Harlequin Historical February 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  Isabel’s curiously got the better of her. ‘What would they need to overlook?’

  He said nothing, then, just when she was convinced that he was not going to respond, he spoke. ‘Many things, Isabel…many things that I must atone for before I could even hope to be accepted.’

  ‘That’s what you’ll do once you take me back to England, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will?’ She walked towards him. ‘What would you need to atone for?’

  She watched as his throat worked, his eyes not meeting hers.

  ‘I’m afraid I am not the man you take me for. There are things that I have done, that I’m responsible for…things that I must seek penance for.’

  ‘Is this what you were sent into exile for?’

  ‘Sent into exile?’ He laughed bitterly. ‘I haven’t been banished by the Crown, Isabel. Not any longer.’

  ‘But I thought that—’

  ‘You believed wrong. My exile in France for the last two years has been self-imposed.’

  ‘But why would you do that?’ She searched his eyes. ‘What is it, Will?’

  He pushed away from the tree, walking to the riverbank, his back to her as he picked up a pebble and flicked it across the surface of the river. ‘The truth is that I should have known what would happen. I should have anticipated it.’

  Isabel waited patiently for him to continue, knowing somehow that what he was relaying was incredibly painful. It made her aching heart go out to him, knowing he was confiding in her about his past.

  ‘I was made the Sergeant and Commander of the garrison at Portchester Castle by King John…which was a great honour,’ he said eventually. ‘After the Rebel Barons, who had by then invited Louis of France not only to join their cause but also to lead them, captured Winchester Castle, I knew it would not be long before they turned their attention to us.’ He picked up another pebble and swung it sideways, watching it dart across several times before it was swallowed up by the water.

  ‘Portchester is a strategic castle used to defend the Solent and the sea that separates us from France. We were ready and waiting. What we weren’t prepared for was trickery and dishonesty.’ He spat, shaking his head in dismay.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I was invited for a parley in the nearby Forest of Bere. With my suspicions heightened, I should have known better, but I assumed I was dealing with honourable men.’ He grimaced. ‘It was the oldest trick, Isabel, and I, with all my experience as a damned soldier, fell for it.’

  She moved slowly to stand beside him, watching the river run past, as he continued. ‘By the time we made our way back, it was too late. The castle had been taken, but not before a huge amount of blood had been spilt unnecessarily.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Will.’ She took his hand in hers.

  ‘One could almost admire it—the whole thing being so efficiently executed—if it wasn’t for the fact that it was all so unconscionable and wholly dishonourable,’ he said, clenching his jaw. ‘You know, I had always been sympathetic to the Rebels’ cause, but not after that blood-sodden summer’s eve. Not after what I witnessed.’

  ‘I can understand.’

  ‘Can you?’ he asked softly. ‘Because I never could. Not with the damn conflict tearing the kingdom apart—tearing families and friends apart.’

  ‘And that is when you went into self-exile?’

  ‘No, initially King John served the banishment himself, but after his death, after I…well, let us just say that the work I did gaining information led to the Crown’s victory at the Battle of Lincoln. I was given a full pardon by William Marshal.’

  ‘And yet you decided to remain in exile.’

  ‘Yes,’ he whispered.

  ‘Because you blamed yourself for what happened?’

  ‘How could I not, Isabel?’ he said indignantly. ‘I lost control of the castle, lost control of the keep. All those knights, villagers—they were all under my protection, were my responsibility, and I failed. Yes, the blame lies with me and me alone.’

  ‘But if you’ve received a full pardon, by the Lord Protector himself, then why would you continue to repudiate that decision?’

  ‘Because I could never forget what happened. I could never absolve myself from my failings on that day, Isabel.’ He turned, facing her. ‘I deserve to be in exile. Frankly I deserve far more than just banishment.’

  ‘I see. And you believe that punishing yourself with this self-flagellation might somehow lessen the pain?’

