It had been a mistake. A colossal mistake to insist on cleaning Hugh’s wound herself.
Eleanor had become aware of her error the minute he sat opposite her on a bench in their solar, watching her with a guarded intensity that had almost robbed her of her breath.
Now the silence stretched, with only the noise of the crackling fire in the hearth breaking through.
Really, what had she been thinking, offering to clean Hugh’s wound? Someone else could have done it and spared her the embarrassment of being in such close proximity to this man.
This man?
She had to stop thinking of Hugh as no one of consequence when the reality was screaming at her. He was her husband, and even though for now it was in name only, he was her husband. A very large, very looming, very real, half-naked husband.
She gulped and bent her head lower, concentrating on the task at hand rather than contemplating Hugh’s sinewy taut, muscle-bound body.
Ever since their wedding night Eleanor had been anxious, knowing that her new husband would finally make the demands of her that she dreaded but expected. Instead they had continued playing chess, which he had taught her with unreserved patience. And during those moments Eleanor would lose sight of who she was with and enjoy the intricacies of the game, pitching her ability against his.
But it was more than that, and if Eleanor was honest with herself she’d say that she actually enjoyed Hugh’s company as well. He treated her like an equal, respecting her views even if at times they disagreed about an issue. Yet she could not help but feel shy and unsure around him when they weren’t playing.
As Lady Eleanor Tallany, and even when she dissembled as The Fox, she had purpose and confidence—but as a wife she did not.
Annoyed with herself, and the direction of her thoughts, Eleanor thrust her fingers into the pewter bowl of warmed honeyed water on the small trestle table and continued to wipe the wound clean with strips of linen.
Hugh coughed, dragging her attention back to him. ‘Eleanor? I think... I believe it is done.’
‘Mmm?’ she muttered. ‘I beg your pardon?’
She continued to wipe the wound. Rubbing it briskly, back and forth.
‘I believe it’s now sufficiently clean, don’t you?’ His eyes crinkled in amusement.
It was that blasted kiss! That astonishing, disturbing and yet melting kiss that Eleanor was so confused about. But she had more important things to think about, for the love of God—like how she could distribute food to the people who needed it and give back the silver stolen by the outlaws from Lord Edmund Balvoire to his poor beleaguered people.
She swallowed. ‘Yes, so it is. I try to complete a task well.’
‘That is a comfort to know. Thank you.’
A smile tugged at the corners of Hugh’s lips, making her think once again of that kiss.
Oh, for goodness’ sake!
Her reaction on their wedding night had been instinctive and visceral, even though she’d known that their kiss would lead them to fall into what might be considered normal and binding for a marriage contract. But Eleanor just hadn’t been able to go through with it, and she was not stupid enough to believe the situation could endure indefinitely. Eventually something would have to break through the impasse.
If she was honest with herself, Eleanor was no longer as wary of Hugh, even though she had barely slept after his surprise offer on their wedding night. He had kept to his word and stayed firmly outside the bed curtain, but she could hardly pretend that curiosity wasn’t getting the better of her. She seemed to be aware of him whenever he was near...or far.
His low voice interrupted her conflicted thoughts. ‘I’m glad we have this opportunity to talk, actually, Eleanor, as I’ve been puzzling over something you said last night.’
She frowned. ‘Oh, what is that?’
‘I cannot help but feel that, despite Tallany being a prosperous estate, the village and its people do not seem to actually reap the benefits. Is there a reason for this?’
Eleanor lifted her head and met Hugh’s inquisitive gaze. The fact that her new husband was interested in Tallany, and its vast area of land, was to be expected—especially as he was its new lord—but that he should also seem concerned about its people was something so incredible that she was momentarily speechless.
She drew in a deep breath. ‘I believe that could be a consequence of the losses in France and the aftermath of Bouvines.’
‘I see—or rather I do now,’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘I have been away from England for so long that I had not realised that our recent failures on campaign had affected people as drastically as they have.’
Eleanor raised her brows and wondered whether Hugh really did see. Did he realise that the situation had been further exacerbated by the King’s heavy tax scutage? Evidently not.
‘Surely you knew something of what was happening back home?’ she said.
‘Only what was happening at court.’ He grimaced. ‘When you’re away, all you think about is how to get through each situation, each crisis, each battle. You never stop to realise that the outcome, whether good or bad, success or failure; affects us all.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose that is one explanation as to why the country is plagued with so much lawlessness.’
‘Indeed.’
The plight of ordinary people was the very thing that had made The Fox and the outlaws such a necessity in Tallany. Yet Hugh’s incessant pursuit of them, and in particular Le Renard, was now making it incredibly difficult and dangerous to carry on as before. So Eleanor had reluctantly suspended their activities temporarily, fearing for their safety and her own if they were found out.
