She dipped her head in part acknowledgement and part apology, then held out the bowl.
‘I’ve brought you some food.’
Jack took it from her and began to eat, picking morsels of the cheese delicately between his thumb and forefinger. He ran his finger round the bowl to catch the final crumbs and trace of honey and licked them clean. He almost certainly didn’t intend the action to be seductive, but Blanche’s neck prickled at the sight of his tongue running meticulously around the tips. She licked her lips as if they were covered in honey, too. He noticed her watching and frowned.
‘Excuse my lack of manners. I haven’t been allowed a knife.’ The rebuke was gentle.
‘You have an appetite and are out of bed at least,’ she said. ‘This is good.’
‘Yes. The pallet is not the comfiest place for a man who is not insensible and close to death.’
He rolled his shoulders back and stretched his head from side to side, illustrating the cricks and aches he must have developed and giving Blanche a good look at the firm tendons in his neck and broad shoulders in the process. Jack still looked tired. The shadows beneath his eyes had diminished slightly and his face was a little less lined, but he was clearly still weary. Blanche recalled how he had looked while she had nursed him through his fever, flushed cheeks in an otherwise grey complexion, with a sheen of sweat covering his supple chest.
‘Perhaps the news I bring will be welcome in that case,’ Blanche said. ‘Will you come with me, please?’
He narrowed his eyes and glanced behind her at the passageway, presumably checking if Ronec and Andrey were there to escort him.
‘Of course.’
He pulled on his boots and followed her out. He walked slowly and carefully, his eyes watchful and body held in readiness in case he needed to move into action. Whether or not he remembered it, this was a man who was used to assessing his surroundings. They walked across the courtyard, but when Jack began heading towards the beach path Blanche took hold of his arm. His forearm tensed at her touch and he jerked his head towards her, eyes vividly bright. She removed her hand quickly, recalling how she had cautioned him not to touch her. She should at least give him the same consideration.
‘We’re going in here this time,’ she said, gesturing to the tower.
Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘So you know that I was taken to the beach.’
‘I do.’
Jack’s face became guarded, but his eyes grew watchful.
‘I know where you went and who you met,’ Blanche said. This was the test; whether he now admitted he had recognised her or if her disguise had held.
‘Considering your recent illness, confronting Bleiz Mor was foolhardy. Most men would not live if they tried that. Many have died for less.’
Jack’s face contorted with rage that made Blanche quake.
‘Ruthless or not, he toyed with me, taunted me and made accusations that I could not confirm or deny.’
‘But he needed to be sure you were not an agent of the de Blois faction,’ Blanche pointed out. ‘Your memory loss could have been a trick, or you could be unwittingly putting us into danger by your presence.’
‘Nevertheless, I took exception to his manner,’ Jack snapped. He seemed to recall he was talking to a woman and lowered his voice. ‘The next time I encounter him, I hope to have a sword in my hand.’
An air of power emanated from him. Blanche curled her fingers, anxiously tightening them into fists buried deep in her skirts. He spoke with such hatred in his voice and with fair reason. She swore to herself that she must never make the connection between them.
‘Madame, I must ask, are you in danger here?’
Her instinct was to laugh scornfully and tell him she was perfectly capable of keeping herself safe, the same answer she had given to Andrey when she first started on her venture. However, Jack was looking at her with such genuine concern on his face that the words died on her lips and she just stood there, open-mouthed. Jack jerked his head towards the beach path.
‘From that vicious cur. You seem agitated and you have turned pale.’
Blanche lifted a hand slowly to her cheek. It felt hot, the fires stoked by this unexpected show of concern and the intense look that blazed in Jack’s eyes.
‘I’m not in danger from Bleiz Mor,’ she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. It was all she could manage.
Doubt filled Jack’s blue eyes. He must have taken her wavering voice as an admission that she was frightened because he moved even closer, arms outstretched, as if intending to protect her from unseen assailants who might even now be attacking. Or preparing to enfold her within an embrace.
Blanche felt the long-forgotten need to be in someone’s arms and took an uncertain step towards him. Jack reached a hand to her face, but hesitated before his fingers brushed her cheek, his hand wavering in mid-air. The suspense twisted Blanche’s innards and she could swear she felt his touch from the way her nerves shouted. He took another step closer, but still did not touch her. Blanche realised she was holding her breath. Slowly, Jack lowered his hand again.
‘If you are sure. But if I can be of any aid to you, however small or slight, please, know I am here.’
A lump filled her throat that Jack—a stranger who had no reason to care for her well-being—was offering himself as protector when he had such unbearable troubles of his own. For so long she had relied on no one but herself, and the very idea that someone else might be her champion was strange and disconcerting.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. She held an arm out. ‘Please, come with me. The wind is getting chilly.’
He fell in beside her and took it. She led him inside the tower, highly conscious of his body close to hers. The sound of lively music and low murmurs of servants’ voices came from the Hall where the tables were being laid for the evening meal.
