Besieged and Betrothed

by Jenni Fletcher

He sighed. Was there anything she wasn’t going to argue with him about this evening?

  ‘Would you prefer that I didn’t?’

  ‘I’d prefer that no one gets hurt.’

  ‘Then I promise only to talk.’

  She regarded him dubiously for a moment before the arrival of two new soldiers at the stairwell seemed to distract her again.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’ Lothar frowned, perplexed by the sudden look of anxiety on her face. What was it about the stairwell that bothered her so much? She seemed to get jumpy every time anyone went near it. ‘They’re just relieving the guards. No one will disturb you upstairs, you have my word.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She avoided his gaze as she picked up the remains of her second trencher. Despite her earlier protestations, she’d hardly touched any of it.

  ‘Still hungry?’ He lifted an eyebrow.

  ‘I might be later. Will I see you again before you leave in the morning?’

  He threw a quick glance in the direction of Sir Guian. It seemed highly unlikely that the Baron would be in a fit state to talk about anything before noon. Beating some sense into him would be far easier, but now that he’d promised...

  ‘Yes. We’ll break our fast here.’

  ‘Then I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Sergeant.’

  ‘Goodnight, my lady.’

  He tapped his fingers on the table-top as she hastened away, unable to shake the feeling that he was missing something. Despite their conversation, she seemed more of a mystery than ever. Why hadn’t she slept? She’d said that it was because she’d been keeping watch on her men, but that didn’t make any sense. She must have realised they weren’t in any danger quickly enough, so why hadn’t she taken the opportunity to rest? Something was definitely worrying her, too, even more than the threat of Sir Guian. She seemed more anxious about the stairwell than she did about him, as if she were afraid of anyone else going upstairs. As if she were hiding something...

  He remembered the sound of moaning he’d heard earlier, the one that she’d dismissed as one of her guards having a bad dream. In all the commotion he’d forgotten about it, but now he felt a tendril of suspicion. Not what, but whom was she hiding?

  He waited another minute and then pushed his chair back, lighting a candle in one of the braziers before making his way towards the far corner of the hall, nodding at his guards as he followed her up the curve of the stairwell.

  The tower seemed deserted as he made his way silently past her chamber door and turned the handle of the one opposite. He’d half-expected it to be locked, but it opened without any resistance, swinging wide to reveal a large made-up bed, two sturdy-looking coffers, and a small desk in one corner. Other than that, the room was completely empty.

  He stood stock-still in the doorway, feeling as though he’d just invaded something private. This was clearly her father’s old chamber, kept the way it had been when he’d last ridden out to battle, though it retained a strangely lived-in feeling. Even so, it seemed highly unlikely that Lady Juliana would let one of her guards sleep there. He must have been mistaken in what he’d heard earlier. Either that or the sound had come from elsewhere...

  ‘Do you want to sleep here?’

  Her voice at his shoulder almost made him drop his candle in surprise.

  ‘No, my lady.’

  He turned around slowly. How had she known he was there? He hadn’t creaked so much as a floorboard—though neither had she, for that matter—and yet there she was watching him, still fully dressed, though she’d removed her headdress at least, revealing two loosely tied braids falling over each breast.

  ‘This was your father’s chamber?’ He grimaced as she nodded. ‘Then I’m sorry for disturbing it.’

  ‘Were you looking for something?’

  She sounded wary and he paused, trying to gauge her reaction. She looked as suspicious as he felt, her green eyes glowing like a cat’s in the candlelight, fixed on him with an intent feline gleam. What would she do if he confronted her with his suspicions directly? Would she bolt or unsheathe her claws? Either way, he doubted that she’d tell him anything.

  ‘I was looking for clues.’ He settled on a different excuse. ‘Something to remind me about what happened last night. I don’t like mysteries.’

  ‘Last night?’ Her voice jumped up a few octaves. ‘I told you, we talked. There’s nothing else to remember.’

