The Rebel Heiress and the Knight

by Melissa Oliver

  She took another nervous sip of ale.

  She thought he hadn’t noticed...

  Hugh coughed, clearing his throat. ‘I understand why you wouldn’t want me to know, my lady,’ he sighed. ‘But after what we have shared I was going to find out sooner or later.’

  Eleanor exhaled, tilting her head to meet Hugh’s eyes. ‘It isn’t something I wish to discuss—especially with you.’

  ‘It is especially with me that you should, Eleanor.’ He laced his fingers with hers.

  ‘Don’t you see? It is my shame.’ She shook her head.

  ‘I don’t see. That shame belongs elsewhere.’ He cupped her chin and lifted it. ‘Show me.’

  One moment they had been teasing each other and now suddenly this?

  ‘I can’t,’ she whispered, unable to say more. No one knew of her hurts—no one except Brunhilde and her steward Gilbert. ‘What will you think of me?’

  ‘That you are an amazingly brave woman. Now, show me.’ He kissed her fingers. ‘Please.’

  It seemed Hugh was intent on stripping away every layer, every barrier she had constructed to protect herself. Very well, then—so be it.

  She nodded firmly and stood up.

  ‘Come.’ He took her by the hand and led her to their bed.

  ‘I warn you, it is quite objectionable to look at. Can you...?’

  She pointed to the ties he had laced only moments ago, which Hugh swiftly untied, then pulled the kirtle off her shoulders, allowing it to fall and pool at her feet.

  She took a deep breath before she turned her back to Hugh and started to remove her tunic. Feeling exposed, she screwed her eyes shut and waited for the response she knew would come.

  It didn’t.

  Instead Hugh’s fingers traced the mangled, corrugated and twisted skin across her back, dipping into the ugly crevices of the damaged rough surface.

  ‘Does it still hurt?’ he asked gently.

  Eleanor shrugged, shaking her head. ‘No, not any more. Brunhilde has a soothing salve that has always helped.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I’m sorry, Hugh. I hadn’t wanted you to see this.’

  Eleanor pulled her long linen chemise back over her head, covering herself, and then turned to face him.

  ‘Why?’ he asked, his voice rising. ‘This is hardly your fault. The blame lies with another.’

  ‘I know. But I wasn’t what he—’

  ‘No! You surely cannot make excuses for him.’ He caressed her face. ‘I’ll tell you, Eleanor, that if he were here now I would throw him back to the depths of hell, where he belongs.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled, sitting beside him. ‘For not judging me.’

  ‘Judge you? No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But I can now fully understand your initial reluctance for our marriage.’

  ‘Not all men are like him.’ Eleanor reached over to caress the hard, angular jawline of Hugh’s face.

  ‘I’m happy to hear that—but, God’s blood, I cannot begin to imagine what it must have been like for you.’

  ‘I was four and ten when I was obliged to marry, and he was ten years older than I. Our union deteriorated very rapidly.’ She sighed.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He was not the man I believed him to be and, as I have told you before, Millais thought I was an unnatural, undutiful wife who needed to be brought to heel.’ She shrugged. ‘Which he did. Constantly.’

  ‘The bastard!’ Hugh hissed, rubbing his temples. ‘Was the man so ungodly?’

  Yes, he was—he truly was.

  If only Hugh knew half of what Richard Millais had subjected her to...

  ‘So now you know that the scars I once spoke of are both visible and invisible, Hugh. And I carry the shame with me always.’

  Hugh pulled her gently into his arms and stroked her hair. ‘No, it is not you who should carry the shame. These are your battle wounds—just like the ones on my body. And, like me, you have come through your adversity. You have survived.’

  She felt a surge of gratitude towards Hugh with those simple yet necessary words. Words that seemed to unlock something deep inside her. Words that she had never known she’d needed until now.

  ‘Thank you for understanding, Hugh. I had to survive,’ she whispered. ‘There was no other alternative. But the choices I made were never easy.’