‘Up here...’ She gestured, indicating the stone staircase. She dropped his arm and led the way up the stairs. She paused on the first turn to confirm Jack was following her and caught his eyes flickering away. A flash of guilt crossed his face, but he threw it off. Blanche hid a smile. He had been gazing at her body as he walked behind her and was interested in what he had seen. She could not censure him for that. She found it hard to keep her eyes from roving over him in turn. His broad shoulders and great height were so charming.
She led him to the first floor and opened the door, gesturing for Jack to enter, then followed.
‘This room is for you.’
Jack stood in the centre and gazed around. The room was one that Blanche used for visitors and as such was well decorated. A small but comfortable bed, with a luxuriant coverlet of green wool embroidered with blue silks, stood against one wall. A similar coloured tapestry decorated the wall opposite, above a small fireplace. A table and chair stood before the window.
Jack looked suspicious. ‘My new cell?’
‘Not a cell,’ Blanche said. ‘I’m sorry you believed your previous room was one.’
‘The door was often bolted,’ he countered.
‘But, as you see, this room has no bolt, except for one to give you privacy,’ she said gently, walking to the door and running her fingers over the iron. ‘Jack, you are welcome to stay as a guest in this house. With luck something might emerge which could help heal your broken memory.’
Jack walked to the window. Unlike Blanche’s chamber, which covered the whole of the top floor, this room only had one window, slightly offset beneath Blanche’s, but which faced the same direction over the courtyard. Jack would not be able to see all the way to the beach.
‘Do you trust me now?’ he asked, glancing round at her.
‘Possibly,’ Blanche answered. ‘At least, enough to believe that you will not intentionally cause me danger. Besides, it was inhospitable to keep you where you were.’
Jack smiled. ‘Then I thank you.’
He walked to the bed and rested his open palm on it, pressing it up and down to test the firmness. ‘This is certainly an improvement.’
His eyes clouded and he frowned as if the sight of the bed had sapped his strength and reminded him how weary he must still be feeling. He sat on the edge, then reclined back, stretching himself out fully. He stared up at Blanche and she could not ignore the inviting expression in his eyes. Her heart had leapt to her throat at the sight of the reclining man, stretched out with his long limbs sprawled invitingly—then his posture reminded her of a time when she had had no choice in whether to join a man in his bed and she recoiled.
‘What are you doing? Do you think I intend to share this bed with you?’
Jack shot upwards, surprise suffusing his face. ‘No, Madame Tanet. I would never presume such a thing. I was only appreciating how comfortable this bed is compared to my previous one. Not that I am ungrateful for what you gave me before.’
He stood and moved away from the bed as if the mattress was filled with thorns and thistles, not barley straw.
‘Please, pardon my clumsiness.’
They smiled at each other awkwardly.
‘No pardon is necessary,’ Blanche said. The conclusion was one she alone had reached, imagining a demand that had not been issued. She walked to the window and looked out, conscious of Jack’s eyes following her movement. She felt the heat between her breasts and in her loins intensify.
‘You must understand, I am a widow and live here modestly. It is I who should beg your forgiveness for implying you would assume such liberties could be taken.’
She felt her cheeks colour at her words. Jack didn’t know that since Yann’s death she had allowed a number of men to take whatever liberties they had wanted when necessity or expediency had prompted her to. If he had done, he would have been perfectly right to assume she might tumble into bed at a moment’s notice. He joined her at the window and placed his hands on the stone lintel. He looked down at the courtyard and craned his head to look beyond the walls at the distant fields and edge of the shore.
‘Am I confined to this room?’
Blanche looked around. The room was a good size and considerably more luxurious than the grain store. She remembered the way he had strode along the beach in his fury at Bleiz Mor. His vitality was returning after his illness, his strength growing almost before her eyes. This was a man who needed to move, not be enclosed. His presence filled the room, even as he stood motionless at her side. An attack on the French-held town across the bay was planned for two nights hence, however, and she could not risk him discovering it.
‘It is best if you do not leave this room without me to accompany you.’
Jack’s eyes narrowed, already heavy with weariness from his exertion, then slid towards the door.
Blanche sighed. ‘You are not a prisoner as I keep telling you. I will order my servants to treat you as a guest. You may join my household for our evening meal after a night or two. It is a modest affair and I am little used to company so you must forgive me if I appear ill at ease.’
He breathed deeply, then tilted his head to one side and gave Blanche a measured stare.
‘Tonight I could perhaps dine with you here,’ she suggested.
It was difficult to know which of them was more surprised by Blanche’s offer. The impulse had seized her suddenly. She was drawn to him and the idea of spending time learning about him appealed.
Jack’s smile reached his eyes and his weariness seemed to lessen.
‘I would like that,’ he said.
They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer than was appropriate and something passed between them that made Blanche’s skin quiver. He was staggeringly attractive. In Blanche’s head, a warning bell sounded. She looked away quickly, breaking whatever connection had bound them.
‘I should leave you to get used to your room. Is there anything you wish to be brought from your other room?’
Jack shook his head. ‘I have nothing. The paper is just scrawls. I was trying to see if anything came to my mind, but alas, nothing did. Thank you, madame—I am in your debt, as I continually seem to be. I shall look forward to seeing you again soon.’
She walked to the foot of the stairs leading upwards.
‘What is up there?’ Jack asked.
