The Rebel Heiress and the Knight

by Melissa Oliver

  He had to give them credit. The gang had outfoxed them all... They had managed to let loose some of his men’s horses in the middle of the night; with only a few having been retrieved. And a few nights ago they’d made a dent in the food supply by stealing wheat from the village mill, meaning there was little left to make bread with. Highly embarrassing with the wedding feast tomorrow.

  But most humiliating of all was the outlaws’ appropriation of a few of King John’s guards, who had travelled here with Hugh. Not only had those men been found tied around a tree in the village keep outside the castle, but they had been left dressed in women’s clothing. There for all to see.

  Yes, it had been a very bad week indeed.

  He gave himself a mental shake, trying to snap out of these morose thoughts. He turned his head. ‘This is a fine morning, is it not, Lady Eleanor?’

  ‘I beg your pardon—did you say something?’

  ‘No, nothing of importance.’

  ‘My apologies, Sir Hugh. I was deep in thought.’ She looked over again to meet his gaze, all wide-eyed innocence.

  ‘And would you like to share those thoughts, my lady?’

  ‘I was pondering the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the attacks from these outlaws. Are you close to finding them?’

  He felt a sudden annoyance at himself and his rare incompetence in finding a few clever outlaws. Really, though, his mind had been otherwise preoccupied. It was not every day a man was about to enter into an unwanted marriage with a woman who no doubt preferred the company of a three-legged goat to her betrothed.

  ‘Not yet, but I will catch them. Sooner or later they’ll make a mistake and I will be ready when they do.’

  ‘It’s all so strange. We never had difficulties like this before. Well, not since my father’s death. It makes me quite fearful to know there are dangerous outlaws nearby.’

  Hugh shot her a sideways glance, trying to understand her interest. ‘It is after all why I am here, my lady, to secure these lands. You have nothing to fear.’

  ‘My thanks, Sir Hugh. What would I do without you otherwise?’

  Her voice was toneless and that fake smile was pasted back on her face, setting his teeth on edge. He swore an oath under his breath. How long was she going to proceed with this pretence of being a polite, docile and biddable wife-to-be? Frankly, at this moment anything would be preferable company than this shell of Eleanor Tallany—even that three-legged goat.

  Hugh knew he needed to shed some of the mounting tension from his body. ‘Lady Eleanor and I will continue our ride alone,’ he said to the few retainers and her maid, who had accompanied them.

  Her handmaid, the ever-faithful Brunhilde, caught her mistress’s eye for confirmation. Eleanor gave a single nod.

  Hugh and Eleanor rode towards a stream, allowing their horses a quick drink, and fell back into silence. He jumped down and strode to her palfrey and extended his arms, offering to help her down. But she declined, shaking her head.

  Hell’s teeth! He had been right to believe this was going to be another miserable day.

  Hugh marched to the stream in exasperation and splashed some water over his face, then took off his gambeson and tossed it on the saddle. It was a remarkably warm morning for a spring day, but that was not why he needed to cool off.

  He turned and met Eleanor Tallany’s impassive gaze, and sighed as she turned away. He had wondered whether perhaps her change in behaviour was due to her fondness for her first husband, Richard Millais, but he’d dismissed that after something she had said. It certainly didn’t fit with what Hugh had known of Millais’s reputation for debauchery and cruelty, but who knew with women.

  Who knew Eleanor Tallany? Certainly not him. His one and only experience of a close relationship with a woman had left him with a bruised heart and wounded pride.

  He reminded himself once again that he hadn’t wanted this either, and shared with Eleanor her sentiments about this forced marriage, but he was honour-bound to make it work. And, notwithstanding the unwanted attraction he felt for Eleanor, Hugh found her beguiling.

  Why had her behaviour changed so much since that first day when they’d found they were to be betrothed? He’d given her all the assurances he could that he would be a good husband, but it had raised no response from her. He’d tried every possible means to get her to talk to him but had failed. She was void of any emotion. In fact, the only emotion she had ever displayed was the anger and defiance she’d shown when they’d first met.

