Commanded by the French Duke (Harlequin Historical)

by Meriel Fuller

  Alinor clasped her hands together, twisting her fingers anxiously, her skin hot, throbbing from his touch. Shame washed over her; his intimate touch was only half to blame. What gave her the right to withhold such information from him? He was concerned and worried about his sister as any brother would be; that much was obvious.

  ‘Bianca is safe,’ she whispered into the tense, flickering silence between them. ‘She is safe.’

  Relief flooded his features, the stern set of his mouth relaxing slightly. ‘Thank God...’ he breathed. He sat down heavily on a stool, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘Did the marriage to your stepbrother even take place?’

  She shook her head, fiddling with a loose thread on her girdle.

  ‘Why not? Did Bianca run away?’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’ Alinor sighed. How much could she tell him, without compromising Bianca’s position? ‘It...it was complicated. All I can tell you is that she had to leave Claverstock and I helped her.’

  ‘God, what in Hell’s name happened?’ he muttered, almost to himself. ‘Where is she now?’ His voice was quiet, grimly persistent.

  Alinor bit her lips to keep the tears from her eyes. ‘She made me promise not to tell you.’ She hung her head, staring blankly at the floor, at the wisps of straw scattered randomly across the hard-packed earth.

  Guilhem raised one eyebrow, a thick, dark-brown arch. ‘Why on earth would she do that? Why does she not want me to know?’ He clasped his hands together, knuckles white against his tanned fingers.

  ‘Because you would force her to go through with the marriage to Eustace,’ she replied bitterly. ‘And you’ve seen for yourself what sort of man he is.’

  Guilhem frowned. ‘I would do no such thing.’

  ‘But I thought you arranged the whole thing. You, your mother and Queen Eleanor.’

  ‘You’re mistaken. I had nothing to do with it. I was away at the time.’ Fighting with Edward. Always fighting.

  ‘But why would she say such things, if they aren’t true?’ A sense of fluttering hope, of relief, seeped through her veins. She had never wanted to believe the dark, ruthless picture that Bianca had drawn of her brother.

  Guilhem rested his eyes on her for a moment, thinking. ‘I have no idea, Alinor. I can’t explain it. I haven’t seen Bianca for such a long time.’ A raft of sadness crossed his face, his expression bereft.

  Emotion lurched within her. Pushing herself away from the wall, Alinor stepped over to him, wanting to comfort him, to smooth the look of raw hurt from his face. He had nothing to do with Bianca’s marriage. She knew it. Suddenly she realised she had known it all along. Yes, he was a soldier and friends with the notorious Prince Edward, but there was something about him, something beneath that huge, muscle-bound exterior, those trappings of war, that reached out and plucked at the strings of her heart. She placed one hand on his shoulder. ‘I have misjudged you.’

  Guilhem brought his own hand up, tangled his fingers with hers. He shook his head. ‘No, you have stood by Bianca and held your promise.’ His eyes were bleak, sparkling sapphires. ‘And I have treated you abominably.’

  ‘Not without good reason,’ she replied. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Soft colour flooded her face. How could she tell him that her body still hummed in his presence, her innards fluid and vulnerable, flaring treacherously at his nearness? That his supposed punishment, his lips on hers, had been sweet torture for her? And yet for him, it must have meant so little, merely a useful method of prising information from her. She was a complete innocent, docile and compliant beneath his experienced touch, nothing more. She must show restraint and hide her desire, for he would surely laugh in her face if he knew the truth.

  ‘It does matter, Alinor.’ He spread his fingers across her forearm. Beneath the thin fabric of Bertha’s shift, her skin burned. ‘I scared you and for that I am sorry.’ He absorbed the fine details of her face: the translucent skin, sheened with a faint pink blush, her eyes twinkling green. Guilt churned in his gut; he had behaved exactly like her stepbrother, throwing his weight across her, pinning her to the wall, pawing at her like some lecherous brute. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  Her heart throbbed with the sincerity of his apology and she nodded jerkily, schooling her features into a blank, unreadable mask. She tugged at her arm; he released her immediately and she folded her arms tightly across her bosom, creating a barrier between them. A fragment of hope wondered if he might break his promise, but she dashed the thought down, annoyed that she was even considering such an outrageous idea.