  Will stared down at their joined hands as if he had only just noticed them entwined that instant. He lifted her hand and turned it round slowly, fanning open her fingers one by one and gently brushing his callused fingers along the open palm, up the length of each finger and back down again, reaching her wrist before caressing the sensitive skin there.

  ‘Nothing would lessen that, Isabel,’ he whispered as he met her stunned gaze, letting go of her hand. ‘Nothing ever could.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘If you’re ready, my lady, we should continue to La Rochelle.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  They reached the bustling port town of La Rochelle by nightfall as Will had predicted they would and entered the walled citadel with caution. Concealed under their woollen hooded cloaks, they wandered through narrow cobbled streets with rows of white sandstone dwellings packed on either side, shielding them from the brisk breeze. A smell of the sea, mixed with the sweat and toil of ship workers, sailors and merchants as well as the musty smell of the port, wafted through. The chipped, weather-beaten shutters of the dwellings were closed despite the few stray revellers from the quayside. Will grabbed Isabel’s hand as she stumbled and nearly fell, placing his arm around her waist, guiding her forward. ‘You need to rest and take some sustenance, otherwise where will we be?’ His voice was muffled under his cloak.

  ‘Closer to where we need to be.’ She tilted her head up to peer at him from under her hood. ‘Please let’s not halt our progress on my account, I’m perfectly well.’

  ‘We have enough time, Isabel, and anyway I’m famished, even if you’re not. Come, let’s find somewhere discreet where we can have some repast and confer about what we need to do next.’

  They entered a small tavern on the corner, set slightly apart from the harbour which was bursting with carousers.

  Isabel threw him a sideways glance. ‘I thought you wanted to go somewhere discreet.’

  ‘We might be more inconspicuous and well hidden somewhere as busy as this.’

  They secured a small table in the furthest corner out of view of the door. Will made sure that Isabel was sat on a stool with her back to the busy tavern, hiding her in a place crowded with mainly only men.

  He sighed, dragging his hand through his hair and wondering why he had suggested Isabel dress in a few items of his clothing. It was a good notion to pass her off as his young squire so that they could blend in and avoid being noticed, but when Will looked her up and down properly for the first time since she had changed her clothing, he felt his loins tighten uncomfortably. The thought of those long lean limbs encased in his braes and hose caused another wave of frustrated longing in him.

  Damn!

  The reason for her to dissemble was a good one, but the effect it had on him was not.

  Not only that, but for some unknown reason Will had unburdened his shame to Isabel and earned her pity. No…not quite that, but certainly gained her understanding. What he had told her about his past should have earned him her censure, not her empathy, but then Isabel was like no other woman he had ever met before.

  ‘Wait here while I get a jug of wine and whatever food this place might serve,’ he said quietly. ‘Don’t make eye contact with anyone and try behaving and sitting a little more like a man.’

  ‘What…what do you mean?’

  ‘Slouch a b
it more, look stoutly…that’s it.’ Will took in her appearance, knowing that her hair was tightly bound and hidden underneath the hood. He leaned in and tugged it forward more. ‘And sit with your legs apart, rather than that dainty, feminine way you’re sitting.’

  ‘Dainty?’ Confusion etched on her forehead.

  His lips twitched at the corners. ‘Try for a masculine stance, Isabel, otherwise you shall not fool anyone.’

  She widened her legs, making him swallow with difficulty, his mouth suddenly dry, annoyed that he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her.

  ‘Better?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, gruffly. ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

  Will ordered food, glad that he was doing something rather than think about Isabel’s long legs. Returning with a jug of wine, he sloshed a measure into one mug and then another, pressing one into her hand. ‘The Rochelais certainly know how to make excellent wine…but easy, Isabel. Sip slowly.’

  ‘Are you afraid that I might become as inebriated as I did that first night?’

  Will couldn’t see her expression concealed under the hood, but her voice was laced with amusement.

  He shrugged. ‘Or worse still, succumb to another uncontrollable bout of hiccups.’

