To Tempt a Knight (8 page)

Thinking about Peter was unbearable. His throat clamped tight. He missed his brother.

All his life he’d tried so hard to be what Peter had wanted him to be. His brother set high ideals for the two
of them—that they would go away together and fight for the causes of justice and freedom. They’d become Templars together and had dedicated themselves to their new lives.

They had helped to keep English invaders from crossing the Scottish border. They’d helped keep order amongst the clans, all while they waited for that big moment when they could change the face of the world together. But they would never get that chance. Not together anyway. Peter’s death had changed all that.

Lucius couldn’t think about Peter without thinking about de la Roche, who had robbed them of their dreams. And for that, the man deserved whatever ill came his way.

No one could rob a man of his dreams and walk away unscathed. Nay, de la Roche had to pay for what he’d done to Peter.

Lucius opened his eyes. The shaking was easing now. Thoughts of revenge kept the pain and the guilt at bay. He had no choice but to proceed. No matter what that made him, no matter whom he hurt.

Peter’s death demanded justice.

William could feel a familiar frustration welling up inside him. He moved restlessly around his small monk’s chamber, from the door to the tiny casement window, and peered out into the garden beyond. His hands clenched the wood of the sill as he gazed out blindly. He had thought this would be easier. He had thought he could remain remote and untouched, to manipulate events to his liking, to further his own goals without being affected.

Yet the past two days he’d been with Siobhan had been harder than he would have imagined. The heat of her presence touched him in places he had thought had grown too cold for embers to glow anew. When he looked upon her he felt…moved, concerned, guilty?

He had no reason to feel guilty. He might not have been completely open with her about why he needed the Spear, but he would do everything he’d promised. He would help her find her father. He would fight de la Roche’s men. He would make certain she and her father were safe before he…left them, taking the Spear with him.

His grip tightened on the windowsill as he remembered the feel of Siobhan’s hand in his. Something about her touch moved him, excited him. He could feel himself hardening at the thought.

He pushed away from the window, strode across the tiny monk’s cell and jerked open the door. Stewing in his chamber was no help at all. He had to keep himself busy, find something to occupy his mind and think only about what he would do once he found the Spear.

Siobhan stepped from the monastery into the gated courtyard that separated her from the rest of Scotland. Early morning light cast the world around her in hues of pink and gold. A soft breeze brushed her cheeks, her arms. She shivered. Today she would leave the safety of the monastery with William, and the next phase of their adventure would begin.

An odd mixture of fear and excitement swelled inside her. She gazed out at the open land before her and straightened her back, facing her future.

There was nothing for her anywhere but out there. The Cairngorms would be the start of her new life. Despite her resolve, she shivered again.

A blanket of warmth enveloped her.

“This should keep you warm,” the rich tones of William’s voice sounded from behind her. He smoothed the thick, luxurious animal pelt across her shoulders. The cloak fell to her calves, cocooning her in welcome heat.

“My thanks.” She turned and met his gaze. Cool composure tightened his features, calm and in control. Disappointment joined her other emotions. No hint of whatever it was that had passed between them last night seemed to remain with him this morn.

Why should it? To him, their adventure was all about duty. His duty to the Templars. His duty to keep her
safe. She had to remember that. “Are you well enough to travel?” she asked, needing to redirect her thoughts.

“I’m quite recovered.”

She didn’t believe him, but did not argue the point.

“Do you have the scroll?” he asked.

She’d used a small piece of the tartan he’d given her to sew a hidden pocket inside her gown. “Yes, it’s concealed here.” She patted the slight bump, feeling the protective leather beneath her fingers.

At her acknowledgment, he guided her to the courtyard where he placed her on Phantom’s back. The massive white beast remained steady as William mounted behind her.

“We’re only taking one horse?”

“Phantom is strong enough to carry us both,” he said, stroking the animal’s thick neck. “Besides, another horse would be unpredictable.” William spurred the horse toward the gates where Brother Kenneth stood waiting.

The old monk’s expression softened when he saw them. “I’m saddened by your departure. William’s been away too long, and, my dear, it’s been a pleasure to see what a fine woman you’ve become.”

Siobhan’s cheeks heated. “It was kind of you to offer us shelter,” she said in earnest.

