Read Online Knight's Captive by Samantha Holt - Free Book Online Page A

fool to leave Henry to deal with those men. She wasn’t sure what she could have
done, but the dried blood on Henry’s face sent a pang of guilt through her
every time she saw it. That was not how her father had raised her. Captor or
not, her decision had been the wrong one.
    Antonia stood to one side while he heaved out
the heavy wood chest. She couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles pulled
against the linen of his shirt. It was a strange idea for she couldn’t recall
the last time she had admired a man. Lorenzo mayhap, before they had married. Before he had revealed his true nature.
    But what was this man’s true nature? Was it the
same for him? Was a dangerous temper simply lurking beneath the oddly
chivalrous and sometimes heroic actions?
    No , her mind whispered. Her heart
near reached out to him and begged her to trust him. Yet how could she? Why
would a woman trust the man who held her fate in his palm?
    Henry pushed the chest outside into the hallway
and swiped his palms down his breeches. “Is there anything else you need?”
    “ No , gracias .”
    “Will you sleep?”
    She peered back at the well-lit room but knew it
was unlikely. Not while her father was sick and she remained in a room unfamiliar
to her. Not while he was only a few paces away.
    “I shall be well enough.”
    He gave a dissatisfied grunt. “I have no wish for you to sicken. You must rest.”
    It was no good. Curiosity ate into her until it
almost hurt. She longed to know more of this man. Stories spoke of sirens
luring men to their fates, but she could not help wonder if there was not a
male version. If there was, he would surely be such a man. Antonia had learned
to guard her heart and her feelings the hard way and yet those lessons seemed
to be for nothing.
    “Why should you care what
happens to me?”
    Henry eyed her for a moment and the silence
stifled. She found herself edging toward her bedchamber simply because the air
in the hallway had become too thick.
    “Because ‘tis my duty to do so.”
    Well, there it was. He had no interest in her
other than as a political prisoner. She knew that, so why did she wish for
more?
    “A-and why have you not locked me away after I
tried to run away?”
    He sighed and rubbed his forehead as though
contemplating that himself. “Get some rest,” he said quietly.
    “What will happen to us?”
    His attention snapped to her. “Us?”
    “My father and I?”
    “You shall be returned to Spain before long.”
    Antonia closed her eyes briefly to him. His
features still lingered behind her closed eyes. That brow etched with
something—pain or anguish. Those blue eyes that searched her
face. That thick dark hair and unyielding body. Her father had intended a new life for them but they’d never expected the
English might to be so strong. She had certainly never anticipated meeting a
man like this.
    She drew open her eyes and her heart slammed
against her chest when she found him still there. Watching,
waiting. But for what? She backed into her
room.
    “Well, I—”
    He stalked forward and touched her. His finger
grazed her chin again. She stiffened but not from horror or fear. No ,
that same tingle she had felt before simmered through her body and centred low
down.
    “Do not do anything rash,” he warned her. “Do
not take my compassion for leniency.”
    She nodded against that finger and willed it to
remain. If she could have done, she would have begged him to stay but her voice
was trapped in her throat. Instead she pleaded with her eyes. Touch me more.
Stay with me and do not leave me alone in the dark.
    Even as her mind told her not to even consider
such thoughts, her body wavered forward. His words were dark and dangerous. His
body spoke of strength and the ease with which he could bend her to his will.
Yet his blue eyes called to her—soft and compassionate.
    That finger—that one long thick finger—moved.
Just a fraction so that it grazed the corner of her mouth. Her lips parted