‘Sergeant.’ She folded her arms belligerently. There was no explanation she could give him for that—besides the fact that her appearance was none of his business, especially when she’d put on her best gown and all he could do was find fault!
‘Where have you been?’
‘Out.’ He swung down from his saddle, landing at her feet with a thud. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘My habits are none of your concern.’
‘But you want me to tell you where I’ve been?’
She glared at him. ‘What have you done to Sir Guian?’
‘Nothing permanent.’
‘Have you hurt him?’
‘Do you care?’
‘Yes! Especially if you make him angry and then leave us to bear the brunt! I told you I can take care of myself.’
‘So you did, but in this case there’ll be no brunt. I didn’t lay as much as a finger on him. We talked, just like I promised. He even gave me a present for you.’
‘What is it?’ She narrowed her eyes as he reached into his gambeson and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment.
‘A letter of safe conduct for when you finally decide to leave.’
‘Oh.’ She reached up slowly, wrapping her fingers around one end of the parchment while he still held on to the other, so that for a moment it seemed as if they were holding hands. The very idea was enough to make the breath catch in her throat. ‘That was thoughtful.’
‘He also intends to give you and your men enough supplies for the journey.’
‘He does?’
‘He was feeling generous.’
‘But...’ her gaze drifted towards the gatehouse door ‘...does he need any help?’
‘Why would he?’
‘Ulf thought that he might be feeling unwell.’
He dropped his hand from the parchment abruptly. ‘Still so mistrustful? I just told you that I didn’t touch him.’
‘Then why hasn’t he come out?’
‘Perhaps he’s still recovering from last night. He wasn’t best pleased at being woken up at dawn. Or perhaps he’s just taking some time to consider what we talked about.’
She gasped as the truth dawned on her. ‘You threatened him?’
He shrugged. ‘I made him aware of the repercussions of not listening to me, if that’s what you mean. I wouldn’t call it a threat as much as a warning. He knows I’m a man of my word.’
She felt a quivering sensation in her stomach, something between fear and excitement. She didn’t approve of his methods, but she had no doubt that they would be effective. And if he was telling the truth then there was no need for her to go inside and deal with Sir Guian. That was a relief, even if it did leave her alone with Lothar again. She could feel him watching her, waiting to see what she would decide, as if her decision might actually matter to him, though it was difficult to concentrate under the force of that piercing grey stare.
‘All right.’ She took a step back into the bailey.
‘I appreciate your trust, my lady.’
She narrowed her eyes at the sarcasm. ‘I thought you were leaving.’
‘So eager to be rid of me?’
‘I want things to be settled, that’s all. It’s got nothing to do with you.’
She walked ahead of him, biting her lip on the lie. That wasn’t true at all. He had everything to do with the way she was feeling, as if her head and heart were in conflict. The sooner he was gone, the safer her secret would be, yet the thought of him leaving caused a pang in her chest that she’d never experienced before. Perhaps Ulf was right and she ought to tell him her secret. He did seem fair-minded. Procuring a letter of safe passage for her had been thoughtful, too, and he’d already proven that he had no problem with serving a woman, in which case he ought to treat her as an independent woman as well. Could she tell him her secret and trust him to hold only her accountable and not her men? Could she trust him to persuade Matilda of that, too? If he was leaving, then this might be her last chance...
‘You have a fine estate.’
She blinked, startled out of her train of thought. ‘Yes, though it’s not what it was. The crops on this side of the river are ruined. We had to plant them late after Stephen left, then we couldn’t bring in the harvest once Sir Guian’s men arrived. We’re just lucky to have the other side of the river as well.’
‘I’m glad of it.’
‘So am I, though I know others haven’t been so fortunate.’ She threw him a sideways look. ‘I don’t suppose either Stephen or Matilda are starving, no matter how much everyone else suffers.’
‘The Empress would relieve the suffering if she could.’
‘She could surrender.’
