The Rebel Heiress and the Knight

by Melissa Oliver

  ‘That,’ she said, ‘is unnecessary.’

  She yanked away from his hold and walked ahead.

  ‘Possibly, but it’s not safe to go on your own at this time of night.’

  ‘I don’t need your help, Hugh. I can look after myself.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  She quickly spun and turned the rake round, pointed the end a fraction away from Hugh’s face. ‘Yes,’ she replied through gritted teeth. ‘You see, I had a tutor who told me once that I have a natural ability when it comes to defending myself from anyone who wishes me harm.’

  Hugh put his hands in the air, his palms outward, and smirked. ‘So, do you think that I mean you harm, my lady?’

  ‘I don’t know. Do you?’ Eleanor pushed the end of the rake against his chest, making him take a few steps back. ‘I may not possess any maidenly manners, as you well know, or be proficient at stitching. Nor can I play the lute and sing, oh, so beautifully, like your pretty friend back there, but I can look after myself, Hugh de Villiers.’

  His lips curved into that lopsided smile of his. ‘Are you...? Are you jealous?’

  ‘Hell’s teeth—no, I am not!’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Hugh grabbed the end of the rake and started to tug, pulling Eleanor slowly towards him.

  ‘Yes...no. I don’t know.’ She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. ‘What have I to be jealous of?’

  Hugh shrugged, continuing to pull her closer even whilst she resisted, pulling back. ‘I would not claim to know, Eleanor.’

  ‘Precisely. I don’t need to be, since I have the one thing that all those women seem to want.’

  ‘Oh? And what is that?’ he whispered, and he yanked the pole sharply, hurtling Eleanor forward into his arms.

  ‘You.’

  Hugh’s smile widened into a grin as he let go of the rake and curled his fingers lightly around her waist, drawing her closer. He bent his head and closed his eyes, his lips within a hair’s breadth of touching hers, so close that Eleanor could feel the warmth of his breath.

  And just when his lips almost brushed against hers, she took a big step back, then swung the rake round and under his feet so quickly and unexpectedly that he lost his footing, flew backwards and hit the ground—hard.

  ‘What the blazes did you do that for, woman?’ He made a face, scowling as he rubbed the back of his neck.

  She raised her chin imperiously. ‘Next time you wish to flirt and carry on with other women have a care not to do it in my presence, will you?’

  Eleanor threw the rake down next to him and started to stride away.

  ‘So, you were jealous—and I was not flirting or “carrying on” with anyone!’ he called after her, getting slowly back on his feet.

  ‘I may not have the appropriate maidenly manners, but I do know that you, Hugh de Villiers, are being obnoxious and ill-mannered,’ she threw over her shoulder. ‘But then you have been both of those since we left Tallany.’

  ‘Is that so, my lady? I beg pardon for my abominable behaviour,’ he mocked.

  She threw her arms up in annoyance. ‘I don’t even know why you agreed to me coming on this godforsaken journey to this godforsaken place. Oh, I wish I was back home.’

  Hugh caught up with her. ‘I’m sure you do, Eleanor. And Lord knows what it is that you get up to when you are “back home”—as you so affectionately put it.’

  ‘Have you had too much to drink, Hugh? I don’t understand your meaning,’ she retorted. ‘And, yes, everything I love and hold dear is back home—it’s also where I belong!’

  He grasped her by the arm and pulled her round to face him again. ‘Is it, now?’ he said, in a low voice filled with barely suppressed anger that surprised and confused Eleanor. ‘Have you wondered why I have kept away from you? Why I have not spoken to you in the same manner as before?’

  ‘Why don’t you enlighten me, my lord?’

  ‘Very well—but not here.’ He grimaced as he let go of her arm and took her hand, marching her towards the guest quarters of the castle. ‘This way.’

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘Back to your chamber—and you had better dismiss your women for the night, as what I have to say to you will not require an audience.’