  He raised both eyebrows, struck by the sudden, powerful conviction that she was lying. The look of panic in her eyes was as good an admission of guilt as if she’d said it aloud. Which meant... He was struck dumb for a moment, struggling to adapt to the unlikely realisation that his dreams hadn’t been dreams after all.

  ‘It’s late.’ She brought her voice back under control, though her expression remained guarded, as if she were afraid of what he might be thinking.

  He didn’t answer, his memory flooding with remembered sensations. The smooth plumpness of her lips, the exhilarating feeling of her body moulded against his, everything he’d thought he’d imagined made real. He could hardly believe it. He’d known that she’d lured him into the castle under false pretences, but he’d never expected her to go so far as to actually kiss him, let alone to throw herself into his arms with such wild abandon. Had it all been a pretence? Her first kisses perhaps, though the way her body had responded when he’d pulled her against him had certainly felt real. Either that or she was the best actress he’d ever seen. Judging by the heat burning her cheeks now, she definitely wasn’t that.

  ‘Lothar?’

  He looked past her before he could stop himself, into her chamber and the bed he’d slept in the previous night—heard her breathing hitch in response. His own breathing sounded uneven, too, as if the air between them had suddenly become thicker and heavier, picking up every stray sound and movement. He felt as if all his senses were on the alert, as if he were aware of every hair on her head, every small tremor in her hands as she clutched them together in front of her. Most of all, he was aware of the fact that she wasn’t moving away. He didn’t think he’d ever been so aroused in his life, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and see how she’d respond to his kisses a second time. They were alone in a tower with no one to disturb them, no one to even know they were alone together. The only people sober enough to have noticed him enter the stairwell were his guards and they knew better than to say anything. If he drew her into his arms again now, who was there to object?

  He forced the temptation away. No matter how powerful the attraction he felt for her, she was an innocent. He definitely hadn’t been mistaken about that. A woman on her own without a father or guardian to protect her. If he kissed her, then he’d be taking advantage of that vulnerability. Never mind the fact that he was leaving in the morning. If he kissed her now, it would only make his departure more difficult and it was becoming hard enough already. Whatever strange power she seemed to hold over him, he had a feeling that touching her would only strengthen, not break, it.

  Besides, even if she wasn’t moving away, the look on her face spoke volumes. No matter what had happened between them, she clearly didn’t want him to remember any of it. Was she ashamed? Embarrassed? Whatever the reason, if she didn’t want him to remember then she obviously didn’t want it to happen again.

  He closed the door to her father’s chamber and made a formal courtier’s bow, heading for the stairwell before he could do anything he might regret.

  ‘Goodnight, Lady Juliana.’ Somehow he forced his feet to keep moving. ‘Sleep well.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘It’s a fine day, my lady.’

  Juliana stood on top of the keep steps and stared down at Ulf in surprise. Was he ill? He didn’t look ill. On the contrary, he looked better than he had for months, his wrinkled face and white hair illuminated by the reddish-gol
d autumn sunshine. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was actually smiling. She blinked, trying to remember the last time she’d seen her Constable look anything other than dour. The sun might be shining for once, but what was there in their present situation that he could possibly find to smile about?

  ‘Ulf?’ She descended the steps cautiously. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Better than that. See for yourself.’

  She looked up, though it took her a few moments to fully appreciate the sight of Sir Guian’s men lugging sacks and barrels from one end of the bailey to the other. If the sound of groaning, not to mention the greenish tinge on most of their faces, was anything to go by, they weren’t accustomed to such hard work.

  ‘What are they doing?’

  ‘Sergeant Lothar ordered them to move the supplies to a different storeroom. He made them muck out the stables first.’

  ‘Did the supplies need moving?’

  Ulf’s smile spread into a grin. ‘No one dared ask.’

  ‘Oh.’

