Page 69 of Knight's Desire

The sound of an engine had him tensing. His head turned in the direction, and a delivery truck rumbled through the near empty parking lot. The roll-up door at the back rattled as the tires dipped into potholes.

With his eyes adjusting to the dark, he could barely make out a logo on the truck’s side panel. His brain registered what he was seeing a second before his body leapt forward, flagging down the driver as if a life depended on it.

Because it was very well Hope’s life on the line.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Tears dried on her face, mixing with the dirt to cake on her skin like a crusty mask. The rasp of the zipper going up made her cringe. His hands lingered on her neck, and brushed her hair to the side until the limp curls fell over one shoulder.

His lips touched the skin at the base of her neck. She jerked as if she’d been struck by a cattle brand. His hands clamped down on her shoulders to hold her still, and his mouth returned to the spot, this time sucking until she was sure he left a mark.

She raised her foot to bring it down on the top of his, but she got tangled in the full skirt and stumbled back against him.

David chuckled, an eerie sound that belonged as part of the sound effects in a horror movie. “No reason to resist, Hope. There’s no one here to stop me from having what I want.”

His hands snaked under her arms and around her chest. Settling on the stiff fabric of her dress, they squeezed hard enough for her to gasp. His breath was warm against her ear as he spoke.

“When will you accept that you belong to me?”

“What happens if I don’t?”

He released her, and Hope stood stock still, tense and ready for his next assault.

“You will be broken.”

He spoke with a tone of experience, confirming what she’d already suspected — that she wasn’t his first captive. He admitted as much when he demanded she strip. She’d refused, and he pulled a gun. As he watched her take off her clothes one piece at a time, he’d stroked himself with one hand while holding her at gunpoint with the other.

Once she stood in only her silk panties, he’d helped her into the gown, touching her near-naked body anywhere he had access. And she’d drifted out of her consciousness into a world of fantasy where she murdered her captor before stepping into the arms of her lover.

Now he gripped her arm and dragged her over to the arbor. The chain that once again was secured around her ankle clattered against the floor, a sound she was starting not to notice. She wanted an opportunity to fight him for the gun. From all the fights she’d seen in the movies, it could end up with her or him being shot. Either way was preferable to the hell she was about to endure at his hands, but he had secured the gun at his waistband, out of her reach.

“Look at me.”

She stubbornly kept her eyes level with his tie, so she didn’t see his hand fly out to connect with her cheek. Her head snapped to the side hard enough for the bones in her neck to pop. Stars exploded in her line of sight, and she cupped her stinging cheek with her hand. Her glare then settled on his face.

“It’s futile to resist me, Hope. You should accept what’s meant to be.”

Her eyes shot daggers at him. “Why would you want a wife this way?”

“The values I was raised on are not being passed on to the next generation. Not everyone fits the mold of a proper wife, so when I find one, I have to pass along the values I want as part of our relationship. It’s much like training a puppy to be a pet and guard dog. The puppy can be resistant — defiant even — but with the right training, you can break that spirit and mold them to be what they are meant to be. It’s your destiny, Hope. Better to accept it and embrace it.”

“Is that what the other wives did? Accept it?”

His smile was slight, almost amused, and his eyes had a far-off glaze to them. “Eventually.”

“Feel free to hold your breath as you wait because it’s not happening.”

“Believe that if you want, but you’ll come to see the truth. You are meant to be mine.”

He fixed her with a hard stare. “Do you, Hope Robertson, take me, David Leonard, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and obey, forsaking all others, until death do us part.”

“Hell, no,” she spat at him, twisting her wrists to escape his grasp, but he held her too tight.

“I, David Leonard, take you, Hope Robertson, as my lawfully wedded wife—”

“Over my dead body!”

“—to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish—”

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