She closed her eyes, trying to find an inner strength, her inner calm. Faintly she could hear someone calling her through the dull roar in her head.
‘Lady Eleanor?’
It was Father Thomas’s soothing voice from far away.
‘My lady?’
She opened her eyes and searched his old lined face for support and assistance.
‘Do you understand what this means, Lady Eleanor?’
She dug her fingers into her palms, embracing the sharp pain. She took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders and straightened her spine.
‘I do!’ she ground out in a clear voice, and the hall erupted into cheers—except, it seemed, from her husband-to-be.
Hugh de Villiers strode towards her; his jaw clenched tight, and knelt in front of her, bowing his head. Just as quickly he got up and without a backward glance stormed out of the hall.
* * *
Hugh paced outside the inner bailey of the castle, almost colliding with a hapless boy carrying a wheel of cheese from the buttery. He barked at him to be careful and then put up a hand in apology for his own overreaction. He stopped abruptly and exhaled slowly, trying to control his foul mood. He never lost his temper, but after days and nights of frustration, waiting for this woman who had so sorely tested his patience, he felt he just might give in to it spectacularly.
It had to be a jest—it had to.
Hell’s teeth!
What was King John thinking?
Marriage to Eleanor Tallany?
He knew he should feel honoured at having such an heiress bestowed upon him, but he didn’t want a wife. His experience had taught him that women were not worth the inevitable heartache, and the only ones he allowed into his life were those who followed camp and warmed his pallet at night.
He was not interested in marriage. Hugh was a soldier, a knight, and a life serving his King was all he wanted. And yet he was obliged to follow this command. He would be a fool to refuse—not that he could anyway. But why had John not told him of his intentions? It would have saved Hugh the embarrassment of gaping at that priest and muttering that there had to be a mistake. Not a great start in front of the woman who would soon be his wife...
Knowing King John, he would be delighting in his surprise and would declare that this rise in fortune was a befitting honorarium, elevating Hugh’s status after having once saved his Sovereign’s life. A debt that John no doubt felt he owed him. But he didn’t. Hugh had only done his duty as a knight to protect his King—which he would always do.
And yet for John to bestow this unexpected gift upon him did show his trust in him. And it would also bind these northern lands to the King for good, allowing one of his own men to be guardian of a huge area of the north.
Hugh stopped in his tracks and thought through the implications of these tidings properly. He realised that, despite his reservations, the idea of finally having a home of his own, somewhere he could put roots down after being on the road since the age of twelve, was something he did secretly long for. Not that he had entertained that idea in a long time. But he would have to take a wife. One that King John wanted for him.
Lady Eleanor Tallany...
A woman like her—imperious, wilful, rude and superior—was certainly not what he wanted.
Only he had no choice in the matter.
Hugh raked his fingers through his hair, knowing that he’d better find his betrothed and make amends for his unpardonable behaviour earlier—not that she would make it easy for him.
Hugh had a funny suspicion that nothing was going to be easy with Lady Eleanor Tallany.
* * *
Eleanor was pacing back and forth in her solar, trying to think of a way through this unholy mess. She still couldn’t believe it. A husband? A husband who would try to control her, use her and abuse her as before. Saints above! She couldn’t do it again.
Of all the things she had imagined, a husband was not something she had thought the King was going to force on her. Not at this time of civil unrest. But of course it made perfect sense to attach her to one of his own men—especially in an area of England that was largely sympathetic to the rebel cause. As was she.
This man—this Hugh De Villiers—didn’t seem that enamoured of the idea of marriage to her anyway...which was surprising, given the way he had looked at her before formal introductions had been made. Given that marriage to her would make him powerful and rich.
Eleanor’s shoulders slumped as she sighed. Their initial meeting couldn’t have gone any worse than it had. Not only had she erred by making the man wait for days before granting him an audience, she had also behaved badly when they’d met. She shouldn’t have done it. She shouldn’t have been so belligerent. It had not been well done of her—and in front of all his men and her people...
But something inside her had just snapped when he’d gazed at her from head to toe. So she’d thrown him icy daggers, held herself rigid and clasped her hands tightly to stop them shaking, trying not to betray the apprehension she’d been feeling.
Eleanor might have assumed that Hugh De Villiers had known of the King’s wishes and was sizing up his new chattel, but he’d seemed just as shocked as she when Father Thomas had read out the missive.
No, the way he had looked at her was the way so many men had before. He was no different from her cruel first husband or from the guards at the Tower, who had taunted her, tried to touch her. No different from any man who had wanted her and her land and wealth. Except that he was different—or soon would be. She would once again belong to a man, along with everything she possessed.
If only she could prevent the marriage...
Could she refuse?
There was rap on the wooden door and her old maid Brunhilde opened it to allow Hugh de Villiers to enter.
Eleanor turned to face him. ‘Well, Sir Hugh, I take it that this was a surprise for us both?’
‘Just so, my lady.’
‘However, it is an unwelcome surprise. And I can see this...betrothal is just as unpalatable to you as it is to me.’
