Page 30 of A Knight for Gwenllian

“No, Gwenllian, listen to me.” Alexander was getting desperate. Lost to her desire and fooled by his body’s reaction to the proximity of the woman he wanted, she was mistaking his hardness for agreement. It was only natural, if she was a virgin untrained in the ways of the body. But she would listen to what he was saying. She would not ignore his wishes, he knew that. “I don’t want this. My body is responding because I’m a man and you’re a very desirable woman, because I’m naked and you’re sitting atop me with your hand on my cock. Of course I will be hard. But I don’t want this, not really. Because I am tied up, I can do nothing to stop you from taking me, but it would be wrong, and you know it.”

In the blink of an eye, her demeanor changed. Her face fell, her shoulders sagged and her eyes rounded in horror. She let go of his cock as quickly as if it had suddenly caught fire and scuttled backward.

“I-I’m sorry. You’re right. This is wrong. I never meant to force you to— I just thought… I thought that you wanted me.”

This was excruciating. He could see that he had hurt her feelings. Only a moment ago she’d thought she was teasing a willing partner, playing the most tantalizing game with him, and now she was being told that she’d misread the situation and imagined the attraction he felt for her. She had not imagined it, he did feel the most fervent desire for her. But he could not act on it.

“I did want you. I do. But I cannot… Damnation, Gwenllian, you’re a virgin. Surely you must see that it changes everything.”

A sob escaped her lips. “Yes, I do now. Forgive me. I never meant to force you. I’m sorry. I got lost in my need for you. Please, forgive me.”

And with those words, she fled, leaving him frustrated, ashamed of the pain he had caused her—and still tied up.

Fuck.

Alexander had never thought he would ever find himself in such a predicament.

Naked, alone, tied up to a bed and unable to get out of the bonds holding him captive.

What could he do? Would anyone hear him if he cried out for help? He knew only two people here, Bethan and Cameron. Even then, saying that he knew them was a bit of an exaggeration. Did he want them to see him tied up this way? No, as they would immediately guess who had placed him in that position and why. So, should he just wait for the morning, in the hope that Gwenllian came back when she did not see him anywhere?

Yes. That was the only thing to do. In the meantime, he would try to loosen the knots. Perhaps he could slip a wrist through one of the loops and free himself? It didn’t take him long to see that all he was doing was tightening the knots further. This was hopeless, and he would only hurt and exhaust himself if he persisted. So he just stopped and closed his eyes, resigned to his fate.

Suddenly, he was reminded of that night in the barbican when he’d had no other choice but to wait for someone to come open the door for him in the morning. Just like then, he was trapped. Unlike then, he hadn’t done anything to deserve that fate.

A moment later, the door creaked open.

Gwenllian.

Her eyes were red and her face puffy. It was obvious she’d been crying. His gut twisted because he knew that it was his fault. She’d been crying because of his rejection.

“I came to untie you.”

Avoiding his gaze, she covered his groin with the discarded sheet. Then she sat on the bed and started to loosen the knot at his right wrist. But his struggles had made the rope so tight she was unable to slacken it in any way. A cry of frustration escaped her lips, and she screwed her eyes shut, as if to prevent another onslaught of tears.

“Use my sword, over there, by the window,” Alexander told her gently, nodding to his scabbard.

“Your sword!” She stared at him in horror. “I can’t. I will cut you.”

“Not if you’re careful.” He looked her straight in the eye, willing her to agree. He desperately wanted to be free so he could give her the hug she needed. “I trust you, Buttercup. You won’t hurt me.”

After a long hesitation, she went to unsheathe the weapon. Sitting back on the bed, she started to saw with small, measured movements. Alexander smiled when the rope fell away without the blade having touched his skin even once. He did not offer to cut the other one himself. Instead, he waited to see if she would be brave enough to do it herself. To his delight, she did.

“Perfect, look.” He showed her his wrists, which were intact. “I knew you would not hurt me.”

She gave a little nod, but he could tell her mind was not on the matter at hand.

“I’m sorry,” she started, stuttering a little. “For leaving you alone like this. For tying you up in the first place. For thinking you might want this, thinking you might want…m-me.”

This was unbearable. He did want her. Was positively aching for her. That he could not have her did not change that fact. He sat up in earnest, eager to have her listen to him.

“Look at me, Gwenllian.”

But she shook her head. It was obvious she was fighting tears. His own chest contracted in misery.

“I can’t look at you, not after what I did. I’m too ashamed. How could it be otherwise when I’m no better than that woman, Isabeau, or Old John’s son? I can only swear I never meant to hurt you. Or…rape you.”

Uttering the word had cost her, and no wonder. It horrified him that she thought herself capable of such a crime.