The Rebel Heiress and the Knight

by Melissa Oliver

  But although he might not want anything to happen to her, he had meant it: Eleanor had wronged him.

  Hugh had thought they had some understanding—he had thought they wanted the same things, especially for Tallany—but, Lord above, not in the way she went about it. Not by consorting with criminal outlaws, damn it. Personally, too, her betrayal had shredded him to bits and he felt strangely exposed—fool that he was.

  Will had the right of it. He was her lovelorn swain, whatever she had done.

  As for trust? That could never be a possibility between them now. And yet... And yet he couldn’t help his growing feelings for her, despite everything. He wanted her, yearned for her, even now.

  Yes, more fool him!

  His gut twisted in pain as he recalled how Alais Courville had dealt him a similar blow, playing him false just as Eleanor had. Was it his misfortune to be attached to untrustworthy women? At least with Alais he had been able to walk away, to lick his wounds privately and never see her again, but that was not possible with Eleanor, was it? He was bound and shackled to her in marriage.

  His realisation last night that Eleanor somehow cared for him and had been consumed with jealousy had knocked the air out of him. And the revelation had been such a relief that it had caused the spark that had led them to end up in a tangled heap in bed.

  But nothing had changed. Eleanor might care for him, but everything about her was a trick. Her attraction to him contradicted her betrayal, but it hadn’t stopped her from committing it. The more time he spent in her company, the more he could sense himself falling prey to her.

  He needed to leave. There was no choice in the matter. He had to get away from her. It was the only way he could protect his bruised heart.

  He clenched his fists. ‘This way, Eleanor.’

  He signalled for them to climb the stairs to John’s private quarters. The sooner matters were dealt with here in Winchester the sooner he could take his wife back north to Tallany. He would confront her privately, dispassionately, without last night’s emotions, and demand that Eleanor reveal where Le Renard and the other outlaws were hiding.

  And once he’d caught and brought them to justice he would leave Tallany. Request as many missions as the King would grant so that he would be apart from her. Only then could Hugh hope to break the spell that Eleanor held over him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  King John’s private solar was sumptuously adorned, if hastily decorated, and intricate tapestries depicting past glories of the Angevins covered the stone walls. His standard bearers made it glaringly obvious to all who dared to question it the validity of England’s anointed King and Sovereign.

  Hugh walked in with Eleanor by his side, appearing to be serenely composed. The only tell-tale sign of nerves that he sensed was the slight trembling of her fingers, hidden in the crook of his arm.

  Hugh held himself straight, squared his shoulders and evened out his breath, putting a ready, deferential smile on his lips.

  King John’s beady eyes watched speculatively as both of them walked near the richly decorated dais at the back of the room where he sat. He did not look particularly well; his face was pale, with sunken cheeks, and there were dark rings under his hooded eyes. His manner emanated irritation with everything and everyone around him as he sat tapping his fingers against the gilded edge of his chair.

  Damn, he was in one of his irascible moods!

  The chamber felt sombre, just it had when the court had gathered in the hall yesterday evening—as if all life and exuberance had been sucked out of it. And apart from a few retainers and some of John’s personal guards—mercenaries paid to do his bidding—there were very few people present.

  Hugh noticed Will in the corner, looking uncharacteristically grave, and hovering close to King John was Lord Edmund Balvoire, muttering into his Sovereign’s ear.

  How that overbearing ass had managed to wheedle his way to John’s side Hugh did not know, but Will certainly had the right of Balvoire. He might be an ass, but he was an ambitious and dangerous one.

  John must be feeling both vulnerable and outraged at his current situation with the Rebel Barons and the pressure they were putting him under. Especially with their insistence that he signed this Great Charter of theirs. But for the King to be listening to the mutterings of men like Balvoire, who had their own agenda, was not a good omen.

  Hugh realised too late that this was not a place to have brought Eleanor. She was the only woman present, and his protectiveness of her did not abate as they reached the dais. Eleanor plunged into a deep, graceful curtsey and he bowed implacably to the King.

