Besieged and Betrothed

Ulf’s face took on a look of pride. ‘Because she rode into Stephen’s camp to get him.’

‘Lady Juliana?’ Both his eyebrows shot up. ‘On her own?’

‘She wouldn’t let anyone go with her.’

‘Was there a ransom?’

‘If there was, we couldn’t have paid it. Everything he had was spent on supporting the Empress.’

‘Then how...?’ Lothar let out a low whistle as the truth finally struck him. ‘That’s why she swore her allegiance to Stephen, to get him back?’

Ulf nodded. ‘She came back an hour later with her father on a litter. He hasn’t got up since.’

‘Taking care of him...’ Lothar murmured the words softly. ‘Is that why she’s always so tired, because she’s been nursing him?’

‘Ever since she brought him back, running herself into the ground doing it, too, no thanks to your lot.’ Ulf’s expression turned combative again. ‘So what are you going to do now?’

Lothar folded his arms, knowing that he ought to rebuke the other man, but lacking the will to do so, glancing across to her chamber door instead. She’d stopped protesting once his men had dragged her away, though he’d been no less aware of her presence in the tower. Every thought he’d had seemed to come back to her, as if his mind were incapable of not thinking about her for long. Now it seemed that he’d misjudged her and badly. The fact that she’d been keeping secrets from him still rankled, but the sense of relief he felt was greater still. She hadn’t been holding her father prisoner after all. She hadn’t betrayed him simply because she wanted to be chatelaine. She’d been telling the truth when she’d said she was taking care of him. Which meant that he owed her an apology.

‘Stay with him.’

He pulled the key to her chamber from his gambeson and crossed the gallery, knocking lightly on the door before pushing it open.

She was lying sprawled across the bed, her legs dangling over the edge as if she’d simply tumbled backwards where she’d sat. Probably she had. At least now he knew the reason behind her exhaustion. Every time he’d thought he’d been sending her to bed she’d been nursing her father instead. No wonder his knock hadn’t disturbed her. She was probably tired enough to sleep for a week.

He studied her face, half-obscured by a swirl of dark red hair. Her forehead was creased slightly, as if her cares were too ingrained to be forgotten in sleep, her lips slightly parted, as if just waiting to be kissed. He tensed at the thought, inappropriate as it was, surprised, too, by a rush of admiration. She was a better woman, not a worse one, than he’d realised. A woman who’d sided with Stephen to save her father, not to gain anything for herself. She hadn’t even sided against Matilda, not really. In which case, they weren’t on different sides any more. The thought made her even more tantalising. As if leaving her hadn’t been hard enough in the first place...

He backed towards the door and closed it softly behind him. There was no need to wake her just yet. Questions could wait. The other things he had to do couldn’t. He might have a difficult time explaining himself to the Empress when it came to it, but he had no choice. He couldn’t leave Lady Juliana. Not yet anyway, but Sir Guian most definitely could.

Chapter Sixteen

Juliana stretched her arms above her head, perplexed and vaguely disorientated by the peculiar sensation of actually feeling well rested. She’d only intended to doze, but now her chamber was dark, the only light spilling in from a torch in the gallery outside.

She rolled over and propped herself up on one elbow, frowning at the yellow puddle of light on the floor. There was something out of place about it, as if it shouldn’t be there, but what was so strange about torchlight? Nothing at all except... She sat up with a jolt. The door was open!

She sprang off the bed, hurtling out of her room and across the gallery before skidding to a surprised halt. Her father was sleeping peacefully in his bed with Lothar settled in a chair beside him, his stern features overshadowed by the hand resting on his forehead. She took a few cautious steps closer, wondering if there’d been some mistake and someone had left her door open by accide

nt. Was Lothar asleep? He wasn’t moving, though he didn’t look particularly relaxed—not that she expected him to. It was almost impossible to imagine him without that air of dangerous, tightly leashed tension. She leaned forward. How would he react if he woke up and saw her?

‘I owe you an apology, my lady.’

She jumped at the sound of his voice, embarrassed to have been caught looking at him. Peering closer, she could see shards of silver-grey shimmering between the gaps in his fingers, as if he’d been watching her as she’d been studying him. He must have known she was there the whole time.

‘An apology?’ It took her a moment to realise the significance of his words.

‘Yes.’

He sat up, dropping his hand from his face wearily. He still looked stern, but his earlier anger seemed to have dissipated, replaced by an air of almost mournful sadness, as if... She glanced quickly towards the bed. There was only one thing that could have changed his mind so completely.

‘He woke up?’

‘A while ago.’

She was half-afraid to ask her next question. ‘How was he?’

‘He asked for your mother.’

‘Oh.’ Her vision blurred. ‘He often thinks that I’m her. I used to correct him, but it only made him more upset. Now I just pretend.’