by Julia Latham
Paul admired Juliana’s show of jealousy throughout, her narrowed eyes, her cool disdain. She kept her hands on him, and he certainly could appreciate that. More than once he saw Timothy watching them, although to the casual eye it was in the guise of a guard.
Did Timothy regret giving Juliana this opportunity? Or hadn’t her age and inexperience mattered, when she was what the League needed?
The lively music ended, and the serving girl curtsied to hearty applause. Paul did his part by not attempting to placate Juliana. The minstrels began a new song, slower, with a provocative beat.
Suddenly, she slid out from beneath his arm and off the settle. Moving out into the open area before the hearth, where the serving girl had danced, Juliana turned back to Paul and lifted her arms toward him, as if beckoning. His smile slowly died. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glowering Theobald with his hand on the hilt of his sword. The other Bladesmen looked with interest at Juliana, as if she only concerned them as their master’s entertainment.
The music thrummed louder, the musicians encouraging her. Paul swallowed hard.
And then Juliana began to move.
Her hips circled in sinuous rhythm, her arms swayed, her long, black hair swung as if with its own dance. For a moment, the crowd went silent with an awe Paul shared. She was majestic, she was smoldering with sin, and all the while she never broke her shared gaze with him. She cast a spell, weaving a magic he hadn’t imagined possible. The Bladeswoman was gone, the temptress left in her place, dancing, swaying, undulating to the slow, erotic beat of the music. He could hear his blood pound in his ears.
Some distant part of him tried to imagine how Paul, the arrogant prince, should act. He forced a grin, as if he’d seen this before, but still enjoyed the show.
And then he thought of Juliana, and the stir she was causing among all the men. Most were slack-jawed in wonder, but some licked their lips, bodies tense, as if they might take their chances on overpowering Paul’s retinue.
Paul quickly came to his feet, stalking Juliana. She came to a stop before him, her body dampened with perspiration, her eyes full of triumph and pride. She swept into a deep curtsy, raising her amused eyes to him.
“Time for bed,” Paul said.
She laughed at him, even as he swept her up into his arms.
Chapter 8
Juliana wrapped her arms around Paul’s neck, feeling giddy with triumph. She’d made a spectacle of herself, of course, but she’d brought Paul even more notice, the noble northern prince returned home at last.
But although Paul carried her with ease, his muscles felt tense, and now that he was away from the tavern, his smile had been replaced by a frown.
Feeling her first unease, Juliana looked about and saw that the Bladesmen were surrounding them, alert, gazes scanning the entrance hall and the staircase. None of them looked at her.
Well, she didn’t expect open congratulations, but perhaps a smile or two.
“Paul?”
“Not now,” he said, in a low voice.
It was then she became aware of raised voices behind her, shouts and calls, the slamming of tankards onto wooden tables.
Someone was coming down the stairs just as they were starting up. Paul laughed drunkenly, reeled a bit with her in his arms as he backed up. She gave a cry of laughter, tightening her hold on him.
The man they let pass bobbed his head in thanks, stole a wide-eyed look at Juliana, saw all the men surrounding her, then hastened his pace away.
“Sir, perhaps I should take Mistress Juliana,” Timothy said, his tone full of a disapproval that seemed used often.
“Nay, I am fine.” Paul bumped Juliana’s feet against the wall as he negotiated the stairs.
She winced dramatically, but said nothing. At last they were outside their door.
“I will see you in safely,” Timothy loudly insisted.
He obviously played to an audience who might be overhearing.
“I need not your assistance.”
Paul spoke with tight petulance, a grown man who was not happy being ordered about.
“Well you shall have it.” To the waiting Bladesmen, Timothy said, “You have your orders.”
Juliana watched them disperse, feeling foolish because she was still held in Paul’s arms. Once inside, he released her and stepped away rather abruptly. Timothy looked out the window, then closed the shutters. Both men turned to her, Timothy frowning, and Paul assessing.
“Is something amiss?” she asked in bewilderment.
“That was … quite the dance,” Timothy said slowly.
Paul silently turned to stoke the fire.
Juliana spread her hands wide. “The moment called for it. I was playing my part. I believe I was a success.”
She thought Paul’s shoulders shook a bit, but he didn’t turn from the fire until Timothy called his name. Paul’s face was impassive and polite when he faced them.
“Paul—” Timothy began, and then broke off, looking back and forth between them.
Paul waited patiently, and so did Juliana, but she felt confused by the undercurrents she sensed between the men. She didn’t like feeling this way, as if she should understand what was happening. So she waited as patiently as Paul, pretending to be unperturbed.
Timothy sighed.
“I think I will ask Theobald if he wishes to work in some training this evening,” Paul said mildly. “The night is dark, and if we work in the stables, no one should notice me.”
Juliana withheld a startled laugh. “That is a ridiculous idea—and dangerous. Why would you risk …”
But she trailed off when she saw Timothy giving it real thought. What was going on?
“Theobald has first shift tonight,” Timothy said at last. He ran a hand through his hair.