  ‘Ah, Hugh, so glad you have come...especially with your good lady here. And so glad to see that matters between you have been resolved.’ He smirked. ‘New marriages can have their little problems now and then.’ John picked at his fingernails and flicked them to the ground.

  Hugh gave Eleanor’s fingers a little squeeze of encouragement as she flushed next to him. ‘Sire, may I introduce my wife, Lady Eleanor of Tallany?’

  King John stood abruptly and walked from the dais to meet them, his eyes fixed on his wife.

  ‘Rise, my dear. Your King is very desirous to meet you finally.’ He pulled Eleanor up by the hand, his smile curling into a sneer as his eyes raked her up and down. ‘Ah, you see, Hugh, how generous I am? For I give you this beauty and receive, alas, nothing. You return here without my silver. Not a very good exchange...’ He tilted his head from side to side, inspecting her as though she were a prized destrier.

  Hugh clenched his fists at his sides, swallowing down his outrage at John’s words and the brazen way in which he was leering at Eleanor. A sense of foreboding took hold of him. What the hell was going on?

  ‘No, sire,’ Hugh muttered, not knowing what else to say. He flicked his eyes to Balvoire, who was smirking, seemingly enjoying this exchange.

  King John wet his lips as he continued to look at Eleanor. ‘And what of these outlaws who have run roughshod over you?’

  ‘We...’ he said, looking at Eleanor. ‘We are close to capturing all of them and bringing them to justice.’

  ‘The only justice I’m interested in, Hugh, is the capture of these outlaws and in particular The Fox, this Le Renard, or whatever he likes to call himself... I want their heads on spikes. By any means—do you hear?’ he said in a low voice, looking around the room. ‘Lord Balvoire, here, has some ingenious notions about how to achieve this, so mind you listen to him and work together.’

  The King sighed, glancing at his fingernails again.

  ‘I should say that by and by I may concede to these land disputes brought to me by Lord Balvoire on your borders, Hugh... But then again I may not. We must seem fair in all our dealings, must we not?’

  This was precisely the sort of behaviour from King John that would enrage the Barons—seeking to find what would serve him best, never fully promising anything and pitching one noble against another. Hugh had never thought to be at the receiving end of it, though.

  ‘Sire,’ he said through gritted teeth, understanding the veiled warning. He was to be tested with Balvoire at his side, watching his every move, it seemed.

  The King spun on his heel. ‘Get the outlaws, Hugh,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Tell him, my Lord Balvoire, of your ingenious plan.’

  ‘Yes, sire. The element of surprise.’

  ‘Just so...’ The King meandered towards a coffer set against the stone wall and splashed some red wine into a goblet.

  There was something sinister at play here, and Hugh had a sudden urge to bundle his wife away to safety.

  ‘While we’re at it, I would welcome a way to crush the Rebel Barons who are against us as well,’ the King continued, smiling at Eleanor. ‘No matter. I will find a way,’ he said, as though he were talking about an irksome courtier.

  John moved close to Eleanor and held out his hands, li
cking his lips. ‘Come, my dear. Will you not grace your King with a welcoming kiss?’

  Hugh was appalled at the way John was behaving. His eyes darted across the chamber and registered the shock on Will’s face, the amusement on Balvoire’s, the vile bastard, and Eleanor... Oh, Lord, Eleanor had a look of horror on her face.

  She caught Hugh’s gaze, silently pleading, and then took a deep breath, turning back to face the King, trembling.

  King John smiled, seemingly enjoying her reaction.

  Hellfire and damnation! What was John playing at?

  Just as the King bent his head to kiss her Hugh stepped in. ‘No, sire.’ He kept his steady gaze on the King as he gently pulled Eleanor behind him.

  ‘No?’ John cocked an eyebrow.

  Hugh’s heart hammered against his chest. ‘No.’

