Besieged and Betrothed

‘Last night?’ Her voice jumped up a few octaves. ‘I told you, we talked. There’s nothing else to remember.’

He raised both eyebrows, struck by the sudden, powerful conviction that she was lying. The look of panic in her eyes was as good an admission of guilt as if she’d said it aloud. Which meant... He was struck dumb for a moment, struggling to adapt to the unlikely realisation that his dreams hadn’t been dreams after all.

‘It’s late.’ She brought her voice back under control, though her expression remained guarded, as if she were afraid of what he might be thinking.

He didn’t answer, his memory flooding with remembered sensations. The smooth plumpness of her lips, the exhilarating feeling of her body moulded against his, everything he’d thought he’d imagined made real. He could hardly believe it. He’d known that she’d lured him into the castle under false pretences, but he’d never expected her to go so far as to actually kiss him, let alone to throw herself into his arms with such wild abandon. Had it all been a pretence? Her first kisses perhaps, though the way her body had responded when he’d pulled her against him had certainly felt real. Either that or she was the best actress he’d ever seen. Judging by the heat burning her cheeks now, she definitely wasn’t that.

‘Lothar?’

He looked past her before he could stop himself, into her chamber and the bed he’d slept in the previous night—heard her breathing hitch in response. His own breathing sounded uneven, too, as if the air between them had suddenly become thicker and heavier, picking up every stray sound and movement. He felt as if all his senses were on the alert, as if he were aware of every hair on her head, every small tremor in her hands as she clutched them together in front of her. Most of all, he was aware of the fact that she wasn’t moving away. He didn’t think he’d ever been so aroused in his life, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and see how she’d respond to his kisses a second time. They were alone in a tower with no one to disturb them, no one to even know they were alone together. The only people sober enough to have noticed him enter the stairwell were his guards and they knew better than to say anything. If he drew her into his arms again now, who was there to object?

He forced the temptation away. No matter how powerful the attraction he felt for her, she was an innocent. He definitely hadn’t been mistaken about that. A woman on her own without a father or guardian to protect her. If he kissed her, then he’d be taking advantage of that vulnerability. Never mind the fact that he was leaving in the morning. If he kissed her now, it would only make his departure more difficult and it was becoming hard enough already. Whatever strange power she seemed to hold over him, he had a feeling that touching her would only strengthen, not break, it.

Besides, even if she wasn’t moving away, the look on her face spoke volumes. No matter what had happened between them, she clearly didn’t want him to remember any of it. Was she ashamed? Embarrassed? Whatever the reason, if she didn’t want him to remember then she obviously didn’t want it to happen again.

He closed the door to her father’s chamber and made a formal courtier’s bow, heading for the stairwell before he could do anything he might regret.

‘Goodnight, Lady Juliana.’ Somehow he forced his feet to keep moving. ‘Sleep well.’

Chapter Twelve

‘It’s a fine day, my lady.’

Juliana stood on top of the keep steps and stared down at Ulf in surprise. Was he ill? He didn’t look ill. On the contrary, he looked better than he had for months, his wrinkled face and white hair illuminated by the reddish-gol

d autumn sunshine. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was actually smiling. She blinked, trying to remember the last time she’d seen her Constable look anything other than dour. The sun might be shining for once, but what was there in their present situation that he could possibly find to smile about?

‘Ulf?’ She descended the steps cautiously. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Better than that. See for yourself.’

She looked up, though it took her a few moments to fully appreciate the sight of Sir Guian’s men lugging sacks and barrels from one end of the bailey to the other. If the sound of groaning, not to mention the greenish tinge on most of their faces, was anything to go by, they weren’t accustomed to such hard work.

‘What are they doing?’

‘Sergeant Lothar ordered them to move the supplies to a different storeroom. He made them muck out the stables first.’

‘Did the supplies need moving?’

Ulf’s smile spread into a grin. ‘No one dared ask.’

‘Oh.’

She bit her lip, not quite knowing how to react. On the one hand, the sight of the men who’d sat around taunting them for months being forced to do manual labour was more than a little amusing. On the other, since they were the same men who’d be staying once Lothar and his soldiers left, humiliating them probably wasn’t the best idea. Bad enough that she was going to be stuck with Sir Guian. She didn’t want him feeling vengeful as well...

‘Where are our men?’

‘Behind the smithy. Sergeant Lothar sent them to do weapons’ training with his soldiers. He said they needed to get back into shape.’

‘Did he?’

She glowered at the insult. Not that it was an insult really. He was right. After months of being trapped inside the bailey, her men did need to get back into shape, however much it rankled that someone else was giving them orders now.

‘What about you?’ She glanced towards Ulf resentfully. Judging by his newly cheerful disposition, he appeared to have no problem with the change in command.

‘He told me to stay and look after you.’

‘I’m not a child!’