The Rebel Heiress and the Knight

by Melissa Oliver

  ‘What news, Will?’ he asked, sitting on a chair.

  ‘I have been well informed that King John is in the foulest of tempers.’

  ‘No change there, then. What’s happened now?’

  ‘London is in the hands of the Rebel Barons. The city opened its gates to them with no resistance, and naturally the King is jumping up and down in rage without taking any responsibility for the situation.’

  Hugh uttered an oath as he took a sip of his ale. ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Absolutely—and between us let me say that I have some sympathy with their cause. Many of the Rebel Barons are good men.’

  Hugh frowned. ‘Even so, where will this all end? Do they believe that they’ll be able to make John simply turn and concede to their demands? Hell’s teeth, they’ve all sworn their fealty to him.’

  Will raised his brows. ‘Ah, but they feel he has left them no choice. And this explains the hurried missive from John demanding our return.’

  ‘It’s more than that. The Rebels want him to sign this Charter of Liberties...’ Hugh sighed. ‘Which John refuses to do.’

  Will watched him from over the rim of his mug. ‘Tell me, Hugh, is this what has been worrying you? Because that would explain a lot.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means,’ Will said, ‘that you have not been yourself ever since we left the north.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Hugh frowned.

  ‘Yes, you do. Care to share?’

  ‘No.’

  Will shook his head as he poured ale into Hugh’s mug. ‘Come, Hugh, tell me what’s troubling you.’

  ‘Nothing. My life is wonderful. I’m a lucky bastard and I’m deliriously happy.’ He stared blankly into his mug, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  ‘You’re deliriously something.’ Will smirked. ‘But happy? No.’

  ‘For once in your life, just leave it. Believe me when I say that there is nothing you can help me with.’

  ‘As bad as that, eh?’

  Hugh shook his head and snorted. ‘Never get married. It brings nothing but trouble, Will.’

  ‘Oh, Lord. I thought this might have something to do with your heiress.’

  Hugh threw his arms up. ‘Precisely,’ he said shaking his head. ‘Did I ask to get married? No. Did I want to get married? No. And yet here I am, married to the most confounding, maddening woman.’

  Not to mention reckless, duplicitous and a whole host of other things.

  Will sat back and regarded his friend. ‘I never thought a woman would capture your heart like this.’

  Hugh gave him a disgusted look. ‘Know this: Eleanor Tallany has captured no part of me—least of all my heart,’ he spat.

  Will let out soft chuckle. ‘Dear me, what has happened? One minute you’re wooing your lady with a flock of sheep—which, may I say, was a strange but inspired gift. The next you’re playing the part of lovelorn swain.’

  Hugh lunged forward and grabbed his friend by his tunic, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes full of murderous intent.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ Will hissed through gritted teeth, and pushed hard against his friend’s shoulder.

  Realisation of what he was doing hit Hugh like a bolt of lightning. He let Will go, sitting back against his chair, rubbing his head.

  ‘I’m sorry—that was uncalled for,’ he said as he buried his head in his hands.

  Will stared at his friend in disbelief as he slowly exhaled. ‘I’ve never seen you like this over a woman before, Hugh. What has happened?’

  Hugh lifted his head and rubbed his chin. After a long silence he finally spoke in a low voice. ‘It’s Eleanor.’ His mouth twisted. ‘She’s the traitor we seek.’

  Will’s eyes widened in disbelief and his jaw dropped. He turned his head in both directions, checking that their conversation was not being overheard, before shuffling closer to Hugh. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he whispered.

  ‘Unfortunately, yes. I followed her and that old fool of a steward out of Tallany Castle, the night before we left to journey here.’ He met Will’s eyes. ‘She met the outlaw Le Renard.’

  ‘Oh, my God, Hugh.’ Will muttered an oath and whistled. ‘Is Eleanor aware that you know all this?’

  ‘No, she’s not—not yet. But believe me, she will,’ he growled. ‘First, I have to know who else is involved and how far this goes. And I can only do that if she isn’t aware that I know her secret.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He dropped his head and dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘What a damnable coil I’m in.’

  ‘You are—but you need to think hard and act quickly, Hugh.’

  ‘How am I supposed to act? Don’t you understand what a difficult position she has put me in?’

  Will regarded him for a moment and sighed. ‘Yes, I believe I can.’

  ‘I’m torn in every direction. If I conceal the fact that Eleanor is a traitor then it may as well be me holding the traitor’s sword against our King.’

  And if he didn’t, he might as well be signing her death warrant.

  ‘True—except that she is your wife.’

  ‘Except that she is my wife...’ Hugh repeated, in a flat, weary tone.

  ‘And you love her,’ Will said.

  ‘And I love—’ Hugh stopped and flicked his head up, frowned. ‘No, I do not!’ he snapped, and rose abruptly, scraping his chair against the hard floor.

  ‘Any fool can see you care for your lady.’ Will narrowed his gaze. ‘Sit down.’

  Hugh gave his friend a hard stare before he sat back down and picked up his mug, turning it round in his hand. ‘You’re asking me to forsake my solemn oath to John?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Will said. ‘But listen to me, Hugh. You are no longer a soldier who just follows orders blindly, like I do. You may have given your fealty to the King, but you’re also duty-bound to protect your vassals, your dependents, and most of all your lady—whatever she may have done.’

