The Rebel Heiress and the Knight

by Melissa Oliver

  ‘I can’t, Eleanor,’ he whispered. ‘I just can’t.’

  ‘Whatever mistakes you believe you have made, we can surely overcome them, can we not?’

  ‘Mistakes I have made?’ He turned, frowning with incredulity.

  She clasped the little cross around her neck tightly. ‘Don’t be angry with him, but Will mentioned it to me earlier.’

  Hugh exhaled slowly. ‘Oh, Eleanor,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘He meant your mistakes—not mine.’

  ‘I... I don’t understand.’

  His wife blinked several times, as though she hadn’t heard him properly. He folded his arms across his chest.

  ‘Don’t you, my lady?’ he asked softly, watching bewilderment and confusion flash across her face.

  He allowed the silence in the room to stretch for a moment, knowing that finally the time to confront her had come—though it was sooner than he would have liked.

  He nodded at her grimly. ‘I know, Eleanor,’ he said. ‘I know you’re a traitor!’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hugh heard Eleanor gasp and saw her eyes widen in shock. Darts of emotion flickered in her eyes as she finally comprehended him and realised the magnitude of what he had said.

  She lifted her head and finally spoke. ‘How...how did you know?’ she whispered, meeting his penetrating gaze.

  At least she wasn’t going to deny the accusation.

  ‘I followed you. The night before we left to come here.’ Hugh expelled the breath he had been holding.

  ‘You seem to have made quite a habit of following me.’

  ‘For good reason,’ he said bitterly. ‘And you were not alone, my beautiful wife. Not only are you a traitor but so is your ever-faithful steward Gilbert Claymore.’

  ‘No!’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Gilbert was only doing his duty by me. As was Brunhilde.’

  ‘I might have known that your maid would be involved as well.’ Hugh stood with his arms folded, glaring at her.

  ‘They have nothing to do with it, Hugh.’

  ‘Of course not,’ he said sardonically. ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Tell me.’ He watched her as she gulped and looked away. ‘I want the truth now, Eleanor.’

  ‘Only Father Thomas,’ she whispered.

  ‘The Tallany priest?’ He muttered an oath under his breath as he shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘You must understand, Hugh, that none of them are involved in the way you believe. They’re like family to me and were only doing my bidding,’ she said, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. ‘It was only ever me. Just me.’

  ‘Your concern for them does you credit,’ he said, leaning with his back against the wall, watching her in bed, still naked under the coverlet. ‘But don’t you see that you have put Tallany itself in danger with your involvement with the outlaws? Everything you have toiled so hard for?’

  ‘Some risks are worth taking, Hugh. They must be taken.’ She pulled the coverlet higher up to her neck and lifted her head.

  ‘At what cost, my lady?’ His lips compressed into a thin line. ‘At the risk of losing everything? What the hell do you think would have happened once you were caught?’

  ‘I did everything not to be.’

  ‘Yet that was always a possibility once we had married, Eleanor, and you’re shrewd enough to know that.’

  ‘I know, but sometimes in life there are no other choices.’

  ‘Oh, there are always choices, Eleanor,’ he said with a scowl. ‘You chose to meet with your steward and go down that tunnel. You chose to meet with that damned outlaw Le Renard. You chose all of it and you chose it willingly.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that...’

  ‘Oh? And what am I mistaken in? You lied, Eleanor.’ He raked his eyes over her. ‘From the very beginning you lied and worked with the outlaws against me.’

  ‘But that was...that was before I knew you,’ she muttered.

  He laughed mirthlessly. ‘What difference did that make? Did you cease your duplicity once you got to know me, oh, so well?’ He shook his head. ‘No, you damn well did not.’

  ‘As I said, some risks are worth taking,’ she said, tilting her chin in the air. ‘They must be taken since they’re more important than anything and anyone. More important even than you and I.’