‘So could Stephen.’
She pursed her lips with a vague sense of disappointment. If she’d hoped that he might say something disloyal about Matilda, then clearly she was wasting her time.
‘I hope your horse isn’t too tired.’ She changed the subject instead as one of his soldiers took charge of the reins. ‘I would have thought you had a long enough journey ahead without a morning ride, too.’
‘It wasn’t far. I just wanted a look around.’
‘For anything in particular?’
‘Just Stephen and his army.’ He said the words so nonchalantly that it took a moment for them to sink in.
‘What?’ She almost skidded to a halt.
‘I heard a rumour that Stephen was coming into Herefordshire again. I wanted to take a look.’
‘What rumour?’ Her mouth felt dry all of a sudden. ‘What made you think that?’
He gave her an eloquent look. ‘You did, my lady. Yesterday when I asked what difference a week would make to the siege and you said that it was all you needed. I assumed you were expecting reinforcements.’
She cringed, inwardly berating herself for her own stupidity. She’d muttered something to that effect under her breath, but she’d never imagined he might have noticed. How could she have been so thoughtless? He’d remembered what she’d forgotten herself. In all the upheaval of the past day she hadn’t even thought about Stephen!
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She tried to feign innocence.
‘In that case I admire your loyalty, but the castle still needs to be ready just in case.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the smithy. ‘I thought your men might need some weapons’ practice. You never know when they might be called on to fight.’
‘For Sir Guian?’
‘I’m afraid so. I told you last night, if they want to stay here then it’s their only choice. Perhaps you’ll allow me to show you whilst my horse is resting?’
His gaze locked on to hers, his eyes seeming a whole different shade suddenly, their granite depths shimmering like crystalline violet in the sunlight. No, she warned herself, she ought to say no. It wasn’t just a bad idea, it was a dangerous one. Reckless. Imprudent. Completely irresponsible. No matter how thoughtful he’d been, they were still on different sides in a war. He was her enemy, sort of. Then he extended an arm and, for a moment, she forgot to breathe.
Chapter Thirteen
Juliana stared at Lothar’s elbow, taken aback by such an incongruous gesture. He seemed too big, too austere, too much the soldier to behave in such a courtly fashion. Especially considering the first time they’d met. There hadn’t been anything gallant about that! She wasn’t accustomed to acting the lady either—couldn’t even remember the last time a man had offered her his arm—and yet somehow she couldn’t resist the temptation.
‘Very well.’
She placed a hand on his bicep, twisting her face away as a thrill of excitement raced through her body, building in strength as it went. She had to place her spare hand on her stomach to try to calm it.
‘This way, L
ady Juliana.’
They crossed the bailey in silence, following the same path they’d walked the day before, though she could hardly believe it had only been that long. She felt as if she’d known him for longer. So much between them had changed. When they’d first entered the castle she’d been afraid of what he might do to her, but all of her fears had turned out to be completely unfounded. Now she was scared in a whole different way, of herself as much as of him. She didn’t understand why she responded to him so acutely, but she couldn’t seem to help it either. Not that it meant anything on his part, she was certain. She was deluding herself to think that a man like him would ever look twice at a woman like her. Even if it seemed as though he already had.
‘There they are.’
She jumped as they rounded the corner of the smithy, so deep in thought that the sound of his voice, not to mention its close proximity to her ear, actually startled her. She turned to find his face leaning in towards hers, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath against her cheek.
He gestured ahead and she looked, excitement turning to horror as she saw a group of his black-clad soldiers bearing down on her thin, emaciated-looking ones. No! She took half a step forward, seized with a rush of panic. Her men were weak and tired, no match for his warriors. They weren’t evenly matched!
She opened her mouth to protest and then closed it again, her panic gradually ebbing away as she started to make sense of the scene before her. There was no antagonism or aggression about it. On the contrary, there was an air of camaraderie, as if the soldiers were sharing advice rather than blows. A stranger would never have guessed that they’d been facing each other as enemies just two days before.
