‘We’re leaving.’
He summoned his men, surprised to see disapproval on the faces of both sets of soldiers. Apparently they thought he’d been overly harsh, too.
‘Now!’
He stood to one side whilst they packed up their weapons, trying and failing not to think about her. He oughtn’t to think about her and definitely not in the way that he wanted to. Even if he did like her, she wasn’t the kind of woman he could ever aspire to. Unladylike as she was, she was still a lady, part of the nobility, whilst he was a peasant by birth. He’d no right to think of her other than as someone to serve. Not that she’d think of him in any other way either. The more he thought about their kiss, the more he decided it must have been a pretence. In all likelihood, he’d simply mistaken his own ardour for hers. It wasn’t as if she’d ever looked pleased to see him since, and now...well, judging by the look on her face as she’d stormed away, she never wanted to see him again.
He felt a constricting sensation in his chest. It didn’t matter how much he was attracted to her. Nor that her sword skills were equal to most of his men. Her eagerness to show them off had been strangely endearing, though the very idea of it, coming so close to what he’d told her about his mother, had made him sick to his stomach. Her sparring with his soldier had been bad enough, but when she’d challenged him to fight, a grey pallor had seemed to descend over the scene, as if winter clouds had suddenly obscured the autumn sunshine. It was the same icy feeling of horror that always accompanied any thoughts of violence against women. Fighting her was the one thing he would never do—never raise a finger, let alone a sword, to any woman, never behave in the way that his father had done.
He pushed the memory aside as he led the way to the stables, surprised to find Ulf already waiting with his stallion.
‘Lady Juliana said you were leaving, sir.’
‘Did she?’ He scowled. Apparently she really was keen to be rid of him. ‘Where is she?’
‘Back in the keep.’
He took hold of the animal’s reins, trying to ignore the feeling of mounting pressure in his chest, as if there were actually a band tightening around it. Perhaps he’d ridden too much that morning after all...
‘In that case, tell her I said goodbye.’
‘I will, sir.’
He put a foot in the stirrup and then paused, arrested by a gleam of something in the other man’s eye. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing, sir.’ The gleam vanished at once.
He looked around. His men were busy fastening packs to their saddles. Some were already mounted. He ought to mount, too, ought to get on his horse and ride away. He rarely deviated from his purpose, but this time he felt as if his body were actually holding him back. Every time he tried to climb up on to the stallion the pressure in his chest only seemed to get worse. This was ridiculous. Why was he finding it so hard to leave?
‘Damn it.’ He rested his forehead against the saddle for a moment before dropping the reins with an oath. ‘Wait here, all of you.’
‘Sir?’
He heard Ulf call after him, but he kept going, taking the keep steps three at a time. He didn’t want it to end like this. At the very least, he wanted her to know that he hadn’t meant to insult her. More than that—worse than that—he couldn’t leave without seeing her one last time.
He stalked back through the hall and across to the stairwell, already mounting the steps to her chamber when he heard a noise coming from the opposite direction, from the stairs leading down to the cellars. It sounded like moaning again, the same as he’d heard the day before. He turned around instantly, going back to the hall for a candle, before heading down into the darkness. The stairs looped around twice before he found himself in the cellars, but the space was barren and empty, the castle provisions long since exhausted. Slowly he made his way around the cavernous chamber, but there was nothing suspicious—though nothing that might explain the noise either.
Perplexed, he started back up the stairs, one hand trailing along the wall, so that when it fell away suddenly, he almost tripped in surprise. Looking closer, he found a small archway hidden in one of the embrasures. He must have missed it on the way down, taking it for just another wall sconce, but peering through the darkness he could see that it was actually the entrance into another empty storeroom, nothing of any interest... He was just turning away when he heard the moaning sound again, accompanied by the faint murmur of a woman’s voice—Juliana’s voice, in a soft tone he’d never heard before, as if she were soothing someone...
He took a step inside and looked around, belatedly noticing another small door in the side wall. Cautiously, he moved towards it, ducking his head under the archway before stopping abruptly, rooted to the spot by the sight before him.
There, lying on a straw mattress on the floor, illuminated by the light of a single candle, was the unmistakable figure of William Danville, ashen-faced but still very much alive. And bending over him, holding a cup to his lips and murmuring softly, was his daughter.
He must have made a sound, though he wasn’t aware of doing so, because she looked up suddenly, letting out a small shriek at the sight of him.
‘What are you doing here?’
What was he doing there? If it hadn’t been for his friend’s wasted, almost skeletal appearance he might have laughed at her indignant tone—as if he had no right to be there, as if she had every right to keep her father hidden away like a prisoner, as if she had any right to be indignant at all! He didn’t know if he felt more stunned, outraged or horrified. All three emotions were clamouring so loudly in his head that he could hardly think straight. He’d suspected her of hiding something, but never in his wildest imaginings had he conceived of anything like this!
