Besieged and Betrothed

by Jenni Fletcher

  She nodded and took it off at once, waving the material like a flag at the soldiers below.

  ‘Better.’ His gaze drifted admiringly over the loose tresses before he realised what he’d just said. He’d meant to say good, not better—even if the other word seemed far more appropriate. What in hell’s name was wrong with him? He couldn’t remember any woman ever affecting him so strongly. ‘Make sure your men see you waving it, too.’

  She gave a murmur of assent, moving from one side of the roof to the other as he watched one of his soldiers run off towards Sir Guian’s tent. There. That ought to be enough to call off the attack. He felt more relieved than when she’d cut his bindings.

  Felt?

  ‘What next?’ She came back to stand in front of him, covering her hair up again as she did so, tucking away the brightly coloured strands with deft fingers.

  He grimaced. He knew exactly what he wanted to do next. He wanted to haul her into his arms and pull that headdress back off again. He wanted to find out if her hair and lips felt as soft as he imagined them. More than that, he wanted to find out where that honeysuckle scent was coming from...

  But he had orders to follow—and he had a strong suspicion that she was going to like them even less than he did.

  ‘Next you need to lower the drawbridge and surrender to Sir Guian.’

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Sir Guian?’ Juliana felt as though he’d just pressed the dagger to her throat, not hurled it into the moat.

  Lothar nodded stiffly. ‘He was the one sent to capture Haword. The Empress wants him to hold it.’

  ‘But he was never going to attack!’

  ‘None the less, those are the Empress’s orders.’

  ‘But...Sir Guian?’

  She spat the name in disgust. Of all the men in the world, how could Lothar expect her to surrender to him? The very thought of his smug, gloating face was repellent. The same face that she’d slapped and scratched at in her haste to escape from his tent four months before. If she surrendered to him now, then he’d think that he’d won, that she was yielding more than just a castle, that she was surrendering herself, too. She felt as if her blood were turning to ice.

  ‘You tricked me!’

  His features hardened at the accusation, as if he were turning back into a statue before her very eyes. ‘I’ve told you nothing but the truth, my lady.’

  ‘Not all of it! I agreed to surrender to you, not him! You knew that.’

  ‘And you knew that I’m not a nobleman. As you pointed out yesterday, I’m only a soldier. I can’t hold a castle with any authority.’

  ‘So you’re going to let him get all the acclaim?’

  ‘There’s little enough of it to be had in war. He’s welcome to any he can get.’

  Welcome? She mouthed the word back at him, though he didn’t respond, didn’t flex so much as a muscle. If he’d truly been made of stone, then he couldn’t have looked any more rigid.

  She whirled away from him, biting back a cry of frustration as she peered down into the bailey below. Her men were already gathering together by the front gate, a pale and emaciated group compared to the soldiers outside, piling their weapons in a heap as they prepared to surrender. She ought to go down to them, ought to say something, not that she knew what. Her thoughts were in turmoil, dominated by the one overwhelming idea that Lothar had tricked her just when she’d decided to trust him. And she’d let him, exposing herself as the gullible, inexperienced woman she clearly was! Maybe she wasn’t fit to be chatelaine after all. Behind that stony façade, he was probably laughing at her. Just like he’d laughed at her before...

  She felt tears well in her eyes again and blinked them away furiously. She wasn’t going to lose control in front of any man, even if all she wanted to do was throw her hands up and scream. He must have known how it would be all along. The whole time he’d been trying to convince her to surrender, he’d known that it would mean to Sir Guian, but he’d kept silent about that, waiting for her to agree before revealing the horrible truth. Friend of her father or not, if she hadn’t already given him the dagger then she would have shown him exactly how she felt about that deception!

