A Knight's Temptation by Catherine Kean Read Free Book Online Page B

rose inside Veronique. Holding the mirror up to her face, she smoothed chestnut curls away from her face. Never, until the day he died, would she allow him to forget.
    “Every day, you become more exquisite,” a nasal voice said behind her. Bedding rustled.
    Revulsion clenched her stomach. As she had every day since she and the baron had escaped together from the king’s dungeons, where Geoffrey had sent them to await trial and punishment, she forced a sultry smile and turned to the bed.
    The baron lay with his head propped up on one arm, studying her with his small, bright eyes. The sheet had slipped farther down his belly. Scandalously low. Springy dark hair peeked above the bunched linen at his groin. Why, if the bedding moved a fraction more, she’d see his—
    He growled. “My thoughts exactly.”
    Arching one eyebrow, she said, “And what was I thinking?”
    Lust glinted in his eyes. “You were wondering if I wanted to fornicate, as we did earlier tonight.” His tongue flickered out over his bottom lip. “’Twas a lusty tryst. Satisfying, I vow, for both of us.”
    He’d squealed like a pig with a trapped hoof. Veronique smothered the urge to laugh. God’s blood, but he was revolting.
    He raised a fat hand, beckoning her to join him in the bed, while his gaze gorged upon her nakedness. “Did I tell you how magnificent you were last night?” He smiled, revealing his chipped and stained teeth. “The way you manipulated Ransley . . . He was like a witless ass.”
    Of course he was; she’d made certain of it. “We need him,” she said with a lazy shrug. “At least, until the mercenaries arrive.”
    Sedgewick nodded. “Clif will keep his word. Within the next day, they will be here.”
    Clif . Veronique well remembered the rough-looking poacher with a scar cutting close to his mouth from their meetings weeks ago, when she and Sedgewick began their plot to take control of Pryerston. ’Twould be the first of many keeps they’d seize in Moydenshire. With the help of mercenaries paid with coin raised by selling de Lanceau’s pendant, they’d take castle by castle. While Geoffrey struggled to manage his cloth empire and lead his armies, they’d wrest the entire county from his control.
    Clif knew many folk in Moydenshire. A smile touched her lips, for he was a forceful man, not only in his negotiations, but as a lover, as she’d discovered in their impassioned coupling in the stable while Sedgewick arranged a night’s lodgings.
    “Our plan is going well, then,” she said, holding the baron’s gaze.
    He grinned. “Sometimes, Veronique, you are so devious, you terrify me.”
    She smiled back, but inside, she relished a smug cackle. He should be frightened. But for now, he had no reason to worry.
    A soft rustle, and the bedding shifted. He followed her gaze to his swollen loins. A flush stained his face, glistening with sweat. “Just the thought of you last night—”
    Another spasm rippled through her. “So I see.” His skills could never come close to the exciting lovemaking she’d enjoyed with Geoffrey, but Sedgewick never left her unsatisfied. Why waste the desire prowling inside her, even if ’twas not for him?
    With loose, enticing strides, she moved toward the bed.
    A child’s wail carried from somewhere outside the solar door. Veronique glanced at the wooden panel, bolted shut. With an irritated sigh, she dragged her gaze away, smiled, and again glided toward the bed.
    “Veronique,” the baron whined, pushing up to sitting. His body quivered, like a naughty boy awaiting a wicked reward.
    The distant crying grew louder. Now, the child was howling.
    The baron’s lips pursed. “Surely not—”
    A knock sounded on the door.
    Veronique threw up her hands.
    With a frustrated grunt, the baron collapsed back against his pillow. Snatching at the sheets, he yanked them over his lower body.
    Another knock. “Lady Desjardin,” a woman said, her voice muffled through the door. The bawling child