  She bit her lip, not quite knowing how to react. On the one hand, the sight of the men who’d sat around taunting them for months being forced to do manual labour was more than a little amusing. On the other, since they were the same men who’d be staying once Lothar and his soldiers left, humiliating them probably wasn’t the best idea. Bad enough that she was going to be stuck with Sir Guian. She didn’t want him feeling vengeful as well...

  ‘Where are our men?’

  ‘Behind the smithy. Sergeant Lothar sent them to do weapons’ training with his soldiers. He said they needed to get back into shape.’

  ‘Did he?’

  She glowered at the insult. Not that it was an insult really. He was right. After months of being trapped inside the bailey, her men did need to get back into shape, however much it rankled that someone else was giving them orders now.

  ‘What about you?’ She glanced towards Ulf resentfully. Judging by his newly cheerful disposition, he appeared to have no problem with the change in command.

  ‘He told me to stay and look after you.’

  ‘I’m not a child!’

  ‘He said you might say that, my lady, and that I should send you back to bed if you argued.’ Ulf held his hands up quickly. ‘Not that I would.’

  ‘And where is he?’

  ‘He went out for a ride an hour ago.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘I don’t know. He’s not the kind of man who shares all his thoughts.’ Ulf glanced at Sir Guian’s soldiers again and chortled. ‘Not that he doesn’t make them obvious sometimes.’

  Juliana made a harrumphing sound. She only wished that Lothar had been clearer about what he’d been thinking last night. What had he been doing upstairs? After he’d said that the best thing for her was to run off to Stephen and get married, she’d thought there was nothing left for them to say to each other. He couldn’t have made it any clearer that he’d no personal interest in her—not that she wanted him to—so what had he been doing in her father’s chamber afterwards? Had he been looking for her or something else? If it was her, then why? And if it was something, or someone else, then what had made him suspicious? She didn’t know which idea worried her more.

  The feeling of panic had increased tenfold the moment he’d mentioned wanting to jolt his memory. The idea that he might remember their kiss had been alarming enough. The way his gaze had altered, as if he just had been remembering it, had been even worse. Not that he’d said or done anything, and if he’d remembered then surely he would have...wouldn’t he?

  Even so, she’d been aware of something, some undercurrent of tension between them. For a heart-stopping moment, she’d even thought he’d been going to kiss her again. His eyes had lingered on her lips as if he’d wanted to. Standing face-to-face in the near-darkness, she’d felt her own treacherous body start to betray her again, too, as if the air of danger that had frightened her so much about him at first had actually started drawing her towards him now. If he hadn’t left when he had, she might have made an even bigger fool of herself than she had before—and this time, there wouldn’t have been any poppy-laced drink to make him forget.

  ‘Did you get any rest, my lady?’

  ‘Mmm?’ Ulf’s question brought her back to the present with a jolt. ‘Oh, yes, I dozed a little.’

  ‘In the taproom?’

  She glanced around surreptitiously, checking to make sure no one else was in earshot before answering.

  ‘I stayed there most of the night, but I was afraid of being summoned this morning so I went back upstairs as soon as I heard noises in the hall. Just in time, too.’

  She could still hardly believe the narrowness of that escape. She’d got back to her chamber only minutes before two of Lothar’s soldiers had arrived carrying a large bath tub, then proceeded to fill it to the brim with steaming water. Once she’d got over her relief at such a close call, it had felt wonderful. She’d stepped out of her clothes and into the tub with a feeling of intense, heartfelt relief. She’d been wearing her old brown tunic for two days straight and it hadn’t been particularly flattering before that. Practical was probably the best word to describe it, not that there had been any point dressing up for a siege. No wonder Lothar had treated her more like a girl than a chatelaine. She hadn’t exactly looked the part. Whereas now... She’d soaked herself for as long as she’d dared, then pulled on one of her best gowns, a respectable velvet bliaut in the same shade of muted green as most of her clothes, determined to prove that she could at least look like a chatelaine, as well as a lady, even if the once snug material now swamped her gaunt frame like a sack. She’d had to bunch the material over the top of her girdle just to stop it from trailing on the floor, though overall she’d been reasonably pleased with her appearance.