  ‘Where is my sister? Will you take me to her?’

  ‘I will.’ Purple shadows patched the hollow beneath her eyes; she was exhausted. Her shoulders hunched forward slightly with the thought of going out in all that rain and darkness again, of clambering awkwardly on to her horse. She ran an experimental hand across her clothes, steaming gently in front of the fire. ‘They’re not quite dry yet, but they will do,’ she ventured brightly. ‘If you allow me to change...’ Her slender frame drooped with fatigue, but she forced her spine upwards, pulling her ligaments into a straight line.

  He smiled. ‘Even I am not such a tyrant, Alinor, to make you travel any further tonight. It’s been a long day and we’re both tired. Let’s sleep here tonight and ride in the morning.’

  * * *

  Guilhem jumped down from his glossy destrier on to the cobbled courtyard of the Priory. He rested his hand on the saddle. ‘So you hid Bianca under my very nose!’ he said, with an edge of disbelief. His leather boots and fawn braies were spattered with mud from the ride; the ground had been spongy, saturated with rain from the night before, the tracks strewn with broken branches, a mess of leaves. This morning, the day was bright and breezy, white fluffy clouds scudding merrily across the sky, with not a hint of the wild storm from the previous night. ‘Did anyone else know she was here?’

  ‘No one.’ Alinor leaned down, patting the warm neck of her palfrey. ‘It was safer that way.’ A shiver gripped her spine; her gown had only been partially dry this morning, dampness clinging within the thicker folds of fabric, and now that dampness irritated her skin.

  Guilhem came around to her horse’s side. ‘Come, let me help you.’ Clasping strong hands about her waist, he swung her down to the ground. ‘All right?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine,’ she replied briskly. A shudder rippled through her at the touch of his hands. All night, she had tossed and turned on the sleeping platform alongside Bertha, Ralph and the children, acutely aware that Guilhem slept below, his broad frame rolled in his cloak in front of the fire. Forget! Forget! she reminded herself. Forget the brush of his lips, the graze of his big thumbs against sensitive skin. Forget it all, otherwise it will be the undoing of you!

  Guilhem led both horses into the stables, their big hooves slipping and sliding on the greasy cobbles, securing the reins on the wooden bar that ran around the back wall. He emerged, blinking in a sudden ray of strong sunlight. ‘Where is she, then?’ he said.

  ‘This way.’ Alinor inclined her head. ‘The place will be deserted...the nuns are at prayer in the chapel.’

  Guilhem followed her through the silent refectory, twirling dust motes caught in the shafts of sunlight and then outside, along the cloisters, through into the storeroom. She picked her way around the wooden crates and barrels, and pulled open the narrow-arched door.

  ‘I have forgotten to bring a light.’ Alinor grimaced. ‘But it will be easy to find our way.’ She slipped beneath the arch, stepping carefully down the narrow stairs into the gaping blackness.

  Guilhem poked his head through the doorway, squeezing his big shoulders into the small space. His large feet negotiated the steps down into the blackness, then on the level, he stopped, his palm sweating against the damp stone. The air in his lungs constricted. He couldn’t see a thing.

  ‘Alinor?’ he called, closing
his eyes tight. His scalp prickled. He could have been back there. Locked in a dark, filthy dungeon, infested with vermin, for defying the order of his commander, Prince Edward’s brother. Solitary confinement for days and days on end. After what he had done, he had welcomed the punishment, but it had done nothing to absolve the guilt. Even after Edward had freed him, shame clung like a leg-shackle, hobbling his soul.

  ‘I’m right here,’ Alinor said, laughing out of the blackness. ‘What’s the matter, don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark? Bianca is just along there, around the corner. It’s not far.’ Her face swam up close to him, luminous, vivid. His bright star. He was silent, tracing the familiar delicate outlines of her cheek, her jaw, in the gloom. Clung to them.

  ‘Are you?’ she said again. The teasing drained from her voice.

  His eyes were savage, bleak.

  ‘Guilhem, what’s the matter?’ Alinor placed one hand against his chest. His heart thudded rapidly beneath her fingers. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I was locked away once. In prison.’ His voice was raw. ‘This place reminded me of it, for a moment.’ He stuck his hand through his hair, keeping his eyes pinned to her face. The dry, chill air covered them like a cloak.