‘Sparring, not fighting.’ Lothar’s tone was reassuring.
‘Yes.’ She let out a sigh. ‘That’s a relief. It would hardly have been fair.’
‘No, but your men are well trained. I’m sure they’d make worthy adversaries.’
‘I wasn’t talking about them. Though yours aren’t bad either.’
‘Not bad? They’re some of the finest soldiers in the Empress’s army.’
‘As I said, not bad.’ She bit her lip, struggling to keep a straight face. ‘But you know my father raised me to have high standards.’
‘So it seems.’ The coals behind his eyes seemed to spark with amusement briefly. ‘He was a fine soldier. One of the best tacticians I ever met.’
‘A good teacher, too. He was always patient with me.’
The muscles in his arm seemed to flex slightly beneath her fingertips. ‘He taught you to fight?’
‘Of course. He believed that a woman ought to be able to defend herself.’
‘Did he think that you’d need to?’
‘I don’t know, but I suppose he thought that I should be prepared just in case. He taught me to use a sword and a bow like the rest of his men.’
‘I thought ladies were taught poetry and sewing.’
‘Most are, but there was no one here to teach me. My mother died from the sweating fever when I was three.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The muscles in his arm twitched again. ‘I lost my own mother when I was a child. I know how painful the loss is.’
‘To be honest, I don’t remember much about her. I wish I did, but at least I had my father.’
He made a strange sound, something between a grunt and a protest, the muscles in his arm flexing so violently this time that she thought he was about to pull away.
‘Do you remember your mother?’ She asked the question warily.
‘I remember everything about her.’ His voice sounded different suddenly, rougher and more guttural, as if he were struggling to speak at all. ‘She was the whole world to me.’
‘Oh.’ She squeezed his arm, touched by the note of anguish in his voice. His face looked less like something carved out of granite now, more like flesh and blood. Like that of a man in pain. ‘Was it a sickness as well?’
‘No.’
‘An accident?’
‘No!’
She leapt backwards instinctively, recoiling from the anger in his voice.
‘Forgive me.’ He rubbed a hand over his face, as if he were forcing the emotion back down again. ‘I don’t like to think of it. What happened to my mother... They called it an accident, but it wasn’t.’
‘Oh.’ She bit her tongue, fighting the urge to ask what it was.
‘But I know what it’s like to grow up without one.’ He lowered his hand and his face was like granite again. ‘Weren’t there any other ladies in your father’s household?’
‘No.’ She shook her head, relieved that the moment of crisis seemed to have passed. ‘One of my aunts came to live with us for a while, the one my father had originally been supposed to marry, but she hated it here. She said that we were in the middle of nowhere and I was too unruly.’
‘You?’
She couldn’t repress a smile. ‘Actually, I think he might have asked her to leave. After that it was just father and me so I learned what he taught me. Do you want to see?’
His expression clouded over again. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Why not? Haven’t you ever seen a woman wield a sword before?’ She pulled her arm away from his, scooping a leather gambeson off the floor. ‘Or are you afraid that I’m better than you?’
‘Lady Juliana...’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’d prefer if you didn’t.’
There was a note of warning in his voice, but she felt too exhilarated to pay any heed. At least this was one way to prove that she was an independent woman—fit to be chatelaine, even if she wasn’t any more. For some reason, his opinion on that score seemed to matter to her.
She borrowed a weapon from one of her soldiers and issued a challenge to one of his, tapping her foot impatiently until, after a moment’s hesitation, the man lifted his own sword in response. Then she didn’t hesitate, springing forward at once, catching the man by surprise as she thrust her sword up towards his shoulder. He dodged backwards, veering to one side, but she was faster, anticipating the move and swinging her blade around in an arc to catch him on the other arm before flicking it up towards his face, stopping barely an inch from his cheek.
