The Rebel Heiress and the Knight
Autore
Melissa Oliver
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24
Chapter One
Three days! Three arduous days and nights she had kept him waiting, giving him excuse after excuse as to why she couldn’t grace him with her presence. And still there was no sign of her.
Hugh de Villiers kicked the rushes on the floor of the great hall and exhaled in frustration. No, it seemed more like three long months that Lady Eleanor Tallany had been defiantly ignoring King John’s missive demanding her at his court. To add insult to injury, she’d continued to ignore subsequent demands, resulting in King John dispatching Hugh and his men to these godforsaken northern wilds to meet with the enigmatic heiress.
He’d suspected that the lady would rather leave than face the contents of that missive, and had men posted around the castle keep, but no one had left. If she had been in the castle all this time she was still here.
Inside.
Hiding somewhere.
God give him strength!
He watched the far end of the hall as the steward of Tallany Castle, Gilbert Claymore, walked towards him, wringing his hands and looking grim. Hugh gritted his teeth. This behaviour was both ridiculous and offensive in equal measure. Who did Eleanor Tallany believe she was that she could so insult and flout her Sovereign’s wishes and demands?
For Hugh, it was a matter of unquestionable fealty to King John, and if it meant softening his liege’s somewhat erratic and volatile behaviour. Hugh was honour-bound to his King, his allegiance never in doubt even in these uncertain times, with the country on the brink of civil war. Yet here he was, put firmly in his place, his patience worn thin by this woman for no understandable reason.
‘Well, what is it this time, Claymore?’
‘My lady sends her apology, Sir Hugh, but she cannot meet with you this morn as she has a...a malady.’
‘Another one, eh?’
‘Her head gives her pain today, but she bears it with fortitude and grace.’
‘Indeed. And yet only yesterday you were telling me of Lady Eleanor’s remarkable competence in the running of her estates. Impressive in itself, but all the more so with her litany of maladies.’
Hugh raised his brow. Really, the steward must take him for a fool.
‘My lady is usually of good health.’
‘Well, then, it must be our presence that distresses her so.’ A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘Damn it, man, my time here should be of short duration. I need to get back to court.’
‘And would my lady have to accompany you?’
So that was what was bothering Lady Eleanor. That she would be made to come to court. Why?
Even Hugh, having spent many years on campaigns in France, knew of this widowed heiress and her desire to be left alone. Her lack of presence at court fuelled further gossip and rumour.
‘That I cannot answer, since I don’t know the contents of this missive nor what King John’s intentions are.’
Not strictly true, since Hugh had another mission, as well as to deliver the King’s demands to this frustrating woman. Hugh also had to find and capture a group of outlaws and their leader, Le Renard—or The Fox, as he was apparently known in these parts. The gang had not only stolen levies intended for the Crown, but also more worryingly had helped and abetted the Northern Rebel Barons. Traitors, who openly opposed and defied the King.
‘Tell your lady that the sooner we hear King John’s command, the sooner we can all go back to whatever it was we were doing. My men are restless, Claymore, as am I. And this situation cannot be endured any more. I believe I have been more than patient. I will go to Lady Eleanor’s solar and drag her down here myself. Either way, the King’s missive must be read today!’
Eleanor looked out of the small arched window from her solar and rubbed the back of her neck and winced. This time the pain was real. She wished the King’s men and the so-called hero of the disastrous Battle of Bouvines—this Hugh de Villiers—would leave, but that was a fool’s wish. They wouldn’t leave until they’d got what they wanted: her. And she couldn’t avoid them any longer.
She had stupidly believed that if she ignored King John’s summons, he would forget about her, as he had done these past few years since her husband’s death from dysentery.
Ah, the solitude of those years and the freedom that had come with being in her ancestral home rather than bound by the shackles of court was something she had enjoyed—relished, even.
Eleanor had finally been doing what her father had taught her, despite being ‘just a woman’. Managing her vast lands and looking after her people to the best of her ability. Yet it seemed now that was all to end.
Since the King’s men had arrived Eleanor had sought to find a solution, a way out of her predicament, but all she had achieved was incensing the men instead—which was not something she had intended. But she didn’t want to know the contents of King John’s missive. Whatever he wanted from her, it would not be good. Nothing he demanded ever was. And now Eleanor had no idea about how to proceed.
Either way, she could never leave Tallany, nor its people, to fend for itself in these difficult times. That was what had made Eleanor secretly ally herself with the Northern Rebel Barons some months back and give them the assistance they’d need against a king bent on destroying everything she believed in. Dangerous on her part, but necessary, nevertheless.
Mayhap that was the reason why the King’s men were here. Mayhap they knew of her treason. But surely no one save her few loyal men knew her part in that...
No, this was about taking her back to court—or, worse still, keeping her at the Tower, just as before her disastrous marriage. A shiver ran through her.
Eleanor wished she had more time. She had always known that her destiny was not hers to determine, but for her freedom to be snatched away so soon made her feel powerless and vulnerable.
She turned and caught her steward’s eye as he entered the chamber. He nodded once and walked out again. No, she could no longer avoid the King’s men and their commander, Sir Hugh de Villiers.
The hall fell silent as the steward of Tallany Castle and its mistress, followed by a couple of older women, walked onto the dais with purpose. Hugh shut his eyes in relief and sighed. Finally she had come. He could get this over and done with and leave this place.
He opened his eyes just as Lady Eleanor turned to face him and his breath caught. A heady scent of flowers and blended mixed spice teased his senses. He hadn’t given the widow herself much thought—hadn’t known what to expect of her—but it certainly had not been the lovely vision in front of him.
