Eleanor sat on a wooden bench overlooking the herb garden, close to her lodgings at the back of the castle. The gardens were cleverly partitioned by evergreen hedges to separate the medicinal herbs from those of the culinary variety, which were potted and planted closer to the kitchens beyond.
She watched from a distance as kitchen staff intermittently ventured out from the building to take cuttings of the herbs that were needed for their cooking. And even from where she was sitting she could smell the delicious aromas drifting from the kitchens. Not that she could eat a thing. No, but it was good to watch everyday life unfold and carry on as normal. It was a respite from all her troubles and a balm to her wretched, wretched soul.
Eleanor had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. Everything that had happened with Hugh, every word that had been uttered, had turned around and around in her head.
Lord above—he’d known about her involvement with the outlaws all this time and said nothing. Stupidly, she had been consumed with jealousy at the thought that his head might have been turned by other women. But, no, it was far more serious than that.
She closed her eyes and took in a huge breath of much-needed fresh air just as she heard footfalls nearby and someone coughing, clearing their throat. She opened her eyes to see that Lord Balvoire had approached. Her heart sank.
Now, what did he want at a time like this?
‘My dear Lady Eleanor, I didn’t get a chance to greet you properly yesterday. You left the hall so unexpectedly,’ he said, bowing over her hand and pressing his slimy, wet lips on it.
She ignored his jibe and resisted the temptation to wipe her hand on her skirts. ‘Lord Balvoire.’ She inclined her head and got up, not wanting to be seated whilst the odious man was standing over her. ‘You find me here alone this morning.’
‘I hope that I am not intruding on your reverie, my lady?’
She wanted to say that indeed he was, and that his presence was unwelcome, but instead she said nothing, hoping her silence would be enough of a hint that she did not want his company.
Annoyingly, the hint went over his head and he moved closer to her instead. She saw his skin pockmarked and lined, this close up.
‘And why are you alone this morning, my lady?’
‘I’m waiting for my husband, Lord Balvoire, so if you don’t mind…?’ She’d said the first thing that had popped into her head.
‘Mind? Why should I mind, my dear? Your forbearance does you credit—especially after the demise of your last husband.’
‘Thank you.’ She swallowed uncomfortably, feeling her stomach turn at the mention of Richard Millais.
‘I hope you don’t think I’m prying, my dear, but I couldn’t help but notice your distress in the hall last night. I’m sure all is resolved, but one never knows with these soldiers and their wandering ways. I daresay it’s the young, handsome ones the most. They do seem to be popular at court.’
Eleanor could tell he wanted to gain a reaction from her. ‘Again, I thank you for your concern, my lord, but I really must be going,’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘I thought you said you were waiting for Lord Hugh?’ He raised his brows. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t leave on my account.’
‘I assure you, I’m not.’
‘Good, good…because I nearly forgot to tell you how desirous the King is to meet you.’
Eleanor felt bile rise from the pit of her stomach. ‘Naturally I would be very honoured.’
‘I’m sure you would. And now I will leave you,’ he said. ‘We cannot be seen together like this without a chaperon or people will gossip.’
He chuckled at his own jest and gave her a leering smile that made her want to hit him. God, he was insufferable.
‘You are right, Lord Balvoire. Good day to you.’ She inclined her head, stepping away, but he stilled her.
‘Ah, what a charming necklace, my dear.’
He reached out and held her mother’s cross in his palm, his fingers grazing her skin. Saints in heaven, if he continued this behaviour for much longer she really would end up hitting him.
‘It was my mother’s,’ she said curtly, pulling her necklace from his grasp. ‘I always wear it.’
His eyes narrowed as he met her cool gaze. ‘I know…’ he said, smiling as he took his leave of her. ‘Until later, my lady.’
Lord Balvoire left just as Hugh walked towards her, inclining his head stiffly as he passed the slimy fish.
‘What did that obnoxious goat want?’ Hugh asked.
‘And a good morning to you.’
‘Good morning, Eleanor.’ Hugh frowned. ‘That pompous ass puts my hackles up. Be wary of him.’
‘On that we agree.’ She gave a small shiver.
‘So, what did Balvoire want that he sought you out alone?’
‘Nothing.’
‘More secrets, Eleanor?’
‘No, Lord Balvoire was being his usual charming self, and let’s just say I was very glad that you came upon us when you did.’
‘I see. Come, let’s walk.’
Heavens, but this was awkward.
They walked in silence. Eleanor nervously stole sideways glances at her husband as they walked through the beautiful castle gardens. He looked outwardly calm, if a little pale, but his jaw was set hard and his movement was rigid and agitated.
‘We have an audience with King John, Eleanor.’
He said it without any emotion, making her suddenly feel anxious. The tone of his voice was somehow ominous.
‘He’s apparently desirous to meet you.’
Ah, it had finally come to this…
It seemed that Hugh had finally made his mind up. One of the many unsettling things that had kept Eleanor up all night had been wondering what her husband would do about her. Well, now she knew. He was handing her over to King John.
Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt sick with the fear that was taking hold of her. But this wasn’t the way to address adversity. Her father had taught her that much.
The thought of him brought a lump to her throat that she quickly dispelled. Eleanor was a noble lady, from a noble family, and she had to carry herself as such. So she pushed away the uneasiness and panic she felt, held her head high, made her back as straight as a quarterstaff with as much dignity as she could muster and walked on.
