She must marry the knight
By order of the king!
Widow Eleanor of Tallany Castle knows her people are broken by the taxes demanded by King John. So when she’s ordered to marry Hugh de Villiers, a knight loyal to the king, she’s furious—even if he is handsome! As gallant Hugh begins to heal the scars of Eleanor’s abusive first marriage, she’s even more determined to keep her secret: she is the outlaw the king wants to send to the gallows!
“It’s not that I envisaged another for a husband, Sir Hugh. I had rather hoped not to envisage a husband at all.”
“I’m sorry for that, my lady, and I know this has been a difficult day, but I will not defy the king and neither should you.” He inhaled before continuing. “I hope that you can get used to the idea of our marriage, and with that, I would ask if I... May I court you?”
Eleanor was momentarily speechless, flummoxed by this man’s question.
“You want marriage and courtship, at the same time?”
Hugh stepped closer and caught her hand lightly in his. “I do...”
He raised her hand to his lips and softly kissed the back of it, sending a ripple of awareness shooting up her arm. He then took a step back, his eyes never leaving hers, inclined his head and turned on his heel and walked out of the solar.
Author Note
King John was not the first nor the last tyrannical, unpopular and frankly incompetent monarch in England’s history. However, what made his reign significant was that his poor governance led to the kingdom’s terrible reversal of fortune. His campaigns against France, especially the disastrous Battle of Bouvines, resulted in a huge loss of his dynastic territory in mainland France, and was never regained. His difficult and often bitter estrangement with his barons culminated in their rebellious revolt and demand he sign the Great Charter of Liberties, better known as the Magna Carta, which he eventually did in the summer of 1215... And which he later reneged on.
It’s in the spring of that tumultuous year this book takes place. A time of division and civil unrest. A time of lawlessness and terrible hardship, when the burden of heavy taxation had taken its toll. And it is in the fictitious area of Tallany in Northumberland that the story is mainly set, reflecting the divide felt throughout the kingdom. It is this that the heroine, Lady Eleanor Tallany, finds herself on an opposing side to, as the hero, Sir Hugh de Villiers, whom she is forced to marry, is unreservedly a king’s man. Can they find a way to come together against the odds, or are their differences too great a challenge?
I hope you enjoy their story!
MELISSA OLIVER
The Rebel Heiress
and the Knight
Growing up in Richmond upon Thames, Melissa Oliver used to walk past the old Harlequin office as a teen and wistfully sigh that one day her dream of writing for them would come true. Amazingly, it finally has and now she can bring all those stories out onto the pages of her books. Melissa lives in southwest London with her gorgeous husband and equally gorgeous daughters, who share her passion for castles, palaces and all things historical.
The Rebel Heiress and the Knight is Melissa Oliver’s debut title. Look out for more books from Melissa Oliver coming soon.
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
To Jack for your love,
support and belief in me.
And also, to my editor,
Charlotte Ellis, without whom none
of this would be possible.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Excerpt from The Scoundrel’s Bartered Bride by Virginia Heath
Chapter One
North of England, spring 1215
Three days! Three arduous days and nights she had kept him waiting, giving him excuse after excuse as to why she couldn’t grace him with her presence. And still there was no sign of her.
Hugh de Villiers kicked the rushes on the floor of the great hall and exhaled in frustration. No, it seemed more like three long months that Lady Eleanor Tallany had been defiantly ignoring King John’s missive demanding her at his court. To add insult to injury, she’d continued to ignore subsequent demands, resulting in King John dispatching Hugh and his men to these godforsaken northern wilds to meet with the enigmatic heiress.
He’d suspected that the lady would rather leave than face the contents of that missive, and had men posted around the castle keep, but no one had left. If she had been in the castle all this time she was still here.
Inside.
Hiding somewhere.
God give him strength!
He watched the far end of the hall as the steward of Tallany Castle, Gilbert Claymore, walked towards him, wringing his hands and looking grim. Hugh gritted his teeth. This behaviour was both ridiculous and offensive in equal measure. Who did Eleanor Tallany believe she was that she could so insult and flout her Sovereign’s wishes and demands?
For Hugh, it was a matter of unquestionable fealty to King John, and if it meant softening his liege’s somewhat erratic and volatile behaviour. Hugh was honour-bound to his King, his allegiance never in doubt even in these uncertain times, with the country on the brink of civil war. Yet here he was, put firmly in his place, his patience worn thin by this woman for no understandable reason.
‘Well, what is it this time, Claymore?’
‘My lady sends her apology, Sir Hugh, but she cannot meet with you this morn as she has a...a malady.’
‘Another one, eh?’
‘Her head gives her pain today, but she bears it with fortitude and grace.’
