‘Lady Juliana?’
Lothar’s voice prompted her and she blinked a few times, trying to wake herself back up again. She was supposed to say something, wasn’t she? Something about lowering the bridge? The words were there in her head, but the idea of putting them together seemed like too much effort all of a sudden. When was the last time that she’d slept? Not at all the previous night and only a light doze the one before that. No wonder words weren’t making sense any more. What was she supposed to say again?
‘Oh... Lower the bridge!’
‘Are you feeling unwell?’ Lothar’s face swam into view, managing to look angry, exasperated and concerned all at the same time.
She shook her head, fighting an ill-timed and incongruous desire to laugh. She definitely couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. But at least he wasn’t looking quite so ferocious any more. If she wasn’t mistaken, he and Ulf had just shared a look of mutual confusion. That was a definite improvement in their relationship. Perhaps he thought she’d been drinking her own poppy milk medicine, she thought with amusement. The idea had certainly tempted her often enough. If she drank just a little then she could sleep through a whole night for once. Sleep and let somebody else take charge, just for a while...
‘Juliana!’
His hand gripped her arm suddenly, pulling her backwards and out of her daze as a bay-coloured destrier thundered to a halt in front of her, followed by a troop of armoured soldiers. She gave a small yelp, shocked less by the spectacle than by the intimate use of her name, not to mention the feeling of Lothar’s hand wrapped around her upper arm, close to her breast. They’d barely touched since their kiss the previous evening, all except for one unintentional moment when she’d reached past to cut his bindings, and the spontaneous thrill that raced through her body made her heart start to pound as heavily as the destrier’s hooves.
‘Lady Juliana.’ Sir Guian dismounted in front of her, his expression even more smug than she’d anticipated. ‘I see you’ve come to your senses at last.’
She stiffened, trying to maintain some sense of equilibrium as the quivering sensation in her stomach was replaced by a violent churning. She squeezed her hands into fists, digging the fingernails into her skin as she fought the urge to lash out. For a moment, she thought she felt Lothar’s grip tighten as well, as if he were experiencing the same impulse.
‘I’ve agreed to surrender on condition that no one is harmed, if that’s what you mean, Sir Guian.’
‘Very well. I’m prepared to be lenient as long as no one interferes with my business.’ The Baron threw a contemptuous look around the bailey before beckoning his soldiers forward. ‘Not that there’s much here to take.’
‘Hold!’ Lothar’s voice arrested them. ‘There won’t be any looting.’
‘What?’ Sir Guian looked as if he’d just been told to take a running leap into the moat.
‘I said there won’t be any looting. Lady Juliana and I have come to a different arrangement.’
‘What kind of arrangement?’ The Baron’s gaze flickered from her head to her feet in a way that made her feel nauseated. ‘I should have been party to any discussion.’
‘You had that opportunity four months ago.’
‘You had no right to agree anything without me!’
‘I think you’ll find that I do.’ Lother’s voice took on a dangerous edge, though the Earl seemed not to notice.
‘We’ve been waiting here for months! My men deserve a reward.’
‘For doing what exactly?’
‘For the siege!’
‘You want a reward just for waiting?’
‘It’s more than that and you know it! I’ve spent my own time and money...’
‘And the castle is won. Surely that honour is reward enough.’
‘The Empress will hear of this.’
‘Then go back to Devizes and tell her.’
Juliana followed the exchange with a growing sense of amazement. This was—or had been—her castle and yet Lothar seemed to be the one fighting for it. No matter what he’d promised, she hadn’t expected him to actually take sides against Sir Guian, though now she was afraid that his aggressive manner was only making a bad situation worse. His grip on her arm was becoming tighter the longer he spoke, as if he were barely controlling his temper. Even more alarming was the fact that his soldiers appeared to be thinking the same thing. Easily distinguishable in black, they were gradually detaching themselves from the Earl’s men and positioning themselves defensively in front of hers.
‘As you wish.’ Sir Guian suddenly seemed to notice the threat, too, his lips twisting in a smile as frigid as the atmosphere between them. ‘Then I accept your terms, Lady Juliana, whatever they are.’
‘Thank you, Sir Guian.’ She did her best to sound conciliatory. ‘Then Haword is yours.’
‘I’m honoured.’ A triumphant gleam appeared in his eye. ‘In that case, Lothar, you may give my greetings to the Empress. I believe I can take over from here. It’s time Lady Juliana and I became better acquainted.’
She felt bile rise in her throat. The way he was looking at her made it abundantly clear what kind of acquaintance he had in mind. Apparently the way she’d fought him off last time hadn’t deterred him at all.
Then she noticed the silence, so heavy it seemed to shroud the entire bailey. No one was moving either, as if all of the soldiers had frozen where they stood, all of them looking in one direction—towards Lothar and the expression of utter, unmitigated rage on his face.
‘No!’ She reacted instinctively, spinning around and placing herself in front of him as the Baron seemed belatedly to realise the danger he was in, backing away with a look of horror. Lothar’s grip on her arm was painfully tight now, but she forced herself to smile, grasping at the first words she could think of.