A smile lit the old monk’s face and caused laugh lines to fan out around his eyes. “You may always find shelter here. Remember that.” He reached up and took Siobhan’s hand in his own larger one. She experienced an overwhelming sense of well-being. All her earlier fear melted away. “I offer you my blessing as you both go forward toward your destiny.” He released her hand and opened the iron gates.

“Guard yourselves well,” William warned as they started through the threshold. “De la Roche is capable of anything.”

Brother Kenneth nodded. “Simon is here. He’s all the advantage we need against such a foe. And I still know how to wield a sword with the best of you. God be with you both,” Brother Kenneth said before closing the heavy gate behind them.

The cool breeze stirred again. Siobhan turned her face into it and could feel the tingle of misty droplets against her cheeks.

William’s arm tightened around her waist. “It seems we are in for some weather.”

“A little rain never hurt anyone,” Siobhan replied.

He chuckled and pulled her back against the solid wall of his chest. She caught the scent of sandalwood and musk—earthy, male—a scent that she would always associate with him. “We’ll be riding in the open this morning and most of the afternoon, so keep alert to anything suspicious.”

Siobhan nodded and willed herself to concentrate on the scenery before her and not on the entirely unavailable male who held her close. She focused her awareness on the terrain they crossed.

They traveled in silence for some time until chilling winds swept in from the north, bringing with them a rolling mass of black clouds that snuffed out the rosy glow of the sun along the eastern horizon. Droplets began to fall, first in a light sprinkling that washed the dust from the air and brought with it the sweet scent of rain. Then, without warning, a torrential downpour marched across the open land.

“We’ll have to find shelter before we are soaked.” William kicked Phantom into a gallop. The ground sped past. Siobhan’s grip tightened on the horse’s mane as she adjusted to the new rhythm.

The ends of her hair escaped her tight plait to whip behind her, until the rain plastered the heavy mass about
her shoulders. A smile came to her lips. She’d experienced rainstorms before, but never outdoors with no shelter in sight. Siobhan tipped her head up to the sky. Large raindrops pelted her face and ran down her neck. Laughter bubbled up in her throat. “Oh my heavens!” She found herself laughing.

At an answering laugh from behind her, she twisted around. William’s eyes glowed with the same exhilaration. The blood pounded in her veins. Her senses heightened. The weight of her wet cloak pressed her garments against her flesh. The rhythm of the horse moved through her in time with her breathing, the very beat of her heart.

The world seemed to stop as William stared down at her. She was suddenly aware of the warmth of his body as it pressed against hers, his gaze intent on her lips.

If he were to lean forward, their lips would touch…

With an effort, she tore her gaze from his and turned around. She swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. It didn’t help. She’d wanted him to kiss her.

A chaste monk. What was wrong with her? Did she not respect his vows? What of her own chastity? Was she ready to toss that aside all for the feel of William’s lips upon hers?

Siobhan forced back a groan and closed her eyes. Once again she turned her face up to the rain, hoping it would wash away the lust cascading through her. What was it about this man that turned her senses inside out?

She drew a deep breath and released it slowly. What was she going to do if every time he looked at her she felt these overwhelming sensations? What possessed her to act without reserve? She never had before. Or was that the heart of the matter? She had little if any experience in such things. She’d been raised by a father who had never remarried. When she was young, her nurse had never taught her about the happenings between a
man and a woman. And the nurse had died before Siobhan had come into her womanhood.

Siobhan released a soft sigh. She wondered what her mother would advise. Should she do what she always did—hide from her feelings, close herself off? Or should she embrace her emotions, whether they were returned or not? Were the emotions that threw her off balance even real, or were they a result of the desperate situation she and William found themselves in?

Behind her, William sat perfectly still. She could feel the tension in his body radiate into her own. Siobhan held herself taut, trying not to touch any part of his body, as they raced through the storm.

They needed shelter.

He needed distance from the woman in his arms. Her complete joy in the downpour they found themselves in had taken him by surprise. Most of the women he’d known while at the Scottish court would never have taken such delight in the discomfort the rain usually brought.

Instead of shying away from the rain, Siobhan had embraced it. Her face had brightened and her musical laughter filled the air. Desire for her tightened every muscle in his body. The slashing rain continued to pelt them as William guided his horse toward the trees. He sucked in a deep breath. His body burned with needful heat. But it was a heat he could never sate.