  One glance at her reflection in the polished metal bowl she used as a mirror had put paid to that. Her only hope was that the change of gown would distract from the huge black rings around her eyes. They looked bad enough in her dimly lit room. In broad daylight, they’d only provoke more suspicion than ever.

  ‘We can’t use the taproom for long.’ She pushed her apprehensions aside. ‘It’s too cold.’

  ‘You don’t think we could tell Sergeant Lothar the truth?’

  ‘What?’ She gawked at Ulf in surprise. ‘I thought you didn’t like him?’

  ‘It’s not a question of liking, but he seems fair-minded.’

  ‘When he doesn’t look like he wants to wring someone’s neck, you mean?’

  Ulf gave her a strange look. ‘That was for you, my lady. If he hadn’t, then I would have.’

  She looked away quickly, refusing to acknowledge that particular debt amongst all the others. But Ulf was right in one way. Ironically, Lothar’s honourable behaviour in preventing any looting had kept her secret safer than she could ever have hoped. No one beside him had ventured any further than the hall of the keep. Still, even if he was as fair-minded as Ulf seemed to think, she couldn’t risk telling him anything. He was still one of the Empress’s men, practically her right-hand man if everything he’d said last night was true. If she told him her secret, then he’d tell Matilda and they’d all have to suffer the consequences. He was clearly in love with Matilda after all. What had he said, that his only home was with her? The words shouldn’t have affected her, but they had, causing an unwonted stab of jealousy. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Somehow it hadn’t bothered her quite so much when her father had said it...

  ‘There’s no need to tell him anything.’ She lifted her chin stubbornly. ‘He’s leaving today so we won’t have to use the taproom much longer. We’ll use Father’s chamber again. Sir Guian won’t notice what’s under his nose if I make up an excuse.’

  ‘As you wish, my lady.’

  Her chin dropped slightly. ‘You don’t approve?’

&n
bsp; ‘It’s not my place to say so, my lady.’

  She bit her lip anxiously. She wasn’t afraid of Ulf betraying her, but she would have appreciated his—or anyone’s—support. Not that she needed it, she reminded herself. She was the chatelaine, or at least she had been. She could make her own decisions without any man’s advice or support—and she could start by confronting the Baron herself.

  ‘Where’s Sir Guian?’ Her gaze searched the bailey. ‘Has he gone for a ride, too?’

  Ulf didn’t answer and she looked up in surprise. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said he looked secretive, though he’d never kept secrets from her before.

  ‘Constable?’

  ‘I believe he’s feeling unwell, my lady.’

  ‘I didn’t see him in the hall.’

  ‘That’s because he’s in the gatehouse. Sergeant Lothar summoned him there just after dawn.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I don’t know, my lady. He still hasn’t come out.’

  Her mouth fell open. ‘Is he hurt?’

  Ulf shrugged as if the answer didn’t particularly bother him. ‘I didn’t hear any sounds of violence.’

  ‘Has anyone gone in to him since?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. I’m not sure the Sergeant would approve.’

  Approve? She picked up her skirts and strode determinedly across the bailey. Approval be damned, what had Lothar done? Even if he was trying to protect her, he had absolutely no right to take matters into his own hands! Hadn’t she told him she could take care of herself? Hadn’t she demanded that he didn’t use violence? And if Ulf said the word Sergeant one more time she would scream!

  She was within arm’s reach of the gatehouse door when a grey stallion burst through the archway suddenly, rearing up on its hind legs as the rider drew rein in front of her.

  ‘Lady Juliana.’ Lothar’s eyes flickered briefly over her loose-fitting gown before settling on her face with a faintly baffled expression. ‘You seem to look more exhausted every time I see you.’