The Hellion (The Lady Knights of Barony Book One ) (9 page)

“So, you left the protection of Kensington because of a few harmless rumors?”

“They were not harmless. Those so-called rumors ruined my life. There was no way I could be accepted in their world with my background. No respectable woman would ever marry me and most doors would be closed to me and any children I might have had. I decided to make my own fate and earn my own things, unlike the people I knew who’d never worked for anything a day in their lives.”

Ava nodded in understanding. “So you hired yourself out.”

Julian nodded. “I do things other people would rather not do. If someone doesn’t want to dirty their hands with something, they hire me.”

“Including kidnapping?”

Julian’s expression hinted at not an ounce of guilt for what he’d done. He shrugged again, a gesture that had Ava’s blood boiling.

“If the pay is good enough.”

Her hands closed into fists at her sides and for a moment, she considered using one on him. “You’re despicable!”

Julian suddenly reared up into a sitting position, clamping his hands around her upper arms tightly. He pulled her forward until she was practically in his lap and thrust his face toward hers until they were startlingly close. Ava’s eyes widened as she took in the masculine scent of him. How was it that he constantly smelled of leather, male, and musky shaving soap? Her heart drummed in her chest so persistently, she was amazed that he couldn’t hear it.

“No,
my lady,
” he hissed, his breath brushing up against her cheek. “I am not despicable. If I were, I wouldn’t have turned my back at the pond to salvage your modesty. If I were so despicable, I would have done what I wanted to do the second I saw you in those damned breeches.”

Despite her better judgment, Ava found herself asking the one question that was burning in her mind. It would only serve to make matters worse, but she couldn’t help it. She had to know. “What did you want to do?” she asked, her voice a husky whisper that she didn’t recognize.

His fingers tightened around her arms, flexing with controlled strength and power. Julian’s cold, hard eyes melted into liquid ebony pools as his eyelids lowered over them. His lips parted and her eyes lowered to his scar. Her tongue crept out to wet her own mouth. His eyes widened as it followed the pink muscle on its journey. He groaned and closed the distance between their bodies with a rough jerk.

“Damn you, Ava,” he growled seconds before slamming his mouth down over hers.

What in God’s name was he doing? When had it come to this? When did his disgust for Ava Longley turn into something else?

As he pulled her against his body and kissed her thoroughly, he knew that it wasn’t as simple as lust. This was something elemental and primal. He felt this within. It was visceral.

Julian hadn’t meant to do it, but then she’d touched him. That simple caress on the shoulder spoke volumes. In the short time that her hand was on him, he knew. She actually cared. Her eyes had been filled with sympathy for the boy he had been before life had ruined him. She’d seemed on the verge of tears for the boy nobody had wanted.

Then she’d gone and called him despicable and damn her, she was right. He was a cad and he was no good, but Julian had been hoping she could see past all of that. Julian had been foolish enough to think that for even one moment, she could see something else in him.

Then she’d gone and called him despicable and licked her lips. Those delicious, full lips of hers had called to him and her sweet little tongue had teased him.

Lady Ava Longley had no idea what she’d just done and if he had been willing to admit it, he didn’t understand the full ramifications himself. He only knew what he wanted right then and there and that was Ava, spread out beneath him.

In an instant, he reversed their positions and pinned her to the ground, his hands leaving her arms to tangle in her hair. Her silken, wavy locks wrapped around his fingers and her body fit up against him like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. Julian groaned at the contact, more aware than ever of the fact that she was not wearing undergarments. For the moment, he was grateful that she’d left her shift drying on the rocks beside her shapeless gown. He hoped a bird would fly away with it by morning.

For now, her current ensemble offered him access to the body he’d been dreaming of since he’d taken her up into the saddle in front of him. His palms moved down over her shoulders to the curve of full breasts. His fingers raked over her rib cage and his hands grasped her waist. They paused at her hips, enjoying the feel of them as he pressed her more intimately against the pulsating ridge between his legs.

The roaring in his ears blocked out all thought as he ravaged her mouth completely. He was not gentle, but then she didn’t seem to want him to be. Ava clawed at him like a wildcat, gripping his shoulders before threading her hands in his hair. She tilted his head and mastered his lips the same way he did hers, thoroughly tasting him. She gave as well as she took, reminding him that she was no delicate flower. No blushing maiden, Ava Longley. She quivered against him in supplication, yet conquered their kiss with an alluring kind of dominance.

Suddenly, he felt the prick of a knife against his side. He stilled, his breath caught in his lungs as he realized that Ava had the tip of his own dagger pressed against his ribs. The jab had been just enough to draw a drop of blood and halt his seductive progress. His eyes flew open and he found himself staring into hers. They were brewing with furious storm clouds.

Her breath was moving rapidly in and out of her lungs, reminding him that her breasts were pressed tightly up against his chest. Despite the fact that she had a knife pressed into his side, he found the friction arousing. He flexed his hips against hers and lowered his head toward hers again, his eyes issuing a direct challenge.

“Do it,” he whispered, watching her face for any flicker of emotion. From where he sat, she looked every bit the acclaimed warrior that she was. He knew that if she really wanted to, she could drive the knife deep into his side before he even had a chance at snatching her hand away. So, he simply watched her, refusing to show even an ounce of trepidation.

“Do it,” he repeated, daring her to do her worst. He would deserve it for being such a fool. Julian never should have kissed her, never should have allowed her appearance to cause him to forget what she really was, an annoying hellcat with a violent streak.