‘Indeed. And yet only yesterday you were telling me of Lady Eleanor’s remarkable competence in the running of her estates. Impressive in itself, but all the more so with her litany of maladies.’
Hugh raised his brow. Really, the steward must take him for a fool.
‘My lady is usually of good health.’
‘Well, then, it must be our presence that distresses her so.’ A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘Damn it, man, my time here should be of short duration. I need to get back to court.’
‘And would my lady have to accompany you?’
So that was what was bothering Lady Eleanor. That she would be made to come to court. Why?
Even Hugh, having spent many years on campaigns in France, knew of this widowed heiress and her desire to be left alone. Her lack of presence at court fuelled further gossip and rumour.
‘That I cannot answer, since I don’t know the contents of this missive nor what King John’s intentions are.’
Not strictly true, since Hugh had another mission, as well as to deliver the King’s demands to this frustrating woman. Hugh also had to find and capture a group of outlaws and their leader, Le Renard—or The Fox, as he was apparently known in these parts. The gang had not only stolen levies intended for t
he Crown, but also more worryingly had helped and abetted the Northern Rebel Barons. Traitors, who openly opposed and defied the King.
‘Tell your lady that the sooner we hear King John’s command, the sooner we can all go back to whatever it was we were doing. My men are restless, Claymore, as am I. And this situation cannot be endured any more. I believe I have been more than patient. I will go to Lady Eleanor’s solar and drag her down here myself. Either way, the King’s missive must be read today!’
* * *
Eleanor looked out of the small arched window from her solar and rubbed the back of her neck and winced. This time the pain was real. She wished the King’s men and the so-called hero of the disastrous Battle of Bouvines—this Hugh de Villiers—would leave, but that was a fool’s wish. They wouldn’t leave until they’d got what they wanted: her. And she couldn’t avoid them any longer.
She had stupidly believed that if she ignored King John’s summons, he would forget about her, as he had done these past few years since her husband’s death from dysentery.
Ah, the solitude of those years and the freedom that had come with being in her ancestral home rather than bound by the shackles of court was something she had enjoyed—relished, even.
Eleanor had finally been doing what her father had taught her, despite being ‘just a woman’. Managing her vast lands and looking after her people to the best of her ability. Yet it seemed now that was all to end.
Since the King’s men had arrived Eleanor had sought to find a solution, a way out of her predicament, but all she had achieved was incensing the men instead—which was not something she had intended. But she didn’t want to know the contents of King John’s missive. Whatever he wanted from her, it would not be good. Nothing he demanded ever was. And now Eleanor had no idea about how to proceed.
Either way, she could never leave Tallany, nor its people, to fend for itself in these difficult times. That was what had made Eleanor secretly ally herself with the Northern Rebel Barons some months back and give them the assistance they’d need against a king bent on destroying everything she believed in. Dangerous on her part, but necessary, nevertheless.
Mayhap that was the reason why the King’s men were here. Mayhap they knew of her treason. But surely no one save her few loyal men knew her part in that...
No, this was about taking her back to court—or, worse still, keeping her at the Tower, just as before her disastrous marriage. A shiver ran through her.
Eleanor wished she had more time. She had always known that her destiny was not hers to determine, but for her freedom to be snatched away so soon made her feel powerless and vulnerable.
She turned and caught her steward’s eye as he entered the chamber. He nodded once and walked out again. No, she could no longer avoid the King’s men and their commander, Sir Hugh de Villiers.
* * *
The hall fell silent as the steward of Tallany Castle and its mistress, followed by a couple of older women, walked onto the dais with purpose. Hugh shut his eyes in relief and sighed. Finally she had come. He could get this over and done with and leave this place.
He opened his eyes just as Lady Eleanor turned to face him and his breath caught. A heady scent of flowers and blended mixed spice teased his senses. He hadn’t given the widow herself much thought—hadn’t known what to expect of her—but it certainly had not been the lovely vision in front of him.
He looked her up and down, mesmerised. Oh, yes, a face and body that could send a man to purgatory! Her hair was pulled back and bound underneath a linen veil held by a silver circlet, but he could just glimpse dark glossy strands. Her eyes were dark too, and framed by lashes that curved at the ends. And her pink lips were lush and inviting...though not inviting him anywhere, as they were compressed into a thin line.
He glanced up and saw that she was glaring at him. A look of pure contempt flashed in her eyes before being masked. She stiffened, tilted her head and gave a curt nod.
What in God’s name was he thinking?
He gave himself a mental shake and stepped forward, making a perfunctory bow.
‘Lady Eleanor, it is an honour for me and my men that you grace us with your presence and I’m glad to see that your health seems much improved.’
‘Indeed? And you must be Hugh de Villiers?’
‘At your service, my lady.’
