Besieged and Betrothed

by Jenni Fletcher

  ‘Juliana.’ His voice sounded perfectly neutral, as if he found nothing unusual in their intimate position.

  She pulled her hand back at once. ‘You scared me! I thought you were asleep.’

  ‘Your eyes woke me up.’

  ‘My eyes?’

  ‘I could feel them burrowing into my skull.’ The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. ‘I never realised I was so fascinating.’

  ‘Just because my eyes were open doesn’t mean I was looking at you!’ Suddenly she was glad of the darkness concealing the scarlet tincture of her cheeks. They were probably redder than her hair. ‘I was just thinking, that’s all.’

  ‘Might a husband ask what about?’

  Husband? Her heartbeat started to flutter erratically, reminding her of the fact that their bodies were still pressed close together under the covers. Now that he was awake she really ought to pull away, but the blankets were wrapped so tightly around her they seemed to be holding her in place. His body was having a strange effect on hers, too, as if it were taking on an independent life of its own, her breasts straining through her gown as if she were cold, which she definitely wasn’t. Quite the opposite—her skin felt red-hot, yet something about him made her want to press even closer.

  ‘Your scar.’ She said the first thing that popped into her head.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘Can I touch it?’

  He hesitated for a moment. ‘If you wish.’

  She lifted her hand and trailed her fingers delicately along the barbed line of his scar. It felt surprisingly smooth, as if it were an ingrained part of him.

  ‘It’s not very pleasant to look at.’ He sounded almost apologetic.

  ‘I don’t care about that.’ She cradled her hand against the damaged side of his face. ‘It’s part of who you are.’

  She met his gaze and her stomach flipped over. Even in the darkness, his eyes were burning with an intensity that made her temperature soar and her insides quiver with excitement. She felt as if she’d just been scorched. His whole body seemed to have tensed, too, the lower part in particular behaving in a way she’d never expected...

  ‘Are you hungry?’ His voice sounded strange.

  ‘Hungry?’ She had to repeat the word to make sense of it. Was she hungry? What did that have to do with anything? ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘Wait here.’

  He rolled away suddenly and she gasped, feeling cold and bereft as he sat for a few moments on the edge of the bed before standing up.

  ‘It’s the middle of the night!’

  ‘True.’ He tugged his boots on.

  ‘Everyone’s asleep!’

  ‘Also true. Except for the guards, I hope.’

  ‘Then what are you doing?’

  He picked up his cloak and flung it loosely around his shoulders. ‘Taking care of you. Wait here.’

  She lay down again, curling up in the warm space left by his body, hardly knowing whether to feel relieved or disappointed or both. For a moment, she’d had the impression that something was about to happen between them. She definitely hadn’t imagined the way certain parts of his body had pressed so insistently against hers, but then he’d pulled away as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the room quickly enough. Because of Matilda? The idea was mortifying, though it still didn’t quell the ache in the pit of her stomach. Even the lingering scent of his musk on the pillow gave her a thrill of something, some new shivering sensation she didn’t recognise, but that made her want to stretch out on the bed like a cat.

  She trailed her hands over her body, from her breasts all the way down to her navel, then pushed her arms out to the sides, tipping her head back and arching her back to ease the feeling of tension in her limbs. Strangely enough, that did make her feel better, though there was something shameless about it, too. She was writhing on the bed like a...well, perhaps not quite like a cat any more. Not that she knew what else she could be. She tilted her hips up, lifting her body...

  ‘Ready for a midnight feast?’

  She shot up to a sitting position, clutching the covers to her chin in embarrassment. She hadn’t expected Lothar to return so quickly, but he was already standing in the doorway, a dark shadow holding a heaped trencher in one hand and a candle in the other.

  ‘No! I mean, yes... I mean, that was quick.’

  ‘You said you were hungry.’ His voice sounded deeper than before, almost guttural, and she bit her lip with mortification. Was he angry with her? Her behaviour must have been truly shameless if he was...

  ‘Where did you find all that food?’ She tried her best to sound nonchalant as he approached the bed.

  ‘In the kitchens.’

  ‘You woke up the cooks?’

  He looked mildly offended. ‘If I can climb over the walls of Oxford Castle and escape past Stephen’s army in the middle of the night, I think I can break into a kitchen without waking anyone.’

  ‘They’ll think we have some very large mice.’

  ‘Probably.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed and set the trencher in front of her. ‘Now I want to see you eat.’

  She didn’t argue, tearing off a chunk of bread and popping it eagerly into her mouth. It tasted fresh and delicious and she instantly reached for more.

  ‘Stop watching me.’ She peeped up at him, acutely aware of his eyes on her face. ‘It was bad enough when I was trying to sleep.’

  ‘Says the woman who woke me up by staring.’

  ‘That didn’t wake you up.’ She paused with another piece of bread halfway to her mouth. ‘How long were you awake?’

  ‘About the same amount of time as you, I imagine. You rolled into me.’