  Well, now...perhaps he could somehow unleash that anger again and break through her mask? He didn’t know why it mattered, but he knew that somehow it did. He glanced briefly at Eleanor, still looking haughty, and the corners of his lips slowly rose.

  He mounted his horse and rode to her side. ‘As I said, Lady Eleanor, there is no need to worry about these outlaws or anything else,’ he said dryly. ‘Now that I am here you can rest easy and need not concern yourself with the running of Tallany any longer. It’s time for a change.’

  Her back stiffened instantly. ‘Sir Hugh...?’

  ‘This place needs a man in order to implement some changes around here.’

  ‘As do I, I suppose?’

  ‘Why, yes. As a matter of fact, I believe you do.’

  She turned away. ‘I have managed perfectly well without anyone else.’

  Hugh sensed that she was trying to conceal the irritation in her voice and that her perfectly placed smiles were beginning to crack. He should have thought of this earlier, but now he’d had enough.

  ‘Ah, but you don’t have to. Not now that I am here and can manage everything as it should be.’ He smiled at her with what he hoped was a look of smug arrogance.

  ‘Everything as it should be? I can assure you that my steward Gilbert and I have managed perfectly well, even during difficult times, and—’

  ‘Oh, I am sure, my lady, that you have done your very best. As much as you could,’ he mocked. ‘For the villages, the tenants and all the lands...being just a woman.’

  The pink hue in her cheeks and neck heightened as she breathed out, no doubt trying to control her temper. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, vacantly.

  ‘Just a woman, Sir Hugh? Is that all I am?’ she asked through gritted teeth.

  They cantered uphill and emerged into a clearing—a change from dense woodland to an expanse of rolling fields.

  He inclined his head, bowing slightly, without any need to say more.

  ‘I see. How very insightful of you. I bow to your superior knowledge, but I would ask you not to be too hasty in your assumptions about me or anything else.’

  He sensed that it would only be a matter of time—a very short time—before his goading would make Eleanor snap, give in to her anger, and hopefully reveal her true self.

  ‘I don’t see why. I’m here to save Tallany, after all, and right all the wrong.’

  ‘I must say I don’t know how we coped without you!’ she muttered, pinning her gaze to the landscape around her.

  ‘And now you don’t have to. As I said, you won’t have to worry any more.’

  ‘What a relief.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’ He grinned.

  ‘Naturally, since my pretty little head can’t cope with much.’

  ‘Just so, my lady.’

  ‘And now that you are here to save us from perdition, what exactly would you have me do once we’re married?’

  Hugh raised his brow at her in amusement.

  ‘Never mind.’ She turned her head away.

  Hugh noticed her hands, covered as always with crochet gloves, clasping the reins tightly. This was better. Much, much better. Her spurious mask was finally slipping. Just a little more and she would be back to being herself.

  * * *

  Eleanor exhaled slowly and looked away, trying not to show that Sir Hugh’s bo
orish rudeness was affecting her. But it was impossible! She was finding it hard to contain her anger and annoyance any more, along with her feeling of helplessness at this imposed situation. Her head was swimming with all the changes that would be forced upon her once more.

  Hugh de Villiers seemed to be enjoying this. Enjoying mocking her—which was confusing. He had been a model of the courteous, gallant knight this past week, starting with that surprisingly gentle kiss, which had taken her off guard. It might have been merely on the back of her hand—her gloved hand, at that—but she had felt it all the way down to her toes.

  Not that she cared a jot about that or any of his placating words. Not again. Eleanor knew how with, the snap of her fingers, a man could change his temper in an instant.

  This past week had been incredibly trying and difficult. Not only had Eleanor needed to conceal her dangerous involvement with the outlaws, but she had been reconciling herself to the prospect that soon, once again, she would be someone’s wife.

