‘Hush now, calm yourself.’ Katherine rose to comfort her. Eva batted her friend’s arms away, jewelled tears spinning out from her face.
‘No—I need—I need some air,’ she gasped out, fighting her way out from between the unwieldy chairs, staggering from the table to fumble blindly through the thick curtains at the back of the dais. The corridor beyond was shadowy, dank, lit by a single, unglazed window at one end. Eva darted towards the square of light, throwing her belly across the slanted stone sill, leaning out, gulping in the crisp morning air.
What had she done?
Exhausted by her outburst, the rage drained from her. She slumped forward over the windowsill, her body spent. Spots of colour burned her cheeks, a dusting of fire. A breath of wind snagged her veil, a white wing blowing out. Far below, the brown river churned, the spiralling flow powerful and relentless. The temptation to clamber over the sill and plunge down into those muddy waters gripped her; she could let the river carry her away, away from all this to a safe, hidden place.
For a large man, Bruin moved with exceptional quietness, the sound of his footsteps barely discernible in the corridor behind her. His hand curled around her shoulder, resting lightly.
‘Go away,’ she croaked, her eyes focused on the river, the undulating wavelets, crested with white froth. ‘Forget I said anything.’
‘That would be difficult,’ he replied, ‘as the whole hall has been entertained by your tirade. I doubt anyone will forget that in a long time. That was quite a performance.’
His words stung, nipped at her. Eva whirled around, peerless skin streaked with tears. In the shadows, her hair shone, like the polished colour of chestnuts. ‘Why are you being so cruel? You think this is all an act? For God’s sake, Bruin, I’m telling the truth!’ Tears surged, threatening once more. She closed her eyes, wanting to block the piercing cruelty of his eyes, clamping her lips together to control the trembling of her bottom lip. Grinding her fingers into the sill, she clawed at the stone for support. ‘I told you the truth,’ she said again.
Guilt sliced through him. He was being mean, bullying both Lady Katherine and then Eva to reveal their secrets. But he suspected if he had asked them nicely, they would have provided him with evasive, half-hearted answers. Fobbed him off with bright words and airy phrases. And he had wanted the truth. A shudder of disquiet coursed through his large frame. Had his brother’s vicious streak finally climbed out of control? He remembered the fear he had felt as a child. Steffen always had to win, at everything. Every game, every sword fight. His competitiveness had been exhausting, turning the most playful game sour.
A wave of sickness passed through him, a thousand questions burning in his brain. He knew, deep in his heart, that Steffen was entirely capable of treating a woman so badly. He had seen it before, in Flanders. The way he used them, discarded them when he was bored. ‘Are you sure?’ Bruin asked, his voice hoarse. He sounded wretched. ‘Are you sure it was my brother?’
Shivering, Eva straightened up, winding her arms across her bosom. The velvet sheen of her gown rucked up beneath her crossed forearms. ‘Oh, yes,’ she confirmed in a shaking voice. ‘It was him.’
Chapter Eight
Her silent gesture knocked into him with the force of a crossbow bolt. His chin jerked up, a ruddy flush covering his cheekbones. Eva’s aquamarine eyes fixed warily on Bruin’s face, watching for the slightest change in his hard expression, desperately wanting him to believe her. A welter of emotions ricocheted through him; he should have been outraged, incensed by Eva’s accusation, but strangely, he was not. She was telling the truth. He saw it in the trembling of her bottom lip, in the fearful guarded way she held her body; had seen it yester eve in the forest, when she had thrust the flaming brand into his face, mistaking him for his brother.
The silence between them lengthened; an icy breeze whipped through the passageway from the open window. Eva bunched her fingers into tight fists at her sides. It was evident from Bruin’s lack of response that he didn’t believe her. ‘It’s all right. I don’t expect you to believe me. But it’s the reason I don’t want to go to Deorham with you.’
He came towards her, tall frame filling the constricted space. The toes of his boots knocked against her own, hidden beneath the flowing hemline of her gown. He cupped her shoulders. ‘Eva, I believe you.’
