Besieged and Betrothed

She stared at him bleakly. That gave her an hour to make ready, to speak to her men, to tell them to lay down their weapons and hide their valuables as best as they could. If only she could hide the truth about her bargain with Stephen, too, but that was impossible. Once this man took possession of Castle Haword he’d find out exactly what she’d done to keep it. And when he did, he’d likely turn her over to the Empress himself.

Unless... She inhaled sharply, half-alarmed, half-exhilarated by a new idea. Unless she stopped him right now, never gave him the chance to order an assault. Unless she took him prisoner instead!

She bit her lip, struggling to keep her expression calm, gripped by a heady blend of excitement and fear. If she took him prisoner, then in all likelihood de Ravenell would remain in charge and the siege would go on as before. It might not stop an assault in the long run, but it might stall it long enough for Stephen to arrive with reinforcements.

But how could she do it? Her mind raced to formulate a plan. She wouldn’t be able to overpower him on her own, that was obvious, and if she didn’t want to risk any of her men, then she’d have to use another, more insidious means of subduing him. That was if she could persuade him to enter the castle in the first place, and how could she do that? There was only one possible method that sprang to mind, though the very idea filled her with horror—a means of entrapping him, too, if she only had nerve enough to try it. If she flirted with him, made him believe that she wanted more than simply to negotiate, that she had a private, ulterior, personal motive for inviting him inside the castle walls...would he follow her then?

She felt her cheeks flood with colour and castigated herself inwardly. How could she possibly pretend to seduce him if she couldn’t even imagine such a thing without blushing? Beside the fact that she’d never flirted with a man in her life, hardly knew where to begin. Everything she knew she’d learned from overheard snatches of gossip, from watching other people, never participating herself. Her father had made it clear what would happen if any of his men ever dared to so much as glance at her in that way. Not that any ever had. They’d always viewed her in the same way he did—as an honorary man. Certainly never as a woman...

Her heart sank. How could somebody like her possibly hope to tempt someone like this warrior? She had no idea what to say, let alone how to act! What if she did it wrong? Bad enough that she was already damp and bedraggled, and he looked like the kind of man who’d be accustomed to plenty of female attention. If he rejected, or even worse, laughed at her, she’d be mortified. It was a ridiculous idea, too demeaning to contemplate, and yet she had to do something, no matter how potentially humiliating. He was already turning away. If she were going to act, it had to be now.

‘Lothar!’ She called his name out impulsively.

‘Lady Juliana?’ He looked back over his shoulder, though he didn’t turn around.

‘I don’t need an hour. I’ll surrender now.’

‘Now?’

She nodded, trying to look as innocent as possible as he turned slowly back again, his expression as unreadable as ever. What was he thinking? She ran her tongue along her lips to moisten them, struck by a fresh wave of panic. How could she possibly hope to seduce this man of all men? He seemed to have no emotions at all. Surely a statue would be easier! But it was too late to retreat. If she were going to protect her men and keep her promise to Stephen, then this was the only way. At the very least, she had to try. And she was a woman after all, no matter what everyone else seemed to think. There had to be something feminine about her, something that might tempt him. Sir Guian had certainly thought so.

She licked her lips again, fluttering her eyelashes in the way she’d seen the castle maids act around her soldiers.

‘Why don’t you come inside so we can talk?’

* * *

‘You want me to come inside?’ Lothar repeated the question to make sure he hadn’t misheard.

‘Why not?’ Lady Juliana tossed her head, sending a cascade of wet ringlets tumbling over one shoulder. ‘So we can discuss terms.’

That settled it. That time he definitely hadn’t imagined the coy tilt of

her head or the glint in those luminous green eyes. For an alarming moment, he thought he’d let his imagination run away with him, distracted by the way her damp dress was clinging to her body in all the right places. But, no, unlikely as it seemed, she was actually batting her eyelashes at him—dark lashes so lush and long they seemed to be catching raindrops on the tips.

‘Perhaps you’d care for some refreshment?’

Her voice sounded low and breathy all of a sudden, almost a purr, and he arched an eyebrow before he could stop himself. Normally he prided himself on never being caught off guard by an opponent, but the abrupt change in her demeanour took even him by surprise. He’d known enough women to know when one was flirting with him.

And when one was pretending.

He studied her for a moment, trying to work out what she was doing. He didn’t know quite what he’d expected, but she was nothing like the duplicitous shrew Sir Guian had described. Nothing like her father either, except for her eyes. They were the same shade of vivid jade-green, shining with the same spark of intelligence, too. The similarity had disturbed him at first, as if he’d actually been looking into the eyes of his dead friend, though the longer he’d looked at the daughter, the more he’d become aware of the innocence beneath the defiant façade. He’d been deliberately harsh when he’d spoken to her, trying to intimidate her into surrender, though he’d done nothing but tell the blunt truth. It was a tried and tested tactic, one that usually worked, too, even if he’d felt strangely uncomfortable using it on her, as if he’d been doing something wrong. He hadn’t wanted to intimidate her, even for her own good, though why she was different from any other opponent he had no idea.

He thought he’d been on the verge of success, too, had seen the unmistakable look of defeat in her eyes just a few moments before, quickly followed by something else, a flash of nervous excitement that she was trying too hard to conceal. And now she was playing the part of seductress, though her lack of experience was obvious. Try as she might, she couldn’t hide the uncertainty behind her eyes or the heat in her skin—the vivid pink blush spreading all the way up from the throat of her gown to the very roots of her hair. Judging by the way her fingers were toying nervously with the ends of her belt, he suspected it was the first time she’d flirted with anyone. The idea was unexpectedly appealing. If it weren’t for the hint of fear behind her forced smile, he might be tempted to find out just how far her blushes spread...

‘You should take the time to consider, my lady.’

‘You don’t want me to surrender?’

She opened her eyes wide and he felt a stirring in his loins, quickly suppressed. For someone so obviously new to the role of temptress, she was surprisingly good at it. She was watching him intently, biting her bottom lip between even, white teeth, though he suspected it was more of a nervous gesture than one designed to entice him. Even so, the effect was surprisingly potent.

‘Surrender?’ He lowered his voice huskily, responding in kind. Did she even know what she was suggesting?

She gave a low murmur, something that sounded like agreement, before spinning on her heel and throwing a beckoning glance over her shoulder.

‘Shall we discuss it inside? Out of the rain?’

He watched her go with regret, his gaze lingering on the way her red hair swung loosely against her slender hips and pert behind as she sauntered slowly back along the bridge. It was a shame she was only pretending, otherwise... He fought to bring his mind, not to mention his body, back under control. This was neither the time nor the place for such distractions, but there was something unusually winsome about her. It certainly wasn’t the way she was dressed. Her drab brown tunic didn’t do her justice at all. A Celtic queen ought to be decked out in jewels—emeralds to match her eyes or rubies to complement her hair. Maybe even gold... He frowned, surprised by the direction of his own thoughts. Since when did he care what women wore? Since when did he notice?