  She took his fingers in hers, gripped them. ‘Guilhem, I am sorry. I had no idea. What happened?’

  He glared down into the sweetness of her face. How could he tell why he had been locked up? The awful things he had done? He couldn’t speak of it. ‘I’m all right now,’ he said gruffly. His throat was tight, as if someone held an iron fist around it.

  ‘Tell me,’ she whispered.

  ‘No. Not now.’ Not ever. ‘Where is Bianca?’

  Alinor eyed him doubtfully. He was fobbing her off and they both knew it. His skin was pinched, grey, and she wanted to wind her arms about him to drive the devastating hollowness from his eyes. ‘I was going to suggest that you stay here for a moment, whilst I go and tell Bianca. I’m not sure how she is going to take the news; she will feel that I have betrayed her. But maybe you should come with me...’ She chewed worriedly on her bottom lip.

  He clasped her fingers, holding them against the thick band of muscle across his ribs. ‘No, you go on,’ he said. ‘I will wait here until you come for me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ He smiled, the corners of his mouth angled awkwardly. ‘Go on.’ He nudged the indent of her waist, giving her a little push.

  She squeezed his fingers, then flicked her skirts around to disappear into the darkness. He heard her feet scuffle against the flagstone floor, the trailing sift of her lavender-coloured gown. Lifting one hand, he wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow.

  * * *

  ‘Where have you been?’ Bianca screeched up at her with a half-sob, as Alinor entered the vault. ‘Oh, my Lord, I am so relieved to see you!’ Staggering up from her seated position, she threw herself forward into Alinor’s arms. ‘You’ve been gone for so long, I thought something had happened to you!’ The torch in the vault was still burning, thankfully, throwing its flickering, spitting light across walls constructed of large, rough-cut stone. Alinor had made sure that Bianca was well stocked with fresh torches, so she could transfer the flame from one to the other when the light became low.

  ‘Something did happen to me, Bianca. You best sit back down, while I explain.’

  ‘Oh, my God, what is it?’ The girl sank down to the pile of blankets, her skirts spreading around her: rustling blue folds of expensive silk. ‘You haven’t met those soldiers again, have you?’

  ‘Your brother is here.’

  ‘I know that!’ Bianca scoffed. ‘You told me before. But you didn’t tell him about me though, did you? I told you not to do that. ‘

  Alinor’s heart squeezed, a loose thread of betrayal, unravelling.

  ‘Your brother...Guilhem...he came with me to Claverstock, he wanted to see you. And then...then he found your ring; it was a mistake, I had it hidden but it came loose from my neck. So he knew you’d been with me.’ Her explanation emerged in a hollow rush, the words stumbling over each other. She stretched out her hand, a gesture of reassurance, placating.

  ‘Alinor,’ Bianca moaned, ‘please tell me this isn’t true!’ Her skin adopted a grey, ashy sheen.

  ‘Bianca, listen to me, I think you have him wrong. He had nothing to do with the marriage to Eustace, he told me so himself!’

  Bianca stared at her wide-eyed with disbelief. ‘I can’t believe what you’re telling me; I can’t take it in!’ She sank back down on to the tumbled blankets. ‘Does he know where I am?’

  ‘Yes. He wants to see you. He’s worried about you.’

  ‘And you believe him, you silly chump!’ Bianca lashed back at her. She knocked at her own head, fingers scrunched into a fist, a dramatic gesture. ‘What a fool you are, Alinor! Fallen in love with him, have you? Fallen for those handsome looks? The Devil take him!’ Her tone was bitter, scathing. ‘How did he make you tell him where I was? What did he do to you?’

  A hot wave of embarrassment swept Alinor’s cheeks as she remembered his hands upon her body, his mouth roaming over hers; she turned away, fiddling with the torch in its holder. Her whole frame wilted with fatigue as if stretched in a mangle, strung between two people who...my God, she thought in a rush...two people who she had come to care about. Bianca...and Guilhem.

  ‘He’ll come for me and drag me back to Eustace. He’ll force me!’ Bianca leapt to her feet, began to pace the flagstone floor of the vault, the pearls in her silver circlet swinging violently. ‘I trusted you, Alinor!’ she said, with a sob of despair. ‘How could you do this?’