  He stared at her blankly. ‘What a heartfelt speech. And whilst we debate the reasons that have made you lie, cheat and steal to aid a known criminal—an outlaw, for the love of God—there is a very real decision for me to take.’

  ‘What...what is that?’

  ‘What am I to do with you, Eleanor?’ he asked. ‘Do I look the other way, or do I hand you over to the King? Have you any idea what they will do to your pretty little neck?’ he said, frowning.

  Her hands shook as she instinctively curled them around her neck. ‘No,’ she said, as she straightened her spine in an attempt at bravery. ‘But you must do what your conscience tells you.’

  Hugh noticed her bottom lip wobble, making him want to take her back into his arms, but he couldn’t. He must resist the urge to go to her and make everything right between them.

  Damn, he couldn’t be so weak-willed.

  ‘I will, my lady. I will. Tell me, though, was anything about you real? Was anything we shared real?’

  She gasped. ‘Hugh, how can you say that? Especially after what we just shared on this bed.’

  ‘Easily. It’s not as though either of us wanted this marriage.’

  She balked. ‘Yes, but haven’t things changed since then?’

  ‘I believed so—I thought so... But not any more.’

  Hugh watched Eleanor’s eyes fill with unshed tears that she wiped away absently and he winced. He had never wanted any of it to unfold like this. He hated this—hated feeling like this and hated causing her pain. She’d had enough of that in her life...

  ‘At least allow me to explain about The Fox,’ she whispered, breaking the silence.

  Hugh flicked his eyes at her. ‘I don’t want to know anything about your friendship with him,’ he said in a low voice, his lip curling in distaste. The thought of the outlaw and his wife, even as friends, made his blood boil. He clenched and unclenched his fists and turned his back on her. ‘What can you say, Eleanor, about an outlaw you betrayed me for and upon whose head there is a fair price?’

  ‘But you don’t understand—’

  ‘No, I don’t believe you understand, my lady.’ He moved towards her and lifted her chin, looking into her sad eyes. ‘I too want to do right by Tallany—but not by breaking my allegiance to the King and not by breaking the law.’

  ‘It was and is the only way, Hugh.’

  ‘Is that so, my lady?’ He expelled a shaky breath and watched her for a moment. ‘Eleanor, you have no idea about what you’ve done. You have wounded me more than you’ll ever know. More than I ever thought possible.’

  He walked away and picked up his sword belt, tied it around his waist before walking to the door.

  ‘Hugh,’ she called out. ‘What will you do?’

  He stood rigid, staring at the door. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eleanor sat on a wooden bench overlooking the herb garden, close to her lodgings at the back of the castle. The gardens were cleverly partitioned by evergreen hedges to separate the medicinal herbs from those of the culinary variety, which were potted and planted closer to the kitchens beyond.

  She watched from a distance as kitchen staff intermittently ventured out from the building to take cuttings of the herbs that were needed for their cooking. And even from where she was sitting she could smell the delicious aromas drifting from the kitchens. Not that she could eat a thing. No, but it was good to watch everyday life unfold and carry on as normal. It was a respite from all her
troubles and a balm to her wretched, wretched soul.

  Eleanor had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. Everything that had happened with Hugh, every word that had been uttered, had turned around and around in her head.

  Lord above—he’d known about her involvement with the outlaws all this time and said nothing. Stupidly, she had been consumed with jealousy at the thought that his head might have been turned by other women. But, no, it was far more serious than that.

  She closed her eyes and took in a huge breath of much-needed fresh air just as she heard footfalls nearby and someone coughing, clearing their throat. She opened her eyes to see that Lord Balvoire had approached. Her heart sank.

  Now, what did he want at a time like this?

  ‘My dear Lady Eleanor, I didn’t get a chance to greet you properly yesterday. You left the hall so unexpectedly,’ he said, bowing over her hand and pressing his slimy, wet lips on it.

