A Knight's Captive (Falling For A Knight Book 3) Page 3

  Did she not wish to be rescued? He couldn’t fathom that possibility. While he might not know her well, he knew enough to doubt that she had any desire to be queen. Then why would she not welcome him?

  “You are pleased to marry Sir Rory on the morrow?” he asked.

  “That is none of your affair. Now go.” She waved the knife toward the door as though to encourage his departure.

  “Put down the knife.” The blasted thing was beginning to annoy him.

  Her full lips firmed, her brow furrowed as she raised the knife higher in defiance.

  With a quick move, he grabbed her wrist with one hand and took the knife with the other. “Do not threaten the one who has come to save you.”

  “I am not in need of saving,” she protested, eyes wide as though she was alarmed by how easily he’d disarmed her.

  “Would you truly have stabbed me?”

  She lifted one shoulder casually as though undecided. The gesture both frustrated and intrigued him.

  Loosening his hold on her wrist, he ran the circle of his fingers gently along her skin, noting her shiver at his touch. What could be the reason for that? Fear? Somehow that didn’t seem to fit. Then what?

  He studied her a moment longer then looked back over his shoulder at the bag and the lump under the covers. Damn if it didn’t appear as if she were leaving. “Why don’t you explain why you aren’t in need of rescue?”

  Chapter Three

  Arabela stared at the handsome knight, unable to make sense of why he stood in her bedchamber on the eve of her wedding, making an outlandish offer to rescue her. Regardless, she certainly didn’t need Sir Chanse to save her. Going with him would trade one set of problems for another. She wanted to escape from being used by a man—any man—no matter how attractive he was. The men she knew did what benefited them. She had no reason to suspect this one was any different. Therefore, his purpose wasn’t to aid her.

  “What do you truly want?” she whispered, tugging her wrist free from his unsettling grip.

  “How do you mean?” His expression went carefully blank.

  “I don’t believe for a moment that you’re standing here out of the goodness of your heart or some misguided sense of chivalry.” She swallowed hard. If only either of those were true. The idea of someone coming to help her when only moments ago she’d felt so alone was far too appealing. Especially when rescue came with a powerfully built man whose smile could charm bees to give up their honey.

  She might not know Sir Chanse well, but she knew enough to believe he didn’t act without purpose. During his brief stay at her home to celebrate her birthday, he’d proven himself excellent in all forms of combat and shown his competitiveness. He’d won the favor of every woman at whom he looked, with the possible exception of her and her mother. Though at least he’d tried to charm her mother. He’d all but ignored her she remembered with a touch of resentment. But all of that had been done for a specific reason because he’d done it so purposefully. She just hadn’t been privy as to his motive.

  Drawing a breath to garner her will to resist her ridiculous attraction to the man, she held out a hand. “Return my knife and explain why you’re here.”

  Hesitation flickered in his eyes as though he weighed his options. She waited, curious as to what spin he might put on his answer. Somehow, she suspected he rarely provided a fully truthful one. That charm of his served a purpose, she was certain of it.

  His brow rose. “Do you promise not to stab me?”

  “Nay.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted, causing an odd little dip in her stomach. “I am not here to harm you, my lady.” He handed it back to her, handle first, despite her response. “I trust you will not harm me either.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” she said as she slid the blade back into the braided leather girdle that rode low on her hips.

  “I already stated my purpose.” He walked over to her bag, glanced at the contents, then fastened the closures. “I don’t think you wish to marry Sir Rory. His reputation precedes him.”

  He had that correct but acknowledging it would surely put her at a disadvantage. “Why would you care whom I marry?”

  “Let us have this conversation after we see you safely away. I have a feeling our discussion might take time to work through, and we have none at the moment.” He hefted the bag under one arm, keeping his sword hand free. “After you, my lady.” He gestured toward the door.

  “I’m not leaving with you.” She reached for her bag, but he held it firmly.

  “Then with whom?”

  Before she could respond, the door opened. Edith entered wearing her cloak, carrying a small bag as well. She gasped as she caught sight of the big knight. “Milady?”

  “No need for concern,” Arabela advised. “He’s just leaving.”

  “Your maidservant is coming too?” His gaze flashed between them.

  “He’s escorting us?” Edith asked, her hopeful expression clearly stating her opinion. “How wonderful.”

  “Aye.” “Nay.” They spoke at the same time.

  Arabela glared at him. “We’re not accompanying you.” How many times did she have to say it before he listened?

  “This conversation is pointless.” Chanse took Edith’s bag as well. “We can discuss the details after we’ve made it out of the holding.”

  Edith looked at Arabela with a brow raised. “That sounds like a sensible plan, don’t ye think?”

  Arabela wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. Agreeing with him would surely give the knight the upper hand. Why did allowing Sir Chanse to have any advantage seem like a terrible idea?

  “Very well. We will accompany you as far as the wall, but then we shall go our separate ways.” She didn’t budge, wanting his agreement before she took a step.

  “We shall discuss it once we’ve safely escaped.”

  She frowned, aware he hadn’t agreed.