  They walked into the building adjacent and connected to the main castle, which overlooked a pretty herb garden, its blend of evocative aromas permeating the night air. The only sounds that sporadically burst through the silence were the calls of owls and other nocturnal birds and animals in the distance.

  Eleanor dug her heels into the ground and stopped walking. ‘Why don’t you just say what you want to and leave me be?’

  ‘Not here, when anyone could be eavesdropping. Now, come,’ he said. ‘And I can tell you something, Eleanor Tallany, your prowess with defensive weaponry is not your only talent.’

  ‘Oh? And pray tell me what other talents I apparently possess?’ she hissed.

  ‘With pleasure, my lady,’ Hugh growled as they reached her chamber.

  He swung the door open, surprising Eleanor’s women, who were busy with needlework, seated around the hearth, waiting for their mistress’s return from the hall.

  Eleanor gave Brunhilde a small smile and indicated with a nod of her head that she wished for her and the others to leave them. Thankfully her maid understood. They all curtsied one by one and left the chamber.

  She turned and raised her chin. ‘Well? What is it you have to say to me, Hugh?’

  She took off her veil and the silver Tallany circlet and placed them carefully on a trestle table covered in one of Brunhilde’s blended woven tablecloths. The deep crimson, mauve and evergreen were the colours of Tallany and a reminder of home.

  ‘I wanted to wait until later, Eleanor. This confrontation is not something I wished to face yet,’ he said, rubbing his jaw.

  She tried to steady her fingers as she took the pins from her hair. They trembled uncontrollably at his ominous words, and her heart was hammering fast in her chest.

  What did he mean?

  ‘Eleanor?’ he said quietly. ‘Let me help you with that.’

  His voice had lost all trace of the annoyance and anger it had held only moments ago. He had probably noticed her weakness as she was unbinding her hair.

  Dear God, what was happening? Did he pity her?

  ‘Thank you, but no. I don’t need your help.’

  She glided her hands through her dark locks, making it cascade down in waves. She was ready now for whatever he had to say. She turned to face him and swallowed down her anguish as she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders.

  She knew what was about to come.

  She’d always known that a man like Hugh would eventually feel like this about her and her ‘talents’, as he put it. How could she ever have thought that she would be able to hold the interest of this man? A man who would naturally be attracted to someone like that blue-eyed beauty with her melodic voice and perfect manners. Hugh had only ever married her out of duty, and it wasn’t as if either of them had wanted this union.

  Eleanor was headstrong, sharp-tongued and highly opinionated—everything a man, any man, would despise. She had always known this about herself, but it was who she was, and she was not about to change. Not for anyone!

  ‘What is the matter, Eleanor?’ he muttered, moving towards her.

  She took a few steps to one side, wanting to avoid his inquisitive gaze.

  ‘Nothing. Just say what you want and leave,’ she said, fiddling with her mother’s cross around her neck.

  ‘You have tears in your eyes,’ he said, somewhat in disbelief. ‘Why?’ He frowned.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘You were right the first time, Hugh. I’m angry and upset.’ She turned to face him, shaking her head. ‘I knew what I’d got with Richard Millais; he was a man who had no bounds to the cr
uelty and abuse he inflicted on me—or anyone else for that matter... But you,’ she said, jabbing him in the chest. ‘You made me like you, care for you, only to reject me and treat me with disrespect.’

  ‘I did no such thing,’ he said hoarsely, wiping her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

  ‘If this was the way you wanted matters to be between us, then why, for the love of God, didn’t you take my offer that first night after we made our vows? Then you could have found another woman to tend to your needs whilst we made a pretence of our marriage.’

  ‘I could never have done that.’ His fingers lingered on her face, wiping her tears away.

  ‘Then why did you make me care? Why?’ she whispered.

  ‘Don’t...please don’t cry,’ he said gently.

  ‘Saints above, Hugh, I’m not crying!’ she replied, throwing her arms up in the air.

  But she realised with mortification that her cheeks were indeed damp. She groaned with embarrassment.

  What must he think of her?

