He snorted. ‘My father rarely had wine, but he drank everything else he could find. That’s why I don’t drink anything stronger than ale. Usually.’
‘Then I’m sorry I asked you to drink it...’ her cheeks flushed slightly ‘...on that first day.’
‘When you kissed me?’
He hadn’t known he intended to say the words until he said them. He only knew that he didn’t want to pretend that it hadn’t happened any longer. More than that, he wanted to kiss her again, so much that it hurt, as if only the touch of her lips could banish the darkness of his past.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Her voice trembled unconvincingly.
‘Don’t you?’ He lifted a coil of stray hair away from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear, brushing his fingers lightly along the line of her jaw. ‘Then why do I remember this?’
He closed the space between them, grazing her lips with the softest of pressures before pulling away again, surprised by a stirring sensation deep in his chest, as if some long-dormant part of him were waking up again. It wasn’t like him to act on impulse, to do anything without analysing all the risks first, but this time he hadn’t been able to resist. Two decades of learning how to guard his behaviour and every technique had seemed to fail him at once. Now he felt as if his head were spinning. Somehow, the very lightest of kisses felt more powerful than the most passionate embrace.
‘I thought you didn’t remember...’
She must have closed her eyes because she opened them again as she spoke, her breathing fast and unsteady, as if she’d just run up the keep steps.
‘I wasn’t certain until now.’
‘It wasn’t... I didn’t...’
Her voice faltered and he sat perfectly still, waiting for her to say that it had all been a pretence, a means of entrapping him, nothing more. She didn’t. Instead she bit her lower lip, frowning slightly as if she were trying to make sense of something, though the effect was to bring his attention back to her mouth. It looked even more tempting than it had before, moist and pink and apparently not out of bounds either. The thought led to other, more dangerous ideas.
‘Apologies, my lady.’ He shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though they were on perilous ground suddenly. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
Her lips parted, though she still didn’t speak. Did she want him to kiss her again? His hose became painfully tight at the thought. He would, given the slightest encouragement, though he knew that he shouldn’t. It was wrong. No matter how close he felt to her, or how much he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her breathless, he was still a low-born blacksmith’s son. Not to mention incapable of feeling anything other than a physical reaction. Even if the stirring sensation in his chest felt like something more—like one of the real emotions he’d banished a long time ago. But no good could come of those—no good, only pain—and he’d felt enough of that to last a lifetime.
He forced himself to smile, knowing that he had to push her away, had to antagonise her again somehow. If he didn’t, then he was in danger of wanting more than just a kiss. Much more. And then he’d be well and truly lost...
‘At least now we’re even. As I recall, you were the one who kissed me first last time.’
The flash of temper was instantaneous. ‘And as I recall, I only did it to trick you!’
She jumped to her feet with a look of something like hurt. Hurt? He felt a pang of guilt. Had he hurt her? He hadn’t intended to do that, had to dig his boots into the rushes to stop from following her as she swept furiously past him and out of the chamber.
Then he sat back in his chair, inhaling the delicate scent of honeysuckle that still clung to the air, feeling as though he’d done something wrong and taken a step forward at the same time—and now that he’d taken it, he had a feeling there was no way he’d ever be able to go back.
Chapter Eighteen
Lothar waited until the sound of Juliana’s footsteps faded away before dropping his head into his hands with a groan. What the hell had just happened? Definitely not what he’d intended to happen when he’d come up to her father’s chamber. He felt as though he’d just been shaken to his core. He’d tried to do the honourable thing in pushing her away, but in truth, he’d been protecting himself, too. The way their kiss had made him feel had been terrifying and bewildering in equal measure.
The sound of his name being whispered gave him a visceral jolt, shocking him out of his reverie and his chair.
‘William?’ He leaned over the bed at once.
‘Lothar the Frank.’ A familiar face smiled up at him. ‘I thought it was you.’
‘You’re awake?’ He shook his head at the inanity of his own question. Of course William was awake. Judging by the look in his eyes, he was lucid, too. But how long had he been awake? What had he seen?
‘I thought perhaps I was dreaming.’ William started to smile and then winced.
‘Are you in pain?’
‘Nothing I can’t bear. It’s good to see you, my friend, but what are you doing here? How did you get through the siege?’
He hesitated. If William didn’t remember the battle with Stephen, then the less he said about it the better. The thought of lying made him distinctly uneasy, though telling the truth didn’t seem a much better idea...
‘The Empress sent me.’ That was true anyway.
‘Ah...reinforcements.’ William gave a relieved-sounding sigh. ‘At last. I knew she would.’
‘Stephen’s gone and the castle holds for Matilda.’ That was true, too.
‘And Juliana? Is she all right?’
‘Your daughter?’
William looked surprised. ‘Who else?’
‘Of course. Forgive me, I’ll fetch her.’
‘Wait!’ The other man’s hand shot out, clutching his arm in a surprisingly firm grip. ‘I need to speak with you first.’