‘Those are my private quarters.’ Blanche held his gaze firmly. ‘That is the one place you may not roam—no one goes there except for me.’
Jack bowed and as he stood he closed his eyes and swayed a little. His colour drained. Blanche reached her hands out to steady him, one on his chest and the other on his arm.
‘I’m fine.’ Jack reached a fumbling hand for the door frame. ‘You don’t have to help me.’
He had turned pale and seemed far from fine, however much he might protest otherwise. His determination was admirable, but Blanche put her hands around him. Blanche was strong, but not enough to bear his full weight if he should fall, so she eased him back against the wall for support. His body was warm and the muscles were every bit as firm as she remembered when she had bathed him. She spread her fingers wider over the slight inward curve between his ribs over his heart. The beat was strong but rapid, gradually slowing. Their bodies were close together. She could feel the hardness of his chest and legs pressing against her. She felt the muscles in his arm tense and flex beneath her touch and a rush of desire spilled from deep inside her, flooding her limbs and veins and making her feel almost as weak as Jack was.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her, his gaze warm and settling on her like a feather bolster. She slid her hand up his chest and on to the skin over his collarbone, noting how smooth and delicate it felt, despite the sudden perspiration that had appeared like dew. He made a small noise in the back of his throat that caused her stomach to tighten and an answering hum to begin rising deep inside her.
‘Do you feel faint still?’ she asked.
She was close to that herself, enveloped by a mist of lust she had not experienced for so long. She could not let him know how such a small sound was capable of causing her such sensations.
Jack gave a wry smile, as if admitting such a thing pained him. ‘Today has been hard. I am not as strong as I should be.’
‘You should sit,’ Blanche murmured. The longer she stood close to him, the harder it would be to resist kissing him.
‘Thank you, but I think I would prefer to lie. If you permit it?’
He took an unsteady step forward.
‘You don’t need my permission in your own room. Will you...allow me to help you?’
He gave her a sidelong look and she wondered if he was too proud to be helped by a woman, but he merely smiled.
‘With your assistance, then.’
Blanche took his arm again. He leaned on her outstretched arm, but Blanche noticed he was careful not to put too much weight on her. She walked with him to the bed and helped him lie down, sitting on the edge of the bed at his side while she plumped the pillow behind his head and settled him back.
She looked down at him and felt a thrill at how close she was, their earlier misunderstanding still fresh in her mind. She’d been this close while he had been in a fever, but now he was conscious, and despite being weak, he was watching her closely. It had been too long since she had taken a man into her bed that she had actually wanted to be there and, seeing this powerful figure lying so still, with an air of vulnerability, was unsettling. She drew the fur across his lower half.
‘Thank you,’ he murmured. His fingers reached down and he buried them in the thick, grey fur. Something flashed in his eyes. ‘You like wolves, madame?’
A fist squeezed Blanche’s guts. Did he suspect her? Was this a test?
‘Yes. They are fierce and loyal to their pack. Nothing surpasses their fur for warmth. My husband was a skilled hunter and brought down many of them. He always said an animal t
hat could take down the hunter was the only prize worth winning.’
She kept her face neutral and pulled the fur a little higher. Yann had not won against the French and his death had not been that of a hunter. Just one more for the French to slaughter. When she had sworn to avenge his death, Blanche had chosen her alias in tribute to Yann’s favourite target and to remind her why she pursued her course.
Jack stifled a yawn, the tendons in his neck rippling. ‘Madame Tanet, I think I shall decline your offer of company tonight, if it will not cause offence.’
‘Not in the slightest,’ Blanche said, relieved that she would not have to spend time with him or explain his presence for the time being.
‘Is something troubling you?’ Jack asked softly, his brow furrowing even as his eyes grew heavy with sleep.
‘Nothing that I need share.’ Blanche shook her head, touched by his consideration. She rested her hand close to Jack’s on the bed, noticing how his long, elegant fingers flexed, indicating he was aware of how close they were to touching. She stood and straightened her skirts.
‘I think for now the best thing you can do is sleep. I’ll have food and wine sent up. I have few servants, but they will all be happy to attend you. For now, sleep and heal.’
‘You are my hostess. I shall do as I am bid.’
He closed his eyes. Blanche made her way to the door. She watched until his breathing grew shallow and he appeared to be asleep before leaving.
* * *
Andrey was waiting by the fire in the Great Hall, warming his hands. The wind rushed in from the sea and, even though the windows were shuttered with strips of horn, soaked and flattened to lie together, it was impossible to rid the castle of every draught.
‘He’s resting,’ Blanche told her cousin. ‘He’ll stay in his room until I call for him to join me.’
‘Do you think he will?’ Andrey looked sceptical.
‘I think so. He’s still weak. Put a man on the door, just in case. A trusted servant. I should be hospitable, but I am no fool.’
‘Some might say that keeping him alive or moving him from his cell proves you are,’ Andrey said. They both knew whom he was referring to. Ronec and Andrey had both argued vociferously against moving Jack from his previous room but, as always, Blanche had prevailed in her own house. How long this state of affairs would continue was something that gnawed at her mind.
Uncovering the Merchant's Secret Page 7