‘Really?’ Through the gloom, the diamond glitter of his eyes pierced her soul. She clung to them, grasping their brightness like a lifeline.
Beneath his hands, the bone structure of her shoulders was fragile, a delicate cage; absent-mindedly, he rubbed one thumb against the cloth of her dress. ‘I do,’ he confirmed. ‘My brother has lived in England for many years now; before seeing him at Deorham, I hadn’t seen him since—’ he stopped, unwanted memories crowding his mind. Steffen telling him what had happened to Sophie, a smug little smile crawling across his face; Steffen holding out Sophie’s wet shawl, the ends trailing in the mud ‘—since we trained as knights in Flanders.’ Shame washed over him, vile and coruscating. He stared over Eva’s neat head, the gleam of her circlet and through the window, to the washed-out blue sky beyond. A buzzard hovered above the flood plain, feathered wing tips ruffling upwards in the stiff breeze as it fought to keep itself steady.
Beneath the solid weight of his hand, Eva shifted, sensing his distraction. Relief flooded through her; he believed her. Fear, that leaden cloak draping her shoulders, fell away, leaving her light, aware. Did Bruin realise how close he was standing? His knees bumped against hers, rustling her velvet skirts. She could see the individual stitches on his surcoat: satin stitch, chain stitch, making up one of the embroidered lions, the gold thread interspersed with blue. A labour of love.
A bolt of longing shot through her; earthy and visceral. Her mouth parted in a silent gasp, air pleating her chest. His nearness acted like a balm, soothing her frayed nerves, easing out the tension in her back. But in truth, it did far more than that. A kernel of need grew at the base of her belly, slowly at first, like a newborn fire, smoking and spitting, until it burst into flame, incandescent. A wild insanity ripped along her veins, a primal yearning that stretched every sinew in her body to near breaking point, vibrating and aware. If only she could lean into him, rest her head against his chest and squeeze him tight to her. And more.
Her head knocked back at her own shocking thoughts. Never before had a man made her feel like this, or think like this. She had to step away, move back from him, before she made an utter fool of herself. ‘Thank you, Bruin. Thank you for believing me,’ she stuttered out. She placed her palm against his chest, a gesture of gratitude. Taut muscle ridged beneath her splayed hand. To her surprise, he gripped her fingers, holding them tight to his ribs when she would have pulled away.
‘What did he do to you?’ He stumbled over the question, tongue thick and awkward in his mouth, not wanting to think the worst. If Steffen had raped her... His mouth twisted savagely.
Eva dipped her head, biting down hard on her bottom lip. Silver discs, engraved, studded the worn leather on Bruin’s sword belt; they swam before her vision. ‘I said it all in the hall,’ she murmured in a thin brittle voice. ‘Don’t make me talk about it again.’
His jaw was rigid; a muscle twitched below his cheekbone. His grip was strong. ‘Tell me one thing,’ he said. ‘Did he—did he take advantage of you?’ For some insane reason, the question was of the utmost importance to him.
Eva tipped her face up, skin gleaming like a pearl in the shadowy half-light. ‘You mean, did he rape me?’ she replied bluntly. ‘No, he did not.’ Although Lord Steffen had threatened her with it, she remembered, if she had continued refusing to sign the papers.
‘Then how did he know about your birthmark?’ The words stumbled out of him. ‘Steffen told me to look for it. When would he have seen that?’
‘He didn’t. The maidservant who attended me told him about it
,’ she explained. ‘He did allow me to have the occasional bath.’
Thank God, Bruin thought. ‘How could he have done such a thing to you?’ he murmured roughly. Fuelled by a need to comfort, his other hand lifted, wanting to erase the fleeting look of emptiness, of utter desolation, that tracked across her breathtaking features. His thumb slid over her cheek, tracing a warm arc. The texture of her skin was like silk, a polished whisper against his calloused pad. His touch drifted to her mouth, brushing the fullness of her bottom lip.
