Page 84 of Desire's Ransom
So what was going on?
What was she missing?
“They can’t have just vanished,” she said.
“Maybe they were waylaid by murderers,” Aife suggested, “or devoured by wolves.”
It was possible, but highly unlikely. “Ye travel that road all the time with no incident.”
“Aye, true.”
Nay, the more Temair thought about it, the more she was convinced that something more devious was afoot.
For one thing, even though he’d had the opportunity, Ryland hadn’t attempted to flee. To her chagrin, she’d led him straight to the log bridge, steps away from freedom, forgetting that he could find his way back from that place. Yet he hadn’t even tried. Why?
Temair paled, afraid to consider the reason. Her mind filled with dark possibilities. She felt her heart crack slowly into a hundred pieces.
Had she been so blind? Had she been too distracted by Ryland’s seduction to see what was right in front of her?
A powerful knight like Sir Ryland de Ware hadn’t earned his spurs by sitting back and allowing others to fight his battles. For a man like that, the only course of action was to take matters into his own hands. He would take charge, act with aggression, and secure his release on his own terms.
He meant to betray her. Of course he did. He hadn’t sent his men to collect the ransom at all. He’d instructed them to do something else. But what?
How long had he been carrying on this deception? From that very first kiss he’d given her with his lying lips? When he and his men had followed her back to the camp? She wasn’t sure. But somehow the tempting villain had managed to gain her confidence. She flushed with shame to think of how vulnerable she’d left herself to his charms.
It was only a matter of time before he turned on her like a rogue hound and snapped at her trusting fingers. She swallowed down the nasty taste of betrayal, which sank into a hard lump in her stomach.
But she couldn’t afford to dwell on her own humiliation or the hurt that squeezed her heart. For the sake of her legacy and herclann, she needed to find out where his men had gone.
“Send him to me,” she said.
“Who?”
“Sir Ryland.” She whipped out her dagger, flipped it through her fingers with a flourish, and leaned back against the shadowy wall to wait. “I need to have a word with him.”
Standing before the vine-covered entrance of the cave, Ryland hesitated. He didn’t have to wonder what Gray wanted with him in this dark and private place. But that way lay madness. He could hardly control himself around the tempting lass.
It had been only a few hours, but already he missed the stream-wet taste of her, the soft, yielding pillows of her breasts, the welcome strength of her legs around his hips.
His blood grew hot.
His breath grew shallow.
His pulse raced.
His loins tightened.
Hell.
Would it be so terrible after all to tryst with the lass before he had to bid her farewell? He might be promised to another, but he wasn’t yet wed. Besides, the married men in his company had bedded far more wenches than he before shackling themselves to a wife. Since he’d probably be leaving on the morrow, surely it wasn’t so unforgiveable to indulge in one last night of wild abandon before he marched away to bind himself to one woman. Forever.
Was he a fool to tempt fate this way? Or was he more of a fool to turn down a beautiful and willing lass?
In the end, his knightly honor won the battle of conscience. He knew he would regret it if he succumbed to his animal instincts. He was betrothed to another. And even though he’d not yet met the lass, chivalry required that he preserve his body for her. His body. His heart. His honor.
With a decisive sigh, he swept the vines aside and entered the cave. The interior was almost completely dark, lit only by the firelight filtering through the leafy curtain.
“Gray?” he called out, narrowing his eyes into the shadows.
