Читать книгу Besieged And Betrothed - Jenni Fletcher - Страница 15

Chapter Five

Juliana straightened her shoulders, trying to look Lothar square in the eye, though with his immense height she had to reach up on her tiptoes.

‘You know that King Stephen laid siege to us nine months ago?’

He nodded. ‘There were a number of sieges at the time, otherwise the Empress would have sent reinforcements.’

‘That’s what my father said. He always defended her, no matter how bad the situation became, but the truth was that we weren’t prepared for a siege. My father...’ she hesitated, searching for a way to explain ‘...had other things on his mind. We held out for three months, but it was no use. Our only choices were to starve, fight or surrender. Father decided to ride out and meet Stephen in battle.’

‘He died like a true soldier.’

‘Is that what you heard?’

‘Yes.’ Dark brows snapped together. ‘Isn’t that what happened?’

‘No.’ She shook her head, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. ‘He was injured and taken prisoner, but he never recovered.’

His grip on her hand tightened. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I surrendered because I didn’t want to lose anyone else. I didn’t have a choice.’

‘What about your oath of allegiance? Surely you had a choice there?’

She flinched. There was no way to explain that, not without telling him the whole truth anyway, and she couldn’t do that. But she had to offer some reason, no matter how bad it sounded.

‘I’d already lost my father. I didn’t want to lose my home and position, too.’

A shadow crossed his face. ‘You mean you swore allegiance to Stephen just so you could remain chatelaine?’

‘Yes.’ She wrenched her hand away, stung by the contempt in his voice. She couldn’t blame him for thinking the worst of her, even if, for some reason, she didn’t want him to. He actually sounded disappointed—as if he had any right to judge her or whomever she chose to give her allegiance to! She racked her brains, dredging up every argument she’d used to convince herself of the validity of Stephen’s claim.

‘And I support him because I want the war to be over. Stephen’s a crowned king. He can bring peace.’

‘He’s a usurper.’ Lothar’s tone was implacable. ‘King Henry named his daughter Matilda as his heir.’

‘Stephen has royal blood, too. They’re cousins.’

‘He stole the crown.’

‘Because Matilda wasn’t in the country to claim it! It took her four years even to cross the Channel after King Henry died. England needed a ruler and Stephen was here!’

‘She had to deal with Normandy first. Not to mention that she was with child when her father died. Absence doesn’t lessen her claim.’

‘Stephen’s an honourable man.’

‘Honourable?’ Lothar’s voice positively dripped with disgust. ‘When Henry was alive Stephen swore an oath to accept her as Queen. Twice.’

‘Maybe he was coerced.’

‘Maybe he’s a liar.’

‘He can still bring peace! It’s Matilda who keeps the war going. If she’d go back to Anjou, then we could have peace again. Isn’t that more important than her claim?’

‘Your father didn’t think so.’

‘I have a mind of my own!’ She flung her cup to the floor in frustration, clenching her fists as the metal clattered loudly across the flagstones. He was infuriating, actually seeming to get calmer the more furious she became. How dare he sound so smug, as if it were all so simple, as if all the choices she’d had to make over the past six months had been easy!

‘I can see that.’

She stiffened at once. Her father had always taken pride in having a daughter who could think for herself, but she knew most men were less tolerant. She knew what they called her, too. A virago. A shrew. Unnatural, unladylike, unsuitable for marriage. Was that what Lothar thought, too? Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. She didn’t care what he thought of her. If her display of temper had changed his mind about her feminine charms, then so much the better. He’d already drunk the wine. There was no need for him to find her attractive any more. Even if the thought made her feel strangely crestfallen.

‘Do you think I should agree with my father just because I’m a woman?’ She narrowed her eyes accusingly.

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘On the contrary. I serve the Empress, my lady, I’ve no problem with women thinking for themselves.’ His voice took on a husky undertone as he took a step closer towards her. ‘Or with them taking command.’

‘Wh-what do you mean?’ she stammered, feeling alarmingly out of her depth all of a sudden. She’d been braced for another argument, ready for him to call her an unnatural female, but he was acting as if he still wanted her, as if he found the idea of a woman in command appealing. Not that she felt very commanding at that moment.

‘I followed you here when you asked me to, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, but...’

‘So, now that I’m here, why don’t you tell me what you want from me?’

‘What I want?’

He stopped a hair’s breadth away from her, his voice soft as a caress. ‘As I told you, my lady, I’m just a soldier. I’m only here to serve.’

She heard a strangled sound emerge from her own throat, though words themselves seemed beyond her. She had no idea what he meant by serve her, though if the tone of his voice were anything to go by, it wasn’t something that a lady ought to be doing... Why wasn’t the poppy working yet? She’d given him enough to fell an ordinary-sized man twice over! How could he still be standing?

He coiled a strand of damp hair around his fingers, using it to tug her face gently upwards. ‘Or you could just show me what you want?’

She dropped her gaze to hide her confusion, though unfortunately that only brought it level with his mouth. Show him what? Whatever it was, she’d probably only have to play along for a few minutes at most, but what did he expect her to do? Was she supposed to kiss him? To touch him? She wouldn’t know where to start! He was threading his fingers through her hair. Did he expect her to do the same? Not that his shorter style allowed quite the same scope. Perhaps she ought to caress his cheek instead?

She peeked up again, searching for some clue on his face, just in time to see a quickly concealed look of amusement.