  Hugh sighed. ‘I don’t doubt that. Sometimes the choices we make may be difficult, but they are essential for us to be able to carry on living.’ He smiled down at her. ‘And Eleanor...’ he said, kissing the top of her head. ‘Don’t ever hide yourself from me. You don’t need to.’

  Oh, but she did—she really did!

  * * *

  Hugh led Eleanor back to the bed and held her close, stroking her hair and her back gently, feeling the mangled, coarse skin beneath his fingers.

  How could anyone be so cruel as to inflict such terrible pain on someone they were supposed to care for? The thought of Millais hurting her, a defenceless, innocent woman, made his blood boil and made him want to take up arms for her. He would if he had to. He’d protect her until the end of this world.

  God’s teeth! How desperate must her life have been back then? How terrifying for a lonely young girl, grieving after the loss of her family, to endure such horrors? No wonder she was still wary and suspicious of anyone new in her life—especially someone imposed on her. Like him.

  What was incredible was the fact that despite it all, after everything she had gone through, her spirit had not been broken. By God, that was one small mercy. She was as remarkable as she was strong, brave and resolute, and he admired her for it. His unusual heiress.

  ‘Kiss me, Hugh,’ she murmured, snaking her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

  And he kissed her lips, cheeks, eyes, neck and the tip of her nose before returning to her mouth.

  They made love again, and this time he took longer to savour and explore every part of her until she lost herself to him. He made their delicious, languid intimacy stretch until they had both surrendered to it. Until once again she had matched his ardour, his passion and desire. Until they both came undone helplessly in one another’s arms.

  Hugh felt content, at peace. After such an ominous start to their marriage, being in bed with his wife in his arms was a comforting balm. He needed this, and he was sure she did too. He was grateful, too, knowing that when she had kissed him in the bathtub it had been done out of heartfelt concern and compassion for him after what had happened with those damned outlaws.

  It showed that she might possibly care for him.

  Through this newly found understanding was there hope for them? Could there be the promise of something more? Of something he had always secretly hoped and longed to find but had rejected, all those years ago? Of contentment, mutual respect and companionship?

  Only time would tell whether it was a possibility and whether he was prepared to trust another woman again. Not that he dared hope for love. That was something he could not and would not offer. Not even to Eleanor.

  ‘What are you thinking about, Hugh?’ she whispered.

  ‘Nothing, sweetheart. Go to sleep.’ He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.

  ‘I will after you tell me.’

  ‘I was thinking how lucky I am to have you in my arms.’

  She nestled closer. ‘I believe that is also true for me.’

  He realised then, as he held her, that he wanted this—this intimate contentment with Eleanor—and he would fight for it if he had to. He needed it. His hectic life of soldiering was restless, difficult and soulless, and where once he’d thrived on the battlefield he knew now with certainty that he was tired of it all. He wanted to build a home with her—here in Tallany.

  ‘Do you know what I am thinking?’ she asked.

  He shook his head.

  ‘That I sti
ll don’t know much about you and I should, Hugh. You’re my husband.’

  He kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘I’m glad we’ve established that now, but mayhap this conversation can wait for another time?’

  ‘I’m sure it can—but I feel I have been remiss in my wifely duties in more ways than one.’

  Hugh folded his arm with his hand beneath his head, staring into the darkness. The truth was that he didn’t find it easy talking about himself. Some things in life were best left well alone, never to be thought of again. Yet here, tonight, Eleanor had opened up to him, revealing aspects of her life that were horrific. It must have been incredibly hard to do.

  ‘Tell me, Hugh.’

  He sighed. ‘What would you like to know?’

  ‘Anything, really—such as where you grew up, whether you have siblings or whether you’re an only child... That sort of thing.’

  Hugh turned his head and watched the moonlight dancing across her face. ‘So many questions to answer in the middle of the night.’ He smiled, bemused. ‘Very well. I am from the small hamlet of Watamestede, near St Albans. I am the south to your north, Eleanor, and I’m a third son, with two older brothers and three younger sisters. Only three of us survived into adulthood.’