Her nostrils flared and she twisted the knife, just enough to cause him to wince in pain. “I could kill you right now, but I won’t,” she hissed. “I am a lady knight and I fight honorably. Don’t do me the disservice of underestimating me as an opponent and don’t think to prove your dominance as a man over me either. I am not interested in what you have to offer. Why should I be? You are not a bastard by birth, Julian, but you are one in deed. Do not think for one moment that I have forgotten how I ended up here with you.”

With a strength he hadn’t known she possessed, Ava shoved him away and returned to her pallet. The rope that bound them together jerked a few times as she settled herself. Soon he was left staring at her stiff, unmoving back, shock freezing him where he lay. Julian’s eyes fell to the dagger that had been in his belt moments before and now lay on the ground between them. A cat-like smile crept over his features as he lifted his shirt to assess the damage done by his own weapon.

“Oh,
my lady
,” he murmured as his eyes lowered once again to the enticing backside encased in men’s breeches, “I wouldn’t dream of underestimating you.”

****

Dorian Blake shoved the trembling body of the dark-haired village girl away roughly, his fingers sliding from her sweat-soaked flesh as he released his grip on her arm.

“Leave.”

That single word was all the girl needed to flee from his presence. She didn’t even bother to step into her dress, choosing to hold it over the front of her body as she ran from the room as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.

The door opened again seconds later and his twin sister, Dolly, entered one of the several rooms they were occupying during their stay in an inn two days’ ride from Cardenas. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure that one of Dorian’s men had the girl well in hand before closing the door behind her. Dolly moved to the edge of the bed and sat primly on the mattress, folding her hands in her lap demurely.

Dorian didn’t bother to pretend modesty as he stood to cover his naked body with a black silk dressing gown. Dolly had seen enough over the years that the sight of his nudity would hardly be enough to ruffle her feathers. He moved over to the safe where he’d chosen to stash the white rum he’d brought from the West Indies. Crates and crates of it had been sold for profit or traded for women during his time in both Barony and Cardenas, but Dolly always remembered to set a few bottles aside for him. Dorian sipped slowly, savoring the sweet taste of the rum distilled from Martinique’s sugar cane. He raised his eyebrows at Dolly in a silent question. It was obvious that his sister and only living relative had something on her mind.

“Mon frère, must you treat the girls so roughly?” she began, her dark eyes, a match for his, filled with annoyance. Her brown hair, which was naturally the same shade as his, had been dyed a bright, unnatural red. She toyed with her black lace gloves, pulling at them and wiggling her fingers as she spoke. “We won’t get half what the girl is worth if we try to sell her covered in bruises. No man is going to want to pay for your leavings after you’ve marked her up like a branded cow.”

Dorian shrugged and placed a lit cheroot between his teeth. “There’s more where she came from and we’ll make three times what she’s worth on the African.”

Dolly smiled at Dorian’s reminder of the dark-skinned woman they’d captured earlier that day. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones searching for the black-haired warrior from Barony. When Dorian’s men had brought the African woman to them, claiming to have picked her off from the small group of female soldiers searching for their leader, Dorian was thrilled. Even if his little gray-eyed warrior escaped Julian Vincent’s clutches, she was sure to come after him if only to save her friend. Dorian had watched the way the women fought together, one always watching out for the other. That was true loyalty.

His loins hardened instantly as he was reminded of the woman he’d been waiting for. It had only been a few days, yet her arrival couldn’t come fast enough for Dorian. It was why he’d so badly used nearly every black-haired girl being kept prisoner on his ship. In his impatience, he’d hoped to heighten his pleasure by tricking his mind with another head of dark hair and another shapely body.

It wasn’t enough.

The girls Dolly brought to him were sad stand-ins for the one he truly wanted. Their hair was never nearly dark enough, that enticing shade of midnight black was nearly impossible to find among his captives. Not one of them possessed his lady’s gunmetal gray eyes. Most disappointing of all was that not one of them displayed her fiery spirit. It was for this that he punished them, bruising their flesh in his anger over the woman whose shoes they could never hope to fill. He sighed in frustration, taking a long drag on his cheroot.

“Let us speak of other things ma
sœur,” he said as he lifted his glass to his lips once more. “I am anxious to set out for warmer waters, yet unwilling to part without my precious cargo. How long do you think we have before King Damien is alerted to my presence in Cardenas?”

Dolly shrugged, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she counted the days in her head. “Well, Barony and Cardenas are at least a seven day ride apart,” she said slowly as the wheels in her head turned sharply. “Let’s assume that King Serge was alerted the very day we left Barony. We have no way of knowing how much he knows. He might assume you are still in Barony and could still be concentrating his efforts there. It would be a welcome advantage.”

“If King Serge is as shrewd as I’ve heard he is, he won’t leave a stone unturned. He’ll want to send a messenger to Cardenas. If we assume the messenger is only a day or two behind us that gives us only three days before King Damien is sending his sentinels to the docks to search out
The Raven
. Mon Dieu, it’s too close for comfort.”

Dolly sighed, pulling at her ruffled, royal purple skirts. She toyed with the black lace edges in silence for a few moments before speaking softly.

“We could leave now and forget the girl.”

Dorian’s blood went hot in an instant and he crossed the room toward her, wrapping his fingers around her arm and jerking her to her feet. Dolly didn’t make a sound, but she did raise her eyes to his defiantly.

“Are you mad?” she said, her voice raising an octave with each word. “This woman will be the death of us! Would you see your sister, your only remaining relative, hanging at the end of a noose because of your uncontrolled fever for this woman?”

“Vincent can’t be more than half a day’s ride behind us. If he’s as good as they say he is
, he might even reach Cardenas before we do. I’ve got this well in hand. You just make sure the others are kept in line and that you’re ready to make them presentable once we reach Martinique.”

Dolly nodded, jerking her arm from Dorian’s bruising grip.