelight would illuminate the writhing bodies on the mattress.

She took two steps and leant forward, palms flat on the mattress, purposely allowing her breasts to sway slightly. The duchess’ gaze would be riveted to the full globes. Riana forced back revulsion and slowly crawled to the head of the bed. She settled on her back, legs spread on the white sheets. With one hand, she cupped a breast, while flattening the other hand on her belly. Riana jammed shut her eyes. If her eyes strayed to the picture and met the duchess’s gaze she would vomit.

Siusan. Remember her and their dear Glen, who risked his life to save them both. They were the reason she was here. She inched her hand downwards on her stomach. They must reach safety before the duchess’ attention waned. Which meant this time, Riana couldn’t distance her mind as she usually did when men rutted between her legs. This time, she had to enjoy being watched. Her fingers brushed the curls of her mound. Tears threatened. An unexpected vision rose of the dark-haired, dark-eyed young man who had gently taken her maidenhead. Pain slashed through her at memory of her husband, but she allowed her mind to sink into that kinder time, the day after Stuart had asked for her hand in marriage and they had met in the glen south of Fyvie Castle.

They were to be married. She hugged him close, aware of the erection that pressed eagerly against her belly. His body tensed against his self-imposed restraint. Riana laughed. She wanted him, intended to have him long before the wedding, still six months away.

Guilt stabbed through the memory with startling intensity. Stuart hadn’t been able to resist, just as the men the duchess sent never resisted. But Riana had loved Stuart…he had loved her. They were supposed to want one another. And they had.

Her body exploded when he