Free A Knight of Passion by Tarah Scott Page A

the meaning of this?” he demanded.
    “We are here to take Lady Ellis back to the duke.” The man in the lead stepped forward.
    Sir Bryant widened his stance. “Touch my wife, and die.”

Chapter Twelve

    The horse Bryant rode lowered its head and strained with effort of spanning the last few feet of the rise they were climbing. Arundel came into view, beyond where Riana rode between the two men-at-arms ahead of him and Sir Dunbar. Bryant gripped the reins tighter. Panic had filled her eyes when the duchess’ men ordered them to Arundel, but he had been able to whisper only a few words of warning before the men separated them. Bryant knew it wasn’t her safety but her sister’s that made her fear. She couldn’t know he had formed a plan to save the girl.
    Bryant cursed his stupidity. Had he been thinking with his head instead of his cock, he would have better predicted the turn of events. His mentor might pay for that stupidity. He glanced at Sir Dunbar. The older knight lifted a questioning brow.
    “You are determined to see this through?” Bryant said in a whisper, so as not to be heard by the half a dozen warriors cresting the hill behind them.
    “I have come too far to turn back.”
      “If threatened, the duchess will ensure we do not leave Arundel alive,” Bryant said. “Once we are safely away, we can deal with her as we please.” Anger shot through him. And he did plan to deal with her and her husband. “I must persuade Her Grace that she wants Riana gone—at least for now.”
    Sir Dunbar chuckled. “Have you a magician to accomplish that miracle?”
    “That is not the most difficult part.” Bryant cast him a sidelong glance. “We must kidnap the younger Lady Ellis.”
    A corner of Dunbar’s mouth twitched. “I never kidnap a lady I do not intend to keep.”
    “If you can persuade my wife, she is yours.”
    He grimaced. “No woman is worth that much trouble.”
    “Can you do it?”
    “I will need time.”
    “When we arrive, I will distract the duchess with—”
    A man-at-arms appeared at Bryant’s side and he fell silent.  

    Twenty minutes later, Bryant stepped aside for Riana to precede him and Sir Dunbar into the duchess’ private parlour at Arundel. The warrior escorting them grasped Riana’s arm and started to shove her through the doorway. Bryant seized him and shoved him against the wall.
    “Touch her again and I will kill you.”
    He sneered. “She is nothing more—”
    Bryant slammed his fist into the man’s belly. He doubled over, wheezing hard. Bryant turned and took two steps to where Riana stared. She turned frightened eyes to him and his chest tightened. Damn the duchess and her spies. If he found out who had reported that Riana had gone to the prison, he would split them from sternum to cock. He would also take Riana over his knee for being foolish enough to go to the prison…then he would kiss her reddened arse and every other part of her until she begged him to fuck her so hard she couldn’t see straight. Until then, he prayed she would trust him.
    She grasped the front of his shirt. “He is right,” she whispered. “This was a mistake. The duchess—”
    “I can deal with the duchess.” He gently disengaged her fingers from the gambeson, then guided her to the couch inside the room and eased her onto the cushion.
    She rose. “I must see my sister.”
    Riana started to rise again, but he firmly eased her back onto the sofa and squatted so that they were eye-to-eye. “Riana, we must talk before—”
    The door opened and the duchess entered. Bryant rose as her gaze moved from Sir Dunbar to him to Riana. Riana stood and a corner of the duchess’ mouth twisted upwards.
    “You disappoint me, Riana.”
    Bryant slid an arm around Riana’s waist and gave a deferential bow of his head. “Forgive her, Your Grace. I understand that I am not the husband you would have chosen.”
    She snorted in derision. “The marriage is a farce.”
    “Nay.” All eyes turned