  Coming to terms with her impending marriage also meant that Eleanor had had to suppress and disguise her true character, fearful of what her betrothed would do if he found that instead of being meek and deferential, she was sharp-tongued, headstrong and with a mind of her own. Richard had told her many times she was a termagant that every husband would come to despise, heiress or not.

  Bitterness, anger and fear coursed through her. She resented this. These feelings that she had thought to have buried long ago. And she resented being made to marry once again against her wishes—to marry another handsome young knight who thought far too much of himself.

  ‘Would you see it beneath yourself to take a challenge, Sir Hugh?’ she asked. ‘This would be in the hope that you might change your mind regarding the limited constraints of being “only a woman”.’ She held her head high, not daring to look at him.

  ‘You are not in shackles, Eleanor.’ He flashed the lazy, lopsided smile that made him even more absurdly attractive.

  ‘Is that so?’ She inhaled sharply, trying to hang on to her temper.

  ‘What is this challenge you wish to propose?’

  Eleanor knew that she shouldn’t allow herself to rise to whatever scheme this man was devising, but it wasn’t easy. She should, instead, turn the conversation back to gaining any useful information Hugh de Villiers had about her outlaw friends, which would serve them better. Not that that topic of conversation was any safer. Still, she could steer it in the way she wanted whilst not risking losing her temper.

  She turned her gaze to the gently rolling hills before her. Beautiful, she thought wistfully. She had grown up here and knew every blade of grass and branch of tree. These were her lands, her ancestral lands, but they would soon belong to him. As would she...

  ‘Well, my lady?’

  ‘A race to the third oak tree over there—you can see it in the distance.’

  ‘I do see. But...a race? On horseback? With you?’ He smiled slowly, raising a brow.

  She continued to stare out into the distance with what she hoped was a steely gaze and did not even bother to look at him. With the answer he’d given he’d made her even angrier, if that was possible, and now he chuckled in response. He was laughing at her again.

  ‘Perhaps you are scared to be bettered by someone like me?’ she said. ‘Well?’

  ‘You’re not serious, my lady?’

  ‘Deadly so.’

  ‘Hardly a fair contest, Eleanor... Come, let’s forget all this.’

  He spoke so gently that it vexed her all the more.

  ‘Do you accept or not?’ She scowled, finding it hard to remain composed.

  ‘Very well, if you insist. But let it be noted that I did warn you. I hope you will not be too disappointed when I win.’

  ‘We will see, Sir Hugh. We will see. Quickest to the oak I mentioned, by any means.’

  ‘Then call it, my lady.’

  He brought his destrier round beside her palfrey, towering over it, and grinned at Eleanor, taking her hand in his and pressing it lightly.

  She snatched it back. ‘Now!’

  Eleanor pushed forward, galloping away to get a fast start before realising that he had held back, allowing her to get ahead.

  His laughter roared behind her as she sped out in front. Of all the confounding, patronising and infuriating males! She continued to speed ahead before seeing him in the periphery of her vision as he cantered effortlessly past her. No, she would not allow it. This was her race to win! She had to.

  Eleanor kicked her young horse to get him to go faster, trying in vain to get closer to Sir Hugh’s lead. Both horses stretched and galloped fast, weaving in and around trees and bushes and criss-crossing each other, masterfully led by their riders.

  She glimpsed Hugh’s mocking smile and his nod of approval, then saw him tear a bite out of a piece of wheaten bread. Next, he pulled his flagon from his saddlebag and began drinking out of it.

  He was eating and drinking now? At a time like this? Of all the insults!

  She couldn’t believe his arrogance. She could feel the slow rise of a red mist of fury building within her as she grabbed onto the reins even tighter, her knuckles turning white. How dared he treat her so? Talk to her so? Behave so? Detestable man. She would show him!