‘You can’t go until we’ve said farewell. I bid you a good journey, Lothar... Lothar?’
She stretched up on her toes, trying not to quail before the full force of his tight-lipped fury, forcing his gaze to meet hers. Merely smouldering before, his eyes were positively blazing now, as if there were actual fires behind them. She didn’t understand his reaction, but if it was something to do with her then she had to be the one to appease him. Tentatively she reached up and put her hands on his shoulders, felt the muscles strain beneath her fingertips. Every part of him seemed coiled and ready to do battle.
‘Lothar?’ She repeated his name softly. ‘No fighting, remember?’
For a moment, she thought he hadn’t heard her. Then his gaze shifted, his pupils honing in on her face before gradually focusing, the swirling, Stygian depths fading from stormy black to pale grey.
‘Juliana?’ His voice sounded strained.
‘Yes.’ She practically sagged with relief. ‘Goodbye, Lothar. Please send my greetings to the Empress.’
‘I will.’ He seemed to bring himself back under control finally, clenching his jaw as he looked past her shoulder. ‘But not yet. Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear, Sir Guian, but I won’t be leaving immediately.’
‘What do you mean?’ The Baron’s voice held a distinct trace of fear.
‘I mean that my men need a rest. We’ll stay another night, if that’s acceptable to you, my lady?’
He looked down at her, his breathing still ragged, and her heart seemed to skip a beat. Was that acceptable to her? She’d only just come to terms with the idea of him leaving. Now she had no idea how to feel about him staying.
‘Yes.’ She hardly recognised her own voice.
He nodded, his expression softening briefly and then turning inscrutable again. ‘In that case, it’s time you got some sleep, my lady.’
‘What?’ She pulled her hands away from his shoulders, shocked to realise that they were still there. Somehow she’d forgotten that she w
as standing with her arms around him in full view of all their soldiers! Even Sir Guian was looking at her strangely.
‘You need some rest. Ulf and I will take it from here.’
‘Ulf?’
She turned to her Constable, but he only shuffled his feet. So much for following her orders to the end!
‘No.’ She folded her arms, glaring at both of them. ‘I’m not a child to be sent to bed.’
‘It would be best if you did.’ Lothar’s tone was implacable again.
‘No!’
‘Would you prefer to be carried?’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘Wouldn’t I?’
He arched an eyebrow and her cheeks flamed with indignation. He didn’t look like a man who made idle threats, but how dare he threaten to humiliate her in such a way! After she’d calmed him down! After she’d prevented a fight! After she’d been prepared to deal with Sir Guian in her own way! She felt as if she’d just been stabbed in the back. He would never dream of doing such a thing to a man. If he was trying to demonstrate that she wasn’t chatelaine any longer, he was certainly making his point.
‘Last warning, my lady.’
She summoned as much contempt into her gaze as she could muster and then spun on her heel, muttering a string of invectives as she stormed furiously back towards the keep. She’d retreat for now, but if Lothar thought that she was simply going to follow his orders then he could think again. She had far more important tasks to occupy herself with than sleep and she was determined that he wasn’t going to find out about any of them!
Chapter Ten
Lothar took one look at the crowded hall and fought the urge to start shouting at the top of his lungs.
Sir Guian’s men were lounging on and around the trestle tables in varying degrees of inebriation, the worst disciplined group of soldiers he’d ever laid eyes on. They’d been no help in securing the castle, though his own men had surpassed themselves, carrying in fresh provisions, scrubbing floors, laying fresh rushes and replenishing the wood stores. It was a marked improvement, as if a gust of wind had blown through the bailey, blowing away all trace of the siege and making it fit for purpose again. In a better temper, he might have felt satisfied. As it was, he wanted to pick up the nearest table and hurl it against the wall, Sir Guian’s soldiers along with it.
He shouldn’t be there. That one thought had dominated his thoughts all day. He ought to be halfway back to Devizes by now, back by the Empress’s side where he belonged. If what Lady Juliana had murmured that morning was true and Stephen’s forces were really heading back into Herefordshire, then he ought to report it himself, not simply send a messenger. Instead he was wasting his time in a ramshackle castle in the middle of nowhere, guarding a woman who’d deceived, drugged and imprisoned him, all because, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn’t bring himself to leave!
He glanced towards the stairwell that led to the private chambers above, nodding discreetly to the two soldiers he’d stationed there as guards—one to detain anyone who attempted to get past, the other to fetch him. Judging by the fact that neither had moved, he could only assume that Lady Juliana was still sleeping upstairs. His body stirred at the thought, though the memory of what he’d almost done in the bailey that morning was enough to banish the feeling completely. The leering expression on Sir Guian’s face had turned his suspicions into crystal-clear certainties. The fact that Lady Juliana obviously hadn’t wanted to talk about what had happened between her and the Baron had only made matters worse. Lothar’s imagination had run riot, making the red mist descend even faster and more forcefully than usual. He hadn’t lost control of himself to such an extent for years, but he’d been about to do something definitely not in the Empress’s best interests, until Lady Juliana herself had stepped between them. She’d urged him to calm down, her green eyes boring deep into his until he did. How had she done it? Usually when he lost his temper, someone was bound to get hurt, yet she’d managed to bring him back to himself.