‘I suppose you could say that when people are desperate they’re forced to use any means to survive,’ she couldn’t stop herself from saying.
‘Yes, that’s natural—commendable, even—as long as it’s within the confines of the law, Eleanor, otherwise we descend into a breakdown of order altogether.’
She wanted to say more, wanted to argue her point, but she kept her mouth shut. She dared not expose herself and give rise to suspicion.
He threw her a sideways glance. ‘Having said that, I do, however, want you to show me how we can help Tallany’s people as best we can.’
She stared at him before nodding slowly. ‘Very well, my lord. I would be happy to.’
Eleanor did her best to stay detached and distant, but she could feel her resolve slipping. The truth was she couldn’t help but like Hugh, however hard she tried not to. It was all so unsettling—and, frankly, she had other things to be unsettled about. Such as making sure her husband never found out about her involvement with the outlaws as Le Renard. Or the work they did to help Tallany.
She turned to fetch a cloth to dry his skin, wanting to change the topic of conversation. ‘You’re lucky that I don’t need to stitch this up,’ she said wryly. ‘My stitch-work leaves a lot to be desired.’
‘Is that so?’ He quirked one brow. ‘By your own admission, Eleanor, you have no court manners, you cannot dance, and now it seems you’re poorly skilled at that bastion of female proficiency: stitching.’
‘Well,’ she said, smoothing the wrinkles out of her kirtle, ‘it’s true, nevertheless.’
‘I wonder whether you are a little too disparaging of your own talents,’ he said, stretching out his arm.
‘I promise you I am not.’ She turned and picked up a small bowl filled with thick translucent paste. ‘May I apply Brunhilde’s salve? It smells like something a cat might drag into the kitchens, but it has amazing healing properties. Your wound may not be big, but I wouldn’t want it to fester.’
Hugh’s lips curved, revealing his dimple. ‘Go ahead. And nicely diverted, my lady, but I can tell you that I am not persuaded by you in the least.’
Oh, dear, if only he wouldn’t smile at her like that.
‘I am very honoured that you wish to champion my woeful lack of maidenly talents, but I promise you I’m a hopeless case,’ she said with a sigh as she rubbed the salve into his wound, feeling the smooth skin of his arm beneath her fingers. The sensation of touching him made her aware once again of his closeness.
‘Then tell me, what are you good at?’
What was she good at? Not much—only the ability to survive.
As Lady Eleanor she organised the castle and worked efficiently as its chatelaine, but she also mobilised her people at times of crisis. And as Le Renard she fought for her people to have back the basic necessities that were constantly being stripped from them. She had been both master and mistress of Tallany but not any more.
She flicked her eyes upwards and met the gaze of its new master. A master just as capable as she. And Eleanor couldn’t help but begrudgingly respect Hugh, despite his being King John’s man.
What was she good at? Nothing of value for someone like Hugh.
She wished at times that she was able to reveal herself to him. She wished she could show him her dextrous, quick skills as an archer and watch his awed response when she succeeded in hitting her mark with precision again and again. But that was not something he could admire in her. No one except a select few knew of those skills. And even if Hugh were to find out, she was sure it would fill him with nothing but contempt and disgust for her.
She got up to move. ‘Wait a moment whilst I fetch some fresh strips of cloth to bind it.’
Hugh’s hand snaked out and caught her wrist. ‘You didn’t answer my question, Eleanor.’
Heat scorched her skin where his fingers touched her. ‘I would have to say that I am not good at much,’ she said.
‘I rather doubt that,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You’re good at caring for Tallany and its people.’
‘Possibly.’
‘Oh, absolutely. I saw you giving out parcels in the village earlier. I’d wager you were handing out provisions, foods and other such stuff.’
Eleanor tilted her head and regarded him. ‘We look after each other here in Tallany. Without that we have nothing.’
‘True.’ He nodded at his wound. ‘Just as you’re looking after me now, I suppose?’
‘I suppose...’ She shrugged, not meeting his eyes as his thumb traced a line from her wrist to her fingers, stroking each one. Each roughened and callused one...
Oh, God! In her haste to tend his wound she had removed her gloves.
‘May I ask why it’s been necessary to hide your hands, Eleanor?’
She tried to pull away, but he held her hand firmly in his. ‘They’re rough, ugly, and not befitting the Lady of Tallany.’
He frowned. ‘I disagree. They’re hard-working, caring hands—perfectly befitting the Lady of Tallany.’
Eleanor opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of anything. Instead she felt breathless as an undefinable frisson passed through her.