‘He wanted my money and that’s all there is to it.’ Eva shuddered, but not with thoughts of Steffen. ‘He didn’t want me; he had enough women around him to keep him happy.’ Her heart raced as Bruin’s fingers tingled against her skin. Her blood thickened, pooling dangerously. Move away now, she told herself. Move away before it’s too late. Her breath snared, laced with desire; her pupils dilated, black pools radiating outwards to flood the sea-bright colour of her eyes. The exquisite sensation of his touch captured her body, held her prisoner. If she moved, Bruin would stop. And she had no wish for him to stop. Her lips parted, air rushing out from her lungs, expelling the faintest whimper, an echo of desire.
Bruin heard the small sound. Recognised it for what it was. Rushed on by a growing need, his self-control splintered. Tilting his head, he leaned down, touching his lips to hers. He roped his brawny arms around her back, winching Eva against the broad heft of his frame. His mouth roamed along the delicate seam of her lips, a trail of fire, of sweet sensation. The fire spread downwards, flushing the sensitive skin of her torso, diving deep into the secret recesses of her belly, and below, ricochets of liquid desire arching through the very core of her.
His big body crushed against her and her back flexed beneath the pressure of his chest, the hard, flat plane of his torso as he gathered her close, bracing her body against the stone window sill. His knee nudged between her thighs; she arched beneath him, muscles slackening. Beneath the insistent torment of his lips, her mouth parted and he groaned, deepening the kiss, his tongue darting into that sweet hollow. Time flew away, suspended in an airy bubble, a dream that encased them both.
‘Eva?’ Katherine’s voice called out into the corridor. ‘Eva, where are you?’
The weight of Bruin’s body vanished immediately. Eva found herself lying against the sloping window sill, nay, sprawled, like a wanton, a woman of the night, her breath emerging in quick, truncated gasps. Beneath her dress, her breasts throbbed, tingled with awareness. Scowling, Bruin yanked her sharply to her feet. The muscled planes of his face were tight and hard, his expression inscrutable.
‘Oh—there you are!’ Spotting the two figures at the end of the corridor, Katherine moved towards them in a gracious sweep of her skirts. She frowned, sensing the unspoken tension in the air between them. ‘I hope you’re not upsetting her again?’ she barked at Bruin, folding her arms imperiously across her bodice.
Eva’s face was flushed. Desire shimmered in her eyes, violet-blue. Seeking stability, her arm flew out, touching the wall lightly for balance. ‘No, nothing like that,’ she stammered hurriedly, scrambling to answer for both of them.
‘Eva has told me everything,’ Bruin explained coolly, his long eyelashes dipping briefly as he turned towards Katherine. He was composed, his face set into stern lines. The angled light from the window highlighted the golden tips of his tousled hair. Nothing about his demeanour suggested what had happened a moment before: his body sprawled across hers, lips devouring, seeking. Eva frowned at him, resenting his composure. How could he recover so quickly? Flames of yearning licked through her veins, like the aftermath of a storm.
‘Everything?’ Katherine frowned, her brown eyes darting quickly to Eva. Out on the window ledge a pigeon cooed, the rounded sound echoing through the arched window space.
‘He knows about—his brother,’ Eva confirmed.
Katherine’s fair eyebrows flew upwards and she glared stonily at Bruin. ‘I can’t quite believe that you and he are related,’ she said slowly. ‘Since your brother came into the employ of the King, his behaviour seems to know no bounds. The things he has done.’ Her voice trailed away; she shrugged. ‘He’s made a habit of preying on young heiresses, dividing their fortunes between himself and the King. And my uncle supports him!’
Bruin grimaced, the memory of the childhood games with his brother twisting in his gut. ‘I cannot speak for what he has done, but I am sorry for it.’
Katherine inclined her head, acknowledging his apology. ‘So you can see why Eva cannot come with you. Why she cannot see him again. She must come with me and the children.’
‘I disagree.’ Bruin shook his head, a firm distinct movement.
‘Wh-what?’ His words struck Eva like a thunderclap. She staggered back against the wall, her shoulder grazing roughly against the unyielding stone. ‘But I told you what—I thought you believed me about what happened!’ she cried out.
