A Knight of Honor (36 page)

No fight with her could ever be fair.
 
She would always have him at a disadvantage with her soft curves, the siren song of her voice, the eternal emerald depths of her eyes.

Slane threw back his head and took a long drink of ale.
 
He stared at the reflection of his face in the shiny surface of the liquid.
 
His eyes looked haunted, possessed by the image of a woman he could not have.
 
And should not want!
 
He looked up at the cause of his anguish.

Taylor opened her mouth to take a bite of bread.
 
As he studied her lips, the fullness of them, the cherry sweet redness of them, her innocent look seemed to turn wanton.
 
And then blatantly seductive.
 
Even though he was standing in the back of the room, her mouth filled his vision as if she were sitting but mere inches from him.
 
His gaze traveled up to her cheekbones, marveling at the delicate roundness of them, the hint of color that gave them such vibrant life.

Then she turned to stare right at him.
 
Her eyes drew his gaze on, forcing them upward, locking them into a tight stare.
 
For a long moment, he lost all sense of who he was, where he was.
 
Her emerald gems shimmered, priceless jewels buried in the treasure of her face.

Suddenly, he was on his feet, stalking toward her.
 
He would end this charade.
 
How could she think of leaving his protection?
 
How could she think she would survive one day out there alone with Corydon’s men and Richard’s mercenaries looking for her, especially after what had happened last time?

As he drew near, his shadow fell over her like a dark storm cloud.
 
He towered over her for a long moment, staring at her inquisitive eyes with fierce anger burning through his body.
 
He opened his mouth to order her to stay by him, to stay at his side...
 
but stopped cold.
 
He had lost.
 
He had given his word that he would let her go.

Taylor kicked out the chair her foot had been resting on and Slane fell silently onto it.

He could do nothing but stare at her.
 
At the way her hair tumbled about her shoulders in clouds of curls, the way her deep green eyes seemed to see into his soul, reading and understanding.
 
Then her lids fell over her eyes as she looked down at her mug of ale.

“It would be safer for you to stay,” Slane finally said quietly.

A grin tugged at her lips.
 
“I knew you couldn’t resist.”

“I’m not trying to stop you,” he insisted.
 
“I just think you should consider your options.”

She lifted her luminescent eyes to him.
 
“I have.”

“Hmm,” Slane mused.
 
“You’d rather take your chances with a dozen trained fighters looking to kill you or who knows how many mercenaries looking to kidnap you.
 
Kill.
 
Kidnap.
 
Kill.
 
Kidnap.
 
Maybe even both.”
 
He looked at Taylor.
 
“You’re right.
 
An easy decision to make.”

An amused smile twitched the corners of her lips.
 
“I’m going to miss your humor, Slane.” She lifted the mug to her lips, taking a long drink; then she slowly set it down again on the table.
 
But this time, she did not look at him; she turned to stare at the back wall.

A sudden agony swelled in his chest.
 
“You don’t have to go.”
 
His hand reached out to wipe her hair from her face.
 
Her locks parted, like the softest curtain in the world, as he moved her hair aside to see the flawless skin it hid.
 
“Taylor.”
 
His voice sounded thick to his own ears.
 
She didn’t look at him and he suddenly needed to see her eyes.
 
He needed to gaze at them one more time.

She rose quickly and moved for the door.
 
Then Slane was out of his chair just as quickly, calling desperately, “I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“You won’t,” she whispered.

Slane caught her arm, but she wouldn’t turn.
 
She wouldn’t lift her eyes to his.
 
Slane reached around her and placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him.
 
Taylor kept her head bowed before him, her black mane tumbling riotously about her head.
 
He cupped her chin and forced her head up until her eyes met his.

The pain he saw there tore at his soul.
 
It was a different kind of hurt, not like the kind he had seen when she was physically wounded, but like the kind he felt in his own heart.
 
He crushed her to him, wanting to take the pain from those eyes so he could remember her as the vibrant, glowing woman she was.
 
He brushed his cheek against hers, disheartened as the lavender smell of her floated to him.
 
He tried to memorize the feel of her against him, the soft curves of her back, the feel of her hair against the back of his hands, the way her cheek lay against his shoulder.

She pulled away slightly and turned her gaze to his.
 
Her lips were close to his; her breath fanned his face.
 
He had never pleaded for anything in his life.
 
Until now...
 
“Taylor, please...” he begged.

Taylor tried to take a step back as she shook her head, but his fingers tightened convulsively around her arms, refusing to relinquish their hold.
 
She opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden fear filled Slane.
 
He didn’t want to hear her stubborn words; he didn’t want to hear her reasons for leaving.

Desperate, he pressed his lips to hers to silence the words.
 
