Читать книгу Besieged And Betrothed - Jenni Fletcher - Страница 13

Chapter Three

Juliana took a second look at the stranger and decided that she’d changed her mind. He was standing exactly where she’d last seen him on the far side of the moat, immense and foreboding, the very intensity of his gaze seeming to bore a hole through the mist between them.

A mistake. She caught her breath unsteadily. This had definitely been a mistake. Outside the protection of the castle walls she felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable, like a roe deer being stalked by a wolf. If this man were truly as dangerous as he looked, then she wouldn’t stand a chance. Ulf was right. It was too risky... That thought alone gave her courage. If she turned and fled now, then she might as well admit that she wasn’t strong enough to be chatelaine in her own right, without a father or husband or any other man to guide or protect her. And there was no chance in hell that she was going to do that.

She took a tentative step forward and the stranger did the same, mirroring each of her movements until they met, barely an arm’s length apart, in the centre.

‘Lady Juliana.’

He inclined his head and she dug her heels into the wooden planks beneath her feet, resisting the urge to back down, heart thumping so loudly she was sure his whole army must be able to hear it. She was reasonably tall for a woman, but he towered a full head above her, even bigger and broader than he’d seemed from the battlements, his shoulders so wide they seemed to obscure her view of the enemy camp behind. His stern expression was more forbidding, too, though he was also younger than she’d expected, probably no more than thirty, closer to her own age than de Ravenell’s. That fact made her even more nervous. They were as good as alone, out of earshot of her men, so close that she could smell the musky scent of leather and sweat on his skin, could feel the heat radiating from his broad chest, could see it rising and falling just inches from hers...

Her legs trembled unsteadily and she dropped into a token curtsy, glad of the opportunity to lower her gaze, if only for a moment. Everything about him felt overpowering, and the last thing she wanted was for him to guess how strongly he was affecting her.

‘You have me at a disadvantage, sir.’ She straightened up again, lifting her chin in the air defiantly. ‘You know who I am, but who are you?’

‘My name is Lothar, my lady.’

‘Just Lothar?’

‘Some call me the Frank.’

‘You’re from Francia?’

She tilted her head to one side, but the expression on his face didn’t encourage further questions. If anything, he looked even more severe. Well, at least that explained his accent... She cleared her throat hastily.

‘You said you’ve brought terms, Sir Lothar?’

‘Just Lothar. I’m not a knight.’

‘You’re not?’ She blinked in surprise. From his authoritative manner, she’d assumed that he was a baron at least, but now he mentioned it, she noticed that he wasn’t dressed any differently from the rest of his soldiers in a dark leather surcoat, black tunic, black hose and knee-length riding boots. But if he wasn’t a knight... She stiffened indignantly.

‘Is this a joke?’

‘In what way?’

‘Is the Empress trying to insult me by sending a soldier to negotiate?’

‘A sergeant,’ he corrected her, ‘and no insult, at least none that I’m aware of. The Empress simply thought that Sir Guian was in need of a rest. Unless you prefer to deal with him?’

‘No!’

She bit her lip, inwardly rebuking herself for answering too quickly. De Ravenell was the last person in the world she wanted to deal with, but she’d no intention of telling this man anything about why.

‘My lady?’ His grey gaze seemed to flicker briefly.

‘I mean, you’re here now. We might as well continue.’ She tossed her head. ‘Do you have the authority to discuss terms?’

‘I do.’

‘Then tell me, Sergeant, what exactly is the Empress offering?’

‘A last chance. If you surrender the castle today, you and your men will be spared.’

‘Surrender?’ Her attempt at composure crumbled at once. ‘You said you were here to discuss terms!’

‘I am. Those are better than you might expect.’

‘They’re the same as four months ago!’

‘As I said, better than you might expect.’

‘But...’

She heard the crack in her own voice. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Under the circumstances, they were the best terms she could possibly hope for. The Empress was under no obligation to offer anything at all. If this man wanted, he could simply storm the walls, capture the bridge and ransack the castle. She didn’t doubt that he could, but an outright surrender? Until that moment, she hadn’t let herself even acknowledge the possibility. If she surrendered now then she’d be failing Stephen just when he needed her, after she’d given him her word, her promise, to hold the bridge no matter what. What would he think of her if she gave up now? How else would she ever repay her debt?

‘And if I refuse?’ She tried to stay calm. ‘What then?’

‘Then the result will be the same. The castle will fall tomorrow and the normal rules of war will apply.’ He paused significantly. ‘Do you understand what that means?’

‘We can defend ourselves.’

‘No. You cannot.’

She caught her breath, fighting the urge to turn tail and run, to flee back inside the castle and hide. She didn’t want to believe him, but something told her she couldn’t simply hide from this man, couldn’t rely on the protection of cold, stone walls. She had a feeling that he’d smash straight through.

‘Then I’ll destroy the bridge.’ She pressed her hands together so that he couldn’t see them trembling. ‘If you try to take the castle by force, I’ll order my men to drop missiles over the walls. We have boulders ready inside. Haword will be worthless to you then.’

‘True.’

‘Then I mean it! If you attack, then I’ll give the order.’

