The Rebel Heiress and the Knight

by Melissa Oliver

  Back home...to her.

  Yes, indeed, he was in love with her...body, soul and everything in between...and he had to tell her.

  Hugh opened his mouth to speak, but Eleanor shook her head and put her fingers to his lips.

  ‘No, please don’t say anything, Hugh. Just think about what I’ve told you and understand that everything I’ve said is the truth.’

  She handed him the fox-trimmed mask and cape belonging to Le Renard.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked, finding his voice, but not the words he wanted to say. Eleanor would hear them once she was ready—and once he understood what it meant for their future.

  ‘Back to the castle.’

  ‘Wait. I’ll walk you back. It’s not safe out there.’

  She touched his jaw with the ghost of a smile on her lips. ‘I know these woods like the back of my hand, so there is no need to worry, husband.’

  And with a nod she left him, to think of all that had just transpired between them in this little hut. This very hut he had followed Eleanor to all those weeks ago.

  By God, to think that he had been incandescent with jealousy at the idea of his wife with Le Renard. And she had been the outlaw herself!

  He chuckled at his own stupidity as he shook his head. What a fool he had been! He would love nothing more than to get back to what they had once been, and yet everything had shifted. Everything, as Eleanor had said, had changed.

  He now knew the truth...

  It had been the same when he had found out about Alais Courville and her betrayal. But that woman had thought of nothing but herself, and once the opportunity had come to elevate her position, she’d snatched it without a backward glance.

  Eleanor was nothing like her. She was true, loyal and kind-hearted. And being Le Renard had not been a choice but a necessity for her to survive, to heal from past hurts and to be able to protect the people of Tallany.

  The irony was not lost on him that a group of outlaws led by a woman disguised as the wily Fox had not only confounded him, but also the King’s men.

  Eleanor was incredibly brave, and had made decisions that would make most men cower. Not only that but she was courageous and honourable, like the bravest of knights.

  Yes, indeed, he loved her...

  Hugh looked wide-eyed into his hands. He was holding Le Renard’s mask and cape as though seeing them for the first time. He smiled to himself, coming to a decision. He needed to see Eleanor as soon as may be and tell her a few secrets of his own.

  Hugh meandered out of the hut and back through the woods on a path in the direction of the castle, still clutching Eleanor’s mask and cape in one hand and her bow with the quiver of arrows in the other.

  He would send them to King John, as some sort of affirmation that Le Renard was no more, and hope to God that it would suffice in pacifying the King. It would work if Eleanor promised to put a stop to the outlaws’ activities, and in time all this might fade away. Then, and only then, would they be able to put their lives back on track.

  Muffled noises dragged him out of his musings and he was suddenly alert, his senses heightened. He stopped abruptly and saw shadowy figures flitting to his left. He crept through a clearing and looked around, knowing in his gut that something was not right. Mayhap it was a dog’s howling or a horse neighing nearby. But intuition told him that something was wrong. Very wrong...

  Eleanor’s palfrey as well as another horse was tethered to a tree, whilst the old steward’s hound barked furiously. A figure was slumped low, facing down to the ground. What the devil was going on?

  Hugh calmed the dog and knelt beside the man, his heart beating fast in his chest. He gently pushed the hood off the man’s head, gasping as he noted it was sticky with blood on one side. He removed the dirty cloth that had been tied around his mouth and gasped.

  It was Gilbert Claymore...

  The old steward had been battered, and blood was streaming from his nose. There was also blood from a few stab wounds on his arms and upper chest. Thankfully they didn’t seem fatal, but must be seen to immediately. Mercifully, he was still alive.

  Hugh eased him gently up and fetched a flagon from the saddle bag, tried to give him a sip of water.

  ‘Gilbert, can you talk? What happened?’

  ‘Balvoire...’ His breathing came in short bursts but he managed to say more. ‘He was waiting for Lady Eleanor, waiting for me, and I believe he means her harm, my lord.’

  Balvoire...

