A rueful smile on his lips, he stepped away from her, exposing his swollen manhood. “Though it must be clear to you which I’d rather you choose.”
Her choice as well.
Julianna thought of many things she should say, but ’twas difficult to force the words past the lump of sorrow clogging her throat. “Godspeed,” she whispered as Will gathered up his clothing and message pouch and, with one last smile, left.
Julianna watched from her window as Will, escorted by two of her men-at-arms, rode out of Tuck’s Tower. A sense of panic seized her—what if he never returned? He’d already been attacked not far from here; would the men she’d sent to accompany him be enough of a guard should he be attacked again?
What if he decided he’d no reason to come back? Would his desire for her, so quickly evident and so swiftly satisfied, fade away as rapidly as the leagues passed beneath his mount’s flying hooves?
Despite their recent intimacy, what did she truly know about Will Bowman?
What if she had traded her virginity—freely given, no mistake—for a moment’s fleeting pleasure?
Did that diminish the pleasure they’d shared, lessen the significance of the unspoken commitment she’d made to Will by making love with him?
What if, what if…? Tears welling in her eyes, she turned from the window once the gates had creaked closed. She’d drive herself mad if she lingered on this path, for it led nowhere. She had no answers for the multitude of questions that plagued her, now that ’twas too late to ask them.
Assuming she’d have had the courage to ask.
There were times, she knew, when ’twas better to simply let some questions stay unspoken. She’d been taught never to ask about anything unless she wanted an honest answer.
Sometimes, though, perhaps ’twas better to remain ignorant of the truth. Though that had never been her way, it held a certain appeal, especially today. Her emotions felt flayed raw, and her usual confidence had apparently fled along with her innocence.
Enough! she chided herself. Only time could provide the answers she sought. In the meantime she ought to be able to distract herself.
Julianna stooped to pick up the torn remnants of her once-beautiful gown. Though she was no seamstress, she doubted the garment could be salvaged.
She traced her fingers over the few pearls left round the neckline, saddened by the loss of yet another remnant of her mother’s love. Holding the soft silk to her cheek, she breathed in the faint, comforting scent of her mother’s perfume and reminded herself that she saw the tangible signs of her mother’s love every day. A secure home; a loving father; the loyalty of her people to her, and to her parents’—all three of her parents’—memories.
Lady Marian had provided well for her daughter, left her well protected by both her fathers’ people, for the aging remnants of Robin’s band and their families resided in the village beyond the walls of Tuck’s Tower.
Thankfully, a knock at the door forced Julianna to abandon her futile musings. “Come,” she called, remembering at the last moment to wrap herself more securely in the sheet she’d pulled off the bed.
Rachel paused just inside the open door. “Lady Julianna—”
“Please, come in and shut the door.” Julianna set the gown she’d been holding onto the bed. “As you can see, I’m not dressed enough to leave the door open just yet.”
Rachel did as she’d requested, but still lingered on the other side of the chamber.
“Is something wrong?” Julianna asked.
The other woman clasped her hands in front of her as though she were a penitent—a most unusual attitude for “Mary,” though mayhap a typical one for Rachel, for all Julianna knew about her.
“Rachel?”
“Lady Julianna, now that you know who I am—and in light of yesterday’s humiliating debacle—I’m not sure where I belong here at Tuck’s Tower.” She glanced up at Juliana and drew a deep breath, seeming to draw confidence from something she saw. “Am I still a servant, or something more? Or would you rather I simply leave Tuck’s Tower altogether and return to my brother?”
Shame washed over Julianna. She’d completely ignored the fact that Rachel was not a servant after all—and everything that revelation meant to her status at Tuck’s Tower.
How could she have neglected to see to Rachel’s safety? “I’m so sorry, Rachel! My mind was obviously elsewhere, since I did so little to reassure you or to provide for you.”
“You’d been ill, milady. You’d other things on your mind than me.”
Julianna’s shame deepened. “Sweet Mary save you, where did you sleep last night?” she asked, envisioning Rachel curled up with the hounds on the rush-strewn floor of the great hall.
“I returned to the barracks,” Rachel said impassively. “I knew I could trust the men-at-arms to protect me for another night, and my belongings were there. Anyway those witches who went after me yesterday heard an earful from Rolf and Diccon about what they did. So I don’t think they’ll be after me again anytime soon.” She reached for the knife sheath hanging from her belt. “Besides, Diccon found me a dagger. I’m not afraid to use it if I need to.”
Considering the state Rachel had been in when Julianna put a stop to the commotion in the bailey, ’twas astounding that she should be so composed now. Of course, unlike the previous day, no one was threatening Rachel’s life. Still, Rachel clearly possessed a calmer nature, and a more forgiving one, than her brother did.
It was their good fortune ’twas so, for one Sir Richard Belleville was enough to manage.
“You are no longer a servant, Rachel,” Julianna told her. “Unless you wish to be of service to us here at Tuck’s Tower by making use of your skills as a healer to keep us all well.”
“’Twould be my pleasure, Lady Julianna.” Rachel bowed her head in acknowledgment. “I thank you.”