The touch of her wet lips sent a surge of longing shooting through his body.
 
The innocence of her kiss tugged at his conscience, begging him to release her before it was too late.
 
But wasn’t it already too late?

He parted her lips with his tongue and drove deep into the recess of her mouth, plundering the sweet inner sanctity with a need that he had never known before.
 
He tasted her, trying to get enough of her to last him a lifetime.
 
Her tongue swept his, meeting, battling.
 
He held her along the length of his body, afraid that if he let go she would flee.
 
Longing lashed his soul.
 
He wanted her as he had never wanted anything before in his life.
 
If she would but say the word, he would go away with her, forsaking all else.

At that realization, his body stiffened and he broke away.
 
What was he doing?
 
But as he looked into the depth of those sea green eyes, he knew exactly what he was doing.
 
He was saying good-bye to a woman he admired, a woman whose courage surpassed even his own.

She studied his face for a long moment, those bewitching eyes taking in every taut line, every clenched muscle, until he was sure she could see the battle waging in his soul.

He couldn’t turn his eyes away from her, even knowing what she was doing to him.
 
Even knowing how she was tearing him apart.

Finally, she stepped back.
 
And without saying a word, she turned and continued up the stairs.
 
He watched her every move like a hungry wolf.
 
She didn’t once look over her shoulder.

Slane wanted to throw his head back and scream and scream.

She would be gone by morning.
 
When he awoke, his life would be back to normal, as if she had never entered it.
 
But somehow, he knew it would never be the same again.

I
t was time to leave, Taylor knew.
 
Time to leave Slane.
 
As it had been a moment ago, a half hour ago, hours ago.
 
But the feel of Slane’s hard body pressed so intimately against her own, the feel of his lips against hers, made her long to feel more of his caresses.
 
How could she go when every one of her senses was telling her to stay?
 
How could she stay when her mind was telling her to run and never look back?
 
She stopped pacing and sat heavily on the bed beside her packed bag.
 
“Damn,” she muttered, her feelings swirling inside her.
 
Her brain felt ready to explode.
 
She dropped her head into her hands, grimacing at her indecision.
 
She had never been this confused before.

She rubbed her temples and bemusedly shook her head.
 
What would Jared think of her now? she wondered.
 
At the thought, her back straightened and drew her up.

She slowly dropped her hands from her face.
 
Jared.
 
I’ve come this far to avenge my friend’s death, she thought.
 
And now I’m running away into the night like a frightened child.
 
How can I abandon him like that ?
 
How can I allow his death to go unpunished?

Then why have I wanted to leave so badly ?
 
Her gaze shifted to the open window.
 
The moon struggled to give light to the world below it, but a haze of clouds blocked its feeble efforts, leaving the night dark.
 
The haunting image of Slane pressing his moist lips to Elizabeth’s cheek speared Taylor’s mind.
 
The pain she felt in her chest was as immediate as it had been the day that she had witnessed the scene.
 
She slowly dropped her gaze to the dark floor.
 
She didn’t want to be hurt.
 
She should put as much distance between her and Slane as she could, forgetting everything: the possibility of a paying job, free food and board, avenging Jared.

She knew now that a simple heated glance from Slane’s blue eyes or a seductive grin from his lips could make her forget everything.
 
That was why she had not left yet.
 
She was afraid Slane would be waiting in the common room for her.
 
Waiting with his worried blue eyes.
 
Waiting with his strong arms.
 
Waiting with his dangerous lips.
 
She was sure if he kissed her as he had before, she would never leave his side.
 
And deep down inside, she knew she didn’t want to leave Slane.
 
She wanted to stay with him.
 
Maybe, just maybe, he would forsake Elizabeth and take her in his arms again...

But she knew he would never break his vow.
 
His honor.
 
His oath.
 
She was afraid now that her longing for Slane was clouding her judgment, giving her too much of a reason to stay.
 
After all, couldn’t she avenge Jared’s death on her own?
 
Did she need to accompany Slane to Castle Donovan?
 
Of course, it would be easier to have Slane pay for her meals.
 
And she could seek his brother’s help against Corydon.
 
And what of her father?
 
He would be at Castle Donovan waiting for her.
 
Could she see him again, after all these years, just to be with Slane a while longer?
 
She slouched her shoulders, her long black hair cascading over her face onto her lap.
 
She didn’t care about seeing her father.
 
All she cared about was Slane.
 
She didn’t want to leave him.

Then what is the problem? she wondered.
 
Don’t go.
 
You’ve never given a rat’s ass about anyone else.
 
Why start now?
 
If you want to stay, to hell with Slane’s reputation, to hell with his honor.
 
Stay.
 
Do what you want, just as you’ve done for the last eight years.