  She ignored his jibe and resisted the temptation to wipe her hand on her skirts. ‘Lord Balvoire.’ She inclined her head and got up, not wanting to be seated whilst the odious man was standing over her. ‘You find me here alone this morning.’

  ‘I hope that I am not intruding on your reverie, my lady?’

  She wanted to say that indeed he was, and that his presence was unwelcome, but instead she said nothing, hoping her silence would be enough of a hint that she did not want his company.

  Annoyingly, the hint went over his head and he moved closer to her instead. She saw his skin pockmarked and lined, this close up.

  ‘And why are you alone this morning, my lady?’

  ‘I’m waiting for my husband, Lord Balvoire, so if you don’t mind...?’ She’d said the first thing that had popped into her head.

  ‘Mind? Why should I mind, my dear? Your forbearance does you credit—especially after the demise of your last husband.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She swallowed uncomfortably, feeling her stomach turn at the mention of Richard Millais.

  ‘I hope you don’t think I’m prying, my dear, but I couldn’t help but notice your distress in the hall last night. I’m sure all is resolved, but one never knows with these soldiers and their wandering ways. I daresay it’s the young, handsome ones the most. They do seem to be popular at court.’

  Eleanor could tell he wanted to gain a reaction from her. ‘Again, I thank you for your concern, my lord, but I really must be going,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  ‘I thought you said you were waiting for Lord Hugh?’ He raised his brows. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t leave on my account.’

  ‘I assure you, I’m not.’

  ‘Good, good...because I nearly forgot to tell you how desirous the King is to meet you.’

  Eleanor felt bile rise from the pit of her stomach. ‘Naturally I would be very honoured.’

  ‘I’m sure you would. And now I will leave you,’ he said. ‘We cannot be seen together like this without a chaperon or people will gossip.’

  He chuckled at his own jest and gave her a leering smile that made her want to hit him. God, he was insufferable.

  ‘You are right, Lord Balvoire. Good day to you.’ She inclined her head, stepping away, but he stilled her.

  ‘Ah, what a charming necklace, my dear.’

  He reached out and held her mother’s cross in his palm, his fingers grazing her skin. Saints in heaven, if he continued this behaviour for much longer she really would end up hitting him.

  ‘It was my mother’s,’ she said curtly, pulling her necklace from his grasp. ‘I always wear it.’

  His eyes narrowed as he met her cool gaze. ‘I know...’ he said, smiling as he took his leave of her. ‘Until later, my lady.’

  Lord Balvoire left just as Hugh walked towards her, inclining his head stiffly as he passed the slimy fish.

  ‘What did that obnoxious goat want?’ Hugh asked.

  ‘And a good morning to you.’

  ‘Good morning, Eleanor.’ Hugh frowned. ‘That pompous ass puts my hackles up. Be wary of him.’

  ‘On that we agree.’ She gave a small shiver.

  ‘So, what did Balvoire want that he sought you out alone?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘More secrets, Eleanor?’

  ‘No, Lord Balvoire was being his usual charming self, and let’s just say I was very glad that you came upon us when you did.’

  ‘I see. Come, let’s walk.’

  Heavens, but this was awkward.

  They walked in silence. Eleanor nervously stole sideways glances at her husband as they walked through the beautiful castle gardens. He looked outwardly calm, if a little pale, but his jaw was set hard and his movement was rigid and agitated.

  ‘We have an audience with King John, Eleanor.’

  He said it without any emotion, making her suddenly feel anxious. The tone of his voice was somehow ominous.

  ‘He’s apparently desirous to meet you.’

  Ah, it had finally come to this...

  It seemed that Hugh had finally made his mind up. One of the many unsettling things that had kept Eleanor up all night had been wondering what her husband would do about her. Well, now she knew. He was handing her over to King John.

  Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt sick with the fear that was taking hold of her. But this wasn’t the way to address adversity. Her father had taught her that much.