“Nay, I owe you my gratitude for agreeing to stay.” Julianna crossed to the door of the storeroom and tugged it open. “We shall set up this chamber for you, if you’d like. You’ll be safer here from Joan and her ilk—and your character less maligned, as well.”
Rachel joined her and peered into the darkened chamber. “’Tis too much, milady!” Yet Julianna heard excitement in the other woman’s voice, and anticipation. “But I’ll take it, and gladly.”
How had Rachel’s brother and sister treated her, that she should be so filled with enthusiasm by a storeroom?
“’Tis settled then. I’ll send for someone to help you arrange it as you see fit.”
Julianna left Rachel to focus on her new chamber, glad to have her own room to herself. She needed to wash and dress, to ready herself for the coming day.
A day empty of Will.
Until recently, all her days had passed with her completely unaware of Will’s existence. She ought to be capable of managing without him now.
Now, however, she knew what had been missing from her life. How would she get by if he didn’t return?
Half-dressed, worried, Julianna knelt by her bed and prayed she’d never need to find out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lincoln
Will had never been so happy to leave a battle ground as he was to leave the siege at Lincoln—and he hadn’t even bloodied his sword!
But to have finally carried out his duty was an enormous relief, especially once the earl of Pembroke reassured him that the delay in delivering the messages had not resulted in anyone’s death, or the destruction of important plans.
After seizing but one night’s rest to break their journey, Will and his two escorts took to the road once again, spurring their mounts on to Tuck’s Tower in spite of their weariness.
Will could not elude the feeling that something was about to go wrong, if it hadn’t already. He wished he hadn’t left Julianna alone, though what good he might be to her, he didn’t know.
But to be with her once more…He felt so strong a sense of loss without Julianna by his side, he knew he would do whatever necessary
to remain a part of her life.
He’d already begun to set things in motion so he could shift the focus of his life, from his service to Lord Rannulf to a new life within Julianna’s milieu. He’d sent word to Lord Rannulf, asking to be released from his service—and telling him of the situation at Birkland, of the attack and any other information he thought might be useful.
Pembroke had been most generous with his advice, once Will got up the nerve to ask for it. He’d been interested in what information Will had about Sir Richard, although according to Pembroke, Belleville was but a tiny, unimpressive minnow who assumed himself powerful enough to swim with the sharks.
Still, considering the fact that Julianna believed Belleville to be a threat of some kind, Will scraped together what information he could about the man. It might be useful to her.
Or rather to them, for he refused to leave her to face that threat—nay, any threat—alone.
For the first time since he’d been a child, a sense of anticipation spurred Will on, making him impatient to return home.
He’d never have anticipated that home would be a place he hadn’t known existed a week ago.
Or that he’d be so eager because of a woman.
Lady Julianna d’Arcy, the woman he already realized he couldn’t live without.
Tuck’s Tower
The past several days—since Will had left—seemed an eternity to Julianna. Although she’d been busy, catching up on all she’d ignored once she’d brought Will to Tuck’s Tower, as well as preparing for what she considered the inevitable encounter with Sir Richard, time dragged by at a snail’s pace.
And the nights were unending, sleepless and filled with worry and apprehension. Julianna felt locked into a particularly hellish form of limbo—waiting, always waiting.
For Belleville to attack; for her uncle to arrive at her door to drag her away to the nigh-cloistered life of a noble lady; for Will’s return.
One of the few good things to come of the wait was that Julianna and Rachel had become friends.
Rachel was a decent woman, intelligent and well schooled in a lady’s ways, yet not possessed of a high-and-mighty attitude.
She’d never have managed to remain with the men in the barracks for long if that had been her way, Julianna thought with a wry laugh.
She’d progressed from pondering “what ifs” to hearing a constant litany of “what to dos” echoing through her head. Though she couldn’t decide if that was progress, or if she were simply losing her mind, at least ’twas a different refrain.
Sooner or later the tension that held them within its grasp must break.
Soon, Julianna reassured herself. Something had to happen soon.
Birkland
Johan grinned and settled himself atop a comfortable pile of hay. ’Twas the first time he’d ever been so eager to see Belleville. O’ course, this time he had just what Sir Richard had been wanting—oddments of information he’d collected at Tuck’s Tower, valuable snippets that’d bring a smile to Belleville’s face and put a pile o’ coin in his own hand.
He always enjoyed getting paid, and this time Belleville had no reason whatsoever to withhold what he owed Johan.
He picked at his nails with the needle-sharp tip of his dirk, recalling how easy it had been to find out what he’d wanted. All it had taken was a bit of a romance with one of the lowliest maidservants. A few sweet words and some personal attention, he thought, his grin widening in remembrance, and he’d not only gained the knowledge he’d sought, but he’d had a ripe old time of it with the randy wench as well. Once he got what he needed from her, he’d been able to slip his blade into her heart as easily as he’d slid himself into her delightful body.
’Twas a shame he’d had to kill her, really, for she’d satisfied him well right up to the end.
“What is it this time?” Sir Richard snarled, putting an end to Johan’s pleasant memories.