Hugh’s gaze met hers as he continued to gently stroke her hand, then fell briefly to her lips. She felt herself moving closer to him. But just as she was almost in his arms a sudden knock at the door jolted them apart. A servant walked in, bowed, then retrieved the bowl of dirty water and put a fresh one on the small trestle table.
Eleanor exhaled slowly. ‘I think, my lord, that we’re finished here,’ she said, turning sharply on her heel.
This simply would not do. She could not afford to lose sight of her situation and of where her husband’s fealty lay. The stakes were far too high and far too dangerous—which meant that she must not allow herself to get drawn in by Hugh or get too close to him.
And far more important than any of that...
She must stop thinking about that kiss!
Hugh was wound so tightly he could barely concentrate, let alone focus on a simple task such as eating his meal, even though his stomach was empty.
He glanced around the busy hall as people tucked in to the delicious trenchers of food—strips of pheasant with dark quince and spring lamb cooked in a nutmeg-spiced sauce—and wondered where his appetite had gone.
He poured himself another mug of ale and threw it back, swiping at his mouth before pouring another. He had no idea about that or anything else, so addled were his senses by the woman sitting next to him. The woman he should be wooing but found himself avoiding this evening.
Hell!
What was the matter with him? He couldn’t stop thinking that just when she had been almost in his arms she’d jumped away, faster than a frightened doe. And it had been nothing to do with any interruption. The desire he’d felt had intensified even after so many hours and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Annoyingly, Eleanor seemed to invade his thoughts far too much of the time for his peace of mind.
‘What is wrong with you this evening?’ Will hissed, on the other side of him.
‘Nothing.’ Hugh scowled over his mug without looking up.
‘There I was, under the firm belief that I was to witness the finer points of courtship, but clearly I was wrong.’
‘God’s breath, just leave it alone.’
Will ignored him and pressed on. ‘Most people would agree it strange—odd, even—that a man should begin to court a woman after he has wed her, but then you were never one to follow convention too strictly, were you?’
‘Lower your voice, for the love of God. Someone may hear.’ Hugh indicated Eleanor’s direction with a slight tilt of his head.
‘I am intrigued to know what that may be worth.’
‘Your head remaining attached to your body.’
Will grinned. ‘Fair enough,’ he said, tossing back his ale. ‘But for pity’s sake get on with it. You are supposed to be wooing your lady.’
‘I am doing so.’
‘Beg pardon—my mistake,’ Will said sardonically. ‘Really, Hugh, you have been silent all evening. Talk to her, make her laugh—do something.’
‘What am I? A performing jester?’
‘That would preferable than this brooding, my lord.’
With that said, Will turned his back on his friend and started a conversation with a few men sitting adjacent to him.
If only it were that easy. He had been talking to Eleanor, and he was getting to know her, but every time he thought they were becoming close she would pull back and remember that she wanted nothing to do with him.
Earlier, he had been surprised to discover it was actual hard work that had resulted in those callused fingers which she tried to hide and not because she was some sort of pampered heiress. The more he got to know her, the more his interest and attraction for her grew. He certainly admired her—but, damn it, he desired her too...and that was beginning to cause all manner of discomfort within him.
‘Hugh? Does your arm still pain you?’ Eleanor asked, placing her hand briefly on his shoulder to get his attention.
‘No, it’s fine,’ he said gruffly, staring at the mug in his hand.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Perfectly.’
‘Is there something I can do for you?’
He almost choked on the ale he was drinking.
Something she could do?
Lord above, but he could think of many things she could do and that he would love to do to her...
No, no, no. That would not do! He had to stop these thoughts.
Even her voice tonight held a certain sensual, husky tone that was probably a figment of his imagination. His curious mind wondered still on the cries of breathless pleasure that he might evoke if he could only kiss her and...
‘Did you...did you just growl at me, my lord?’
Hugh turned his head and finally met Eleanor’s eyes, fixing a half-smile on his face that felt strained even to him. His gaze lingered on her mouth as she caught her plump bottom lip between her teeth. She was holding a few strips of meat dripping in their tender juices between her fingers.
‘I’m hungry, that’s all.’
Impulsively, evidently without thinking, Eleanor fed him the morsel she had been holding and wiped a little of the sauce from the side of his lip. Her fingers grazed his teeth, so close that he could have nipped them if he had wanted to.
He didn’t... Instead, frozen, he watched her for a heartbeat. Then, before he knew what he was doing, he held her wrist in place and licked the sauce off her long fingers.
Eleanor’s eyes widened in shock, awareness no doubt catching up with her, as he pressed his eyes shut and exhaled sharply, realising his mistake.