  Damn, damn, damn!

  Hugh felt as though he’d been struck hard in the stomach.

  The older man swallowed. ‘He knows...he knows everything about her.’

  This was very bad—as bad as things could get.

  ‘How many men were there? Do you have any idea where that bastard is taking my wife?’

  ‘Just him and one other, and they talked of taking her back to his castle. We need to get to her quickly.’

  ‘You are in no fit state, my friend. You’re lucky to be alive. Balvoire meant a slow death for you,’ he said. ‘Ride back to Tallany Castle and tell Sir William and some of my men to ride out towards Balvoire’s castle. This time he has gone too far. I’ll take Eleanor’s palfrey.’

  ‘Aye, very well, my lord—and take my hound as well. He’ll be useful to track my lady.’ Gilbert looked beyond Hugh’s shoulders, his eyes widening in surprise.

  ‘What is it?’ Hugh’s hand reached slowly for the hilt of his sword.

  ‘We have a problem, my lord... It’s Anselm, the outlaw who escaped earlier,’ Gilbert Claymore muttered under his breath. ‘He’s just jumped down from that tree and is walking towards us.’

  ‘What the devil is he doing here...? That’s all I need at a time like this.’

  Hugh drew Le Renard’s cape around his shoulders, pulling the hood trimmed with fur forward over his head, and looked down at the mask in his hand.

  ‘Fox! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ Anselm shouted from behind him.

  Absently, Hugh put on the mask and stood, turning as the outlaw reached them. He had to try and get rid of him somehow.

  The huge man looked Hugh up and down and whistled, scratching his head. ‘It can’t be...’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Why, you’re a fully-fledged man, Fox, so you are.’

  ‘I must have eaten my greens these past few months,’ Hugh said wryly.

  It was good thing that he hadn’t worn his chainmail and was wearing a drab tunic and hose that wasn’t too dissimilar to Le Renard’s.

  ‘I dunno...’ the outlaw said. ‘You don’t sound like ’im.’

  ‘I don’t care of what you believe, Anselm, but know this: I am him,’ Hugh said impatiently. ‘And I don’t have time for this. Let me help you up, Claymore. Easy, now, easy...’

  Anselm swung over to the older man’s other side and lifted him. ‘I suppose I may as well thank you as any man.’

  Was the outlaw addle-brained? Hugh’s men as well as the Tallany guards would still be scouring the woods looking for him. It was incredible that Anselm had managed to evade them as it was. Especially Will.

  ‘You owe me nothing and I must go—as should you. Or else all my effort for your freedom will be in vain.’

  ‘Nothing? He calls it nothing?’ he said. ‘If it weren’t for you I’d be a dead man hanging.’

  ‘Hell’s teeth, Anselm! I have to get away immediately and so do you.’

  They helped the older man mount his horse before the giant of an outlaw turned and gave him a friendly smile, incongruent with the menacing shadowy bruises on his face and under his eyes.

  ‘Trouble afoot, eh? Where to?’

  ‘It’s too dangerous. You’re a wanted man!’

  Claymore, clutching his chest, decided this was a good time to pipe up. ‘Lady Eleanor is in mortal danger... Balvoire has her and is taking h
er back to his castle.’

  Anselm swore an oath. ‘And where’s ’er fool of a husband?’

  ‘Never mind him,’ Hugh snapped. ‘I need to go now.’

  ‘I’m coming with you, Fox.’

  ‘I said no. Go and get back to your family. You’re in no fit state.’

  ‘I said I’m coming with you!’

  ‘Damn your impertinence,’ he admonished him, but knew he didn’t have time. ‘Very well, you may be of some use.’ He turned to Claymore. ‘If he’s coming then you’d better forget the guards.’

  ‘Godspeed, my lord,’ Claymore said.