  * * *

  Hugh continued to race ahead, pushing his destrier faster, but not as fast as usual—he had to make it look as though it were a fair contest. He had been taken by surprise with Eleanor’s challenge, which he had found both entertaining and endearing. He’d heartily enjoyed getting a rise out of her, and found that the more annoyed Eleanor became, the more he couldn’t resist goading her. The way she spoke in outrage, defending herself, had almost made him stop and apologise. Almost.

  He glanced around at the sound of her grey palfrey at his side with a ready smile, but froze. Eleanor wasn’t riding him any more.

  Sheer panic and guilt spiked through him as he abruptly turned his horse around and scanned the surrounding area in the hope of finding her. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have pushed her this far and agreed to her outrageous challenge.

  Suddenly, in the distance, he could just make out a crumpled heap beside a tree on a hilly mound. With a sharp kick he led his horse back, but this time at his usual faster speed, riding to the motionless heap.

  Hell’s teeth! It was Eleanor, face-down in the long grass. He dismounted and bolted towards her.

  ‘Eleanor?’ he bellowed. ‘Eleanor, please say something!’

  Sick with worry, Hugh prayed she was unharmed. But as he reached her, lying there motionless, something sprang up, caught his foot and sent him hurtling forward, down the mound.

  It was her—Eleanor—and there was nothing wrong with her! She had deliberately tripped him up and now he lay with his face in thick dry mud, feeling both embarrassed and humiliated. He groaned, wiping his cheek.

  * * *

  Eleanor quickly got back on her feet, and she raised her eyebrows briefly at him before turning, hitching up her skirts and running towards her horse, which she had whistled for and was now galloping back towards her.

  Just as she reached the animal, and was about to mount it, Eleanor felt a sharp tug on her arm and a firm hand clasped around her waist, pulling her back. She fell with a thud, unceremoniously, into the arms of Hugh—who was no doubt furious.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t. Tell me, are you always this adept at deception?’ he asked.

  ‘When there’s a need...’ She wriggled, trying to free herself, but to no avail. He was too strong for her.

  ‘I wondered where that prickly woman I’d first met had gone under all that finery and false smiles...but here you are!’

  ‘Let me go!’ she demanded as he gripped her firmly.

  ‘I don’t think so, my lady. That was a shameless trick you pulled back there.’

  ‘You des
erved nothing less.’ Eleanor was allowing her anger to bubble over, but frankly she didn’t care.

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yes, damn you.’

  ‘Dear me, you’re not very ladylike. Where did you learn to curse like that? It seems you really were telling the truth, Eleanor, when you said you possessed no maidenly manners.’

  ‘Let me go.’

  ‘No, I will not—now, hold still.’

  Eleanor gasped and froze. Had Hugh de Villiers really uttered exactly the same words that her late husband Richard had used before...before doing the terrible things he’d done to her?

  A small sob escaped from her lips as she screwed her eyes shut. So be it. There was little she could do anyway, whatever this man intended to do to her. He was much stronger than she.

  Suddenly she realised he had let her go. Nothing she had been expecting had happened, so very slowly she opened her eyes and found Hugh looking at her strangely, his brows furrowed. He was openly studying her, trying to find answers to the questions swirling in his eyes.

  ‘Come, Eleanor, let me help you mount your horse,’ he said gently, holding out his hand, his eyes never leaving hers.

  She nodded curtly, not trusting herself to speak, and placed her hand in his.

  * * *

  They rode back in silence as Hugh’s head was still reeling. What in God’s name had happened back there?

  Hugh glanced in Eleanor’s direction and frowned. How could he have misjudged the whole situation as badly as he had? He’d only meant to stop her from riding away. One minute they had been sparring, Eleanor matching him in every sense, word for word, and throwing the nonsense he was saying back in his face, and the next...

  He shook his head with frustration as they rode. Eleanor had challenged him to a race on horseback and, to his utter surprise and amazement, had ridden well. Even more surprisingly, and somewhat amusingly, she had resorted to cheating and subterfuge to get ahead, catching him off guard. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that.