‘Very well.’ Lothar nodded reluctantly. If William had just seen him kiss his daughter, then doubtless he was about to rebuke him for it. There was equally no doubt that he deserved it. He only hoped William didn’t ask him to explain himself, because he truly didn’t think he could.
‘I’ve made a mistake, Lothar.’
He blinked in surprise. Those definitely weren’t the words he’d been expecting, but William looked more sombre than accusing.
‘What do you mean?’
‘With Juliana. I thought I was doing the right thing, raising her to be a free woman, to act on her own, but now I’m afraid it was wrong of me.’
‘She’s a strong woman.’ Lothar felt oddly defensive about her. ‘How is that wrong?’
‘Because it’s not enough. I thought it would be, but if the Empress can’t win what’s rightfully hers, then what hope is there for Juliana? If this war were over, she might stand a chance, but the way things are, she isn’t safe. I can’t protect her any more. I won’t be here much longer, we both know that, and I don’t want to leave her alone.’ He looked up at him with a half-pleading, half-resolute expression. ‘I need you to take care of her, Lothar. You’re an honourable man. I’ve seen how well you protect the Empress and I know why you do it, too. If you promise to take care of Juliana, then I know that you will.’
‘I’ll do what I can.’
‘No!’ William shook his head vehemently. ‘I need more than that. I’ll give you everything. My castle, my lands, my title, just as long as you keep her safe.’ He dragged in a breath, as if he were building to something. ‘I need you to marry her.’
‘Marry?’ For a moment Lothar wondered if the other man had seen him kiss her after all. Either that or he was delirious. ‘William, you know where I come from. There are better men, worthier men.’
‘You’re better than you think. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think you were the right man.’
&nbs
p; ‘But you know my past. You know I’m not suited to marriage.’
‘I also know that you’re not your father. You would never do what he did.’
He drew in a sharp breath. No, he would never do that, not when the very thought made him feel physically sick, though the idea of marriage terrified him almost as much. A husband was supposed to care, to feel, to love his wife, wasn’t he? Whereas he... He’d closed his heart to that particular emotion a long time ago—had no intention of opening it again, even if he knew how. He didn’t have emotional attachments. He wasn’t capable of such things. The very idea was madness!
‘You don’t like her?’ William’s brow furrowed.
‘It’s not that.’
‘She can be a little stubborn, I grant you.’
He had to stifle a laugh. ‘A little.’
‘But she’ll be a good wife. Once she’s come to terms with the idea, that is.’
‘She won’t like it.’
‘No.’ William conceded. ‘I raised her to think that marriage wasn’t necessary, that she could find her own way, but I’ve run out of time. I need you to take care of her for me now.’
He raised a hand, about to run it through his hair when he saw the bandage she’d wrapped there so tenderly half an hour before. Would he marry her? Yes. If she needed his protection then how could he refuse his old friend? As long as protection was all William asked of him... And he did like her, stubborn temper and all. A lot of marriages were based on less. The impulse that had led to their kiss had been unnerving, but surely he could control his desire for her. Perhaps they could be friends, though he had a feeling her coming to terms with the idea, as William had put it, might take a while. Maybe if he hadn’t just kissed and then pushed her away he might have stood a chance of convincing her, but the look on her face as she’d stormed out of the chamber didn’t offer much hope.
‘I’ll need to ask the Empress for her consent.’
‘There’s no time. Tell her it was my last wish. She’ll understand.’
Lothar clenched his jaw. That was probably true. Not to mention the fact that she was unlikely to arrest his wife. Even if Matilda didn’t approve of the marriage, Juliana would be in a far safer position married to him than otherwise. And if he vouched for her, he might even be able to persuade Matilda to let Juliana remain as chatelaine. It would be the perfect way of protecting her, even better than William realised. Not that she was likely to think so.
‘What about your daughter’s consent? She might not give it willingly.’
The words were barely out of his mouth before he heard an exclamation and the lady herself came running across the room. ‘Father, you’re awake!’
‘Juliana.’ William’s voice was weak, though his expression was utterly transformed at the sight of her. So was hers, Lothar noticed with a pang. She was smiling with a look of such pure love that he felt his chest clench with an unwonted feeling of longing.
Clearly she hadn’t heard what her father had just said. If she had, then he had a feeling she wouldn’t be smiling.
* * *
Juliana clutched at her father’s hand, pressing a kiss to the fingertips as she saw the skin around his eyes crinkle with his old familiar smile. It had been so long since she’d seen it, since he’d looked at her with anything besides confusion.
‘Why didn’t you summon me?’ She threw an accusing look towards Lothar.
‘Because I wanted to talk with him first.’ Her father’s voice was faintly admonishing. ‘Lothar and I are old friends. He tells me that Stephen’s gone.’
‘Ye-es.’ She felt a flutter of panic at the thought of what else he might have told him.
‘I told him that Haword’s still loyal to the Empress.’ Lothar’s voice was reassuring, as if he guessed what she was thinking.
‘But it’s not safe for you any more, Daughter.’
‘Don’t worry about me.’ She shook her head dismissively.
