Page 6 of A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight’s Tale #3)

T he rocking motion was quite soothing.

Cara was slow to wake, but her chilled feet forced her back to consciousness.

She opened her eyes and it took a moment to realize what she was seeing.

The dark knight. Holding her in his arms. And they were on a horse?

His face, sharp, slightly cruel, was somehow made scarier by the fact that in repose, he was incredibly handsome.

Perhaps that wasn’t the right word. He had dark facial hair over a strong jaw, a nose that was just a shade too large, high cheekbones, tanned skin. Overall, a nice, very masculine face.

He met her gaze and they stared at each other for a long moment.

Eyes she’d have sworn were black, turned out to be a dark, predatory, olive-green. His lashes and eyebrows, as dark as the hair hanging to his shoulders, accentuated his features.

Maybe it was his air of calm, but she managed not to freak out. She didn’t sit up, perfectly comfortable where she was, not wanting to disrupt the almost dreamlike quality of the moment. “Where are we going, and why are we on a horse?”

The man snorted. “You’d prefer to walk?”

She ignored the fabulous accent — probably fake anyway — in favor of turning her head to see where they were going. There was nothing but a dirt road, trees, long grass, bushes.

She knew she’d been fired, but this was certainly a unique way of escorting someone off the property.

She remembered the man’s rage, and wondered if perhaps he’d been fired as well.

With a start, she remembered the necklace and touched it.

The fact it was still around her neck shocked her more than anything.

“Perhaps you thought I’d steal it?” he grated.

Her eyes met his again and it took a moment to work out what he’d said.

“No, actually, I didn’t think you’d steal it. I’m just surprised they let me keep it.”

He snorted. “I’ve no doubt the king would have taken it if he’d noted the piece. Instead, he gave you to me.”

“Um …” She appreciated that the guy was trying to stay in character, many actors did, and who was she to say whether it improved their skills or not?

But it hadn’t been a great day for her. And since she was still in possession of the necklace, she doubted it was going to get better anytime soon.

That the guard wasn’t already breathing down her neck was surprising, but she didn’t doubt he would find her.

Somehow, she was going to get the blame for this, too.

So, while she might appreciate the skill of a good actor, this just wasn’t a great time, and she wasn’t the right person to practice them on.

“Look, can I just say you did an excellent job with that last scene. Very impressive. Especially the way you improvised. And your accent is to die for. And I know this is weird, but I seem to have passed out for a while.”

She lay passive in his arms, but if she sat up, she’d have to crane her neck, and since she was comfortable for the moment, stayed where she was.

“I’m not a fainter; in fact, that’s the first time it’s ever happened, but there were extenuating circumstances.”

He simply continued to stare, without comment, the position more and more intimate the longer she lay there.

Her gaze dropped to the strong column of his throat. “Anyway, if you could just drop me back at my trailer, that would be great. I really do appreciate the ride, thank you.”

The guy just watched her.

Her face tightened, eyelids fluttering involuntarily. She let it go on for probably thirty seconds, the silence becoming unbearable. “Did you understand me?” she asked, just in case.

“I understand ye. Now, hear me well. The king has given you into my care, and you are mine to do with as I will.”

That didn’t sound good.

The hair on her neck rose, and her body broke out in goosebumps. Whatever fogginess had been left in her brain, was swept away as she focused on her surroundings once more.

Was this a kidnapping?

She immediately dismissed the idea, and realized with a million dollars around her neck, this was more likely a theft.

The man had separated her from the crowd, and was riding away on horseback.

She glanced to her right to see they were soon to go into a wooded area, then scanned, looking for someone, anyone.

She didn’t like to think she had the mind of a criminal, but it occurred to her that if the man didn’t want any witnesses to the robbery, taking her away on horseback, and disposing of her body in a deserted location, might just be the perfect crime.

No inconvenient witnesses.

No inconvenient cameras.

No fuss, no muss. Just a million-dollar necklace that now belonged to him.

Her earlier sense of calm vanished completely.

The sudden tension in her body must have warned him because when she jackknifed hard enough to carry her over the other side of the horse, his arms tightened, and he stopped her from sliding off before hauling her upright.

He gave her a small shake. “Settle, else you shall wish you had.”

The menace in his words rattled her further, the crazy man had not raised his voice, but the threat was there, implicit, real.

She was sitting now, facing sideways, her legs hanging over one of his, the red gown she’d donned earlier pooling over the side of the horse.