‘I believe you, but I wouldn’t recommend it.’ His voice was just as cold and expressionless as the rest of him. ‘Stephen wants the bridge as much as the Empress does. If you destroy it, I doubt either one of them will be pleased.’

‘He’ll understand.’

‘Perhaps, but what about de Ravenell’s soldiers? They’ve been camped here for months. Do you think they’ll simply give up their chance to pillage once you remove the only cause for restraint?’

She stared at him, aghast. ‘But why would they still risk attacking us? We’ve nothing of any value. I’ll give them anything they want to go away.’

‘Such as yourself?’ He leaned forward, lowering his voice as if he were sharing some secret too intimate to be said aloud. ‘Men have other motives beside greed and revenge, my lady.’

She gasped before she could stop herself. His breath was warm on her cheek, but his words were chilling. She couldn’t deny the truth of them, though she had the distinct impression that he was trying to intimidate her, to frighten her into submission.

‘When do you want an answer?’

‘You have one hour.’

‘One hour?’

‘You’ve had enough time to think, my lady.’

‘Not about this!’

She staggered backwards, appalled. She needed more than one hour! How could he possibly expect her to make such a momentous decision so quickly? It was no time at all! On the other hand, what choice did she really have? If she wanted to save her men, there was only one thing she could do.

He gave a terse nod, as if he knew it, too. ‘I’ll be back in one hour. No longer.’

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?

He glanced past her, through the arch of the gatehouse into the bailey beyond. It was a trap. No enemy turned from hate-filled defiance to willing surrender so quickly. She was trying to lure him into the castle, but why? To shoot him? No, if she intended that then she could have given the order from the battlements. More likely she was planning something else, some last-ditch, desperate attempt to take him prisoner—but how would she do it? If the idea had only just occurred to her, as he was almost certain it had, then she was probably making up a plan as she went along. She couldn’t order her men to seize him straight away, not whilst he was still armed and with the drawbridge still lowered behind them, providing a possible route of escape. In which case, she’d need to draw him further into the castle, probably into the keep, and if she wanted to avoid bloodshed then she’d need to hold her men off, too...then find some other way to disarm him.

He’d like to see her try. She had nerve, he’d give her that, but how far would nerve take her? Apart from his sword, he had a dagger in his gambeson and a seax in his boot, not to mention assorted poignards concealed about his person. She’d have to undress him completely to find all of them and he’d definitely like to see that.

On the other hand, what would happen if he didn’t follow her? If he ignored her invitation and walked away, would she still be willing to surrender the castle in an hour? She didn’t strike him as foolhardy, but she’d already proven somewhat unpredictable. If she refused his terms then he’d have no choice but to launch an attack, and then all hell could, and most likely would, break loose. Whereas if he went with her, if he pretended to accept her offer, then he’d still stand a chance of convincing her. If she didn’t throw him into a dungeon first...

He stole a fresh glance at the fortifications. The castle would make a reasonably effective prison, though not inescapable, and she’d have to catch him first. He hadn’t met an opponent who could outwit him yet and he had no intention of starting now. All he had to do was stay one step ahead. In the meantime, the thought of a warm hearth and some female companionship was distinctly appealing. He’d barely had a chance to breathe over the past few months, either fighting or riding between skirmishes on the Empress’s behalf. A brief rest, even with a woman who was trying to entrap him, would make an interesting change, and if by some unlikely chance she succeeded...well, he trusted his men to carry out his orders, no matter what. The attack would go ahead tomorrow as planned, whether he was there to lead it or not. There was no risk to the Empress’s plans, only to him—and he was expendable.

‘Are you coming?’

He looked down again. Lady Juliana was standing on the very edge of the drawbridge, the sultry timbre of her voice replaced by a nervous quaver that was somehow more powerful than all the fluttering eyelashes in the world put together. He felt a tug in his chest as if she were actually pulling him after her. She looked worried and he felt strangely reluctant to disappoint her. Not that it made any sense. She was a siren trying to lure him into a trap. He ought to stuff up his ears, walk away and leave his ultimatum as it stood—let her surrender in an hour or face an assault at dawn. That was what he ought to do, what his men, not to mention the Empress, would expect him to do. Except that he found it utterly impossible to do so.

He looked down at his feet, vaguely surprised to find them already moving, following behind her like a dog after its mistress. Damn it all, it was a trap, most definitely a trap, but at least he’d go in with his eyes open.

‘Welcome to Castle Haword, Lothar.’ She gave another coy smile, unable to hide completely her look of relief.

‘Lead on, Lady Juliana.’

He rested a hand on his sword hilt, resigning himself to his fate as he followed her under the portcullis and through the great archway. Whatever she intended, it ought to be entertaining at least. Not to mention a far more agreeable way of passing the evening than with de Ravenell. If nothing else, he was interested to see just how far her pretence of seduction would go. He’d no interest in frightening or deflowering maidens, but if she thought she could manipulate him so easily then he’d be sure to give her a lot more than she’d bargained for.

His lips curved in a slow, anticipatory smile. By morning, he fully intended to have both castle and woman exactly where he wanted them.