‘I can’t help it. If the Empress can have her country stolen from her, what’s to stop someone from taking Haword from you? There’s precious little honour or justice left in the world. I can’t rest until I know you’re safe.’
‘You raised me to take care of myself.’
‘That’s not enough, not any more. You need to marry.’
‘What?’ She found it difficult to breathe suddenly, as if all the air had been sucked from the room. ‘You don’t mean that, Father. You’re not well.’
‘It’s the only way you’ll be safe.’
‘We’ll talk about it later.’
‘No.’ An edge of stubbornness crept into his voice. ‘I might not be able to talk about it later. I need you to marry now. Promise me, Daughter. Marry Lothar.’
‘Lothar?’ She dropped her father’s hand in shock.
‘He’s a good man and I trust him.’
‘Lothar?’ She repeated the name as she stared, thunderstruck, at its owner. Her emotions were still in turmoil after their kiss, but now she felt as if he’d tricked her, too. Was that why he’d kissed her, because he’d been scheming to find a way of keeping Haword for himself? The thought was appalling, and yet wasn’t it also the most likely explanation? Everything he’d done over the past few days seemed to take on a new, more sinister aspect. He hadn’t stayed to protect her father. He’d stayed because he’d seen an opportunity for his own advancement. Kissing her had just been a part of it. The rest of the time he’d been waiting to put the idea of marriage into her father’s head, using both of them! And if he thought she was going to consent, then he could think again!
‘I know I’m not noble, Lady Juliana.’ Lothar’s face was stonier than ever. ‘But I’ll take care of you, I promise.’
‘And my inheritance, too?’ She glared at him. ‘Not bad for a blacksmith’s son!’
She regretted the words the moment they were out of her mouth. Not the gist of them—after all, what other reason could he have to marry her than to claim her inheritance?—but to mention his father after what he’d just told her about him caused a twinge of remorse. Fortunately, his expression didn’t waver.
‘Have I failed you, Father?’ She leaned back over the bed again. ‘Have I let you down?’
‘Never.’
‘Then why would you ask this of me? You used to say that I was as good as any man. Was that a lie?’
‘No. You are as good as any man, Juliana. I believe that, but the rest of the world doesn’t know it, not yet. Forgive me, but I need to know that you’re safe. I’ll never be at peace otherwise. You need to give your consent to each other. Now, so I know it’s done.’
‘Now?’
She caught her breath, feeling as though the floorboards had just given way and she was falling, flailing in mid-air as she tried to find her feet again. If they both gave their consent, then their marriage would be legal. An official ceremony could be performed later, but to all intents and purposes, the contract would be binding. Just saying the words aloud would make her a married woman.
‘I’m tired.’ William looked between them with a beseeching expression. ‘Please. Let me see it done.’
‘I consent.’ Lothar pulled a ring off his little finger as he uttered the words, his voice strong and clear, as if there were no doubt in his mind.
‘Ah.’ Her father gave a nod of recognition. ‘I remember when the Empress gave that to you. After Oxford, as I recall.’
‘The Empress?’ Juliana clenched her fingers, staring at the ring with distaste. It was a plain gold band set with a single shimmering ruby. Beautiful, valuable and tainted. She didn’t want anything that had ever belonged to Matilda.
‘Juliana?’
She unfurled her fists at her father’s prompting and reached her hand out, averting her face as Lothar slipped the band over her finger.
‘I
consent to this marriage.’
He repeated the vow as if to emphasise her own lack of an answer and she sucked in a breath, stung by the irony. How long had she waited for her father to regain his senses and be himself again? For weeks and weeks she’d sat by his bedside, wishing that he’d show some sign of awareness again, but now she almost wished she hadn’t been there to see it, that she hadn’t followed the impulse to check on him one last time tonight before retiring to her own chamber. She could hardly believe what was happening—that he could ask this thing of her. Even though she knew he was trying to protect her, it still felt like a betrayal, as if everything he’d raised her for had meant nothing. And after she’d actually gloated to Lothar about Matilda’s chances of wearing the crown, about her chances of succeeding in a man’s world! Now the words seemed to be coming back to haunt her, as if Matilda herself were taking revenge. Her father had asked of her the one thing she’d never expected and now she had no choice. She couldn’t say no. She was trapped—and all three of them knew it.
The words almost stuck in her throat. ‘I consent.’
Chapter Nineteen
Juliana charged down the stairwell, almost tripping over her skirts in her haste to reach the bottom. Where was he? She was clutching the ring that he’d given her—the Empress’s ring—so tightly in her hand that the jewelled edges bit into her skin, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to find her husband and throw it back in his face as violently and painfully as possible!
He’d left the chamber immediately after she’d given her consent to their marriage, though he’d sent Ulf up to relieve her soon after, as if he’d guessed that she’d want to confront him as soon as possible. Still, she’d tarried a while, holding her father’s hand and talking about the past—the present was too confusing—until he’d finally closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep again. Then she’d allowed herself to acknowledge all of the grief and rage and feelings of utter powerlessness inside her until she’d wanted to rail and scream at the top of her lungs—and she’d known exactly who she wanted to vent her anger on!
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