  At least he didn’t remember what had happened between them the previous evening. Memory loss was a common side effect of poppy, though she’d never been so glad of it before. She’d hardly dared look at him that morning in case it somehow triggered a memory and the last thing she wanted was for him to remember just how wantonly she’d behaved. She didn’t want to remember herself, even if standing so close to him now made it impossible not to. The most shameful part of all was that she’d started it. She’d thrown herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck like the most flagrant, unashamed strumpet! She hadn’t even been the one to stop it. Only the poppy had done that.

  So much for maidenly modesty, never mind her reputation. Her men seemed to have forgiven her behaviour once she’d explained herself, though a few had still seemed unable to look her in the eye. All in all, she’d done an excellent job of shocking them and compromising her honour at the same time, gambling everything on a plan that had apparently been doomed from the start. Lothar had given the order to attack before he’d even met her on the drawbridge. If she’d tried, she couldn’t have failed any more spectacularly. Now Stephen would find out that she’d broken her promise and the Empress... Well, there was no telling what the Empress would do once she found out the full extent of her betrayal. Her change of allegiance might be forgiven, but as for the rest of it...

  ‘You should be wearing a cloak.’

  ‘What?’ She spun around, trying to reconcile Lothar’s concerned tone with his inscrutable expression.

  ‘It’s cold. You weren’t wearing one yesterday either.’ His forehead creased slightly. ‘You should take better care of your health.’

  She glanced up at the sky. Was it cold? She hadn’t thought to notice the weather. What on earth did it matter when she’d just surrendered her home?

  ‘I doubt if the Empress will care if I catch a chill.’

  ‘On the contrary, she specifically asked me to report on your health when I return to Devizes.’

  A shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature raced down her spine. ‘You mean you’re leaving?’

  He inclined his head. ‘Now that you’ve surrendered, my work here is done. The Empress will have another commission for me.’

  ‘So you’re just going to abandon me—us—to Sir Guian?’

  He paused briefly before answering. ‘Those are my orders.’

  ‘When?’ Her lips felt so dry that she could hardly utter the question.

  ‘As soon as you lower the drawbridge.’

  This time she felt as if he’d actually taken the dagger and stabbed her in the heart with it. No matter how angry she was with him, the thought of being abandoned to Sir Guian was ten times worse! How could he? Didn’t he know what kind of lecherous snake the Baron was?

  Her heart sank. Of course he knew. That was probably the reason he hadn’t told her the whole truth in the first place. He knew and he didn’t care. Why would he? He hadn’t even known what she looked like twenty-four hours ago. He’d probably forget her in less time—as soon as he rode back over the drawbridge most likely. Why would he care who he left her with? She was the one reading too much into one kiss—a kiss that he didn’t even remember! No wonder he had no compunction about leaving her. It would be strange if he did. She was the one behaving as if their encounter had meant something, which it most definitely hadn’t!

  Briefly, she considered pushing past him, rushing down the steps and calling her men back to arms. But it was hopeless. Even if she did somehow manage to get past him, the possibility of which she seriously doubted, everything else he’d told her was true. He hadn’t lied about their being outnumbered, nor about the stren
gth of the castle’s defences. If she reneged on her surrender, it would scarcely delay the inevitable and put her men in even more jeopardy.

  ‘Lady Juliana?’ Lothar’s expression seemed to shift slightly, betraying the faintest hint of some emotion. ‘Do you have any cause to object to Sir Guian?’

  She held back a snort of derision. Aye, she had plenty of cause, not that she was going to admit it to him. She hadn’t told anyone what had happened that day in the Baron’s tent when he’d tried first to seduce and then to force himself on her, hoping that silence might make the feelings of humiliation and rage go away. They hadn’t, but she wasn’t going to tell anything to a man who’d just proven he couldn’t be trusted! He’d already tricked her into cutting his bonds and surrendering. She wasn’t going to show him any more weakness.

  ‘Would it make any difference?’

  ‘It might.’

  A muscle jumped in his cheek as he answered. He looked different suddenly, less rigidly controlled, as if she’d inadvertently found a crack in his stone-clad exterior. His grey eyes were narrowed to slits and yet somehow they seemed to be smouldering, too, like coals newly stoked into life.