  Hugh raised his brows at Will’s words, which strangely chimed with what Eleanor had said to him at Milnthorpe.

  ‘I know all this, Will, but her treachery also marks me unless I set her aside.’

  ‘Just deal with the situation yourself, Hugh,’ Will said. ‘But that’s not the only reason you feel “torn”, as you put it.’

  Hugh frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s Eleanor and the outlaw that has you in knots.’

  A muscle leapt in Hugh’s jaw. ‘She betrayed me.’

  ‘Yes, it seems she did.’ Will sighed. ‘But before you go blowing bluster, Hugh, talk to her.’

  ‘Oh, I shall—believe me. But not yet,’ Hugh said. He met Will’s speculative gaze and smiled weakly. ‘Thank you for your counsel, though, my friend. I appreciate it.’

  ‘Just talk to her, Hugh.’ He nodded at his friend. ‘Now, let’s get drunk.’

  Hugh looked at his mug grimly and then back at Will. ‘Yes, let’s. Blind drunk!’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eleanor looked around the beautiful hall of Winchester Castle and bit the inside of her cheek nervously. She should never have ventured here with her husband. Not when this makeshift opulent court was as gloomy and bleak as this. It was a symbol of everything she detested. And being amongst these people she didn’t know or trust made her feel wary and unsure—especially as Hugh was doing his best to ignore her as well.

  The mood was sombre and grim, even though the courtiers tried to lift everyone’s spirits—particularly King John’s. She stole a glance at her Sovereign, who had single-handedly been the cause of her grief and unhappiness with one husband and also her short-lived happiness with another.

  The King spoke a little to his inner circle of men, among
st them Lord Balvoire, whose lips seemed to be curled into a permanent sneer. There was something deeply unsettling about him, and she wished she was back in her chamber, away from all this.

  Eleanor stared at the tender cuts of meat on her trencher and her stomach flipped. Her hunger could not be abated as the fine food she ate was tasteless and the expensive wine bitter.

  It was a reflection on everything that she had gleaned since her arrival in Winchester—especially when she considered the obvious wealth on display. When she compared it to the poverty and destitution in Tallany, and throughout the kingdom, it outraged her. She couldn’t wait until they were able to leave and travel back north, but when that would be was anyone’s guess.

  Since their arrival yesterday John had conferred with Hugh briefly, along with all his other noblemen, knights and vassals. The King was understandably furious, since London was now in the grip of the Rebel Barons and was proving to be a matter of great consternation and anxiety for him.

  Secretly, Eleanor was elated at the triumph and success of the Rebels, and shared with them the hope that this might prove to be the impetus needed to finally make the King sign the Great Charter of Liberties.

  Eleanor hadn’t realised she had been staring, when she caught the King’s eye. He raised his brows and his silver cup in toast to her. His lips flattened into a mocking thin line and he held her gaze until she inclined her head in a perfunctory deferential bow. He too inclined his head, then looked away and spoke with the man sitting next to him.

  Eleanor expelled a huge breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and tried to calm her nerves by sipping the rancid wine, her hands shaking in the process. She shuddered and spotted her husband from afar, talking and exchanging pleasantries with a small group of courtiers who were probably acquaintances he hadn’t seen since his surprise marriage.

  She observed him from under her lashes as his peers slapped him on the back and shook him by the hand. And she also watched in dismay as the women in the hall followed Hugh’s every movement, all stopping to talk, simper or flirt with him.

  Since her arrival yesterday they had eyed her speculatively, as though she were a curiosity, and Eleanor realised that this was partly because everything about her was different. The way she dressed, the style of her headdress, even the way she spoke, and not to mention her court manners, were at odds with the way these people believed an heiress should behave.

  And all this awkwardness and misery was compounded by Hugh’s indifference towards her.

  Eleanor noticed a pretty young woman with brilliant blue eyes who was being particularly friendly with her husband. She hung on his every word, repeatedly touched the sleeve of his tunic, smiled and laughed at everything he said. They certainly seemed to be well acquainted with one another. Oh, yes, her husband was indeed popular...

  And, yes, Eleanor was indeed feeling the first stirrings of jealousy. A strange, unfamiliar emotion that she had never felt before. She chided herself for feelings that were beneath her, telling herself she preferred not to complicate matters with these futile emotions. She’d also prefer that she was far, far away from this awful place.

  Her searching gaze found William Geraint, who had just come into her peripheral vision. He seemed to waver between staying where he was or coming to speak to her. Fortunately for Eleanor the pleading in her eyes must have convinced Will, as he gave her a single nod, said something privately to Hugh and walked over to sit beside her.

  He wasn’t smiling in his usual easy manner, and something about that unnerved her. Was it her imagination or was Will also behaving differently towards her now? He didn’t seem to be his usual, jovial, witty self. Or was she allowing her anxiety about Hugh to colour every single judgement and thought?

  Really, now, this wasn’t like her. She was The Fox, for goodness’ sake!