Juliana gave a heavy sigh. “Good. I would have had to follow you to do my duty, Paul, and that would have raised suspicions. All of this”—she threw her hands wide—“would raise suspicions. I might have had to forbid you, as your personal guard.” She wanted to demand to know why they were both acting this way, but was beginning to suspect she would only be showing her naivete.
Timothy gave a last sigh. “You are correct, Juliana. I will leave you in peace. I only ask that next time … you give us some warning of what you plan.”
“I will try, sir, but I cannot guarantee it. If the moment calls for such a risk …” She trailed off with a shrug.
Timothy let himself out the door.
Juliana saw a shadowy glimpse of a large man in the corridor, and knew it was Theobald. Then the door closed.
Paul was watching her, and she could not read his expression. She put her hands on her hips, arched a brow, and waited.
“That was …” he began.
“Quite the dance. So Timothy already said. He seems to regret my interpretation of the character. Think you I was wrong?”
“Nay, you made it seem as if I must have great wealth, to be able to afford to keep a woman with such gifts as yours.”
“I imagine that was a compliment, but it makes me feel like a commodity rather than a woman,” she said dryly.
Paul’s smile looked strained. “I rather enjoyed being fought over through dance.”
She heaved a sigh and began to tug on her laces. She could see that water had been left for her use, and she desperately needed to cleanse away several days’ worth of travel. She would have to send for a bath in the morning.
And still Paul watched her, saying nothing. She wanted to ask for his help with her laces, but it felt awkward tonight, too personal. There was an uncomfortable, growing feeling of tension that seemed more powerful than any night they’d previously spent together.
She decided to respect her feelings of warning and leave him be. Thankfully, there was a changing screen in their bedchamber, and she retreated behind it, bringing a basin of water and linens. When she emerged in her dressing gown, he was standing at the open window, looking out.
He glanced at her br
iefly. “I am not tired. I shall join you eventually.”
She nodded and retreated to the bed. It was narrower than at the last inn, so she lay down near to the edge to leave him room. He remained a long time looking out the window, but at last he took his turn behind the changing screen. She found herself dozing. When she came awake with a start, the fire had diminished, leaving the chamber flickering with darker shadows.
And then she saw Paul. Without holding a weapon, he was moving through a series of sword skills, as if sparring with an opponent. His skin glistened with perspiration, and he suddenly pulled off his shirt, as if his exertion had overheated him. Juliana found herself barely breathing, watching him move in a dance of power, his muscles smooth, his skill a certainty that was as alluring as his body.
This went on for some time. She came up on her elbow, making it obvious she was awake, yet still he didn’t stop, pivoting and parrying, blocking and advancing.
At last she slid from the bed and went to stand before him. He stopped immediately, his breathing harsh, his chest rising and falling. He looked down at her with blue eyes gleaming by firelight.
“Paul, you must come to bed. You will be exhausted on the morrow.”
He moved away from her, taking a towel and wiping it down his face and chest.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“You and I have had no chance to train as the others have,” he said. “Our roles forbid it. Do you not feel restless, as if you could crawl out of your own skin?”
“I know exactly how you feel. But is this only about training?” she asked.
He paused, then met her gaze boldly. “I’m trying not to remember the way you danced tonight. I keep imagining you making such movements beneath me in that bed.”
What could she say to that? Though she imagined the same thing, she would not ease her curiosity so recklessly.
“You know what you did to all those men who watched you.”
And she did know—she’d been taught how men react to a provocative woman, but had never seen it happen before her very eyes. And the way Paul was looking at her made her feel too good, too daring.
“I know not what you want me to say,” she whispered.
“There’s nothing you can say. Timothy is worried I won’t be able to control myself alone with you night after night, and that your dance made everything worse.”
“How could he believe that when he knows you so well? He knows the kind of man you are.”
“Every man has his limits.” He lifted a hand, as if he’d touch her hair.
She froze, knowing she should step away, but unable to do so.
“I want you,” he said hoarsely. “I cannot stop think ing of that kiss, and now this dance … You’re haunting my very dreams, sweet Juliana.”
She hesitated, more tempted than she cared to admit. He was partially nude, so beautiful. He could show her the things she’d only heard about. And she even knew ways to avoid making a child together.
But this was a temptation to something she’d soon regret. Such intimacy would interfere with their mission, might make things awkward between them. How could she vow to never have a relationship with someone in the League, and then be so quick to consider breaking it with the first man who kissed her?
And she could not forget that he hadn’t even wanted a female guard, that he couldn’t treat her as the others. That was a disappointment she should keep at the forefront of her thoughts.
“We all want things we cannot have,” she answered, striving to sound calm.
He gave a crooked smile, then looked down at the linen in his hands. “Aye, I know you’re right. And you want the gratitude and good will of the League.”
She frowned. He made it sound as if she was only here for her own selfish reasons. “I want to do my work, the assignment I accepted. I want to keep the kingdom safe. I vowed to do my best.”
“Aye, and that is true as well.”
She went back to the bed, feeling angry and frus trated with his words—and how close she’d come to giving in to her new weakness for him.