  ‘What do you care?’ She felt a strange tingling sensation start to build in her toes and move up through her body, something between fear and excitement.

  ‘If you have cause...’ the muscle in his cheek twitched again ‘...then I could speak to him before I go. Make him understand the kind of behaviour the Empress expects.’

  Her cheeks flared. That proved it. He definitely knew what kind of a man the Baron was, as if he already knew what had happened between them. But he couldn’t, no one did. In which case, he must only suspect. And yet he seemed to be offering to help her, too, to talk to Sir Guian, for all the good it would do. The man was too arrogant to pay heed to anyone else. Though if anyone could persuade him...

  She folded her arms, refusing to consider it. There was no point anyway. Even if she could bring herself to admit the shameful truth—that she’d been naive enough to agree to a private negotiation, what could a soldier, a sergeant, do against a Baron? No, she’d taken care of herself then and she’d keep on doing it. She didn’t need any man to protect her. Now that she knew what to expect from Sir Guian she wouldn’t be caught off guard again, could fight him off a second time if she had to. And at least she knew the kind of man he was...unlike Lothar. She had only the vaguest idea of who he was. For all she knew, he might be even worse!

  No, she conceded, that wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t be worse. Even when she’d been pretending to seduce him, he’d barely touched her, up until the point when she’d kissed him anyway. She’d given him more opportunity and far more encouragement than she had the Baron, yet Lothar was the one who’d behaved like a true knight. If he were the one holding the castle, then she’d have no cause to fear him, not in that regard anyway, though that was probably just because he wasn’t attracted to her. He’d made that clear enough when he’d laughed at her pathetic attempt at seduction. He’d probably only kissed her back because he’d been drugged and she’d thrown herself at him, responding by instinct rather than inclination. A wave of mortification washed over her. Of course a man like him wouldn’t be attracted to a woman like her. She’d been a fool to think otherwise and if he intended to leave then the sooner he was gone, the better! Her secret would be safer with him gone anyway...

  ‘It’s none of your concern.’ She turned her back on him, heading for the stairwell. ‘You’re leaving and I have a castle to surrender. We ought to get on with it.’

  ‘Did he touch you?’

  She froze mid-step, arrested by the tone of his voice. It sounded deep and threatening, like the rumble of thunder before a storm. Nervously, she peered back over her shoulder, struck by the same impression of danger she’d felt when she’d first glimpsed him over the battlements, of darkness held in check. Except that now, the darkness was there on the surface, barely restrained any more. His question seemed to offer her the power to unleash it, but why? Why would he care what the Baron had done, or tried to do, to her? Why would he want to avenge her? And yet he looked about ready to maim someone. The skin over his jaw looked so tight she was half-afraid it might tear—as if he might snap. If she wanted revenge on Sir Guian, then she wouldn’t get a better opportunity. It would be one way of making sure he didn’t touch her again and she’d only be telling the truth.

  She caught her breath, appalled by the temptation. They might be at war, but there’d been enough violence already and she had the sudden, powerful conviction that she didn’t want to know how dangerous this man could be. The look of raw, unrestrained fury on his face made her wish that his impenetrable mask were back on again. Clearly that was all it had been—a mask. The force of emotion beneath was truly terrifying.

  ‘Lady Juliana?’ His whole body seemed to bristle when she didn’t answer. ‘Did he hurt you?’

  ‘No. He didn’t touch me.’ She said the words quickly but firmly, starting down the stairwell at once so that he couldn’t read the lie on her face, acutely aware of his footsteps following close behind.

  ‘Where are my weapons?’

  ‘Why?’ She felt her heartbeat accelerate with panic. ‘I thought this was going to be a peaceful surrender?’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘In the keep.’ She turned to face him as they reached the bottom of the stairwell. ‘Just where you left them, but...’