There could never be anything between them. He had taken vows of piety, poverty, obedience and chastity. His future was with the Templar Brotherhood. His life belonged in the service of God. Yet even as the thought formed, his heart protested. The Church had granted permission for her father to leave the Order to pursue a secular life.

A different life. What would it be like to have a different
life? To have someone who cared about him…for him? To have a home he could return to each night? To have a woman who would bear his children?

A family. Love. William tightened his hands on the reins. He had never let himself think about such things before. Warring left little time for fantasy.

But it was fantasy that filled his senses now. If he leaned forward ever so slightly, he could catch the scent of heather in her hair. His groin jerked in response. He’d been with women while at the Bruce’s court, before he’d taken his vows. He’d experienced passion, pleasure…but nothing like the temptation Siobhan held for him. What would it be like to indulge in her sweetness, experience her passion? Just once?

He set his jaw. Love, or even affection, had no place in a warrior’s life. Too many things could steal that love away. Then he’d be alone once more, having failed yet again to protect those he loved.

Nay. He was better off without such things.

The pelting rain slowed to a steady shower as they came to the forest surrounding the Cairngorms. Phantom gratefully dashed beneath the boughs of the rowans, heading deeper into the forest. Under the cover of the trees, the light shifted from gray to silver, and the rain slowed to a drizzle.

“We need to find somewhere protected from the rain and yet still defensible should de la Roche surprise us,” William said, forcing his thoughts away from his body’s cravings.

“We got lucky today, didn’t we?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“That de la Roche and his men were nowhere in sight.”

“Luck.” He paused, feeling more in control of himself again. “I’d like to believe in such a thing, but I’ve been a
warrior too long. We must stay alert and prepare for anything.” He stopped the horse when they came to a rocky area in the side of the mountain. They continued up a rutted path for some time until they reached a gaping hole in the hillside.

William stopped and slid from Phantom’s back. “Stay here. I’m going to take a look.” He disappeared inside the cave.

He returned a moment later. “Empty.” He reached for her waist and swung her down from the horse’s back. “Our new home, yet another cave, for the night.”

“I’m starting to think you like sleeping in caves.” She smiled up at him.

“Better than in the open during a Scottish rain.”

She stepped inside the cave, out of the rain. “It’s dry. That’s a blessing in itself.”

William guided Phantom inside the cave. He unfastened the saddlebag, then leaned it against the wall of the cave. It took only moments to find and light a tallow candle. He placed it into the lantern he pulled from his bag.

The golden glow illuminated the front part of the cave, revealing a ceiling that rose some thirty feet above their heads. The interior didn’t feel cool or drafty. Compared to the storm outside, it felt almost cozy in their dry little space. He held the lantern up to illuminate the large boulders at the back of the cave, sending eerie shadows to creep up the walls.

“Take off your cloak and set it against the boulders to dry. It will do you no good to sit about in wet clothes.” He set the lamp in the center of the cave and removed his own cloak.

He watched as she unfastened her cloak, slipped it from her shoulders, then plucked the scroll from its protected pocket with a smile. “Safe and dry.”

Her motions brought his attention to the front of her
gown, where her cloak had failed to protect her from the driving rain. The wet fabric was molded to her breasts, her hips, her thighs, revealing a curvy feminine shape.

William forced himself to look away. She had no idea of the erotic picture she presented as she settled on the ground near the lantern and withdrew the scroll.

“The scroll is dry as well.” She set the papyrus on the dry earth, her finger outlining the drawing of what they’d decided were the Cairngorms. “Where do we go from here?”

William squatted beside her and peered down at the map. With his index finger he tapped the V between the two tallest mountain peaks. “First we must make our way here.”

He traced a complex series of dashes and markings near the middle of the peak on the left. “This is where we’ll find the Mother’s Cradle. If it has been used as a storehouse by the Templars, no doubt it will be well concealed. Finding it would be next to impossible without this map.”

A shadow of worry darkened her brow. Siobhan leaned closer to examine the drawing. “What if we can’t find it?”

“We will.” He set his jaw. Nothing would get in the way of his safeguarding the treasure and keeping the Spear out of de la Roche’s hands.