  Her shoulders rose up and down as she shook her head, chuckling softly. It made his own lips curve upwards in response.

  ‘I would be careful, Sir William, since you know that I’m masterful in the art of punching a man in his unmentionables and crushing plums.’

  ‘Duly noted,’ he said, finding it hard to contain his laughter. ‘I could never contradict that, my lady, especially after your valiant display in La Rochefoucauld.’

  Their shared laughter was a welcome respite in more ways than one since the last few days had been mired with the difficult tension growing between them.

  A tavern maid set down a pot of steaming hot fish stew, bowls, utensils and a plate of bread and local butter. Isabel dished some into each bowl and passed one to him. They were silent for a moment as they both tucked into the food.

  ‘Do you still suppose that there is danger here?’ Isabel asked.

  ‘Absolutely.’ Will nodded grimly. ‘Rolleston and his men know that it would be from La Rochelle that we would depart for England. They will be everywhere, especially near the port.’ His eyes darted around the busy tavern. ‘And that’s why we need to be extremely careful while we’re here. The longer we stay here, the more the chances of danger.’

  ‘It’s a good job that I pass so easily as a young boy, then.’

  He almost choked on his food. ‘Finish up, Isabel. We can’t linger here for too long.’

  * * *

  They made their way along the cramped lanes, taking the shortest, yet quietest, route to the Cour de la Commanderie. Will slid her a sideways glance.

  ‘What are you doing, Isabel?’

  ‘Shouldn’t you call me Alain or something?’ she hissed from the side of her mouth. ‘Anyway, I’m doing precisely as you advised. I’m trying for a masculine stance, remember. I’m trying for bluster and a little swagger.’

  ‘Is that what that is?’ Will’s eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Your swagger is certainly different to anything I have ever seen.’

  ‘Yes, but I am only a squire, sir.’ She glanced up and bit her bottom lip. ‘I’m still perfecting my blustering and swaggering to the standard required from a squire.’

  ‘And doing an admirable job.’

  ‘My thanks, but I do have the most patient knight to direct me.’ Isabel looked up and saw the smile vanish from Will’s lips as he uttered an oath under his breath. ‘What is it?’ she asked, instantly alert.

  ‘I cannot be sure, but I believe that I saw the pock-faced man turn into this road.’

  She halted. ‘Shall we turn back?’

  ‘No,’ he muttered from under his hood. ‘Keep walking and keep your head downcast. Remember you’re a squire and doing rather well, especially with your swagger.’

  Isabel knew that he was trying to put her at ease, but the situation was suddenly more precarious than it was just moments ago. The air was charged with an uncertain, menacing quality evoking darkness and danger. And it enveloped her. She clenched her clammy hands as she strode along beside Will, her heart hammering in her chest as they walked past the pock-faced man. Everything seemed to slow at that precise moment when they passed him. The man turned his head slightly and took note of the two of them, a small scowl mapped on his face.

  ‘Keep moving quickly, but do not run. Not unless we’re forced to,’ Will’s calm, low voice rumbled beside her after they had passed the man.

  They turned a corner and went into another smaller lane, but again there was a lone man walking, looking scrupulously at everything and everyone. Before they could pass him by, Will guided her down the next road, bringing them to a junction. He dragged her left, down a wider, busier path and milled their way through before taking another left-hand turn.

  ‘Do you know where we are going?’ she panted.

  ‘All that matters for now is to rid ourselves of the clutches of Rolleston’s damned men,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Don’t look now, Isabel, but we’re being followed.’

  ‘What are we to do?’ She couldn’t seem to hide the panic in her voice.

  ‘Steady now,’ he said evenly. ‘We carry on as before…but with a little more urgency.’

  They turned the corner down the next cobbled road, backtracked and went straight ahead, hidden among a group of boisterous sailors. Will crouched low as he was the tallest man among them, but just as they passed a doorway Will hurled her sideways into the dark recess.