‘What gave you that idea, my lady?’
The fact that you stormed out of the hall after the missive was read.
‘Am I wrong?’
He shook his head. ‘I never thought to be... Well, I never thought to take a wife.’
For some reason his honesty suddenly made her feel hollow.
Now, where had that thought come from?
‘And I never thought I would be bound to a husband again.’
‘Yes, but your destiny was always to wed, Lady Eleanor—as well you know.’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘And as you well know, Sir Hugh, I was wed.’ Not that her first marriage had been much cause for celebration, but this man didn’t need to know that. ‘So, you’ll excuse my reluctance at the thought of going through it again.’
He moved closer, his eyes fixed on hers, making her feel uncomfortable. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that. Her unruly tongue always got the better of her. She waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. Instead he smiled knowingly.
She swallowed, trying to steady her nerves. He was so very tall, imposing and handsome. Had she missed that earlier? No, of course not. She had just ignored the fact that he was attractive. Ignored his height and those broad shoulders that filled his grey tunic. Ignored the way his dark hair fell over his forehead, covering a scar that split his eyebrow. She had also ignored the way his green eyes crinkled at the corners—and definitely ignored the way his lips broke into a lop-sided grin as they had a moment ago.
She groaned inwardly. Yes, he was attractive, but in an obvious way. No doubt he knew it too. Well, his easy smiles would have no effect on her.
‘I had thought, or rather hoped, that I might be forgotten—especially now that I’m an old widow.’
‘An “old widow”? You cannot be more t
han twenty, my lady.’
‘I’m one and twenty, sir.’
‘You’re right—that is ancient.’ He chuckled, shaking his head. ‘And as for being forgotten...? That would not be possible.’
Eleanor rolled her eyes and walked to the arched window, peering outside. ‘No, not with all the riches I bring.’
‘That is not the only thing, my lady.’ He followed her. ‘Tell me, are you always so forthright in your manner?’
‘I speak as I find,’ she said, with her back to him.
‘Even though it is not usual for a lady of your standing to be so...blunt?’
Eleanor heard him move towards her and knew he was no doubt standing behind her. ‘I suppose you might say that I do not possess the necessary maidenly manners that I’m sure you’re used to, Sir Hugh.’
‘You surprise me. Why do you not possess those maidenly manners?’
‘There was never any need,’ she muttered, turning around to face him. No need for good manners with a brute of a husband whom she’d come to despise and the King he’d served so faithfully—as did this man before her.
‘Is that so?’ he said as she shrugged her shoulders. ‘You would need them if you came to court, my lady, instead of burying yourself up here. Why don’t you?’
Lord above, how had this man managed to get himself in the position of interrogator? He was good—dangerously good. Eleanor would have to watch her step with him.
‘I was indisposed.’
‘Ah...and is that why you ignored the summons of your King?’
‘Of course not. You must appreciate that I have not been well,’ she said.
He inclined his head. ‘Indeed. I am glad to see you in good health now, my lady.’
Eleanor exhaled slowly, surprised that she had been holding her breath.
‘Well, Sir Hugh, what are we to do about our...predicament? You know King John as I do not. How do we get out of this unwanted marriage?’
‘There is no way out of our “predicament”, as you call it. Once King John sets his mind on something he is not easily swayed.’
‘Surely there must be something we can do?’
‘Would you refuse your King?’ He looked shocked—affronted, even.
‘Sir Hugh, I am named after the King’s mother, and my own mother served as one of her ladies when she was Queen. My family have always been loyal subjects, so you will understand if I don’t honour your question with an answer.’
‘Very well—but be under no illusion. There is no question of refusing the King’s request for our betrothal. He would think it a huge insult and it would be in your interests not to persist with that, my lady.’
There was no denying the mild warning that laced what he was saying. Yes, Eleanor was right to be cautious with Sir Hugh de Villiers. Still, she couldn’t resist a little probing of her own.
‘Do you always do everything the King bids?’
‘Naturally. I am sworn to him. I may be a soldier, and not an ideal husband, but if this is what King John wants, then so be it.’
‘As easily as that?’
‘It has to be,’ he said softly, watching her as she bit her lip, turning away.
How? How was she going to get him to understand that this was an impossible situation for her to be in?
But she knew that no amount of explanation would change the course her life was taking.
He was still staring at her. ‘So, my lady, are we in agreement?’
‘No...no, we are not.’
‘Lady Eleanor, the King will have you marry another if not me. And I hope that I am better than other prospective bridegrooms.’
True—he had a point. If not him then it would be another of King John’s cronies.
The hopelessness of her situation exacerbated the anger she felt. ‘I wonder what it is that has made the King want to honour you in this way, Sir Hugh? Could it have something to do with your valour or your courage or some such? Your heroic actions at the Battle of Bouvines?’ she said dismissively.
He looked somewhat taken aback that she had heard of this. ‘Who knows? John may believe it a fitting way to honour my “valour” and my “courage”,’ he said, matching her sardonic tone. ‘But you would have to ask the King, my lady. He does need to secure these lands with someone he can trust.’