She looked down to see the ground was further away than she’d thought, and wondered if she’d have broken something had she managed to escape.

The thought of being helpless in front of this man gave her the shivers.

As did going into the woods with him.

She sat frozen, her scattered brain trying to come up with a plan. “Look,” she began, her voice shaky. “I’m actually a very nice person, I have friends and family that would really miss me if anything were to happen to me.”

There was no reaction on his part as they entered the woods and the air around them cooled, the shade of the trees chilling her despite the heavy gown.

Some of the leaves were a pretty golden color, and another green-leafed tree had a few orange leaves peeking from among the green. “Does autumn come early to England?”

“September, the same as every year,” he said impatiently.

Okaaay. She’d seen movies where hostage negotiators personalized victims. Since she didn’t have anyone around to talk about how wonderful she was, she’d have to do it herself.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “My name is Cara Marie Jones. My mother’s middle name is also Marie and even my distant girl cousins have the same middle name.” She was babbling, finding it more difficult to breathe by the moment. “We all have a great-grandmother Marie in common, interestingly enough, one who immigrated from England. And, hey! You’re English too, aren’t you? Who knows, we might even be related!”

He grunted, the sound derisive. “Who are your parents?”

She felt a little sliver of hope, relief, and darted a quick glance upward. “Mark and Lori Jones. Pretty plain names, right? Still, I think you’d really like them. My dad builds houses, and my mom is a lawyer in Los Angeles. She wanted me to be a lawyer too, but that was never going to happen. They were surprised when I wanted to be a makeup artist in Hollywood, because I’d always acted in plays in high school, and we lived in California, and they thought I wanted to be an actress.”

She could feel her heart pounding.

“I mean, I sort of did, but actors have to win parts to be in a movie. Makeup artists, on the other hand, are needed on every single set, and don’t age out of a career. It just seemed a wiser course to me, you know?”

She took another breath. “They always told me to find adventure, follow my heart, dare to be brave. I was trying to do exactly that by working in Hollywood and traveling the world.”

“With a name like Jones ye must be Welsh.”

She could hear a sneer in his tone. “Could be. Anyway, Mom couldn’t have more kids after me, in fact, they tried for a really long time to have me. So, they worry a lot. In fact, I talk to my mom often, so you can just imagine how devastated she’d be if I didn’t contact her.”

Another quick glance showed his expression to be unreadable. If he was softening, she wasn’t seeing it. It worried her enough she simply blurted out, “I’d like to get back so I can talk to the director and hopefully straighten things out. You don’t need to take me. If you could just point the way, that would be great.”

Just when she thought he wouldn’t answer, she felt every inch of his chest as he took a deep breath before responding. “I do not forgive my enemies, and until I feel you have righted the wrong against me, I will not be letting you go.”

He wasn’t letting her go? Her eyes darted from tree to tree as she tried to decipher his meaning.

It didn’t sound as if he was planning to murder her and throw her down a crevice anytime soon, so that was a plus. She’d need to be around if she was to right any wrongs.

And he hadn’t made mention of the necklace.

What wrong she’d perpetrated, she wasn’t sure.

He could just be demented. A kidnapper. Worse.

She licked her lips, almost afraid to confront him, afraid to anger him if he thought she was acting ignorant, so rather than flat-out asking what she’d done, she tried to guess.

“Are you upset because I ruined the scene between you and Rupert the Brave?”

His hand tightened at her waist. “Rupert the Brave?” he asked in a slow, dangerous voice.

She swallowed. “Oh, I mean …” heart racing, she sucked in a series of shallow breaths and flicked a gaze upward. “It’s just ... are you upset about the ... the scene? Is that what this is about?”

“You ran onto the field, harlot.” She could hear him grinding his teeth. “Thus stopping the fight between me and Dinsdale. You robbed me of revenge.”

She flinched away from him, suddenly scared of his strength, but there was nowhere to go. Somehow, after putting on the necklace, getting fired, and running onto an empty field, she’d interrupted an important scene.

A mental break on her part?

She’d never been fired before, so how was she to know how she’d react?

“First off, I don’t appreciate the name calling. And, secondly, I was basically chased onto that field, and thirdly, the director never did stop the scene from playing out. I know my arrival was completely unexpected. Honestly, I’m not sure how it happened. But I think there is at least the possibility your scene will still be in the movie.” She looked up at him hopefully. “Don’t you?”

“Your mummery will not fool me into believing you’ve been touched with lunacy. I well know the part you played in today’s deception. What I do not know is why.”