  ‘Lady Eleanor, I trust you have had a good day?’ he asked, quite formally.

  ‘Yes, thank you. But to be honest I have been keeping myself to myself.’

  Will’s brow furrowed. ‘I understand from Hugh that you do not care too much for court.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s more that I don’t know anyone here, Will. I feel like an outsider.’

  ‘Then why you did come here, my lady?’ Will asked, without humour.

  ‘I ask myself that every day.’ She shook her head before continuing. ‘I thought it a good idea at the time, but I was wrong. Very wrong.’ She rubbed her forehead, feeling the first strains of a headache.

  Will sighed. ‘If it helps, Eleanor, I can present you to some ladies of the court whom I think you may like. Not everyone is unfriendly here,’ he said, sounding more like his old self.

  ‘Thank you, Will, that’s very kind. But I believe that is my husband’s responsibility—not that he seems to realise that.’

  They both turned their heads to watch Hugh, engrossed in conversation, laughing at something the blue-eyed beauty was saying.

  Will regarded her for a moment. ‘You care for him, don’t you?’ he said quietly.

  Eleanor was too choked to reply, and continued to look at nothing in particular, her chest feeling painfully tight.

  ‘I just don’t understand what is wrong with Hugh. He seems so different here from the man I knew in Tallany,’ she muttered absently.

  Will covered her hand with his, giving it a squeeze. ‘I cannot say, Eleanor, but for what it is worth I believe my friend cares for you too,’ he said. He held up his hands, anticipating her response. ‘The only way through this impasse is for you to talk to one another—and soon.’

  Hugh was bowing at the young woman, who curtsied in response, giving him a coquettish look before she moved to the centre of the room, evidently readying herself to perform for the entire assembly. He nodded at the young woman and then walked in the opposite direction, towards Eleanor and Will.

  Will rose and gave her hand another squeeze. ‘I will leave you now, but remember what I said, my lady.’ He bowed over her hand. ‘Everyone makes mistakes, and some may be bigger than others. I truly hope that you both find a way through your current difficulty. I really do.’

  Will passed Hugh and clasped his friend’s arm, exchanging a few words with him before continuing to walk in a different direction. Her husband approached and perched next to her wordlessly, without offering a single look or smile, sinking her spirits even lower.

  What were the mistakes that Will had alluded to?

  Just as Eleanor was about to say something to Hugh, the blue-eyed beauty sat on a low stool in the middle of the hall and started to pluck the strings of a lute. Her elegant fingers worked effortlessly to create the most achingly sweet and melodic music, and when it was accompanied with her lovely voice it brought a lump to Eleanor’s throat.

  She turned to see that Hugh was equally moved by the captivating music. The song was one she vaguely recalled from when she was young—an ode to springtime and something about a lost love that she remembered her mother singing to her.

  It made Eleanor feel so desperately sad and forlorn that she could hardly breathe, with tears filling her eyes. But what made it infinitely worse was that when the music eventually ended Eleanor had to watch in disbelief as the young woman gave such a lingering look to Hugh, as if she had been singing every single word to him.

  Oh, Lord, what was happening?

  Eleanor felt as if her world was somehow unfolding. She closed her eyes, hoping to shut out those unwelcome thoughts and push away her miserable feelings. She opened them again and rose abruptly, started to walk away, mumbling something about wanting to get some air. She’d had enough!

  Needing to be outside, she strode out of the hall as fast as she could and kept on going, practically running until she had put some distance between the hall and wherever it was she had got to.

  She had reached a corner of an outbuilding, and she turned and leaned against the st
one wall, panting, catching her breath. She loosened her veil and opened the neckline of her dress. The cool night air felt good against her skin, compared to the stuffy, oppressive atmosphere of the hall.

  She heard soft footfall and looked around. She grabbed the first thing that she could find—a rake that had been left against the wall.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Hugh said, as he rounded the corner.

  Eleanor pushed away from the wall and started to stride away, still holding the rake, swinging it by her side. ‘Are you following me again? Like you did in Milnthorpe?’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you how incredibly rude that is?’

  Hugh walked behind her. ‘Yes, but I was worried about you. Are you unwell?’

  ‘Go back to your friends, Hugh. I am perfectly well,’ she said curtly.

  ‘If that was so then you wouldn’t have left in the way you just did, Eleanor.’

  ‘Leave me, please, to my own contemplations. I’m in no mood for company.’ She carried on walking, God knew where, with her husband following behind.

  ‘I can see that, my lady, but what I cannot understand is the reason for it.’

  She gave an exasperated toss of her head. ‘Mayhap you didn’t look hard enough, being otherwise occupied. Now, I’d be much obliged if you’d comply with my wishes and leave me be.’

  ‘What is the matter?’

  She crossed in a different direction that brought her to a secluded path.

  ‘Nothing. I’m fine,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t look fine—you look angry. Which I find bewildering, considering I’m the one who should be angry.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ she snapped. ‘Are you suggesting that we should compete to find out who merits being the angriest?’

  ‘There is no contest, believe me.’ Hugh caught her elbow and pulled her to a halt. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Back to my chamber, my lord.’

  ‘You’re going the wrong way. Come, I’ll escort you there.’