‘It’s not what you think!’ Her voice held a distinct quaver of panic.
‘Really?’ He took a step towards her, the red mist descending like a veil over his eyes. ‘Then tell me what I should think, my lady, and then tell me what the hell is going on!’
* * *
Juliana leapt to her feet with a mounting sense of alarm. What was Lothar doing there? How had he found her? Hadn’t she told him to leave? He had been leaving! She’d heard the trample of hooves in the bailey just a few moments before. So what was he doing there now, looking at her as if she were some kind of monster? She’d just finished giving her father a sleeping draught, much as she hated to do it, but from the look on Lothar’s face it might as well have been poison.
‘It’s not what you think.’ She repeated the words helplessly.
‘I think it’s your father. Or are you going to tell me it’s one of your men having nightmares again?’
She flinched, desperately trying to come up with a way to explain. How could she say that it was and wasn’t her father? He’d think she was mad.
‘So this is the bargain you made with Stephen?’ He looked her up and down furiously. ‘It’s one thing to want to be chatelaine, my lady, quite another to hold your own father prisoner!’
‘He’s not a prisoner!’ She felt appalled by the accusation.
‘No? According to you, an hour ago he wasn’t even alive!’
‘I never said that! It was Stephen’s men who spread the rumour.’
‘You never corrected it.’
‘I couldn’t. I made a promise.’
‘To let everyone believe your father was dead?’
‘Yes!’
She took a deep breath to calm herself down. Losing her temper wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She couldn’t exactly blame him for thinking the worst, but she had to find a way to make him understand, to make him see that the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared, even if he seemed too angry to listen.
‘I can explain.’
‘Can you? Or will you just lie to me again?’ His eyes contracted to slits. ‘What wer
e you giving him just now?’
‘It’s a sleeping draught. It helps with the pain.’
Dark brows bunched together. ‘Was he injured in battle?’
‘No. I mean, yes, but that healed weeks ago. It’s not for that.’
‘Then what are you doing to him?’
‘Taking care of him!’
She shouted back at him this time, heedless of whoever might hear her now. How dare he ask her such a question, as if she’d do anything to hurt her own father, as if it didn’t break her heart to nurse him every day and be powerless to do anything that might actually help!
‘Then you have a strange definition of care, my lady.’
He looked around at the bleak stone walls and her heart sank. No wonder he thought it was a prison. Short of some chains, it could hardly have looked any more like one.
‘Just let me explain.’
‘Save it for the Empress.’
His expression was grim and she felt an ice-cold tremor of fear, the same as she’d felt the first time she’d seen him. She’d got to know him since, had almost been tempted to tell him the truth about her father, but now it was too late. He was the same granite warrior she’d first glimpsed from the battlements, unyielding, unwavering and dangerous, and yet, strangely enough, she wasn’t frightened of him. As furious as he looked, somehow she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. That was one consolation. As for turning her over to the Empress however...
‘What do you mean?’ she hardly dared ask.
‘Your father was one of her most loyal supporters. She’ll want to deal with you herself.’
‘But I can’t go to Devizes! Surely you wouldn’t...’ Her protest faded away as two of his soldiers appeared in the doorway.
‘Take her to her chamber and lock her in.’ Lothar turned his back as if he couldn’t bear to look at her any longer, the ire in his voice sending shivers down her spine.
‘Wait!’ She dodged away from the soldiers and grabbed at his arm, ready to beg if necessary. She’d take whatever punishment he thought fit, just as long as he didn’t separate her from her father—not now, not yet! She’d do anything to prevent that, though judging by the intractable look on his face anything might not be enough. ‘He needs me.’
‘He needs a proper bed in a warm room, not this!’
‘This was only going to be for one night, I swear it. You heard him moaning in his chamber yesterday morning, didn’t you? You know he was up there then. He isn’t a prisoner.’
The tension around his eyes seemed to ease slightly. ‘Then why did you bring him down here?’
‘Because I thought it was the safest place. I didn’t know what would happen when I surrendered.’
‘I promised you that no one would get hurt.’
‘I had to be certain.’
‘And after I stopped Sir Guian’s soldiers from ransacking the castle, why didn’t you take him back to his chamber then?’
‘Because you said you were leaving...’ she grimaced, realising how bad it sounded ‘...and I thought that maybe I could still keep him secret. I don’t know if Sir Guian ever met my father, but I doubted he’d look at a sick man too closely. Once you left, I was going to take him back to his chamber and say he was one of my soldiers.’
‘But you knew that I’d recognise him?’
‘Yes.’