His face was suddenly sharper, more menacing. “But mistake me not, I will find the truth of it, and before I’m done, you shall tell me everything.”

She shivered, and swallowed audibly. Was he planning to torture her or something?

“What truth?” Her brows pulled together and her breaths shallowed once more. “I’m an open book. Anything you want to know, just ask me and I’ll tell you.”

“I’m not interested in your lies.”

“I have no intention of lying to you. Seriously, what do you want to know?”

“Are you in love with Sir Rupert Dinsdale?”

“What?” She didn’t make the mistake of calling him Rupert the Brave again. “The character in the movie? The actor? The historical figure? Who do you mean?”

The glare he shot her should have burned her to dust on the spot. He gave her a slight shake. “Enough with your lies. They will do you no service, and each one that falls from your lips condemns you all the more.”

What?

Their faces close together, she stared at him, struck by the completely inappropriate realization that this was as close as she’d been to an attractive man in two years.

Well, if she didn’t count Nate from earlier today, and she didn’t.

Her lips trembled and he gave her an arrested glance, and then a slight shake. “Cease your wiles, woman, they will have no effect upon me.”

Her wiles? She glanced away and bit her lip to keep the hysterical laughter bubbling in check.

After a few minutes her mind started to work again. At least she wasn’t in the trunk of a car being driven miles away from their original start point.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out, but with the horse walking the way it was, they couldn’t have gotten far.

When they finally arrived at the other side of the wooded area, she breathed easier.

Not being murdered in the woods was a good thing.

She looked around for something familiar, a building she might recognize or some sort of landmark, but there was nothing. Just a meadow laid out before them, some hills, and the two of them.

She hadn’t been in Scotland long enough to have a feel for where she might be, but had to assume Stirling Castle was behind them.

“This is Scotland,” she said the words aloud, convinced she had that right, at least. The guy had a rougher sort of accent, but the more he’d spoken, the more she’d been convinced it was real. And English rather than Scottish. “We’re headed toward England?”

“Of course.”

The guy seemed to have calmed, and she decided to try the narrative he’d been following earlier, with the Dinsdale/ Wolfsbane story line.

She glanced at the red material covering the horse, the silver wolf on the man’s black belt. “You are Sir Wallace Wolfsbane.”

After a long moment he said, “Lord Wolfsbane. Or just Wolfsbane if you prefer.”

She searched her mind to remember the story line. It wasn’t necessary for her to read scripts as, the day before, one of the director’s assistants provided a write-up explaining the look the director wanted. That didn’t mean she hadn’t absorbed some of the storyline via the many conversations she’d had with the main players.

“So, you are the villain, and Sir Dinsdale is the hero,” she said the words slowly, testing them out, but regretted them instantly when her captor tensed into lines of rage.

“You consider Dinsdale a hero? More like a goatish, bunch-backed wretch!”

Yikes! “Look, I just work in makeup, I must’ve gotten the story wrong. So, you’re the hero?”

The noise he made was practically a growl. “I am no one’s hero, of that you can be assured.”

So ... he didn’t appreciate the title of villain, but didn’t want to be the hero either.

Actors.

After a few moments she said, “Look, I’ll beg if you’d like me to.”

“Never beg for what ye want, lass. Simply take.”

She released a long breath. Easy for him to say.

They rode in silence for another thirty minutes or so until she finally couldn’t take it. “How long until we get where we’re going?”

She fought the urge to giggle as she realized she just basically asked the adult version of, are we there yet?

He didn’t answer.

She wondered if she dared start the mantra with him.

Are we there yet?

Are we there yet?

Are we there yet?

It amused her to think about it but, so close to wondering if she was going to be murdered and dumped in the woods, decided being a brat wasn’t in her best interests.

Her restraint bore fruit when he said, “’Tis but a day’s journey.”

“On horseback? Or by car? Does that mean we’ll be there today? Or tomorrow?”

“Quiet yourself so I can hear my own thoughts.”

As she’d been silent for so long, she thought his comment was a little too much, but refrained from giving him any lip.

She eventually found herself dozing, worn from emotions, the stiffness in her body relaxing by increments until she had one cheek pressed against his chest.

She was about to sit up, but why bother? If they were going to be here all day, she might as well get as comfortable as she could. Besides, he was large, strong, and warm.

She’d probably have a chainmail pattern pressed into her cheek, but what did it matter?

It was her last thought before drifting off.