  Eleanor had always been adept at hiding her true feelings and yet here she was, in front of the man she had such conflicting feelings for, totally exposed. Hugh had somehow managed to crawl intrusively beneath her defences and take down every one of her perfectly constructed walls.

  Dear God, she wanted him. She needed him. If only just to make this horrible, suffocating ache in her chest go away.

  Hugh watched her for a moment and then he sighed, shaking his head. He dipped his head and pressed his lips gently to hers, and this time she let him kiss her.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Eleanor curled her arms around his neck and kissed him back with everything she had. And then she slipped the tip of her tongue tentatively into his mouth.

  * * *

  Hugh growled as he felt Eleanor’s tongue sliding against his. He plunged his fingers into her hair and around the back of her neck, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, tasting and devouring her.

  By God, he wanted her...

  All thought, all his perfectly good intentions about keeping his distance from her, had melted away the moment she had revealed to him how she felt.

  Why did you make me care?

  Did she truly care about him? Eleanor was an enigma to him, so who could tell? But there was her anger, the pain that strangely mirrored his own. He had seen it and he’d felt it.

  Hugh had purposely kept away from Eleanor and observed her, wondering whether anyone else was involved with the outlaws—even here at court, however unlikely that might seem. But he’d only noted her misery and loneliness and his heart had gone out to her.

  He knew he had to be vigilant and watchful, but he’d hated seeing her like that...knowing that he was the cause. So he’d run after her when she had stormed out of the hall.

  And now all that was left was a desire so strong that it pulsated through him. All he could think about was his desperate, hopeless need for her. He realised, as he kissed her with every pent-up emotion that he’d thought discarded and ignored, that Eleanor had been hurting just as much as he. She had felt jealous, confused, and so very angry with him.

  Without breaking the kiss he lifted her as she clung to him, her legs wrapped around his hips, and carried her to bed.

  ‘I can’t seem to stop wanting you, woman,’ he whispered, and he nipped her bottom lip, hearing her gasp against his mouth.

  ‘Is that such a terrible thing?’ she asked, burying her head into his neck as he laid her down on the soft mattress.

  ‘Yes. Yes, it is. It is not how a sane, grown man should behave.’ He broke away, hovering above her.

  ‘If it’s any consolation, I cannot stop wanting you either.’

  He kissed her hungrily, open-mouthed. ‘Good,’ he said, pushing his tongue through the soft opening of her lips, seeking and demanding, willing her mouth to spar with his sensually.

  ‘Eleanor...’ he groaned, and he got up, his breathing ragged, looking at her with her hair falling in waves around the curve of her neck and down her shoulders. Her chest moved up and down quickly and her mouth was parted: pink, wet and swollen from his kisses.

  Hugh groaned again and hurriedly pulled his tunic over his head, then stripped off his braies and hose quickly. In his rush to get back to Eleanor he tripped over the end of his hose, which was stuck to his ankles. He bounced up and down as he pulled it off, a mop of dark hair falling over his eyes.

  ‘It seems that I can’t stop falling at your feet either.’

  Hugh smiled sheepishly as Eleanor giggled at his eagerness.

  ‘Stop laughing, woman,’ he said, shaking his head.

  Eleanor covered her mouth with her hand, clearly trying to curb her amusement at his clumsiness. One moment she had been crying miserably and now she was laughing at him. It was a sudden change, so very like Eleanor, and it made her seem achingly young and innocent.

  ‘Turn around so I can help with the ties at the back of your gown.’

  With deft fingers Hugh untied her woollen dress and pulled it off her shoulders, his hands gliding down her smooth skin. Eleanor turned back, the laughter now gone from her lips. She inhaled deeply and then pulled her sheer cream-coloured tunic over her head and tossed it on the floor.

  She sat there, facing him on the bed in all her naked glory, her eyes never leaving his. He gently pushed her down on the soft cushions and followed, covering her with his body, his hands caressing down the length of her, tracing the soft curves.

  She smiled at him, desire swirling in her eyes. She had never looked so lovely, so utterly beautiful. So much so that it made his chest feel tight and his breath catch in his throat.