An expression of something like hurt swept over his features. ‘So you were just waiting for me to leave?’
A feeling of guilt assailed her, as if she’d actually taken advantage of his honourable behaviour. ‘Yes.’
‘So you wanted Sir Guian to stay instead of me?’ His mouth twisted bitterly. ‘And I thought I was protecting you.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘I didn’t want Sir Guian, but I wanted to keep my promise to Stephen, as far as I could anyway. I gave him my oath.’
‘As I gave mine to the Empress.’ He shook her hand away from his arm brusquely. ‘I don’t know what this is, but I’ve heard enough. Take her away.’
‘No!’ She tried to back away from his men, but there was nowhere to go. ‘You can’t do this. I know how to look after him. I know what to do!’
‘You’ve done enough.’
‘No!’ She kept on resisting, wrestling furiously with his soldiers as they half-led, half-carried her towards the door. ‘Please!’
She stopped struggling when they reached the stairwell, refusing to suffer the indignity of being carried upstairs. It was no use. Lothar wasn’t going to listen, no matter how much she begged or pleaded with him, and by the look of things he wasn’t going to forgive her either. She marched furiously up to her room, spinning around at the last moment to confront her captors, only to see the door close in her face instead. She gulped as the key turned in the lock. She’d exchanged places with Lothar completely now. He had her home and her father, and now somehow she’d become his prisoner, too. Her secret had been discovered in the worst possible way and she’d already been judged and condemned.
She sank down on to her bed, overwhelmed by a sense of her own helplessness. Her one consolation was that her father would soon be back in his old chamber, too, back in his own bed, but everything else about the situation was too upsetting to think about. What if he woke up surrounded by strangers? What if he woke up in pain? Ulf was the only other person who knew what to do—would Lothar let him?
She lay down on the mattress and closed her eyes. If Lothar was just going to ignore her, then there was nothing she could do for the moment except worry and she was too tired even for that. She hadn’t slept for so long that she felt as if there were actual weights pressing down on her eyelids. Now that her secret was out, there was no need for her to think or to plan or to hide any more. That was almost a relief. She’d done her best to honour her promise to Stephen, but it was over. In the meantime her father was safe and not in pain. That was all that mattered now. As for the rest, she’d think about it later. It was all out of her hands finally...
On that thought, she fell asleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Lothar folded his arms, looking down at the emaciated, corpse-like shadow of his friend. William was sleeping deeply, too deeply for his liking. He hadn’t even stirred when they’d carried him up two flights of winding stairs, probably due to whatever potion his daughter had given him. A sleeping draught she’d called it, though he had his own experience to know how powerful those could be.
He shook his head, still struggling to get over the shock he’d felt when he’d first walked into the taproom. If he’d found Stephen himself, he couldn’t have felt any more surprised. He’d sent Lady Juliana away because he’d been too overwhelmed to take anything else in, certainly too angry to think straight and listen, though worse than that had been the feelings of betrayal and disappointment, as if she hadn’t been the woman he’d thought she was.
Somehow he’d managed to restrain his temper. He would never have hurt her, but there had been men enough in the bailey that he could have vented his anger on. Still he hadn’t done it, remembering what she’d said about not wanting violence, and, ironically, he hadn’t wanted to let her down. No matter how much of a liar and deceiver she was, somehow her influence still had the power to calm him, even when she was the one making him angry.
Now that he’d had some time to think, however, the other things she’d said tugged at the edge of his consciousness. She’d said that her father was in pain, though not from an injury, which suggested an illness of some kind. That made sense. William was too thin, like everyone else in the castle, but he seemed to have aged twenty years since they’d last met as well. There was something unnatural about his appearance, too, his blue veins standing out against pale skin that looked almost translucent, as if he were wasting away to bone.
‘Sergeant?’
; He turned to find one of his men standing in the doorway.
‘Have you brought him?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Send him in and then leave us.’
He set his feet further apart, bracing himself for another confrontation as Ulf stumbled unceremoniously into the chamber.
‘Where’s Lady Juliana?’ The Constable’s truculent expression was back with a vengeance.
‘That’s none of your concern. Did you know about this?’
He gestured at William, expecting some kind of denial, though Ulf answered at once.
‘Yes.’
‘What about your men?’
‘Yes.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘All of them?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then how the hell could you go along with it?’ His temper exploded at last. ‘This is your master, the man you ought to serve, not hold captive! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t execute the lot of you for disloyalty.’
‘Do whatever you want.’
‘Your lady, too?’
‘No!’
‘And why shouldn’t I?’ He took a threatening step closer. ‘Bad enough that she sided with her father’s enemy, but then to keep him hidden away like a dog! I ought to leave and let Sir Guian deal with the lot of you.’
‘Wait until he wakes up.’
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