‘I yield.’
The soldier looked impressed and she grinned triumphantly, twirling around on the spot to face Lothar.
‘You next?’ She pointed her sword at his heart.
‘Put. It. Down.’
She tensed, her hand wavering in mid-air, though she refused to lower anything. Lothar’s expression was almost as animated as it had been when he’d confronted Sir Guian, though this time he didn’t look so much angry as pained. Why? Surely he wasn’t upset with her just for fighting when he’d asked her not to? Why couldn’t she fight if she wanted to? How dare he give her an order!
‘Afraid I might beat you?’ She tightened her grip on the sword hilt.
‘No.’
‘Then why won’t you fight me? Because I’m a woman? Aren’t I worthy?’
‘Worth has nothing to do with it. I don’t fight women.’
‘But you’ll fight for one?’
‘There’s a difference.’
She took a step closer, pushing the tip of her sword against his chest, though he didn’t so much as blink. She felt a wave of resentment, building to fury. If she were a man, he might have accepted her as an equal and acknowledged the challenge. As a woman, he deemed her of so little importance that he could simply refuse to fight her without any dent to his honour. Was he determined to humiliate her in front of her men, to show them how little authority she now had? Or was he just trying to make her feel as powerless as possible? Worst of all was the fact that, short of impaling him on her sword, there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
She dropped her weapon at last, pass
ing it back to its owner with as much dignity as she could muster. The intractable expression on Lothar’s face was the final straw. She’d hoped that he might be impressed by her sword skills, but he was just as disapproving as every other man she’d ever met outside Haword. Somehow, she’d thought that he might be different—she’d wanted him to be different—but clearly he thought her father had been wrong in the way he’d raised her, too. That was why he’d mentioned sewing and poetry. Those were the skills he thought she ought to be practising, the ones Matilda had probably mastered! That was the kind of woman he’d be attracted to, the kind he was prepared to serve, not an unnatural woman like her.
‘Go back to your Empress, then.’ She jutted her chin out, refusing to show how much the realisation hurt. ‘Go back and serve a real lady. You’ve wasted enough time here.’
‘Lady Juliana...’
‘Goodbye!’
She didn’t wait to hear what he was going to say, swallowing her tears as she fled across the bailey. This was the second time he’d humiliated her in front of her men, but she wasn’t going to cry, no matter how great the indignity. She wouldn’t give any man that satisfaction. Bad enough that he’d taken her castle and her position, but now he was trying to take away the only skill she had any pride in! If he didn’t leave soon, she’d have nothing left, nothing except her secret—and she’d be damned if she was going to give him that, too! After what had just happened she’d rather take her chances with Sir Guian. With any luck, she’d never see Lothar the Frank ever again!
Chapter Fourteen
Lothar watched her go with a pang of regret. He wasn’t accustomed to the feeling. Most of the time he didn’t care what people thought of him. He was answerable to the Empress. No one else’s opinion mattered. Yet the fact that Lady Juliana had misunderstood him, that she’d interpreted his refusal to fight as an insult, bothered him in a way that made him want to run after her. Almost. He set his mouth in a stern line. But what would he say if he did? If he explained his reaction, then it would only lead to further questions and he had no desire to answer any of those. No, it was better to leave it this way. He’d done what he’d come to do—ended the stalemate, restocked the castle, made sure the fortifications were in good enough condition to withstand another siege, and advised Lady Juliana to go to Stephen. He’d even dealt with Sir Guian, terrifying him even more thoroughly than if he’d used actual violence, using his peasant upbringing as a blacksmith’s son to describe what could be done with a few tools and a branding iron. That was all he could do, all he could be expected to do, and the sooner he put some distance between himself and Lady Juliana, the better. In all likelihood, he’d never see her again, so what did it matter how he left things between them? He had neither the time nor the ability to soothe hurt feelings. Far better to stop thinking about it and go before he could change his mind.
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