  ‘Because I made her tell me.’ Guilhem leaned one shoulder against the open arch of the vault, his low voice flooding the space, calm, quietly compelling. ‘If you’re going to berate anyone, Bianca, then berate me. Alinor’s not the one at fault here. She held your secret.’

  ‘Guilhem?’ Bianca breathed out, blue eyes huge with shock. ‘You’re really here?’ Her eyes roamed across the tall shadowy figure of her brother. Alinor moved quickly across the cellar, her skirts rustling across the flagstones, and wrapped her arms about Bianca.

  ‘Aye, Sister.’ He crossed his arms across his chest. ‘And I think we need to sort a few things out.’

  Huddled back against the stone wall, Bianca sank down, clasping her knees and eyed him warily. ‘Are you going to make me go back to Eustace?’

  ‘No, absolutely not. I was shocked when I found out you had gone to England to marry him.’

  ‘Shocked?’ squeaked Bianca, astonished. ‘But you knew about it. You gave your consent. In the letter!’

  Guilhem shook his head. ‘I never sent a letter.’

  ‘Mother showed me,’ Bianca said slowly. ‘I read it. You said how happy you were for me to go through with the marriage.’

  ‘It’s not true,’ Guilhem replied. ‘I would not have given my consent without coming home and speaking to you about it. And Mother knew that if I had found out that you were unwilling, I would not have agreed to such a marriage. With or without a queen’s command.’

  ‘Then...’ Bianca slumped sideways into Alinor’s arms, placing her palm flat upon her forehead in consternation ‘...did she lie to me? To make me go through with it? I was reluctant; I didn’t want to leave France.’

  ‘Perhaps. Maybe she thought that if she showed you some proof that I was happy for the marriage to go ahead then that would change your mind, persuade you.’

  Bianca buried her face in her hands. ‘Oh, God, what a mess! She must have forged the letter, your signature. Why would she do such a thing?’

  ‘Because marriage to an English lord bestowed a high honour on our family, Bianca. And arranged by the Queen, as well.’ A muscle quirked in his jaw. ‘I should have been there for you,’ he said slowly. Where had he been? Fighting his de
mons, raging against the enemy, when all along the enemy was inside him, battling from within. He had been so selfish.

  Bianca lifted her face from her hands. ‘Has Alinor told you what happened at Claverstock?’

  Guilhem pushed himself away from the wall, moved slowly towards her and knelt down, taking his sister’s hands within his own. ‘You tell me.’ Pulling her fingers from his, Bianca threw her arms about her brother, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Over his sister’s shoulder, Guilhem smiled at Alinor.

  Her heart gave a small leap of pleasure. She had done the right thing. Brother and sister were reunited. Whatever had made him stop in the corridor seemed to have dissipated, vanished. But she knew it was there. She could see it lurking in his eyes: a sense of a man destroyed. What in Heaven’s name had happened to him?

  ‘I will leave you,’ Alinor said.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he murmured. ‘Stay, please.’

  Lifting her head from Guilhem’s shoulder, Bianca turned, reached her hand out to snare Alinor’s fingers. ‘Yes, please stay. I need you to help me explain.’

  * * *

  The three of them sat in the pile of blankets at the back of the vault, Guilhem propping his back against the cold stone wall, one knee drawn up. Bianca huddled into his side; he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. Alinor sat away from them, aloof, her spine rigid. What was she doing here? They didn’t need her any more. She was certain Guilhem would make the right decisions concerning Bianca, make sure she was safe.

  She shifted uncomfortably on the blanket, uncurling her legs so they stretched out in front of her. Bianca’s accusations seared into her brain: ‘How did he make you tell him where I was? What did he do to you?’...‘Fallen in love with him, have you?’ A tide of misery swept over her; she wanted to go, to run away and hide in some dark, secret place, away from him, away from his searching eyes, his devastating looks. All she could think about was what he had done to her, what he could do to her. She was undone, her whole world spinning at the briefest touch of his lips. He had tumbled her from her perch of self-control, mired her with his kiss. And yet her heart sang with the memory. What in Heaven’s name was happening to her? Dull, sensible Alinor. The one everyone relied on. Where had she gone?