  Hugh pushed those feelings aside and entered her warm, welcoming body, making her tremble visibly. He felt as though he was home, somehow, but this too he refused to acknowledge, knowing it was dangerous for him to feel like this.

  He pressed his lips to hers, devouring her, familiarising himself again with all the soft contours of her mouth as his tongue stroked hers.

  ‘You beguile me,’ he whispered softly. ‘My unusual woman.’

  He saw a flash of uncertainty pass over her face momentarily before she tightened her hold on him and wrapped her limbs around his, pushing him to the side and onto his back, before straddling him, moving on top of him and proving his point.

  Eleanor was indeed different from any other woman Hugh had ever met, and he grinned at her daring—being on top of him, turning the normal way of the world on its head. He found that her shocking behaviour excited him, and even more so because she wasn’t even aware she was doing so. This was just who Eleanor was.

  ‘I rather prefer “ruthlessly dexterous”,’ she said, and smiled, biting the inside of her cheek.

  ‘I’m sure you do.’

  He shook his head and locked his eyes with hers as he moved deep inside her. The image of her sitting atop him, with her dark hair spilling over and covering her nakedness, seared through him, filling his veins with wild fire.

  He spread his hand on her chest and slid it down the centre of her body slowly. He curled his fingers on either side of her waist and watched as she tossed her head back and licked her lips. Her reaction to their lovemaking was uninhibited and instinctive, which he found strangely endearing.

  Lord, but this woman had a hold on him.

  Did she have any idea of the effect she had on him? He wasn’t sure, but it made him uneasy. His wife occupied far too much of his time and it must stop.

  He wrapped his legs around hers and flipped her, making them both tumble back so that once again he was on top of her, making her take a sharp intake of breath.

  ‘You’ll find that I can be just as ruthlessly dexterous.’ His lips twitched at the corners.

  ‘I never doubted it.’ She dragged her fingers through his hair, drawing it back. ‘Although there are instances whe
n the student becomes more proficient than the tutor.’

  ‘Is that so?’ he rasped, pressing kisses along the column of her neck.

  ‘Yes,’ she said breathlessly.

  Hugh dipped his head, taking her lips, slanting his mouth across hers and kissing her long and hard. His movement inside her became all-consuming, giving and taking, until it became urgent and demanding. A mix of tenderness and wildness. The past few weeks of anger, frustration and tension were momentarily forgotten, momentarily reconciled. Everything that had gone before seemed washed and swept away on a tide of hopeless longing.

  He fell on top of her, panting, complete, and she shuddered beneath him, her fingers moving up and down his back, stroking and soothing. He moved onto his back and Eleanor snuggled close into his arms.

  But it wasn’t so.

  He had wanted this, even though he shouldn’t. He had needed this, even though he mustn’t. Every rational thought had disappeared the moment he had kissed her, which had led to this intimacy. It was something he should not have done. He had got carried away. He had been so relieved that Eleanor apparently cared for him that he’d thrown caution to the wind and forgotten his duty.

  Eleanor was a temptation that he was not strong enough to resist—but, damn it, he must! His honour demanded it.

  He untangled himself from Eleanor’s embrace and sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. It wasn’t fair to continually torment himself, and neither was he being fair on Eleanor. He must talk to her and obtain all the answers he sought about the outlaws—but not like this. Not after bedding her!

  His eyes darted around the room, without taking in a single thing. He had to leave.

  ‘Hugh, what’s wrong?’ She sat up in the bed with the coverlet draped around her.

  ‘Nothing, nothing...’ He picked up his clothes, strewn in a frenzied mess around the bed and on the floor, and started to dress.

  ‘If that is so then why are you leaving?’

  ‘I have something to attend to, Eleanor,’ he replied with his back to her.

  ‘Please don’t go,’ she pleaded. ‘Stay with me.’

  He heard the distress in her voice and screwed his eyes shut, trying to dismiss it. Not to allow his wretched feelings and concern for her to pull him back to her.