  “Follow me,” he whispered as he opened the door again. “No speaking until we’ve made it outside.”

  “I know the way better than you,” Arabela argued. Heaven knew where he’d lead them in the dark.

  He turned to study her. “And if someone in the great hall wakes, will you stab him with your knife before he sounds the alarm?”

  She scowled in response, the idea of stabbing anyone filling her with unease. Harming another to gain her escape was not part of her plan. “You’ll be directly behind me, I assume. I’ll leave that honor to you.”

  Before he could argue, she stepped onto the landing and glided down the steps. Her speed seemed to surprise him as he hurried to catch up. Edith was certainly older, but she’d climbed the stairs more often than Arabela and easily kept pace.

  Arabela slowed as she neared the bottom of the stairs not far from the great hall. The coals of the fire still burned, casting a golden glow over the rows of pallets and slumbering people. Snores were the only sound she noted.

  After a glance over her shoulder to make certain the knight and Edith were behind her, she walked quickly past the great hall entrance and down the passageway toward the kitchen. Though tempted by the proximity of the main door, taking that exit would lead down the steps into the inner bailey where there was a greater chance of being seen.

  The faint light from the great hall faded, leaving her in nearly complete darkness. Her heart pounded as she held one hand before her and trailed the other along the stone wall to make certain she didn’t lose her way.

  Except her outstretched hand touched something that shouldn’t be there.

  She gasped and drew back in alarm. Sir Chanse bumped into her, stopping as well, completely silent.

  A hand touched her arm then her shoulder.

  “Chanse?” The whisper was so low she wasn’t certain she truly heard it.

  “Matthew?” Chanse asked from behind her, equally quiet.

  Uncertain what was happening, Arabela remained still.

  “Aye. All is well?” the man asked.

  Matthew? The former captain of the garrison? Her heart thundered in her throat. She couldn’t wrap her thoughts around why he was here. Nor why he was with Sir Chanse.

  “Aye.”

  The hand on her shoulder lifted, and he stepped away. She could only assume he turned toward the kitchen. Chanse nudged her from behind. She continued her path in the dark, hand outstretched before her so she didn’t run into Matthew, her thoughts scrambling for purchase.

  They soon reached the empty kitchen where the coals in the hearth cast a faint light.

  “Sir Matthew?” she asked, staring at the man she considered a friend of sorts. Or at least she had before his abrupt departure.

  “’Tis good to see you, my lady.” He must’ve seen the question in her eyes, for he added, “All will be explained once we’re on our way.”

  He turned, revealing a bag slung over his shoulder, and led the way out the kitchen door. He paused to search the inner bailey before at last stepping into the night.

  Uncertainty filled her. Why were these two men together? Why had they come? Not for a moment did she believe it had been to rescue her. What then?

  Matthew’s presence shifted her thinking, making her question whether she and Edith should make their own way or accompany the men. Her mind spun as she followed him toward the wall where the steps were located. Walking between the two knights with Edith provided her with a feeling of protection, something she hadn’t realized how much she appreciated until now.

  At the very least, she was willing to listen to the reason the two were here.

  She’d known this evening would be unsettling, but the cause for that was far different than she’d anticipated.

  Matthew walked with purpose as if he still belonged in the holding. A glance behind her showed Edith and Sir Chanse following closely. Matthew climbed the steps first, gesturing for her to wait until he checked the narrow walkway along the wall. Several moments passed before he waved them forward, his gesture barely visible in the dark.

  “Stay down, my lady,” he advised as she reached the top. He turned back to help Edith.

  A glance farther along the wall in the direction of the portcullis revealed the hint of shadows as well as the murmur of voices. Her heart pounded at the sight. While the guards rarely ventured to this part of the wall, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t do so this evening.

  She crawled to the outer edge and looked down. The wall was well over the height of three of her. A fall could cause serious injury. Locating the seemingly random stones that served as steps on the outer wall at night when everything appeared completely different was more difficult than she’d expected.

  She searched along the wall for a stone that jutted out. But the one she found didn’t feel right. Why did it seem so much smaller than before?

  “Allow me, my lady,” Sir Chanse whispered.

  “How would you know where they are?” she asked, both ridiculously breathless and annoyed by his offer at the same time.

  “I don’t,” he admitted. “But I believe I have a longer reach than you.”

  Scowling, she shifted out of the way but continued to run her hand along the wall, hoping she’d be the one to find the correct path. This was her home after all, and she’d been up and down the steps more times than she hoped her father realized. She glanced back at where the steps on the inside stopped then closed her eyes and reached, trying to use her memory rather than logic. Her hand closed over the proper stone.

  “Here it is,” she announced in a whisper, pleased with herself for finding it before the arrogant knight as Edith and Matthew joined her.

  “Good work.” Chanse gave a single nod before gently tossing the bags to the ground then lowering himself over the wall.

  “I should go first.” Though Arabela wasn’t certain why she felt the need to argue, she did. The situation was spiraling out of her control, and she didn’t like that. If she didn’t take it back now, she feared she wouldn’t be able to.

