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She was so damned beautiful Rory had nothing to say save what he’d already told her. Lady Freya, on the other hand, did.

“I would thank you to remove yourself from my bed, Sir Rory. And leave my chamber through the same door you entered by.”

The shock of hearing her speak for the first time stopped him, momentarily, from grasping fully what she had just said.

“I am here to rescue you,” he repeated for the third time.

At that, the woman actually rolled her eyes. Rory forced himself not to glance down yet again. But the feel of her under him . . .

“I’ve no wish to be rescued. Now, if you will please . . .” She tried to push him off of her. Unfortunately, she did so with her hips, eliciting a groan from him. Rory’s manhood did not understand the situation, unfortunately.

And then her words penetrated. “No wish to be . . .” He stared. And thought of his discussion with the council and of his parents. Rory had been jesting when he volunteered to “kidnap” the woman.

He began to laugh.

Chapter Six

Now seemed the perfect time to take advantage. As her rescuer laughed, an exceedingly odd reaction to her revelation, Freya used the maneuver her father had taught her. Beginning with her hips, she quickly twisted with her entire weight, catching him unawares. Succeeding in nearly twisting him off, Freya allowed herself a smile, unbelieving the move worked in truth.

Unfortunately, her celebration would have to wait. No sooner was she free from Sir Rory than he once again rolled atop her, pinning her down. Freya’s smile fled with the knowledge that had this been a situation where he was attempting to attack her, he’d have done so already. It had never occurred to Freya to take to her bedchamber the knife her father had taught her to wield. Here, she’d believed herself safe. Even from her brother.

“How did you get inside this chamber?”

Perhaps because she said it so sweetly, Sir Rory once again let down his guard to answer. But again, she took advantage and tried to twist away.

“God’s teeth, woman, you fight like the devil. Reserve your venom for someone actually attempting to harm you,” he said, securing her again, including her arms. She was really and truly immobile. This time, he actually straddled her as well. There was no way she could twist from him now.

The devil.

Surely if the devil were to visit her bedchamber at night, tempting her to his wicked ways, this was precisely how he would appear. For no mere mortal man could possibly be given hair so black but eyes so blue and clear, their contrast the very first thing Freya noticed after the shock of his presence turned into a need to put distance between them. After a full look at his face, she had no doubt, though he’d been sent by her father’s man, this Rory Waryn was as dangerous as any.

“Says the man more intimately positioned above me than any has ever been in my life. In my own bedchamber. In the middle of the night.”

“I had no will to do so, Lady Freya, and will release you immediately if you but agree to dress and come with me.”

His voice was low and deep with a hint of menace. Even so, she was unafraid. Sir Walter would never send a man who might dishonor her. And the Waryn family was well known along the border. If he was from Bristol, that would make Sir Rory the Earl and Countess of Kenshire’s nephew. Allies to her father and a good choice for her rescue, as it were.

Except, as she had told him, Freya was not in need of rescue. “I would have left with Sir Walter if I had wished to do so.” She twisted her wrists. “Perhaps we could hold this conversation without you pinning me to my bed?”

In response, he leaned down to her and his body covered her own. As she’d said to him, it was the closest she’d ever been to a man in her life. Her father had never allowed Freya’s suitors time alone with her. This very circumstance would have been her father’s worst nightmare come true.

“Will you promise not to alert the guards of my presence? You will not attempt to flee?”

“I’ve not screamed yet,” she said. A fact that freed her wrists immediately. But just as Sir Rory began to move off of her, Freya could not resist trying just once more. Twisting and taking him unawares, she was able to flip them fairly easily. But when she attempted to pin him as he’d done to her, Freya’s chemise jumbled up in her legs, allowing him to once again gain the upper hand.

“What precisely is your aim?” he asked, for the third time immobilizing her.

“Ugh.” In response, she went slack. “I yield,” she said, hating the words but knowing they were necessary.

He stared down at her. “You will not run?”

“Into the corridor to fetch one of the men who took Edyington and killed my father? Nay, I believe I will take my chances with you, Sir Rory.”

So quickly did he jump from her bed, Freya was momentarily rendered speechless. How did he move so fast? And how, as she thought on it, had he entered her bedchamber?

“I am sorry for the loss of your father, my lady,” he said.

Freya pulled the coverlet to her chin, covering herself. “I am unable to believe, still, that he is gone.” She blinked. “How did you come to be here?” she asked, not wishing to think upon her loss at this moment.