  ‘I don’t believe that word is much to our liking.’

  ‘I’m sorry for that, my liege, but Lady Eleanor is not accustomed to court. She does not understand its ways.’

  Hugh knew he was on very dangerous ground here, but he would rather die than have Eleanor dishonoured and accosted.

  It was outrageous for John to take out on her all his grievances and frustration at Hugh’s failure to secure his silver and catch the outlaws. It was clearly his way of warning him that all that he had bestowed upon him could easily be taken away. And God only knew what he would have done if he’d been aware of Eleanor’s treachery. But to get to Hugh by intimidating Eleanor, a woman who’d already had her fair share of that, was unforgivable.

  A slow smile spread on the King’s thin lips. ‘You’re right—and I must say I think it quite gallant, the way you want to protect your young wife from the evils of court.’ He smirked, making Balvoire and a few of his retainers join in with his mocking laughter.

  Hugh bowed, never taking his eyes off the King. ‘I hope I can protect anyone under my care and anyone I’m duty-bound to...as you will know, sire.’

  He hoped that John would understand his meaning. Hugh didn’t want to remind the King, but hell’s teeth, he had to. Without him John would have been ransomed heavily, or dead in some muddy battlefield in Bouvines.

  By God, that should mean something. Something more than constantly questioning his fealty. Something more than this power-play. Hugh had been prepared to lay down his life for his Sovereign, and not for the riches that might come his way, no. It had been his duty...just as it was his duty to protect his wife.

  ‘I demand your loyalty, Hugh. Do you understand?’ the King hissed.

  ‘You have it, my liege.’

  He met John’s hard gaze, and neither man looked away until the King blinked and nodded at him.

  ‘Very well.’ John sipped his wine. ‘Very well. We shall see how you do. Now, I have a mission for you to act as emissary with the Scots on your return, Hugh.’

  ‘Sire.’

  ‘And when you take your beautiful lady back to your northern territories remember how very fortunate you have been because of my good opinion. I do hope you will value the treasures I have given you.’ King John kept his eyes firmly on Eleanor. ‘And once there make them secure. Do you understand me? Let us hope that there are no more insurrections of any kind.’

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  Hugh glared at his Sovereign, trying hard to conceal his outrage. He wanted to leave this dangerous place immediately. He needed to take Eleanor back to safety and away from all of this.

  One thing was for certain. Despite every contrary feeling Hugh had for Eleanor, and how she had wronged him, he would never, ever allow anyone to hurt her—be they outlaw or king.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After almost ten days of continuous riding on horseback Eleanor was fatigued, saddle-sore and emotionally exhausted. She felt empty, bereft, and couldn’t wait to get back home...home to Tallany, where she could finally breathe again.

  Over the last week and more she had relived everything that had happened in Winchester over and over again in her head. That terrible confrontation with her husband that had broken her heart into a thousand pieces. And then what had happened the following morning, when she’d been presented to King John, and his shocking behaviour.

  No wonder the Rebel Barons had risen up against him. She now understood more powerfully the reasons why they wanted to pin the King to his words so that he could no longer break his promises. That was the one hopeful thing to have emerged whilst she had been on this horrendous journey. And she hoped for the sake of all their futures that the Rebels were successful.

  Everything she had heard about the King had been confirmed in his behaviour towards Hugh, punishing him for his failure to secure the silver from the outlaws. From Le Renard.

  From her.

  And, despite knowing of her involvement with the outlaws, Hugh had still stepped in to protect her from the King in that horrible chamber. He’d acted selflessly, without considering the possible danger he’d put himself in.

  But that didn’t mean Hugh had forgiven her...

  Whenever Eleanor considered what she had lost her eyes would suddenly fill with tears, blurring her vision. She had sacrificed her own happiness with Hugh, the man she realised she loved, with her involvement with the outlaws, and even though she knew that she would never regret it...