Not that he’d thanked her for it. He’d ordered her to bed instead, ignoring her look of outrage as she’d stomped away, muttering a string of surprisingly imaginative insults. He didn’t think he’d ever seen any woman, the Empress included, ever look or sound more furious, but he’d needed to put some distance between them. She’d needed some sleep, that had been obvious, and he’d needed to calm down and work out what the hell had just happened.
After taking the whole day to clear his head, he was no closer to finding the answer. Whatever power she had over him, whether to lure him inside a castle and hold him there, or to calm his temper, it wasn’t something he’d ever come across before. He didn’t know how to feel about that either.
He climbed the dais to the high table and muttered an oath. Now that he finally felt calm enough to confront Sir Guian it seemed that he’d waited too long. The Baron was already slouched in one of the large wooden chairs, an empty cup dangling from one hand as he looked around the room with bleary, red-rimmed eyes.
Damn it. He took a seat at the opposite end of the table, scowling fiercely until one of his men appeared with a trencher and some ale.
‘Have the castle garrison been fed?’ He practically barked out the question.
‘Yes, sir, just a small amount as you ordered.’
‘Good. They can have bigger portions tomorrow.’
‘What about Lady Juliana, sir? Shall I bring her a trencher?’
‘Mmm?’ The very mention of her name set his nerves on edge. ‘Yes, when she wakes up.’
‘She’s here now, sir.’
‘What?’ He jerked his head up, surprised to find her already mounting the steps to the high table beside him, still dressed in the same brown tunic she’d been wearing when they’d met. He was starting to wonder if she had any other clothes.
‘Lady Juliana.’ He pulled out a neighbouring chair, surprised by a feeling of eagerness. ‘Are you feeling well rested?’
‘Rested enough.’
She sat down without looking at him and he sighed.
‘I see you haven’t forgiven me yet then.’
‘Why would I?’ She shot him a venomous look. ‘If I were a man, you would never have humiliated me like that.’
‘If you were a man, you would have been clapped in chains and held for ransom. Would you have preferred that?’
‘More than being insulted, yes!’
‘Then I apologise. If I’d known you would have preferred a dungeon, then I could have obliged, but I did what was necessary at the time.’
‘It was necessary to send me to bed?’
‘Yes. You’d just surrendered the castle and your men needed to know Sir Guian was in command. Remaining downstairs would only have confused matters.’
She looked slightly mollified. ‘You could have explained that at the time.’
‘I could have, but I thought anger might keep you awake long enough to reach your chamber. You looked like you were about to collapse.’ His gaze narrowed suspiciously. ‘You still do.’
‘I look no such thing and you’re the last person who ought to criticise anyone else’s temper!’
He made a wry face. It was a fair enough comment, he supposed, though he wasn’t used to such forthright honesty. Not many people dared to criticise his behaviour, especially his somewhat unstable temper regarding certain subjects. He wasn’t accustomed to criticism, or to explaining himself either. He never had to, except to the Empress, but Lady Juliana seemed to have no fear of him. Paradoxically her defiance only added to her appeal. He wouldn’t have thought he would like it, but judging by the way that his body was responding again, he most definitely did.
‘You’re right.’ He inclined his head. ‘I lost control earlier. It won’t happen again.’
‘Good.’ She gave him an arch look, then gestured di
sdainfully towards a particularly rowdy group of soldiers. ‘I see you’re making yourselves at home.’
‘Some of us are.’
‘If you don’t approve of their behaviour, then why don’t you stop them?’
‘They’re not my men. I’m not in command.’
She peered down the length of the table. ‘Sir Guian doesn’t seem in a fit state to do anything.’
‘Then I’d call that an improvement, wouldn’t you?’ He watched her face as one of his soldiers placed a fresh trencher in front of her. ‘Hungry?’
‘Ravenous.’ She leaned forward eagerly, breathing in the aroma before favouring the man with a wide smile. ‘It smells delicious. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome, my lady.’
Lothar watched his soldier depart, seized with an irrational surge of jealousy. She’d never smiled at him like that, as if she truly meant it, not even when she’d been pretending to seduce him—and she’d spent most of the time since glaring at him.
‘Better than siege rations?’
‘I never want to eat stockfish again in my life.’ She picked up a piece of cheese and then paused with it halfway to her mouth. ‘Have my men eaten?’
‘Of course.’
‘Where are they?’
‘We’ve set up tents for them in the bailey.’
‘Tents?’
‘The keep and stables are full and the storerooms are full of Sir Guian’s supplies.’
‘What about your men? Are they going to billet here with Sir Guian’s?’
‘No, they’re in tents, too. Now eat.’ He nudged the trencher closer towards her. ‘Questions later.’
She looked faintly rebellious for a moment, then seemed to change her mind, tucking into the food with relish.
‘Slow down,’ he reprimanded her. ‘You shouldn’t eat too quickly after a diet of stockfish.’
‘I know.’
‘You’ll make yourself sick.’
‘Probably.’
‘Lady Juliana...’
Besieged and Betrothed Page 8