A Knight of Temptation(6)

Her blue eyes went wide. “Is that what you meant by uniting England?” she breathed. “You speak treason, Grendell. I dare not listen to you.”

“Melina?” It was her father and she turned, knowing she looked shaken and hoping he would not notice. “Perhaps you should be paying more attention to our guest than your servant.” His gaze swept over Grendell, cold and hard.

Melina managed a brief smile in Lord Saunders’ direction, but her words were for her father. “Grendell noticed I was feeling unwell, father, and is trying to tempt me with the best of the meats.”

Once again her father narrowed his gaze on Grendell and then on her. Melina felt her pulse begin to thump in fright and hurried to play her part as the soon-to-be-bride.

“Lord Saunders, I pray you are enjoying the repast,” she leaned closer to the old man. “You do not find my housekeeping skills lacking?”

Saunders frowned. “I am enjoying the feast, lady.” By the grease coating his lips and smeared on his rich tunic she could see he was indeed. He spoke again, grudgingly complimenting her, and then he turned back to her father. Melina’s depression grew. She glanced about for Grendell and saw that he had moved back into his usual position, leaning against one of the pillars to the side of the dais.

He’d spoken treason. Hadn’t he? And why had he said such things to her, knowing her position? Did he think she wouldn’t tell her father?

Melina glanced at the two old men deep in conversation, and knew she wouldn’t tell. She didn’t want Grendell arrested or hurt or taken away. She wanted to keep him. How else could she bear to marry Lord Saunders?

If only he was the man she was going to marry. If only it was Grendell who would come to her bed and make her his forever more. She wanted him. She admitted it to herself. Her body warmed and ached whenever he was near her, and the feel of his mouth on hers, his hands on her skin, was with her still. But it was more than a desire for his flesh. She admired him as a man, she was drawn to his strength and yet he had a gentleness . . .

Again she glanced to where Grendell had been standing only a moment ago and found him gone. Startled, she looked about for him but he was nowhere to be seen. And then she saw him, or at least part of his emerald green tunic, as he stepped through the curtained doorway that led from the hall.

For a moment Melina hesitated but something about his furtive exit seemed odd to her. With another glance at her father and future husband—they were deep in their plotting and wouldn’t notice if she was there or not—she hurried after Grendell.

Slipping through the curtained doorway she stood a moment in the cold shadows of the corridor. From below she could hear the staff in the kitchen, but here it was quiet. A narrow slit of a window looked down onto the countryside surrounding the castle and she went to look out, standing on tiptoes, her hands resting flat against the stone wall.

The night was lit by bright moonlight, and she could see the dark shapes of the woods beyond the moat and the crops in the fields. For a moment her thoughts drifted to her bodyguard and her longing for a future so different from the one ahead of her. And then suddenly her gaze sharpened. There was movement! Dark shapes left the shelter of the trees and began to move toward the castle. Men on foot and knights on horseback. Soldiers. An army.

Their stealth made it clear to her that this was no friendly force. They must be King Stephen’s men, coming to attack the castle. She must warn her father at once!

Melina spun about and crashed straight into a big hard body standing behind her. Arms like iron bars encircled her and her nose was pressed against a soft tunic camouflaging strong muscles, and her head was full of a spicy scent she recognised well.

“Melina,” he sighed, his voice a rumble in his chest.

There was regret in his tone but she didn’t hear it immediately, so eager was she to tell him what she had seen so that they could warn the castle garrison.

“There are armed men outside, Grendell! They are going to attack. We must go and tell my father.”

His face remained grim.

“Grendell?”

That was when she realised the truth. Grendell, her bodyguard, was a traitor. His talk of choosing the wrong side. His listening ears at the table. Grendell was King Stephen’s man and because of her affection for him he had slipped under her guard and they were all now in terrible danger.

Melina tried to pull away but he was far too strong. She opened her mouth to scream but barely a sound escaped before his mouth closed on hers. He was kissing her to silence her, she knew it, and yet the heat of his lips made a traitor of her body just as he’d proven himself one. She gasped, twisting her head away, but he followed, lips clamped to hers, hot tongue delving into her mouth. Her head was spinning.