She Owns the Knight Read Online Free Page B

village. Strong and rugged, it looked a whole heck of a lot like the one she’d been drawing except for the teeny-tiny little fact that it wasn’t a ruin in any way, shape, or form.
    Perhaps there was another castle close by and she’d been taken there? Had she gotten turned around and somehow been moved to another location? Had she passed out? She had no memory of any of that. None of this made any sense. One minute she’d been standing near a deserted ruin, prepared to fight for her life, the next . . . here. That fast.
    She couldn’t help but notice the guy holding her in his arms was also dressed as a knight. Could she have fallen in with some sort of medieval reenactment group? Had they started ad-libbing when she’d shown up? Was this some sort of joke at her expense? Or was it a dream? As they rode on she looked back, searching for her car.
    Nothing.
    Was it over the hill where she couldn’t see it? Had it been stolen by one of the myriad guys who’d been chasing her?
    Taking a breath, Gillian gulped back impending hysteria. This was all going to make sense in a moment. She finally allowed herself to look up at the knight and promptly lost what was left of her breath as she exhaled in a rush.
    He’d pushed back his chain mail coif, allowing her to clearly see his fierce expression as he returned her gaze. She swallowed and forced herself to breathe again. He wasn’t exactly handsome, as his nose was slightly crooked and had obviously been broken at some point. He also sported scars on forehead and cheek. But he was striking, heart-poundingly sexy, and very masculine. In a word, magnificent.
    She checked the impulse to reach up and touch his tanned face, his high cheekbones, or his thick black hair. Just to make sure he was real.
    His gaze was intense, his eyes the warm color of amber, and the contrast to his hard features was startling. Her glance lowered to his massive shoulders, thick with muscle, and she swallowed again and cleared her throat.
    “Do you think you could you take me back to my car?” Her voice came out breathless, and she cleared her throat again and laughed nervously. “I’m still kind of shaky after what happened so I’d appreciate a ride.”
    The knight stared down at her for a long moment. “You have no need of a carriage.” His deep voice rumbled, his harsh accent wrapping itself around her in the cool afternoon air. “I am keeping you.”
    Gillian laughed shakily.
    The knight didn’t so much as crack a smile.
    “Ah. Okay. I can walk.” Gillian looked down. She was in some sort of trouble here. She knew it, but just didn’t know what it was. Didn’t know much of anything at the moment.
    “You will stay.”
    Okay, the guy was scary, but that comment irritated. “Like a dog? I don’t think so.”
    “You will.”
    Should she try and slip off the horse and make a break for it?
    As if reading her intentions, or perhaps the way her body had tensed at the thought of jumping off the huge animal, the knight’s arm tightened again, holding her in place effortlessly. Perhaps that was for the best. She could break a leg or two jumping from that distance.
    Turning her head, her gaze slid to the men who’d surrounded her earlier, now riding in the opposite direction, then to the graveyard. The location and layout were the same as the one she’d run to earlier. But everything else was different and new: pristine headstones, wooden crosses where there’d been none before.
    The knight’s large hand reached out and pulled her head back against his chest, forcing her to face forward again. Okay then. Sitting stiffly, and not looking up at him, she tried her best to ignore the guy. She tried to ignore his heat as it burned though his chain mail, tunic, the blanket at her back, and beneath her legs. She had to think.
    “Do you have a phone?”
    She could feel the knight studying her for a long moment, could feel that she was trying his patience even before he let out a long sigh.