Despite his own eagerness, Johan took his time getting to his feet and crossing the stable to join Belleville. Wouldn’t do to appear in too much of a hurry. Besides, he might as well get what amusement he could from watching Sir Richard squirm with impatience; he thought of it as an additional benefit of doing business with the arrogant bastard.
“Well, milord, I got news for ye.”
“Tell me.” Belleville, hands clenched into fists at his sides, waited with a surprising patience.
At least the fool hadn’t grabbed for him as soon as he got there this time, Johan noted. Mayhap Belleville had finally begun to learn some manners.
“Do ye want the good news first, or the bad? I got both.” Johan scratched his beard and squinted at Belleville as though weighing how much he should say. ’Twas usually good for a bit more coin if he could raise the customer’s expectations a mite. “Or I could tell ye whichever ye prefer, if ye don’t want ’em both.”
“Christ’s bones, do you never simply answer a question?” Sir Richard demanded.
Judging that Belleville was in no mood to be toyed with, Johan sighed and settled down to business. “If I tell ye all o’ what I learned, ye’ll have to pay me what ye still owe from the last time, as well as my usual fee. Otherwise I might forget to tell ye everythin’,” he pointed out, grinning.
He could see Sir Richard’s frustration mount. He had him, Johan crowed silently. This time he had him.
Taking his time, Belleville unclenched his fists and reached for the money pouch hanging from his belt. “You’re naught but a thief,” he complained before finally handing over the bag.
“You wouldn’t have much use for me otherwise,” Johan agreed. He buried his excitement and hefted the pouch in his hand before tugging open the drawstring and pouring the contents into his palm. “Seems ’bout right to me,” he said with a nod. He poured the coin back into the bag and tied it to his belt. “So which do ye want first, milord—the good news, or the bad?”
“It doesn’t much matter,” Sir Richard said, sounding dispirited.
“I’ll leave ye to decide which is which,” Johan told him, feeling generous now that he’d been paid. “’Tis like this—Lady Julianna still lives, hale and healthy. Seems your archer missed her altogether. She’s had company all this while, which I’ll venture ye didn’t know. Interestin’ company.”
“Who is it then, damn you?” Sir Richard demanded.
Johan savored the sensation of power over Belleville for a brief moment. Then, laughing, he relented. “Seems Bowman’s been right under our noses since the attack. I found your sister Rachel, as well,” he said. “Guess she decided not to go stay with your sister after all. They’ve each been at Tuck’s Tower all along, milord.”
Belleville’s face darkened. “By Christ’s toes,” he cried. “How can that be?” After a moment, however, the tension seemed to pour out of him. “Are they both still there?” he asked, his expression and voice smooth, calm. “Tell me more.”
As Johan related what he’d learned, Belleville began to pace, his expression cunning. Once Johan had finished, Sir Richard settled back against the wall and folded his arms. “Do you know, perhaps this might work to my best advantage after all. If Bowman is gone, I needn’t concern myself with him for the moment, and with my sister there…it presents countless possibilities. Come, help me decide what to do.”
Intrigued by this side of Sir Richard, Johan joined him, tamping down his excitement at the opportunity to help with Belleville’s latest scheme.
There’d be coin in this for certain.
Lots of it, and he’d not have to share it with anyone else.
Sir Richard glanced back over his shoulder. Johan followed his gaze; they were alone in the stable, though this far back, the shadows were so deep that likely no one would notice them anyway.
“Do ye have a plan, milord?” Johan asked.
“Of course I do,” Belleville told him. “But we cannot speak so loud.” He motioned for Johan to move closer still.
Intrigued, Johan complied, leaning toward Bellevil
le so he might hear.
Belleville hit him in the stomach, so hard that Johan didn’t realize he’d been stabbed until he glimpsed the gore-stained dagger clutched in Belleville’s fist.
He pressed his hands to his stomach, felt the hot rush of his lifeblood pouring over them as the rest of his body went cold. To his surprise he felt little pain.
“Fool!” Belleville hissed. “As if I need the likes of you to help me decide what to do.”
Johan’s legs folded beneath him and he slumped onto the pile of hay. He moved one hand away from his belly and managed to close it about the hilt of his knife.
Belleville knelt beside him and fumbled at the knotted string that tied the bag of coin to Johan’s belt.
The thieving knave! Now he knew why Belleville had paid him so well. He must have planned all along to kill him and take back the money.
Rage gave Johan the impetus he needed to tug free his weapon and shove it toward Belleville.
As soon as the blade met flesh, he felt his last bit of strength ebb away.
But his lips twisted into one final mocking leer; the surprised expression on Sir Richard’s face would be Johan’s last sight before he descended into Hell.
He only hoped he took the treacherous bastard with him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tuck’s Tower
The sound of shouting dragged Julianna from dreams of Will.
Climbing from her bed, she groped her way to the window and pushed aside the shutter. ’Twas just before dawn; the sky held a strange glow, as though the light of the rising sun had been filtered through a piece of blood red silk.
The ruckus seemed to be coming from outside the castle walls. Tossing on a shirt and leggings and thrusting her feet into her boots, Julianna snatched up her sword belt and weapons from the chest at the foot of the bed and hurried from the chamber.
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