  She lifted her chin up defensively. ‘By accident and, if you were asleep, how do you know you didn’t roll into me?’

  ‘Good point. Shall we say we rolled into each other?’

  ‘I’m surprised I slept at all, but I feel better.’ She smiled, feeling shy all of a sudden. ‘Thank you for everything you said last night. I needed to hear it.’

  ‘I’m glad. I’m only sorry it took me so long to come back.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what would happen.’

  ‘No, but your father asked me to take care of you. I wanted to take care of you.’

  ‘You did?’ She opened her eyes wide, caught off guard by the tender note in his voice, though judging by the suddenly quizzical expression on his face, so was he.

  ‘Of course. You’re my wife.’

  ‘Still?’ She asked the question hesitantly. ‘I thought the Empress might have had our marriage annulled.’

  ‘Is that what you want?’ His voice sounded tense again.

  ‘I...’ She faltered. She didn’t know what she wanted. She knew she didn’t want to be married, though that didn’t necessarily mean that she didn’t want him...did it?

  ‘In any case, she doesn’t have the power.’ His expression turned to a scowl. ‘Do you think I’d be sharing a bed with you if she did?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ She caught her breath unsteadily. That was true. Everyone in the castle must know where they were now, not to mention the fact that they were alone. In which case, there was no turning back. They were definitely, irrevocably married. ‘So Haword is yours.’

  ‘No, it’s ours.’ He sighed. ‘Do I really need to tell you again, Juliana? I don’t want to take anything away from you. To all intents and purposes, the castle is still yours to command. I won’t interfere. I only hold it for the Empress.’

  She stared at him in astonishment. ‘So you don’t want to take over? Not at all?’

  ‘Only in name. That way you’re protected against retribution from Stephen.’

>   ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean in case he ever comes back. In the unlikely event of my losing a battle against him, you can tell him you were forced to marry me against your will.’

  ‘But that’s...’

  ‘The truth?’

  She held his gaze uneasily. That was the truth, though the thought of him fighting Stephen made her feel wretched. She’d given her allegiance to Stephen over Matilda, not over her husband. If only the two weren’t so utterly incompatible.

  One side of his mouth curved upwards. ‘You can tell him what a hard-hearted, mercenary bastard I am.’

  ‘No!’ She spoke more vehemently than she intended.

  ‘No?’ He looked amused. ‘It might be safer for you to renounce me.’

  ‘I would never! Who calls you that?’

  ‘Half the Empress’s army for a start. It won’t be anything Stephen hasn’t heard before. My reputation precedes me.’

  ‘But you’re none of those things. If you were, you wouldn’t have come back and honoured your promise to my father.’ She tossed her head defiantly. ‘I won’t condemn you to Stephen, not for any reason.’

  He regarded her intently for a few moments before he smiled. ‘He’d have to defeat me first.’

  She picked up another chunk of bread, chewing on it thoughtfully as the implications of his words sank in. It seemed that their marriage protected her even more effectively than her father had realised, providing her with a buffer against Matilda, as well as a defence for her behaviour to Stephen if she ever needed one. Lothar seemed to have thought of everything, as if he were truly determined to protect her. Though it also left her without a side, as if she were stuck in the middle again.

  She peered up at him from under her lashes. Strange how, sitting in bed beside him like this, the idea of marriage didn’t bother her so much any more, but how did he feel about it? She’d been so wrapped up in her own thoughts she’d never even considered his. For all she knew, he’d felt as trapped by the whole arrangement as she had. He’d said something about not wanting a wife...

  ‘I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted.’ She broached the subject nervously. ‘My father should never have forced you to marry me.’

  ‘He didn’t. He asked.’

  ‘It’s still hard to refuse the wishes of a dying man. I wouldn’t blame you for resenting it.’

  ‘I was surprised more than anything else. For your father to ask a man like me... I know I’m not the kind of husband you would have wanted.’

  ‘I’ve never wanted any kind.’

  ‘But if you had...’ He looked her square in the eye. ‘I would understand if you felt insulted. Or humiliated.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head quickly. ‘I shouldn’t have said those things. I’ve had time to think this past week and I know you were only doing what my father asked. I’m not happy about it, but he trusted you. I ought to as well. I should never have accused you of trying to steal my inheritance.’

  ‘It was a reasonable assumption. I’m a blacksmith’s son and you’re a lady.’

  ‘You’re also a better man than a baron like Sir Guian could ever be. I wasn’t insulted.’

  Not by that anyway, she added silently. She was far more insulted by the idea of her husband being in love with another woman, though saying it aloud would only make her sound jealous...

  ‘I was just angry at the situation. It was a shock.’

  ‘For both of us, but I want to make the best of it, Juliana. I hope our truce can still hold.’

  He held a hand out and she took it, feeling the quivering sensation in her stomach flare up again as he twined his fingers around hers.

  ‘Truce?’

  ‘Truce.’ She tried to keep her expression under control. ‘But what will you do if I’m running the castle?’