  The thought of him brought a lump to her throat that she quickly dispelled. Eleanor was a noble lady, from a noble family, and she had to carry herself as such. So she pushed away the uneasiness and panic she felt, held her head high, made her back as straight as a quarterstaff with as much dignity as she could muster and walked on.

  She fell into step with Hugh and contemplated the fate that would await her, accused of being a traitor in the eyes of the King. But to Eleanor, it was Hugh’s eyes, his views and opinions, that mattered the most.

  She had wanted to tell him about Le Renard, and her reasons for her part in the band of outlaws, but there was no point. It was too late now. He would still feel the same about her, if not worse. His fealty had never been hers and would never be, regardless of what she said. Besides, it would only serve to make him hate her more.

  But her reasons for rebellion were born out of a desperate need to uphold justice and peace in Tallany. To help the poor and destitute with the crippling taxes designed to sink both her and her people.

  She would, in truth, do it all again in a heartbeat, except...except for hurting Hugh. When he had confronted her last night, Eleanor had expected scorn and vitriol but instead saw barely disguised pain.

  ‘You have wounded me more than you’ll ever know...’

  Lord, how those words had speared through her. They had caused an ache so deep and so intense that she could hardly breathe even now...

  The guilt and shame Eleanor felt in causing pain to the man she would now gladly give her heart to made her examine her true feelings for her husband. And with sudden and absolute clarity she realised that, yes, her heart did indeed belong to Hugh, whether he wanted it or not. She had never understood or acknowledged her feelings before, always suppressing and fighting them, and yet she could no longer deny them.

  Heartsick, she screwed her eyes shut a moment before opening them wide, as if seeing the truth for the first time.

  But...in love with Hugh?

  She searched within herself and the reality hitting her like a boulder dropping on her head.

  Yes, she did indeed love Hugh...and yet he despised her.

  Oh, the irony of it was not lost on her. She was in love with a man who was to bring about her downfall. A man who probably hated her as much as his sworn enemy. Eleanor should be jumping into his arms for joy—instead she felt like weeping.

  She cast another glance at Hugh’s forbidding fa
ce, stripped of all emotion. She would rather have preferred his anger to this icy cool detachment. It scared her because with every step they were taking to see the King, Hugh was putting a distance between them that was surely a prelude of what was to come. He was going to wash his hands of her once and for all and was marching her to her treasonous end.

  Very well, if that was her fate then she would take her guilt in hurting the man she loved to her grave. Hugh would never know of her true feelings for him, nor why she had acted in the way she had. It didn’t matter now anyway.

  * * *

  Hugh felt consumed with despair and bitter disappointment. He didn’t know how he should proceed with Eleanor, his maddening, lying, duplicitous wife—even now, as he walked awkwardly beside her to meet and pay homage to King John at his private solar. He glanced over at her and couldn’t help but admire, begrudgingly, the dignity with which she carried herself. She might be a traitor, but she was brave.

  She lifted her head and met his gaze, her face ashen, her eyes with dark smudges beneath, and smiled weakly at him. She looked so forlorn, so defeated, that Hugh’s heart sank. What did she think he would do? Throw her on the King’s mercy?

  Something shifted inside him. He might be angry and hurt, but Eleanor Tallany was his maddening, lying and duplicitous wife and no one else’s. Hell would have to freeze over before he would hand her over to anyone. He would deal with her treachery himself, but to accuse her in front of King John...

  Never!

  He pulled her around by the elbow, making her stop abruptly. Confusion was etched on her face.

  ‘God’s wounds, woman,’ he hissed, whispering into her ear. ‘Despite everything you have done I’ll be damned if I allow anything to happen to you. I will never allow anyone to hurt you, Eleanor. But know this is not over between us. Do you understand?’

  She nodded, her head bent low, her shoulders sagging visibly with relief. ‘Thank you.’

  Hugh stared at his wife, looking so young and so deflated that he had to resist the sudden temptation to wrap his arms around her and comfort her.