He looked her up and down, mesmerised. Oh, yes, a face and body that could send a man to purgatory! Her hair was pulled back and bound underneath a linen veil held by a silver circlet, but he could just glimpse dark glossy strands. Her eyes were dark too, and framed by lashes that curved at the ends. And her pink lips were lush and inviting...though not inviting him anywhere, as they were compressed into a thin line.
He glanced up and saw that she was glaring at him. A look of pure contempt flashed in her eyes before being masked. She stiffened, tilted her head and gave a curt nod.
What in God’s name was he thinking?
He gave himself a mental shake and stepped forward, making a perfunctory bow.
‘Lady Eleanor, it is an honour for me and my men that you grace us with your presence and I’m glad to see that your health seems much improved.’
‘Indeed? And you must be Hugh de Villiers?’
‘At your service, my lady.’
The lady, however, raised her eyebrows and looked down her nose at him.
‘I rather doubt that, Sir Hugh. We both know why I am commanded here.’
He stood there staring at her open-mouthed, stunned by her rudeness.
‘Do we, Lady Eleanor?’
‘As you well know, sir.’
So she preferred plain talking, did she? Very well.
‘My lady, mayhap if you had come to court when the King summoned you, this might have been avoided,’ he said tersely.
‘This,’ she said through pursed lips, ‘could never have been avoided.’
‘Perhaps not, but it would have saved my men and I having to journey here and interrupt your...busy life.’
‘Are you mocking me?’
Whatever Hugh had been expecting in Eleanor Tallany, it certainly hadn’t been this hostile woman in front of him now.
‘Not in the least, my lady. I’m merely pointing out that had you been gracious enough to submit to King John’s demands, all this unpleasantness might have been avoided. You must know that he is not a man to be defied.’
‘How easy it is for you to say, but this “unpleasantness”, as you call it, could never have been avoided. It serves to determine my future.’
Hugh frowned at her. ‘A future decreed by your King.’
They stared coldly at each other, waiting for the other to back down, as the hall descended into an awkward silence.
‘Well, then,’ she said finally, keeping her frosty gaze locked on his. ‘Perhaps we should find out what this future holds, shall we?’
Hugh watched as Eleanor waved her hand for the missive to be read and the Tallany priest, Father Thomas, stepped forward and bowed to his mistress before cutting open the seal of the parchment scroll.
Hugh ground his teeth together. By God, she was infuriating! And to think he had been stirred by other thoughts that her beautiful face and comely body had aroused just moments ago.
He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be long until he left this godforsaken place. All he had to do was give whatever King John’s message to this woman, catch a group of outlaws and then he could leave and get back to his life as a soldier. The sooner the better.
Father Thomas’s voice filled the great hall as he read the missive, but not for one moment would Eleanor betray her fear to this Hugh de Villiers or to any one of the King’s men. Her trepidation was entwined with a sense of outrage at having her home, her corner of England, invaded by these unwanted interlopers, and her apprehension about King John’s edict was making her heart beat a little faster, but she didn’t look away. Whatever the King had to say, wanted to accuse her of, she could face it. She would do it with her head held high.
Mustering all her courage, she straightened her back and stared boldly at the man who threatened her peace... Sir Hugh de Villiers.
He was bemused and baffled by her, she could tell, and attempting his own brand of indifferent haughtiness to match hers. She glared at him, putting every pent-up feeling of frustration, resentment and anger into it, but he merely smirked at her and dismissively shook his head, as if she were a petulant child.
Seething, she thought she would love nothing more than to march up to him and wipe that look off his face, but that was beneath her. Besides, it would only prove to Hugh de Villiers that he had the right of her character. Not that Eleanor cared what he thought! Really, he was quite insufferable. Although it should come as no surprise. No doubt the King was surrounded by such ambitious sycophants as this man. Just like her loathsome late husband, who had been not only ambitious and greedy but many other unpleasant things she would rather forget.
Eleanor was thankful that at least she was now free from that obligation and no longer had to bow to the demands of a husband. She shuddered at the thought of that! Yes, she must be thankful for the precious freedom she enjoyed—but for how long? She dreaded with what the King wanted with her. If only she were somewhere else...
As if reading her mind, Hugh de Villiers threw her a wry, detached look, probably wishing he were far away too. She wanted to be anywhere but here in her great hall, having to listen to Father Thomas. She’d rather be knee-deep in pig manure, or stitching a dozen linen shirts, or mulching a dozen barrels of apples for cider, or...
An audible collective gasp echoed in the hall and snapped her to attention. She tried to recall the few snatched words she’d heard moments ago. Had she heard correctly or could it be her imagination?
What had Father Thomas just said?
‘Lady Eleanor Tallany...as decreed by King John...marriage...’
By God, she hoped she had imagined it. But she knew instinctively that she hadn’t.
Marriage? Marriage? But to whom?
Heart pounding, Eleanor glanced around the room. Her eyes landed on Sir Hugh de Villiers, who looked ashen.
No, no, no! Please, not him. There had to be a mistake! ‘Pardon me, Father, what did you say?’ she whispered as she turned to face her kindly priest.
A shadow of concern shrouded his eyes. ‘Our Lord and Sovereign King John has decreed a betrothal between you, my lady, and...’ Father Thomas gulped. ‘And Sir Hugh de Villiers. The bringer of this joyous message.’
Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted back to Hugh de Villiers, horrified. A ringing noise in her ears drowned out all other sound in the room. She could feel sweat on her brows; her palms clammy. Dear Lord, this could not be happening! Not again.
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 than 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.