  He hesitated briefly. ‘I’ll carry on serving the Empress as before.’

  ‘You mean you’ll be leaving again?’ The quivering sensation dissipated. Of course he’d want to return to Matilda.

  ‘At some point, yes.’

  ‘So we’ll live apart, like the Empress and her husband?’

  ‘Not quite like that, but perhaps...in the future...’ His expression looked torn. ‘In any case, I promise to come back if you ever need me. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.’

  She pulled her hand away with a sinking feeling. Considering everything she’d said to him before, it was a reasonable proposal. A kind of part-time marriage. That ought to please her. He was offering to let her go on as before, to return to her old role without any interference, only adding his name and reputation, thereby keeping his promise to her father as well as his oath to the Empress. There were so many promises and oaths between them she could barely keep track. Hers to Stephen. His to the Empress. Theirs to each other. How could they possibly keep all of them? Which ones came first?

  ‘Juliana...’ He seemed on the verge of saying something else, before he stood up abruptly. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Where to?’ She felt strangely crestfallen. ‘It’s still dark.’

  ‘It’s almost dawn. I have things to arrange.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ He pulled his gambeson back over his head. ‘You’re not in control yet, my lady.’

  ‘But you just said...’

  ‘Not until the morning. First you need to get some more rest. Until then, I’m in charge.’ He gave her a conflicted look as he made for the doorway. ‘Wife.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘Lothar?’

  Juliana propped herself up on one elbow, staring at the bed with bleary-eyed confusion until she remembered that her husband had gone.

  Husband. She said the word aloud, testing its strangeness on her tongue. It wasn’t a word she’d ever been fond of, though now it seemed to have lost some of its sting. She looked around the chamber, but all trace of him seemed to be gone. All of his clothing, all the remains of their midnight meal. The only new object was a cup by the bed filled to the brim with something steaming hot and delicious-smelling, like honey mixed with ale and spices.

  Eagerly, she picked it up and took a sip, smiling as the warmth reached her stomach. Whoever had brought it must have woken her as they left, though she was glad of the disruption. Whatever her new husband wanted, she had no intention of staying in bed all day. Her mind felt clearer than it had in a long time, as if all the things Lothar had told her the previous night had laid her worries, if not to rest, then to bed anyway. She had a feeling it would take a lot longer to come to terms with everything that had happened, but because of him, she’d made a start. Despite everything—his attachment to Matilda and her reluctance to be married—he’d been thoughtful and caring and had seemed to know exactly what to say. Maybe being married to him wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Maybe they could be friends. She actually felt eager to see him again.

  She gulped down the rest of the ale and climbed out of bed, splashing her face with water before opening her coffer and exchanging her old tunic for a forest-green surcote trimmed with brown fur. If the cold draught blowing in through the window shutters was anything to go by, she was going to need it. Then she picked up a comb and dragged the prongs through the tangled bird’s nest of her hair, wincing at every knot. It took ten long, painful minutes, but finally it was done. She left it loose, tucking the long waves neatly away beneath her headdress, feeling strangely pleased with herself. There. She was ready. Now she just had to find her husband.

  She made her way impatiently down the stairs and into the hall, but there was no sign of him, only a couple of maids chattering and laughing together as they stoked up the hearth.

  Maids? She stopped dead in surprise. She’d sent all the maids away months ago. What were they doing there now?

&n
bsp; ‘Alys? Maud?’ She recognised both of the women at once.

  They turned and smiled in unison, dropping into formal curtsies as she hastened forward.

  ‘It’s so good to see you again.’ She hugged both of them in turn.

  ‘You, too, my lady. We’ve been so worried about you.’ Alys, the older and taller of the two, spoke first. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ She burst into a smile, vaguely surprised by her own answer. It was true. She was all right. Despite everything that had happened, she really was. It was almost unbelievable when she thought about it. ‘But what are you doing here?’

  ‘Ulf came to fetch us this morning. He said he was acting on your husband’s orders.’ The two maids exchanged glances. ‘We wish you all happiness, my lady.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She felt her cheeks turn ruddy. Doubtless they’d been as shocked by the news of her marriage as she’d been herself. ‘Where is Loth—my husband?’

  ‘Outside, my lady.’

  ‘I see.’ She tried to adopt a sober expression. ‘In that case, excuse me, but I need to speak with him.’

  She fled for the door, her blush deepening as she heard the maids start to chatter behind her. She’d have to get used to that, she supposed, at least until Lothar left again and things could get back to normal.

  She scooped up a cloak from the guardroom and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders before stepping outside. The air was cold, but the sky was a bright, forget-me-not-blue dotted with fluffy white clouds. She felt strangely invigorated, as if she were looking at the world in a whole different light. From her vantage point at the top of the keep steps, she could see that the sky wasn’t the only thing to have changed either. All the old inhabitants of the castle seemed to have returned. Farriers, blacksmiths, fletchers, even their children scampering amidst the buildings. It didn’t feel like a fortress any more. It felt like a bustling home again.