The lady, however, raised her eyebrows and looked down her nose at him.
‘I rather doubt that, Sir Hugh. We both know why I am commanded here.’
He stood there staring at her open-mouthed, stunned by her rudeness.
‘Do we, Lady Eleanor?’
‘As you well know, sir.’
So she preferred plain talking, did she? Very well.
‘My lady, mayhap if you had come to court when the King summoned you, this might have been avoided,’ he said tersely.
‘This,’ she said through pursed lips, ‘could never have been avoided.’
‘Perhaps not, but it would have saved my men and I having to journey here and interrupt your...busy life.’
‘Are you mocking me?’
Whatever Hugh had been expecting in Eleanor Tallany, it certainly hadn’t been this hostile woman in front of him now.
‘Not in the least, my lady. I’m merely pointing out that had you been gracious enough to submit to King John’s demands, all this unpleasantness might have been avoided. You must know that he is not a man to be defied.’
‘How easy it is for you to say, but this “unpleasantness”, as you call it, could never have been avoided. It serves to determine my future.’
Hugh frowned at her. ‘A future decreed by your King.’
They stared coldly at each other, waiting for the other to back down, as the hall descended into an awkward silence.
‘Well, then,’ she said finally, keeping her frosty gaze locked on his. ‘Perhaps we should find out what this future holds, shall we?’
Hugh watched as Eleanor waved her hand for the missive to be read and the Tallany priest, Father Thomas, stepped forward and bowed to his mistress before cutting open the seal of the parchment scroll.
Hugh ground his teeth together. By God, she was infuriating! And to think he had been stirred by other thoughts that her beautiful face and comely body had aroused just moments ago.
He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be long until he left this godforsaken place. All he had to do was give whatever King John’s message to this woman, catch a group of outlaws and then he could leave and get back to his life as a soldier. The sooner the better.
* * *
Father Thomas’s voice filled the great hall as he read the missive, but not for one moment would Eleanor betray her fear to this Hugh de Villiers or to any one of the King’s men. Her trepidation was entwined with a sense of outrage at having her home, her corner of England, invaded by these unwanted interlopers, and her apprehension about King John’s edict was making her heart beat a little faster, but she didn’t look away. Whatever the King had to say, wanted to accuse her of, she could face it. She would do it with her head held high.
Mustering all her courage, she straightened her back and stared boldly at the man who threatened her peace... Sir Hugh de Villiers.
He was bemused and baffled by her, she could tell, and attempting his own brand of indifferent haughtiness to match hers. She glared at him, putting every pent-up feeling of frustration, resentment and anger into it, but he merely smirked at her and dismissively shook his head, as if she were a petulant child.
Seething, she thought she would love nothing more than to march up to him and wipe that look off his face, but that was beneath her. Besides, it would only prove to Hugh de Villiers that he had the right of her character. Not that Eleanor cared what he thought! Really, he was quite insufferable. Although it should come as no surprise. No doubt the King was sur
rounded by such ambitious sycophants as this man. Just like her loathsome late husband, who had been not only ambitious and greedy but many other unpleasant things she would rather forget.
Eleanor was thankful that at least she was now free from that obligation and no longer had to bow to the demands of a husband. She shuddered at the thought of that! Yes, she must be thankful for the precious freedom she enjoyed—but for how long? She dreaded with what the King wanted with her. If only she were somewhere else...
As if reading her mind, Hugh de Villiers threw her a wry, detached look, probably wishing he were far away too. She wanted to be anywhere but here in her great hall, having to listen to Father Thomas. She’d rather be knee-deep in pig manure, or stitching a dozen linen shirts, or mulching a dozen barrels of apples for cider, or...
An audible collective gasp echoed in the hall and snapped her to attention. She tried to recall the few snatched words she’d heard moments ago. Had she heard correctly or could it be her imagination?
What had Father Thomas just said?
‘Lady Eleanor Tallany...as decreed by King John...marriage...’
By God, she hoped she had imagined it. But she knew instinctively that she hadn’t.
Marriage? Marriage? But to whom?
Heart pounding, Eleanor glanced around the room. Her eyes landed on Sir Hugh de Villiers, who looked ashen.
No, no, no! Please, not him. There had to be a mistake! ‘Pardon me, Father, what did you say?’ she whispered as she turned to face her kindly priest.
A shadow of concern shrouded his eyes. ‘Our Lord and Sovereign King John has decreed a betrothal between you, my lady, and...’ Father Thomas gulped. ‘And Sir Hugh de Villiers. The bringer of this joyous message.’
Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted back to Hugh de Villiers, horrified. A ringing noise in her ears drowned out all other sound in the room. She could feel sweat on her brows; her palms clammy. Dear Lord, this could not be happening! Not again.
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