  Her protest faded away as he stormed off, marching towards the keep as if she hadn’t bothered speaking at all. From the murderous look on his face, she had the distinct feeling that he couldn’t hear anybody. Despite all her efforts, it seemed that she’d unleashed a wild animal in the bailey after all.

  She glanced towards the drawbridge and then back at the keep again. What had she just done?

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Is it true, my lady? Are we really surrendering?’

  Juliana met Ulf’s dour gaze and nodded regretfully, raising her voice so that the rest of her men could hear her, too.

  ‘We’re surrendering, but Sergeant Lothar has given his word that no one will be harmed.’

  ‘We can still fight.’ Ulf glared in the direction of the keep. ‘You know we’ll follow your commands to the end, my lady.’

  ‘I know.’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘And I’m grateful, but if we can surrender peaceably then we ought to do it. I only hope that Stephen understands.’

  ‘You did your best, my lady. No man could have done better.’

  She smiled weakly. ‘You’re a loyal friend, Ulf. Did the guards do as I asked?’

  ‘Yes, my lady, but I don’t know if it will work. If they do a thorough search...’

  ‘Then hopefully they’ll see an empty storeroom and move on,’ she forestalled him. ‘I know it’s not the best plan, but it’s all we can do. It’s the safest place for now. Maybe later...’

  She faltered. Maybe later what? She didn’t have an answer to that. All she could do now was take things one step at a time and try to keep Haword’s secret for as long as she could.

  Ulf grunted, lowering his head like a bull. ‘This is all his fault.’

  She looked around to find Lothar already striding back towards them, his stormy temper showing no sign of abating as he fastened his sword belt with a vicious-sounding snap.

  ‘Lady Juliana.’ His gaze narrowed perceptibly at the sight of her hand on Ulf’s arm. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes.’ She pulled her fingers away, reluctant to inflame his temper any further, though it seemed already too late for that.

  ‘Sergeant.’ Ulf took his sword from its scabbard and tossed it into the dirt. ‘It seems you’re the one disarming me after all.’

  ‘So it seems.’ Lothar’s pale gaze fastened on the Constable interrogatively. ‘Ulf, wasn’t it?’

  ‘
Aye.’

  ‘Do you have any skill with that?’ He nudged the blade with his foot.

  ‘As much as you, I’ll wager.’

  ‘Then you must be truly exceptional.’

  Juliana held her breath, wondering how best to intervene. The two men were eyeballing each other in a way that made her skin crawl.

  ‘In that case, you’d better keep it.’ Lothar flicked the blade up with his foot suddenly, catching it in mid-air and tossing the hilt back towards Ulf. ‘Stay with your lady. Do you understand?’

  ‘Understand what?’ A jolt of surprise turned into a fresh stab of panic. Why would Ulf need to stay with her?

  ‘Tell them to lower the bridge.’

  She dug her heels into the dirt, resenting the order. ‘Not until you tell me why Ulf needs to be armed.’

  ‘He doesn’t. It’s a precaution.’

  ‘Against your own men?’

  ‘Not mine.’

  ‘Sir Guian’s, then?’

  He didn’t answer and she put her hands on her hips angrily. ‘This is my castle, I have a right to know!’

  ‘It was your castle. Now lower the bridge.’

  ‘It’s my castle until I surrender it to Sir Guian and I don’t want there to be any fighting, not for any reason. Do you understand?’

  She held his gaze as a tense silence stretched out between them. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her men watching, waiting to see what would happen. She wasn’t sure what the outcome was going to be herself, but she refused to back down.

  ‘No fighting,’ she repeated the order, more firmly this time.

  ‘As you wish.’ He spoke tersely, as if he were forcing the words past clenched teeth. ‘Now lower the bridge.’

  She sucked in a breath. Did he understand? She hoped so, though whatever was about to happen was already beyond her control. She might as well lower the bridge and find out what it was. She was tired of sieges and arguments, tired of everything... A wave of exhaustion rolled over her, making her legs teeter unsteadily.