  Hugh gave the older man a nod and pulled on the reins, galloping away with the outlaw following in his stead.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Eleanor’s eyes flickered as she gradually regained consciousness. She groaned in pain, every part of her body aching. Dear God, her head! It felt as though it had split in two. It was throbbing, making it difficult for her to open her eyes, and her stomach felt as though it might need to empty itself.

  She touched the top of her head, where it hurt so badly, and felt a lump and a gooey stickiness, through the veil. She felt bitterly cold, and was lying on something soft, yet damp, with the faint murmur of flowing water in the distance.

  She gazed through the narrow slits of her partially opened eyes to find that two men stood by the edge of what appeared to be a gorge. One stood with his hands on his hips, and even from this angle, and despite his unusually dark attire, he was very much known to her.

  Lord Balvoire...

  But why? Why had he done this?

  She shifted a little, trying in vain to find a more comfortable position.

  ‘Lord Balvoire?’ she mumbled. ‘What have you done?’ She rubbed her eyes lightly, trying to coax them to open more.

  ‘Ah, My Lady Eleanor, you’re finally with us, are you? Good, good...’

  The odious man walked towards her and smiled, making the bile in her stomach rise.

  ‘And that, my dear, is the question I should be asking you.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re trying to say...’

  ‘Don’t you, my lady?’ He crouched beside her.

  ‘No. Your behaviour is as outrageous as it is mad,’ she retorted, feeling none of the conviction of her words. She tried again, more forcibly. ‘I demand you take me back to my castle.’

  ‘This little misplaced outburst is precisely the reason why I have always liked you, my dear.’

  ‘Misplaced? What are you talking about?’

  He sneered, moving closer to her and lifting her chin with his spindly long fingers so his face was level with hers. ‘You know, King John should have given you to me,’ he murmured, licking his lips, ‘You were wasted on Richard Millais, although I admired his persistence in getting you to dance to his tune. Not that you did, of course. I would have handled you very differently...’

  ‘Well, that is one thing I can be thankful for. At least the King spared me that.’

  ‘Let’s not be too hasty, Lady Eleanor.’ He leered at her, running his fingers down her face.

  ‘You forget yourself, sir, and you forget that I’m married. You will mind not to touch me again.’ The pounding in her head was now punishing.

  ‘We’ll see, my dear. And that new husband of yours will be of no use to you now. You’re well beyond his reach.’

  She shuddered in alarm. ‘Which once again begs the question you have failed to answer, my lord. Why am I here and why have you abducted me in this high-handed manner?’

  Eleanor hoped that Lord Balvoire would not notice her growing anxiety. What in heaven’s name was going on? She had no choice but to keep him talking whilst hoping to gain some semblance of her strength back, however futile that seemed.

  He dragged her to her feet and pulled her round to face the gorge. She could barely stand...still felt so very weak.

  ‘Beautiful here, isn’t it? I’ve always enjoyed coming here. And you see the gorge yonder, Lady Eleanor? Well, the other side of it is my land...my territory.’

  ‘I am aware, my lord, but what has that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Ah, but do you know that this side—this part with the dense woodland—also belonged to my family? The old King Henry annexed it and gifted it to your father, for some nefarious reason of his own, and now, my dear, the time has come to redress that decision.’

  ‘Is that what all this is about?’

  ‘Alas, it is only a means to an end, my dear.’ He laughed roughly. ‘And now I will ask you the same question you asked me when you fluttered your pretty eyes open just moments ago...’ He smiled, revealing yellow-stained teeth. ‘What have you done, Lady Eleanor?’

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.’

  ‘Apologies, my dear. That bang on the head must have been harder than I thought. Allow me to explain,’ he said. He leant forward and caught her mother’s necklace in his palm. ‘Beautiful little thing... And, you know, for all its plain design I recognised it immediately at Winchester. Clever, really, although I had to wait to have it confirmed and tied up with the outlaw. But then I am a patient man.’

  Eleanor swallowed, her heart hammering against her chest. Oh, God, no! This obnoxious, horrible man could not possibly know her secret. She could not betray her emotions. She must not. She had to remain calm and show surprise, even outrage, at his accusations.

