Free Knight's Captive by Samantha Holt

the bed.
    “Go to sleep.”
    She eyed the bed and swung her gaze back to him.
“I’m not certain—”
    “Is it the sinking? It scared you?”
    It should have done. Nearly dying in the ocean
should have been what terrified her most. But no , a dark, small room with
a cramped bed and a box in it was far worse than any reality she had faced.
What could she say though? Her husband beat her, he hated her, he locked her away whenever she did something wrong like not
greet him correctly or wear the wrong colour gown? Only her father knew what
Lorenzo did, and that was how it should stay. Even her father forbade her to
speak of it.
    “ Si ,” she said softly.
    “Hell fire.”
    The words came hard from between his teeth. They
made her jolt. For a moment, she had been back in her old life—a chattel to her
husband and his whims while he hissed his anger at her.
    Henry’s gaze skimmed her and his soft eyes
brought her back to the world she was in now. A prisoner, si , but not
the sort of prisoner she was before. She almost smiled at how being the captive
of an Englishman was preferable to being Lorenzo’s wife.
    Wrapping a careful hand around her arm, he
pulled open the door and led her to his room. She found herself going willingly
instead of wanting to battle him.
    “Sleep here,” he commanded, a slight bite to the words. Then he said more softly, “I never would have let
you come to harm, Antonia. Not on that ship and not now. Enemy or not, your
welfare is my duty.”
    Duty. She
almost wished it was not and then she could be led to believe that his care of
her was motivated by something else. Admiration for her
perhaps? Mayhap even desire. But that kiss...was that not desire? She
couldn’t be sure for she had never experienced anything so sweet and sacred
before. Men were led by their needs, she knew that much, so what need drove him
to merely lay his lips gently upon hers and not take more?
    He went to retreat but she put a hand to his
wrist. It had been instinctual, so the contact startled even her. His gaze—now
a little haunted—searched hers.
    “ Gracias , Henry.”
    Henry gave a gentle nod of his head and left
her. She waited until he’d shut the door before turning around and eyeing the
bed that had offered her comfort last night. Had it only been last night? It
seemed so long ago now. The terror that had been imbued in her had ebbed to a
sort of gentle ache. And knowing this was his room, smelling the scent of him
in the air dulled it further.
    She removed her gown, shaking loose the flecks
of sand before draping it over the back of a chair. A bowl of water waited on
the washstand, so she dipped her hands in and scrubbed her face and neck.
Antonia finished her ablutions and checked all the candles. None would burn out
any time soon and all were safely away from fabrics. She yawned. In this room— his room—she could almost feel safe.
    Climbing into his bed, she settled against the
feather pillow and let his scent cocoon her. For the first time in a long time,
her mind wasn’t a whirl of fears and nightmares. It didn’t take sleep long to
claim her.

Chapter Eight
    Every
muscle in his body ached when he awoke the next morning. The small bed in the
guest chamber wasn’t suited to someone his size. The aches and pains addled his
wits, he concluded. That was why he had paused outside of Antonia’s room.
    With the door slightly ajar, he could see her
walking around the room in her shift. He’d paused in the doorway to his chamber
when she’d called to one of the maids then stepped out to find her slipping
back into her bedchamber but leaving a gap for him to peer through. Those aches
wracking his big frame must have worked their way up to his brain because he
found himself pausing.
    And watching.
    The previous day he simply had
fatigue to blame. That was why he’d been unable to resist
skimming his lips over hers. Instinct had taken over.
His instinct had been wrong. He should never have kissed the woman