Besieged and Betrothed

‘All right.’ She held her hand out, bending her head to hide her expression as he slid the band gently back over her finger.

‘Won’t the Empress miss her ring?’ She tried to keep her voice even.

‘I doubt she’ll notice. She’ll have bigger things on her mind.’

‘Yes, of course.’ She stared down at her hand, pressing her lips together to stop them from quivering. This was ridiculous. Ten minutes ago she’d been furious with him and now she was tearing up at the thought of his departure. She must be overtired again. Why else would she want him to stay? It wasn’t as if he cared for her... Then she felt his fingers, light on her chin, tilting her face up towards him.

‘It wasn’t a game.’

‘What?’ She felt breathless suddenly.

‘The reason I kissed you. It wasn’t a game. I wasn’t plotting to steal your inheritance either.’

‘Then why?’

He shook his head as if he didn’t know the answer. ‘Maybe because I’ve never met anyone like you before, Juliana.’

‘Oh.’ She didn’t know what else to say. Was that a compliment? It was what people usually said about her, though rarely in a good way.

‘I just never thought, never imagined, that your father would ask me...’ He cleared his throat, pulling his fingers away again. ‘I have to go. In the meantime, if you need me, send word and I’ll do my best to come. I promise you that much. I wish it could be more.’

She stared into his eyes. They seemed to be blazing with some emotion she couldn’t read on his face. The mask was firmly back in place again, like a wall between them, but his eyes...surely his eyes said he didn’t want to leave her either?

‘Take care of yourself, Juliana.’

‘You, too.’ She tore her gaze away finally. ‘Ride safely.’

He turned and walked away then, leaving her staring into the empty blackness of the stairwell, wondering at how anger could turn into confusion and pain so quickly. He’d just said—implied, anyway—that he’d actually wanted to kiss her that morning, that what had happened between them hadn’t just been a game, that he really was attracted to her, and yet he was still leaving, still going back to the Empress. She didn’t know what the hollow feeling in her chest meant, but she ran across to the window anyway, watching as his horse was led round to the steps below, ready to take him back to Devizes. Surely Matilda had dozens of supporters to turn to! Whereas she... She glanced across to her father’s chamber. Soon she’d have no one. No one except a husband whose heart belonged to another woman.

She looked down at the ruby he’d given her, admiring the vibrant shine of the jewel. Matilda’s jewel, so much like the Empress herself, exquisite, remote and magnificent. If she hadn’t recognised the hollow feeling for what it was before, she recognised it now. She’d never felt more jealous of anyone in her life.

Chapter Twenty

Lothar strode down the centre of Devizes’s great hall in the foulest of foul tempers. He had a ferocious headache—one that seemed to have descended the moment he’d ridden out of sight of Haword and seemed to get worse with every furlong since, accompanied by the same constricting sensation in his chest that he’d felt the last time he’d tried to leave. Riding away had been even more of a wrench than he’d expected, as if he’d actually left a part of himself behind. His usual single-minded clarity of focus was gone. Instead, he’d spent the entire journey reliving every conversation he’d ever had with his wife and regretting half of them.

At least he’d made an attempt to patch things up with her before he left. She hadn’t made any fresh accusations, had even agreed to wear his ring without attacking him again, though she’d made no further comment on their marriage. He had no idea how he felt about their situation either. He’d meant it when he’d said that he’d never met anyone like her before, though as to why he’d said it, he had no idea. He’d only wanted to say something, to make her understand that it hadn’t all been a game, even if it wasn’t a real marriage either. He was still a blacksmith’s son and she was still a lady. Her father had chosen him because he’d known that protecting people was what he did, was what he was good at. Deeper feelings were beyond him. So why did he now feel as if he were protecting both of them? Her from both Stephen and Matilda, himself from the compelling desire to turn around and ride back the way that he’d come.

He dragged his attention back to his surroundings. The season of Yuletide was approaching, but there was no sign of it yet here. The vast hall was less crowded than it had been in recent months and the mood was sombre. Hardly surprising given the circumstances, though he could see that Sir Guian had been busy spreading poison about him, too. Some of the faces watching him were openly antagonistic, some curious, but all kept their distance. He was too close to the Empress for anyone to dare criticise him openly, but if she fell then it wouldn’t take long for the buzzards to start circling.

‘Brian.’ He found a friendly face at last, that of a stocky, dark-haired man standing close to the fireplace. Brian Fitzcount was one of the Empress’s oldest supporters, a man who’d been raised by her father and one of the few she implicitly trusted. The number of those was dwindling by the day.

‘Lothar!’ Brian clapped a hand on his shoulder in greeting. ‘It’s good to have you back. We’ve been hearing strange rumours about you.’

‘Really?’ He presented his usual inscrutable façade and Brian smiled.

‘Don’t worry, no one gives credence to anything de Ravenell says, no matter what he thinks. The Empress will be glad to see you. You’ve heard about Robert Fitzroy?’

‘Yes. Where is she?’

‘In her private apartments.’ Brian lowered his voice. ‘See if you can get her to come out. I know she’s grieving, but people need reassurance. They need to see her.’

‘Haven’t you told her that?’

‘I’ve tried, but she doesn’t listen to anyone else the way she listens to you. The rest of us have too many vested interests. You’re the only one she trusts to have purely her interests at heart.’

He felt a twinge of guilt at the words. A week ago that would have been true, but now...now he had a castle of his own to protect, not to mention a wife.

He gave a terse nod and walked past the guards at the entrance to Matilda’s apartments, dropping on to one knee in the doorway.