Amusement! She felt a jolt, suspicion turning to certainty in an instant. He was laughing at her, mocking her pitiful attempt at seduction with a pretence of his own! Suddenly she wished there were a hole she could crawl into. All this time she thought she’d been leading him on, foolishly believing that he was attracted to her, when in fact the very reverse was true. He’d been pretending, too, enjoying her discomfort, letting her make a fool of herself while he simply enjoyed her performance, so arrogantly confident about her surrender that it probably hadn’t even occurred to him that she might have an ulterior motive for inviting him inside the castle! Well, she could console herself with that at least. In a few moments she’d be the one laughing at him!

‘My lady?’ Grey eyes glinted sardonically. ‘Have you changed your mind?’

Somehow she resisted the temptation to slap the smug look off his face. Bad enough that he was toying with her, but now he was mocking her overtly, too, adding insult to injury, as if he thought she wouldn’t have the nerve to go through with her seduction. Her temper flared at the thought. How dare he doubt her nerve! She wouldn’t back down from a challenge by any man, no matter how intimidating. He could mock her as much as he liked. She’d show him exactly how much nerve she had!

She launched herself forward impulsively, throwing her arms around his neck and her body against his chest with an audible thud as she crushed her mouth against his.

There! She felt a rush of exhilaration as their lips touched and clung. That showed him! It wasn’t so hard to kiss a man after all. All she had to do was press her lips against his and hold them there. A few seconds would surely be enough. There was nothing to it, nothing special or terrifying. It was quite ordinary really...

No sooner had the thought entered her head than she forgot it again, startled by the pressure of his lips as they began to respond, gently and unhurriedly at first, then with a deeper, building intensity. For a few moments, time seemed to stop as she simply stood there, stunned, not knowing how to react, unable to draw back even as his tongue slid its way smoothly between her lips, teasing them open before taking full possession of her mouth.

Then instinct took over. She didn’t think, didn’t give herself a chance to consider as she responded in kind, leaning towards him as he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her so close that she could feel every line of his strong, muscular body. He even felt like a battering ram, she thought in amazement, running her hands over the broad expanse of his shoulder blades. If she’d taken a running leap at him from the far side of the room, he probably wouldn’t have budged. Not that she wanted him to. She didn’t know what she wanted any more. Was she trying to prove something? She couldn’t remember. What had started as a gesture of defiance had turned into something else entirely, though as to what it was...

All she knew was that she didn’t want it to stop. She’d never even imagined a feeling like it before, this hot, trembling sensation deep in the pit of her stomach, an ache and a need and a longing all at the same time.

He groaned against her mouth and she raked her fingers through his hair, kissing him back just as fiercely—fiercer, even—running her tongue along his bottom lip before twining it back around his. Tasting, exploring...

She froze, suddenly aware that he’d stopped moving. He wasn’t kissing her back any more. He was barely even holding her, his hands slackening and then falling from her waist as he took an unsteady step backwards. She raised a hand to her mouth, mortified by her own shameless behaviour, afraid that he was about to mock her again before the truth finally dawned.

The poppy was working.

She let out a ragged breath. How could she have forgotten about the poppy? She’d been so wrapped up in the moment, in the heady feeling of his body and lips against hers, that she seemed to have forgotten everything else, including how a chatelaine ought to behave! It was one thing to pretend to seduce him—quite another to be seduced right back. Now he was swaying precariously in front of her, staring at his feet with a look of such bleary-eyed confusion that she was almost tempted to grab his arms and steady him. Then he looked up again, fixing her with a stare that had nothing remotely mocking about it, and she tried to jump backwards instead.

Too late. She jerked in mid-air as his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

‘What have you done?’ His tone was menacing.

‘Let me go!’ She tried to wrest herself free, but his grip was too tight.

‘The wine, what was in it?’

‘I said, let me go!’

‘What was in it?’ He tugged her roughly back against him, against the same chest she’d flung herself at just a few moments before, though there was nothing welcoming about it now. They seemed to have gone from one extreme of emotion to the other.

‘Poppy.’

‘Poison?’

‘A sleeping draught.’

‘You drugged me?’

‘Yes.’ She felt an unexpected stab of guilt. ‘But don’t worry. The effects will wear off by tomorrow.’

He staggered and she caught hold of his arms. No matter what had just happened between them, she didn’t want him to fall and hurt himself. Not that she cared, she told herself, but he was no good to her injured. Even if, with the full weight of him in her arms, she didn’t know which of them was in more danger.

She stumbled down with him to the floor, inwardly rebuking herself for her own lack of foresight. She ought to have done this next to something soft for him to fall on to. Her plan had worked, and yet ironically she’d managed to trap herself beneath him at the same time. She wriggled furiously, struck by the uncomfortable impression that she was behaving even more shamelessly now than before. His whole body was pressed down on top of hers, leaving little to the imagination. Definitely not a position a lady ought to find herself in.

She gave a push born of desperation and finally managed to half-drag, half-roll herself away. Then she lay on the floor at his side, panting and breathless, studying his face with a confusing mixture of triumph and trepidation. But at least her plan had succeeded. They could discuss his surrender tomorrow, though before that happened, she’d better make sure he was tied up tight. After what she’d just done, the last thing she wanted was for him to escape. If he’d thought badly of her before, she dreaded to imagine what he’d think of her when he woke up.

She reached out and trailed a finger along the jagged line of his scar. It made him look dangerous and vulnerable at the same time—as it turned out he was. She’d bested him for the time being, but for how long? She bit her lip, struck again by the sheer hulking size of him, trying to fight off the discomforting feeling that she’d just made an equally huge mistake.