  No, she would never regret her actions as The Fox. Not only had it been a necessity to do what she had done, but her achievements were something she was immensely proud of. Le Renard and the outlaws had given Tallany much-needed hope during very difficult times.

  So, yes, despite everything Eleanor was proud of her achievements as The Fox and she must never forget that...

  ‘We shall stop for a while by the river, Eleanor.’

  Hugh’s voice broke through her musings but she didn’t respond, having missed what he had said. He rode alongside her and took her reins, slowly bringing her horse to a halt.

  ‘I think we could all do with a respite, my lady, don’t you? Come, you must stretch your legs and partake in some food and ale.’

  He dismounted and came to help her, clasping her waist with two big, strong hands, lowering her to the ground. They stood facing each other, eyes locked, before Hugh looked away and broke the contact.

  He stepped to one side and escorted her to the side of the riverbank where Will, who would be accompanying Hugh to meet with the Scots, and some of their men, were tethering the horses to a tree. They were joined by Eleanor’s women, who helped lay out and prepare a meal of cold meats, bread, cheeses and fruit.

  Eleanor sat on the mats that had been laid on the ground and helped pass around trenchers of food and pour mugs of ale from the flagons they had brought with them.

  Hugh ate with the men while she sat and nibbled some dried fruit with a handful of nuts and watched him, contemplating her situation, or rather her relationship with her husband, as she always did when her mind wandered.

  Hugh was once again being courteous, and showing her every consideration on their journey back, but he kept his distance from her, as before. This time, though, Eleanor knew the reason why. And this time she didn’t blame him.

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

  How many times were these words going to spin round and round in her head, compounding her guilt? And yet Hugh had never revealed to King John that she was the one who conspired with the outlaws. For that alone she was indebted to him, even though he wanted nothing more to do with her.

  Eleanor had wanted to tell him the rest. About her dissembling as Le Renard. About everything...

  But she couldn’t do it. If Eleanor had thought Hugh’s reaction had been bad when he’d learnt of her betrayal, God only knew what he would do if he learnt the truth about The Fox.

  But it did not sit well with her, hiding this—another secret—from him. There was no point, anyway, now that she had all but retired
her alter ego. And with everything that had happened it might now have to be an indefinite retirement.

  ‘Eleanor, may I talk with you? Mayhap we could walk along the river for a moment...if you would honour me?’ Hugh said, standing over her.

  ‘Of course.’

  They walked along the bank, taking in the winding expanse of river that disappeared into the thickets and hills beyond. Hugh strolled beside her with his hands behind his back as she picked a leaf and twirled it between her fingers.

  ‘You must be happy that we’re almost back in Tallany, Eleanor?’

  ‘I am, yes.’

  As well as relieved and thankful to be away from the nightmare at court.

  ‘Good, good... And, as you know, once you’re safely back I will be leaving for Scotland immediately.’

  She did know—but not that he had to go straight away. ‘I see. And how long will you be gone?’

  ‘I’m not entirely sure. However long my mission will take with the Scots and their newly anointed King,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I will make sure that everything is in place before I leave. You will have a few of my best men to stand in my stead, as well as the new steward of Tallany, of course.’

  Eleanor looked away and bit her bottom lip at this reminder of having had Gilbert Claymore replaced by someone Hugh could trust.

  He regarded her. ‘I also want to say that what happened in Winchester with King John was terrible.’ He exhaled slowly before adding, ‘I have been thinking it over and I hold myself responsible for what almost happened.’

  Eleanor touched his sleeve. ‘But it didn’t, and I have you to thank for that.’

  ‘Even so, I should not have brought you into that environment in the first place.’

  ‘From what I have heard, I am not the first woman the King has tried and succeeded in using in that way to get through to good, honourable men...like you,’ she said, flicking her eyes in his direction. ‘As well as many of the Rebel Barons. They must act with heavy hearts for what they believe. Their decisions cannot be taken lightly.’