  ‘Did you also receive a bang on the head, my lord? You are making little sense. You recognised my cross because I always wear it.’

  ‘Yes, and that was why it was quite surprising—shocking, even—when I saw it dangling out of that preposterous outlaw’s tunic for a mere moment all those weeks ago. When you ambushed us,’ he snarled. ‘I thought it odd, because it’s such a feminine piece of jewellery. But then I always did think the outlaw had a woman’s cunning.’

  He pushed down Eleanor’s veil, gripping a long lock of hair and pulling it tightly, jolting her forward, closer to him. Closer than she could bear. Her head felt as if it was about to implode.

  ‘It’s you, my little Fox, and I have been waiting a long time to catch up with you.’

  ‘You have gone mad. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Lady Eleanor. You can do better than that.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, my lord, can you not see how ridiculous this is? I...? Le Renard? It’s laughable,’ she said evenly. ‘As for my necklace—your eyes must have been playing tricks on you. If, say, the sun obscured them or the mud you were face-down in obscured them.’

  He smiled slowly. ‘Do you know, I do not believe I mentioned being face-down in mud?’

  ‘I—I speculated, my lord,’ she stammered, realising her mistake.

  ‘Whilst I am finding this quite entertaining, we need to keep moving.’ He signalled to the man he’d been travelling with to tend to the horses, tethered close by. ‘I’d rather avoid a full-scale confrontation with Tallany riders or that dolt of a husband of yours.’

  ‘Lord Hugh will have much to say about all this. So, if I were you I would let me go before any possibility of a “full-scale confrontation”, as you put it.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so. I have waited a long time for my plan to fall into place. I must say it was a surprise when your husband returned, much sooner than I expected, but with a little tweaking it has all worked out.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I suspected you would try to set that oaf of an outlaw free somehow—and where better to stage the hanging than Tallany Castle, where I would discover you as The Fox, helping the outlaw. And now, with Hugh de Villiers’s overzealous behaviour earlier, practically throwing me out of Tallany, he will once again take all the blame for this.’ He whispered in her ear. ‘And you are once again to be instrumental in your husband’s downfall. Do you r
eally think he will help you when he finds out the truth about you?’

  Eleanor’s gut twisted tightly. Balvoire was right, wasn’t he? She had caused Hugh pain with her duplicity—especially now that he knew everything about Le Renard. It would come as no surprise to her if he decided that she was far more trouble than she was worth and washed his hands of her.

  But at least she had told him the truth about how she truly felt.

  That she loved him...

  What if she never saw him again?

  ‘Come, Lady Eleanor, do not make this more difficult than it needs to be.’

  ‘Where...where are you taking me?’

  ‘Oh, didn’t I say? I’m taking you back to my castle, where the real entertainment can start, my dear. I will gain a full confession out of you, and soon not only this piece of land but all the riches of Tallany will come to me.’

  ‘I will never yield to you.’

  ‘Oh, I hoped you’d say that,’ he said with another sneer. ‘I have means and ways. Let’s just say that, unlike Millais, I won’t leave marks on your exquisite body. Besides, I need to make you pay for that dirty trick you played on me during your little ambush. Whatever was in that disgusting sack gave me a particularly nasty itchy rash—I do hope I can return the favour.’

  From somewhere deep inside, Eleanor had to find her courage—and quickly.

  ‘How dare you, Lord Balvoire?’ she said, hiding the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her. ‘You are mistaken, but your desperation for my land makes you believe that all your suppositions about my necklace are correct. I tell you they are not. It’s all nonsense, and you know it—or else you would not be abducting me in this extreme manner with just one of your hapless minions.’

  ‘Come, woman. I have no time for this!’ he snarled, baring his teeth and seizing her by the back of her neck, dragging her towards the horses. ‘You are a she-devil, my lady, and I hope you know what happens to them.’

  His rancid breath was so close to her face that Eleanor gagged.