  ‘Apologies, my lady,’ he whispered.

  ‘What is this fascination of yours with arched doorways?’

  Will nudged her gently, until she was backed against the door. ‘Hush, Isabel.’ He placed a finger to her lips, as she looked up, blinking in the darkness. Oh, dear…how close he was to her. They shared the same small space, even the same air. He jostled his big, hard, protective body close until there was no room left, until he was pressed against her, circling his free arm around her, holding on to her.

  She watched in fascination as his chest rose and fell and a sense of momentary calm prevailed as she stood ever so still in Will’s arms. Even though, in truth, there was little to feel safe about.

  ‘Do you think they’ll find us?’ she asked quietly against his finger still on her lips, but his only answer was a slight frown and a quick shake of his head.

  She snapped her head up. ‘Did you hear that, Will?

  ‘Hush.’

  ‘Yes, but I think it may be footsteps, I think that it could—’

  Isabel didn’t get to finish what she was saying as Will let out an irritable breath before bending his head and catching her lips with his. Her eyes widened in surprise at being kissed at such a moment and in such a place as this. Isabel knew instantly that this was one way to shut off her nervous chatter. And yet, and yet…

  William Geraint was kissing her! And although it was meant only to silence her, it gradually changed and softened with an altogether different fervour.

  His lips slanted across hers, shaping them, in featherlight kisses before pressing with a little more pressure. He slid one hand up her back, tugging down her hood and cradling her head round the back, his fingers sinking into her hair while the other hand moved up and down the column of her neck, his fingers and thumb grazing her skin. His lips probed a little more, making her gasp against his mouth. A spark of potent heat was rising in her body and running through her veins…an unstoppable, heady desire.

  Will’s lips touched the corner of hers, as he tilted her head to press hot kisses along her jawline and down the curve of her neck, his breath so warm against her skin that it made her quiver in his arms, hopelessly clinging on to him. He returned to her mouth,
coaxing her lips apart as she felt the surprising touch of his tongue. He explored her mouth gently, as if he was tasting her, with tender, probing strokes. And then once again with deep, lush caresses. Nothing seemed to exist except this kiss, except them.

  It was a good thing that Will had his strong arms clasped around her, as Isabel could quite easily have melted into a boneless puddle at his feet. A needy moan caught in her throat and just when she felt brave enough to copy him tentatively, Will tore his lips from hers, finishing the kiss with a few light brushes on her lips.

  He pulled back, staring at her almost in shock, his breathing ragged, their faces still so close. Even in the dark recess of the doorway, Isabel could see his eyes blazing brightly. She touched her inflamed lips with a trembling finger, already missing his touch, and shuddered. He silently urged her to remain quiet, not that she could speak, or move.

  She turned her head then, suddenly alert to noises nearby. Her heart was pounding so fast and so loudly, that she wondered whether anyone could hear it.

  ‘I think someone is coming.’ Isabel was shaking in his arms, but wasn’t certain whether it was from Will’s heart-stopping kiss or the fact that Rolleston’s men might be close by.

  His hand went up and down her back, soothing her gently, and his lips rested against her forehead. ‘Hush, Isabel.’

  Was it her imagination that she felt something move against her on the ground? Isabel pulled away slightly. ‘What was that?’ she murmured quietly. ‘There’s something at my feet…oh, God Will, is it a rat?’

  ‘No,’ he said hoarsely against her forehead. ‘It’s a small dog, sniffing around for food. Easy now.’

  ‘Oh…’ she said with the faintest of whispers.

  There were soft footsteps treading back along the pathway that came to a halt, somewhere nearby, it seemed, to where they were hidden in the wide doorway. Isabel covered her mouth with her own hand to stop from making even the slightest noise. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Will in silent question, wondering what on earth they would do if they were discovered. Whatever it was, though, Isabel had total faith in this man who held her, protected her, against any adversary who wished them harm.