As she lay in bed, eyes closed, listening to him wash, she reminded herself that anything they shared would be temporary, for enjoyment’s sake, and not the honesty of marriage vows before God. She remembered Paul saying he would never marry, and although she didn’t believe it was simply because of his longing for adventure, that only proved that he could not be trusted. He was a man who dallied with women he didn’t plan to marry, and there was no reason for him to change his mind now. She was simply convenient, and treating him as a lover in public. He was confusing what was true and what wasn’t.
And he was dragging her with him into the fantasy.
Paul awoke before dawn and lay still, listening to the church bells peal across the town, calling the humble to daily mass. But not Sir Paul, the dissolute. He had absolutely nothing to do this morn. That was surely a first for him, and he felt … uneasy.
Through his boyhood, there had always been assignments and studying and training. When he’d left the League, he’d traveled and competed and trained some more. But Timothy had decided that Paul’s character was fond of tavern-drinking late into the night, and doing little in the morn.
He dozed until the sun came up, telling himself to enjoy the quiet. But he could hear the enticing sound of Juliana breathing. He thought she looked impossibly young and innocent for all the responsibilities the League had put on her shoulders. Several curls had come loose from her braid and slinked among the cushions. She didn’t look like a woman knowledgeable about men; she looked as if she needed to be protected.
But she would be offended by that, he well knew.
She wanted to protect him, and perhaps she was not far off the mark, for she needed to protect him from himself, for thoughts of her were constant, especially of that kiss. She’d been as hungry as he was. Two of them in that condition were an explosive combination, alone night after night.
She stirred and frowned, as if she sensed what he was thinking. Her lashes fluttered, then her eyes slowly opened and looked right into his.
With a groan, she closed her eyes again.
He gave a soft laugh and dropped onto his back, stretching his arms over his head.
“You take up too much of the bed,” she mumbled, flouncing onto her side away from him.
He was so tempted to slide in behind her, to cup her thighs with his, let her ass cradle his erection. Instead, he took several deep breaths.
Dimly, he heard the sound of steel clashing out side. He tossed back his blankets, slid over the top of her—his body touching her hips and shoulders a bit too much—and went to the window. Throwing back the shutters, he saw that the day was overcast and hazy, cool for summer.
And then he saw their fellow Bladesmen. They were training in the stable yard below, and although they were holding back their true skill, they were still drawing a crowd of grooms and kitchen boys.
Juliana came up beside him and leaned both elbows on the window ledge. “Ah,” she murmured softly.
“Ah?”
“You are thinking how we’re trapped here, pretending to sleep off a drinking binge, while they’re permitted to train.”
“It did cross my mind.”
He left her at the window and went to the door. As he reached for the latch, he was surprised to find Juliana suddenly there, bracing her hand on the door. She listened a moment, eyes closed, while Paul folded his arms over his chest.
“I can hear Joseph’s footsteps,” she said at last, looking up at him. “You may open the door.”
“You remembered whose turn it was to guard our door?”
“Nay.”
“A guess?”
“A logical deduction from my memorization of his pacing.”
Paul reached around her and opened the door to find Joseph pacing the corridor. The Bladesman came to a stop and eyed them both in surprise.
“An excellent deduction,” Paul said to Juliana.
She smiled at Joseph and went back to the window, ignoring Paul’s praise as if she knew she deserved it.
Joseph shook his head. “Sir Paul, Mistress Juliana, how may I serve you?”
“Could you have the maidservant bring us food to break our fast?”
“This early? Would Sir Paul be awake?”
Paul sighed. “You simply don’t want to show your pretty face to the maidservants and be overwhelmed.”
Joseph grinned and brought forth a wallet from a pack resting neatly on the floor. “I brought you something to tide you over.”
“You are a good man, regardless of what anyone else says.” Paul opened the wallet to see bread and cheese. “‘Tis a start. We’ll want something far more substantial in several hours.”
He watched as Joseph peered past him into the bedchamber.
“Did you wish to join us?” Paul asked dryly.
Joseph smiled and shook his head. “Nay, I have a wife waiting at home for me.”
“And why do you mention something so personal about yourself, Sir Joseph?” Paul asked, amused. “Is that allowed?”
“I only mention it because you do not have the inducement of a waiting wife to keep you on a proper path.”
Looking both ways down the corridor, Paul lowered his voice. “Nay, I have a fierce Bladeswoman who believes in this mission with the only passion she lets show. All by herself, she makes certain she is untouched.”
“Untouched” was perhaps misleading, but Joseph seemed relieved to hear it.
Paul closed the door, took the food to the window, and watched Juliana rip a piece from the brown bread.
“Your Bladesmen are all concerned with protecting your honor,” he said casually.
She swallowed her bread even as she frowned. “What does that mean?”
“First Timothy and now Joseph. All seem to believe I have designs on your person.”
Stiffening, she said, “If I were a man, they would not be questioning my competence this way.”
“I do not believe ‘tis your competence they question, but my ability to control my raging passions,” he answered with faint sarcasm.