  Eleanor rested her chin on his chest. ‘I’m sorry. It’s never easy losing one’s family. Is that why you left to find your fortune?’

  ‘Yes...’ He sighed again. ‘But that was not the only reason.’

  ‘Oh? What else made you leave your home?’

  ‘I was a poor younger son, but I was ambitious to prove myself. To make something of myself,’ he said. ‘And I had a reason to as I believed myself in love.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ She wriggled uncomfortably.

  ‘No, I don’t think you do, Eleanor.’ Hugh shook his head as he laced his fingers through hers. ‘It took a long time for me to get where I needed to be, but after years and years of hard work I eventually became a knight. Though finally I was a success, I was only a hearth knight—landless and, in the eyes of Alais Courville, still not good enough.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She raised her brows. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I went home and found that the woman who had promised herself to me—who had apparently given her heart to me—had married my eldest brother. No doubt to become the mistress of the manor,’ he said bitterly. ‘After that, I never went back.’

  ‘You haven’t seen your family since then?’

  ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Anyway, it was better for my brother that I didn’t go back...and better for Alais.’

  ‘But what about you? It was your home.’

  ‘It was better for me too, sweetheart. To sever those ties and establish myself as a soldier. And I don’t have a home. Not any more.’

  ‘She didn’t deserve you.’ Eleanor squeezed his hand. ‘And, Hugh? You do know... Your home is here in Tallany.’

  Hugh felt a tightness in his chest, and was gripped with a sudden sense of yearning. He had never shared this with anyone before—not even Will, who knew some of his past—and it felt somehow good to unburden himself to his wife.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, feeling a little self-conscious. ‘Come, enough of this morbid conversation, wife. Let us get some much-needed sleep.’ He kissed her forehead.

  ‘Hugh?’ She reached out, her fingers grazing the sharp angles of his jaw. ‘I’m sorry she hurt you.’

  He swallowed as he nodded his thanks. ‘I realised two things after that whole sorry episode, Eleanor. And as a result I will never repeat such a mistake. I realised that I would never put my faith in courtly love. There is no such thing, I’m afraid.’

  She drew back a little, watching him in the dark. ‘You don’t believe there is? Well, at least you don’t make a pretence of that.’

  ‘No, sadly I don’t. Love is an emotion that’s oppressive, inequitable, and makes people act without reason or sense. It only serves to bring out the worst in people.’

  ‘I see,’ she murmured.

  ‘I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said any of that. It was unfair of me. But you and I agreed a while back that affections of the heart were never going to affect us.’

  ‘Yes, I know we did.’ She exhaled. ‘May I ask what your other realisation was?’

  ‘I hope you don’t think less of me for this, Eleanor, but I’ve realised that there are some things in life that I can never forgive or forget. I know it is a failing.’ He frowned. ‘But, for me, the betrayal of trust is the worst sin of all. Once my trust has gone, it has gone for ever.’

  No, he dared not hope for anything resembling love. It was not for a practical, pragmatic man like him. He would do well to remember that. He’d risked his heart once, and it had turned out very badly. He would not risk it again.

  He pulled Eleanor closer and kissed her hair. ‘Goodnight, wife. Until the morrow.’

  Chapter Ten

  The next few days brought a flurry of activity to Tallany Castle as preparations were made for the long journey down south to Winchester Castle, the ancestral home and favourite castle of King John. Even his young son Prince Henry had been born there.

  Summons had been received, demanding Hugh, Will and their men to his makeshift court there, the Sovereign needing much support from his allies against the Rebel Barons’ new demands on him—especially the auspicious Great Charter of Liberties, or Magna Carta, that they insisted he sign and naturally the King refused to do.