She fell into step with Hugh and contemplated the fate that would await her, accused of being a traitor in the eyes of the King. But to Eleanor, it was Hugh’s eyes, his views and opinions, that mattered the most.
She had wanted to tell him about Le Renard, and her reasons for her part in the band of outlaws, but there was no point. It was too late now. He would still feel the same about her, if not worse. His fealty had never been hers and would never be, regardless of what she said. Besides, it would only serve to make him hate her more.
But her reasons for rebellion were born out of a desperate need to uphold justice and peace in Tallany. To help the poor and destitute with the crippling taxes designed to sink both her and her people.
She would, in truth, do it all again in a heartbeat, except…except for hurting Hugh. When he had confronted her last night, Eleanor had expected scorn and vitriol but instead saw barely disguised pain.
‘You have wounded me more than you’ll ever know…’
Lord, how those words had speared through her. They had caused an ache so deep and so intense that she could hardly breathe even now…
The guilt and shame Eleanor felt in causing pain to the man she would now gladly give her heart to made her examine her true feelings for her husband. And with sudden and absolute clarity she realised that, yes, her heart did indeed belong to Hugh, whether he wanted it or not. She had never understood or acknowledged her feelings before, always suppressing and fighting them, and yet she could no longer deny them.
Heartsick, she screwed her eyes shut a moment before opening them wide, as if seeing the truth for the first time.
But…in love with Hugh?
She searched within herself and the reality hitting her like a boulder dropping on her head.
Yes, she did indeed love Hugh…and yet he despised her.
Oh, the irony of it was not lost on her. She was in love with a man who was to bring about her downfall. A man who probably hated her as much as his sworn enemy. Eleanor should be jumping into his arms for joy—instead she felt like weeping.
She cast another glance at Hugh’s forbidding face, stripped of all emotion. She would rather have preferred his anger to this icy cool detachment. It scared her because with every step they were taking to see the King, Hugh was putting a distance between them that was surely a prelude of what was to come. He was going to wash his hands of her once and for all and was marching her to her treasonous end.
Very well, if that was her fate then she would take her guilt in hurting the man she loved to her grave. Hugh would never know of her true feelings for him, nor why she had acted in the way she had. It didn’t matter now anyway.
* * *
Hugh felt consumed with despair and bitter disappointment. He didn’t know how he should proceed with Eleanor, his maddening, lying, duplicitous wife—even now, as he walked awkwardly beside her to meet and pay homage to King John at his private solar. He glanced over at her and couldn’t help but admire, begrudgingly, the dignity with which she carried herself. She might be a traitor, but she was brave.
She lifted her head and met his gaze, her face ashen, her eyes with dark smudges beneath, and smiled weakly at him. She looked so forlorn, so defeated, that Hugh’s heart sank. What did she think he would do? Throw her on the King’s mercy?
Something shifted inside him. He might be angry and hurt, but Eleanor Tallany was his maddening, lying and duplicitous wife and no one else’s. Hell would have to freeze over before he would hand her over to anyone. He would deal with her treachery himself, but to accuse her in front of King John…
Never!
He pulled her around by the elbow, making her stop abruptly. Confusion was etched on her face.
‘God’s wounds, woman,’ he hissed, whispering into her ear. ‘Despite everything you have done I’ll be damned if I allow anything to happen to you. I will never allow anyone to hurt you, Eleanor. But know this is not over between us. Do you understand?’
She nodded, her head bent low, her shoulders sagging visibly with relief. ‘Thank you.’
Hugh stared at his wife, looking so young and so deflated that he had to resist the sudden temptation to wrap his arms around her and comfort her.
But although he might not want anything to happen to her, he had meant it: Eleanor had wronged him.
Hugh had thought they had some understanding—he had thought they wanted the same things, especially for Tallany—but, Lord above, not in the way she went about it. Not by consorting with criminal outlaws, damn it. Personally, too, her betrayal had shredded him to bits and he felt strangely exposed—fool that he was.
Will had the right of it. He was her lovelorn swain, whatever she had done.
As for trust? That could never be a possibility between them now. And yet… And yet he couldn’t help his growing feelings for her, despite everything. He wanted her, yearned for her, even now.
Yes, more fool him!
His gut twisted in pain as he recalled how Alais Courville had dealt him a similar blow, playing him false just as Eleanor had. Was it his misfortune to be attached to untrustworthy women? At least with Alais he had been able to walk away, to lick his wounds privately and never see her again, but that was not possible with Eleanor, was it? He was bound and shackled to her in marriage.
His realisation last night that Eleanor somehow cared for him and had been consumed with jealousy had knocked the air out of him. And the revelation had been such a relief that it had caused the spark that had led them to end up in a tangled heap in bed.
But nothing had changed. Eleanor might care for him, but everything about her was a trick. Her attraction to him contradicted her betrayal, but it hadn’t stopped her from committing it. The more time he spent in her company, the more he could sense himself falling prey to her.
He needed to leave. There was no choice in the matter. He had to get away from her. It was the only way he could protect his bruised heart.
He clenched his fists. ‘This way, Eleanor.’
He signalled for them to climb the stairs to John’s private quarters. The sooner matters were dealt with here in Winchester the sooner he could take his wife back north to Tallany. He would confront her privately, dispassionately, without last night’s emotions, and demand that Eleanor reveal where Le Renard and the other outlaws were hiding.
And once he’d caught and brought them to justice he would leave Tallany. Request as many missions as the King would grant so that he would be apart from her. Only then could Hugh hope to break the spell that Eleanor held over him.