‘I do believe you,’ Bruin said calmly, tucking his thumbs into his sword belt. His voice was low, melodious. ‘But despite what he has done, my brother is dying. I cannot refuse to grant him this last request. I know it will be difficult for you, but I will be there.’
Eva’s face paled. Her mouth pinched together, ringed with white. As if he had slapped her. Her flesh, lithe and malleable from his kiss, now tingled with apprehension. His kiss had been a jewel, a luxurious gift that she had accepted gleefully, foolishly, with all the naivety of an innocent; now, with his abrasive announcement, it was as if he ripped that gift away, leaving her open-mouthed and gasping.
She clutched at Bruin’s forearm, her oval nails digging into the links of his chainmail. Fear pulsed through her. ‘I cannot.’ Her voice climbed with panicky shrillness. ‘I told you. Lord Steffen is lying to you. What if he isn’t dying at all—?’
‘I saw him,’ Bruin said, his voice slicing through her speech like a steel blade. ‘The blood was running from his head, his breathing shallow. Do you think I don’t know when someone is on the brink of death? I have seen it often enough. Eva, you need to be ready to go before the noon bell. I will be with you the whole time. Nothing is going to happen to you.’
Every word he spoke exacerbated her terror, so that it rose, mountainous and forbidding, paralysing her mind. She couldn’t think logically. ‘Katherine—?’ In consternation, Eva pulled away from Bruin, plucking at her friend’s sleeve.
Katherine folded her cold hand within her own. Her brown eyes challenged Bruin. ‘How can you force her to go through with this? After what she has endured at your brother’s hands?’
Bruin sighed. ‘I will look after her, I promise. And bring her back to you after we have seen Steffen. You have my word on that.’
Katherine was silent for a moment. ‘So there’s nothing I can say or do to persuade you from this course of action?’
Bruin’s pressed his lips together. ‘Nothing.’
Fingers of terror gripped Eva’s heart, clawed into the very soul of her. Everything she had known for the last year or so, the restricted, ordered life that she had built for herself after the horror of her captivity, had been thrown up in the air, disordered, topsy-turvy. As if she were standing on a raft, tossed by unpredictable waves, the wooden planks slowly disintegrating beneath the churning power of the water until at last she disappeared into those sunlit green depths.
And all because of him.
Mouth tight with mutinous dislike, she scowled at Bruin, trying to summon up any last remnants of courage. For if there was a time to be brave, to stand up for herself, then surely it was now. She felt betrayed. Where had the man gone, the man that moments earlier had held her safe in his burly arms, and touched his lips to hers? Eva straightened her spine, lifting her chin towards Bruin. ‘Well, I don’t care about your plans for me,’ she announced boldly. ‘I am not going to Deorham; I am not going to see Lord Steffen again and that is final.’ She
pinned her wide blue eyes on Bruin, her expression hostile, acerbic. ‘You will have to drag me there, kicking and screaming, against my will.’
‘Then that is the way it will be,’ Bruin replied. There was no softness in his eyes.
* * *
‘Eva, I don’t see how you can avoid travelling to Deorham with him.’ Katherine was on her knees beside the oak coffer. The carved lid was flung back against the plastered wall. Katherine pulled out another gown, folding the velvet cloth expertly: sleeves tucked inward, skirts pleated neatly. Rising to her feet, she carried the bundle over to the travelling trunk and laid the gown inside. Silver embroidery decorated the generous hem: a trailing chain stitch worked into leaves and flowers winked in the sunshine streaming through the chamber windows.
‘He has no idea what his brother is capable of,’ Eva replied, hollow-eyed. Her own small bag was already packed with her few possessions.
‘It does sound like Lord Steffen is capable of very little,’ Katherine replied softly. She fiddled with the gown in the trunk, tutting beneath her breath, adjusting the skirts so that the fabric lay flat. ‘You heard Lord Bruin: the man is on his deathbed.’
‘And I do not believe it,’ Eva whispered, biting down hard on her bottom lip. ‘That man will do anything, even fake illness to gain what he wants. He knows I have the ruby and he wants it. That’s why he’s asked his brother to find me. I am the only person who knows where it is.’
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