  On having had the missive read, Hugh sensed the anger John must be feeling. And his protracted rage at not only having his rule questioned but having to bend to the will of the Rebel Barons, meaning he was unlikely to concede. John was not the easiest of men, and a situation like this was bound to blow up to unparalleled proportions and be an unmitigated disaster. The whole country would end up tearing itself to bits.

  And Hugh had no choice in the matter and was honour-bound to travel down at the King’s request.

  His days were spent organising his men, the supplies and wagons needed for the journey, as well as scouting the demesne lands and local forests with Will for Le Renard and his outlaws—but to no avail. They had once again disappeared as if into thin air. And the imprisoned men hadn’t helped much either, swearing they knew nothing about them or their hiding place, adding to Hugh’s frustration.

  All of which left him little time to spend with Eleanor. Not that he stopped thinking about her. The way she had looked at that precise moment when he had claimed her was now imprinted on him for ever.

  Their unexpected closeness was more than he’d ever thought possible with a woman. And when he gazed at her, at those big, brown luminous eyes, that chestnut hair and the intoxicating body that he’d had the pleasure of exploring these past few nights, it made him want to find her and take her back to bed, there and then.

  He groaned inwardly. It was more than that—and he knew it. She was witty, spirited and intelligent in a way that captivated and intrigued him. She was both unusual and alluring.

  The truth was that he liked Eleanor and enjoyed her company. It was the little things too—such as a shared look or understanding when he caught her eye, trying hard not to laugh at a mutual jest. Or surprising her with a small gift he thought she might appreciate and watching her astonishment at receiving it. He also admired Eleanor’s constancy to Tallany and its people. She didn’t feel it beneath her to work tirelessly, taking her duty as chatelaine seriously.

  Yes, he liked her very well indeed, and all those feelings scared the hell out of him. He knew he shouldn’t allow himself to get too close to her. That had never been part of their bargain. But he just couldn’t help it. The best thing to do in his predicament was to keep very, very busy and stop his thoughts from wandering to Eleanor. But that was easier said than done.

  Just then, as if by magic, Hugh saw her materialise in the crowded castle keep, meandering with her maid
, mingling with some of the villagers. Eleanor was handing out silver to a few of them and chatting to an old beggar woman when she spotted him and the corners of her beautiful lips quirked upwards. God, but he lost the ability to think when she smiled at him like that!

  He strode towards her and pressed a kiss on the back of her bare hand, no longer covered.

  ‘What a fine surprise, Eleanor. What brings you out into the village at this late hour of the day?’ He looked from Eleanor to the older woman. ‘Ah, but I can see that I’ve interrupted you?’

  ‘Not at all, Hugh. This is Aedith, the elder I have told you about, from the small hamlet of Ulnaby on the northern edges. The people there have little surplus food as crops have failed this year.’

  ‘I’m very sorry to hear that, but rest assured that we will do everything we can to help.’ He nodded decisively. ‘Is there anything else we can do... Aedith?’

  The older woman’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked from Eleanor to Hugh. ‘No...no, my lord. God keep you and my lady safe.’ With that, she curtsied and hobbled away.

  Hugh turned to Eleanor. ‘Why haven’t I been informed about these problems before?’

  ‘I only heard about them a moment before I told you.’ Eleanor bit her lip. ‘I believe that Aedith was unsure whether she would receive the aid Ulnaby needed.’

  He raised his brow. ‘You mean she was unsure about the intentions of the new Lord of Tallany?’

  ‘Either way, I’m certain that you have now given her peace of mind with your assurances, Hugh.’ She smiled. ‘Just as you have every other village and hamlet. They know they have nothing to fear in you.’

  ‘Well, thank God for that.’

  Eleanor’s smile deepened as she regarded him. ‘Hugh, there is something else I want to ask you.’ She nodded to Brunhilde, who bobbed a curtsey and walked away in a different direction.

  ‘Oh? And how can I help you, my lady?’

  ‘I have been thinking that mayhap I should accompany you to Winchester tomorrow—if you are in agreement?’ she said.