‘You, I suppose? And through marriage you’ll acquire all of Tallany...including me?’
He winced, looking uncomfortable. ‘So it would seem. And as far as Bouvines is concerned, when any knight witnesses his King unhorsed and about to be taken for ransom, or even killed, there is no question of what he must do. As such, I only did my duty.’
‘As you are now?’ she retorted. ‘In that case there really doesn’t seem any way out of this unwanted marriage.’
‘No... I’m sorry that I’m not what you envisaged, but I will endeavour to be a good husband.’
Eleanor rather doubted that—especially if Sir Hugh knew to what extent she had conspired against King John. Besides, she didn’t want another husband who would come to own her, possess her and make her feel totally powerless. Not again.
She screwed her eyes shut and looked away. ‘It’s not that I envisage any other for a husband, Sir Hugh. I had rather hoped not to envisage a husband at all.’
He studied her for a moment, making her wish once again that she’d kept her mouth shut.
‘I’m sorry for that, my lady, but I will not defy the King and neither should you.’ He inhaled before continuing. ‘I hope that you can get used to the idea of our marriage, and with that I would ask if I...may I court you?’
Eleanor was speechless momentarily, flummoxed by this man’s question. ‘You want marriage and courtship at the same time?’
Hugh stepped closer and caught her hand lightly in his. ‘I do...’
He raised her gloved hand to his lips and softly kissed the back of it, sending a ripple of awareness shooting up her arm. He then took a step back, his eyes never leaving hers, inclined his head and turned on his heel and walked out of the solar.
Chapter Two
It had been a miserable week, leading up to the wedding, and by this time tomorrow Hugh would be married to the elusive Lady Eleanor Tallany. Today they were out riding together through the woods, by the demesne lands. The old deciduous woods harboured a purple blanket of flowers on this warm spring morning.
Hugh sighed and glanced over to Eleanor, sitting on top of her grey palfrey. She looked magnificent, if not a little pale, wearing a green woollen gown edged in silver thread, a cream-coloured veil and a silver circlet. With her haughty expression, her back straight and the folds of her dress draped to the side of her horse, she looked regal.
‘Which way would you suggest this morning, Lady Eleanor?’
‘Whichever way pleases you,’ she said stiffly, then as an afterthought turned her head and smiled at him. The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
He pushed down his frustration. ‘I’d rather your opinion, as you know these lands much better than I, but no matter. How about riding north? The steward informs me that it is an area of great natural beauty and offers a splendid view from the hill.’
She shrugged. ‘As you wish.’
‘What I wish is for you to tell me more.’
‘Tell you more about what, Sir Hugh?’
About yourself, about your life...
He took a deep breath. ‘About anything you want. Tell me about Tallany. The land, the villages, the people who reside here.’
She turned her head sharply and swallowed, but when she spoke her voice resumed its flat, vapid tone. ‘Ask the steward—Gilbert Claymore. He will furnish you with any information you need. Now, shall we put these horses through their paces?’ She raised her brows and smiled.
Ah, again that false smile pasted on her face. He groaned inwardly. This was go
ing to be another bad day; he could feel it in his bones. It would be as bad as yesterday, and the day previous to that. In fact he would happily swap this past week for a campaign, fighting a dirty, difficult battle, rather than have to endure another day supposedly courting his betrothed before their marriage.
Which was ridiculous, as he didn’t know anything more about Lady Eleanor than when he’d first met her. If anything, she had been more animated and truer to herself that first time than she had been since.
She avoided him, ignored him, or at best offered short answers to anything he asked, just as she had only moments ago, and all with polite deference.
Eleanor Tallany was more frustrating now than when he had been made to wait for her. And this woman was to be his wife. His wife, for the love of God... And it was patently obvious that his attempt at courtship was just as objectionable to her as the prospect of marriage to him.
Courtship? Well, that was entirely laughable.
Hugh had hoped that by courting Eleanor he would get her to soften her stance and allow him to get to know her, but she welcomed that as much as bloodletting! Which was, no doubt, just as excruciatingly painful.
And as if that wasn’t bad enough there was the unwelcome pull of attraction every time he set eyes on her. He couldn’t understand it. She was everything he loathed in anyone, least of all a woman: haughty, tempestuous and insolent. But it was there every time he encountered her. Even that chaste kiss in her chamber, meant to seal their betrothal, had had him wanting more. And he had only kissed her gloved hand, for pity’s sake!
Hugh had glimpsed Eleanor when she was with her people, her steward, her handmaid, and knew she could be open and warm, her smile genuine. Nothing like the smiles she threw his way.
Damn... All he wanted was to get to know this woman better so that they could build some sort of understanding. A foundation for their imposed marriage. Notwithstanding the fact that Eleanor was a demand on his time with the business of finding and capturing Le Renard and his gang of outlaws. Not that Hugh was close to finding The Fox...yet.
The Rebel Heiress and the Knight Page 2