  Except Chanse didn’t bother to respond. He merely glared at her, although it was difficult to tell in the dim light. “You will not risk your pretty little neck attempting this.”

  “But I’ve—”

  His head disappeared over the edge, effectively cutting off her protest.

  Arabela nearly growled as she followed him over the edge, wondering if this sort of behavior was what she should expect if she agreed to accompany him. She chose to ignore the voice in her head that questioned whether she truly had a choice.

  ~*~

  Chanse swung his foot back and forth, hoping to find the next stone without the lady’s aid. It took several attempts, but he located it at last. The next one was easier to find. He looked up to see the outline of Lady Arabela’s slim form above him. “Can you manage it?”

  “Aye.”

  He knew she’d do so no matter the danger. The woman was more stubborn than he’d anticipated. Convincing her of the wisdom of traveling together wouldn’t be easy. Better to continue moving and hope she complied.

  Her foot lowered, missing the first step. He reached out and took hold of her ankle to place it on the stone, admonishing himself for noticing how shapely it felt.

  He lowered another step then quickly realized she knew the location of the next stone. She whispered something and soon another form joined them on the wall. When she reached up, he guessed she was placing her maidservant’s foot onto the first step.

  After waiting only a few brief moments, she lowered again so he did the same. Within a short time, they were all at the base of the wall.

  “We will walk slowly two at a time to the crags,” Chanse ordered, hoping that would help keep the guards from noticing them.

  Matthew nodded, tucked one of the bags under an arm, while Chanse did the same, then offered his other arm to Edith. Chanse extended his arm to Arabela, certain she wouldn’t take it.

  She didn’t, though her expression was hidden. Mayhap that was for the best. He could imagine her glare well enough without light to see it.

  They walked together, pausing several times to allow Chanse to listen for sounds of possible pursuit. Thus far, he heard nothing, much to his relief. He knew from experience that it was often movement that would catch a guard’s eye, especially in the dark. Matthew and Edith followed slowly.

  Chanse watched with approval as Matthew turned back to brush their footprints from the ground to hide their progress where the foliage was sparse. Come morn, the less the guards had to use to track them, the better.

  At last they made it to the horses they’d hidden from view among the crags. Chanse hadn’t anticipated the maidservant’s presence. In truth, he hadn’t thought much further than gaining entrance to Lady Arabela’s bedchamber.

  Normally, that lack of forethought aided him. Thinking and planning only led to concerns as a lengthy list of reasons a mission might fail arose. He preferred acting with the belief a path would reveal itself as he proceeded. He could only hope that proven method wouldn’t fail him in this quest.

  “Two?” the lady asked, her voice a whisper. “You only have two horses?”

  He scowled, not appreciating her pointing out the fault in his logic. “We couldn’t travel with four horses.”

  “Why not?”

  Why not indeed? He had no answer. He raised a brow at Matthew, wondering why he hadn’t voiced the idea.

  Matthew lifted a shoulder, suggesting he hadn’t considered it either.

  “The more horses we have, the greater trace we leave to be tracked.” That reason sounded logical even to his ears.

  “Humph.”

  He had no idea what her response meant. Did she believe him? Did she intend to accompany them without an argument?

  “Matthew, what are you doing here?” Arabela moved to stand before the knight as he readied his horse.

  “Rescuing you, my lady.”

  Chanse turned away for a moment to cover his smile. When he looked back, it was to find Arabela with her hands on her hips, glaring between them.

  “I don’t believe either of you,” she said, still whispering.

  “We can discuss the details when we’re safely away from here.” Chanse didn’t believe for a moment that their success at leaving the holding meant they were safe. The journey had only begun.

  “Nay.” Arabela stepped to Chanse’s horse where he’d set her bag behind the saddle so that he could tie it securely. She pulled it down and held it tight. “I’m not leaving with the pair of you. I don’t know what you’re up to, and I refuse to be a pawn in whatever game you play.”

  “But, milady...” Edith began, clearly not in agreement with her mistress.

  Chanse’s ire rose. The woman’s stubbornness was ridiculous. They’d be lucky if they avoided capture by first light, and she was wasting valuable time. “We’re here to help. We seek the same goal as you. Why wouldn’t we leave together?”

  “Because neither of you is being honest, and I’m tired of being used. From this point forward, I’m forging my own path.” She glanced at Edith, but the maidservant remained silent. “You’re welcome to travel with them if you prefer.”

  Arabela turned away and took several steps.

  Something inside Chanse snapped. Did she think it had been easy to enter her father’s holding and the keep? That he was doing this for some selfish purpose? Nay. Stopping the wedding was for the good of her country. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to admit to her that he was more concerned with halting the wedding than aiding her. Surely that was obvious.

  He strode forward, tugged the bag from her hand even as he turned her to face him. Then he bent low and lifted her over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” The fright in her voice had guilt rolling through him.

  “Hush, my lady,” he warned. “You’ll raise the alarm before we’re away.”

  “Put me down at once.” Her stiff form shifted as she pummeled him in the back. He couldn’t help but note she kept her voice barely above a whisper. She might not want to go with him, but she didn’t wish to draw the guard’s notice either.