Besieged and Betrothed

‘Next you need to lower the drawbridge and surrender to Sir Guian.’

Chapter Eight

‘Sir Guian?’ Juliana felt as though he’d just pressed the dagger to her throat, not hurled it into the moat.

Lothar nodded stiffly. ‘He was the one sent to capture Haword. The Empress wants him to hold it.’

‘But he was never going to attack!’

‘None the less, those are the Empress’s orders.’

‘But...Sir Guian?’

She spat the name in disgust. Of all the men in the world, how could Lothar expect her to surrender to him? The very thought of his smug, gloating face was repellent. The same face that she’d slapped and scratched at in her haste to escape from his tent four months before. If she surrendered to him now, then he’d think that he’d won, that she was yielding more than just a castle, that she was surrendering herself, too. She felt as if her blood were turning to ice.

‘You tricked me!’

His features hardened at the accusation, as if he were turning back into a statue before her very eyes. ‘I’ve told you nothing but the truth, my lady.’

‘Not all of it! I agreed to surrender to you, not him! You knew that.’

‘And you knew that I’m not a nobleman. As you pointed out yesterday, I’m only a soldier. I can’t hold a castle with any authority.’

‘So you’re going to let him get all the acclaim?’

‘There’s little enough of it to be had in war. He’s welcome to any he can get.’

Welcome? She mouthed the word back at him, though he didn’t respond, didn’t flex so much as a muscle. If he’d truly been made of stone, then he couldn’t have looked any more rigid.

She whirled away from him, biting back a cry of frustration as she peered down into the bailey below. Her men were already gathering together by the front gate, a pale and emaciated group compared to the soldiers outside, piling their weapons in a heap as they prepared to surrender. She ought to go down to them, ought to say something, not that she knew what. Her thoughts were in turmoil, dominated by the one overwhelming idea that Lothar had tricked her just when she’d decided to trust him. And she’d let him, exposing herself as the gullible, inexperienced woman she clearly was! Maybe she wasn’t fit to be chatelaine after all. Behind that stony façade, he was probably laughing at her. Just like he’d laughed at her before...

She felt tears well in her eyes again and blinked them away furiously. She wasn’t going to lose control in front of any man, even if all she wanted to do was throw her hands up and scream. He must have known how it would be all along. The whole time he’d been trying to convince her to surrender, he’d known that it would mean to Sir Guian, but he’d kept silent about that, waiting for her to agree before revealing the horrible truth. Friend of her father or not, if she hadn’t already given him the dagger then she would have shown him exactly how she felt about that deception!

At least he didn’t remember what had happened between them the previous evening. Memory loss was a common side effect of poppy, though she’d never been so glad of it before. She’d hardly dared look at him that morning in case it somehow triggered a memory and the last thing she wanted was for him to remember just how wantonly she’d behaved. She didn’t want to remember herself, even if standing so close to him now made it impossible not to. The most shameful part of all was that she’d started it. She’d thrown herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck like the most flagrant, unashamed strumpet! She hadn’t even been the one to stop it. Only the poppy had done that.

So much for maidenly modesty, never mind her reputation. Her men seemed to have forgiven her behaviour once she’d explained herself, though a few had still seemed unable to look her in the eye. All in all, she’d done an excellent job of shocking them and compromising her honour at the same time, gambling everything on a plan that had apparently been doomed from the start. Lothar had given the order to attack before he’d even met her on the drawbridge. If she’d tried, she couldn’t have failed any more spectacularly. Now Stephen would find out that she’d broken her promise and the Empress... Well, there was no telling what the Empress would do once she found out the full extent of her betrayal. Her change of allegiance might be forgiven, but as for the rest of it...

‘You should be wearing a cloak.’

‘What?’ She spun around, trying to reconcile Lothar’s concerned tone with his inscrutable expression.

‘It’s cold. You weren’t wearing one yesterday either.’ His forehead creased slightly. ‘You should take better care of your health.’

She glanced up at the sky. Was it cold? She hadn’t thought to notice the weather. What on earth did it matter when she’d just surrendered her home?

‘I doubt if the Empress will care if I catch a chill.’

‘On the contrary, she specifically asked me to report on your health when I return to Devizes.’

A shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature raced down her spine. ‘You mean you’re leaving?’

He inclined his head. ‘Now that you’ve surrendered, my work here is done. The Empress will have another commission for me.’

‘So you’re just going to abandon me—us—to Sir Guian?’

He paused briefly before answering. ‘Those are my orders.’

‘When?’ Her lips felt so dry that she could hardly utter the question.