To spare her blushes, and his own, Hugh abruptly got to his feet, inclined his head and turned on his heel, catching Will’s eye, who shook his head as he left. Damn!
Ambling through the hall, Hugh exchanged greetings and small talk with the boisterous groups of his men milling around. He chuckled at a jest, slapped Gilbert Claymore on the back, and nodded in agreement with whatever the old steward had said without retaining a word of it.
Nonchalantly he slipped out of the crowded, noisy hall, hoping no one had noticed his discomfort.
The moment Hugh stepped outside his smile slipped and he let out a shaky breath. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against a stone wall, welcoming the rough, cool feeling against his skin.
Dear God, what was wrong with him?
Hugh returned to their chamber much later, after clearing his head and putting in place a few things that he had planned with Will for the morning. The room was drenched in the moonlight seeping in through the arched window, and the open shutters were letting in the frigid night air. He smiled to himself. How like Eleanor to go against normal convention and allow the cold into their chamber whilst the fire was still smoking and spluttering in the hearth.
‘Hugh, is that you?’
He turned and saw the shadowy silhouette of his wife sitting on the bed. The thick, heavy bed curtain pulled and tied back.
Now, that was a surprise. That curtain had been shut firmly, pushing him out, since their wedding night.
‘Aye. Go back to sleep, Eleanor.’
‘I couldn’t sleep. I was worried.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Even to his own ears his voice sounded flat.
‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ she said softly.
Hugh sighed. ‘I don’t know how, but I constantly misstep around you. It must be that I never expected to be married—especially to a someone like you, my lady.’
‘Behind the heiress it’s just me.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m only a woman, Hugh—remember?’
He smiled, recollecting their ride out together, many weeks ago now. But, no, Eleanor Tallany was not ‘only a woman’. His heart quickened at the thought. She was far, far more. She cared about her people...their people. She was not just the chatelaine of Tallany but its heart and soul.
‘I had hoped for a rematch, Hugh, and had even set up the board with all the pieces.’
His lips twitched. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m in no state for a game of chess. My skills would be woefully lacking.’
‘Ah, but that would be my perfect opportunity to finally gain the upper hand and beat you.’
Was Eleanor teasing him? Again?
‘The shame that you’d take advantage of a man in his cups...’ He grinned as she chuckled softly. ‘Although you will get your opportunity to beat me, Eleanor, never fear. I cannot think of any other, apart from Will, who has challenged me as much as you. Our matches have been closely fought. You may not believe that you have any talents—which is nonsense, anyway—but in this you most certainly do.’
The laughter died on her lips and Hugh sensed that she was blushing—not that he could see.
He gave himself a mental shake. ‘Anyway, what were you worried about? Surely not about me.’
‘Of course I was. Where did you go?’ She leaned forward, rubbing her eyes.
‘Mmm? I had business to attend to.’ He looked around the room. ‘Eleanor, where is my pallet?’
‘I... I had your squire remove it,’ she said, biting her lip.
What? His brows met in the middle as he frowned quizzically. ‘Why?’ He swallowed taking a hesitant step towards her. ‘Eleanor?’
Her eyes widened as she covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Oh, no—I didn’t mean... Saints above! You thought that I wanted to...?’
‘Calm yourself, my lady. I have given you my word regarding that,’ he said. ‘But mayhap you will enlighten me as to exactly where I should sleep?’ He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the coffer.
‘Well, here in the bed, of course.’ She patted the coverlet. ‘It’s big enough for both of us.’
He stared at her blankly.
Lord above, was she trying to kill him slowly?
Apparently Eleanor was still talking. ‘And, to be honest, I hadn’t realised that your pallet was so lumpy.’
She was watching him, trying to gauge his response, but he wasn’t giving one.
She sighed and he saw her shoulders slump. ‘I’m sorry. Should we fetch the pallet back? I thought you may sleep better on the bed.’
Ha! As if he would be able to sleep now! If he had believed that sleep had evaded him merely because he was in the same room as Eleanor Tallany, God alone knew what his nights were going to be like lying next to her. It was going to be akin to slow, excruciating torture.
Heaven help him, though. He had given his word and even if it would kill him, he would wait until his wife came to him.
‘No, it’s fine.’ He dragged a shaky hand through his hair. ‘If you feel comfortable for us to share a bed for...er...sleeping purposes, then I’m happy to oblige.’ He swallowed down what else he’d be happy to do.
She smiled and lay back on the bed as he sat down to take off his shoes and stretched his arms to remove his linen tunic. As he was pulling off his braies she shot back up, her arms either side of her, apparently ready to fly out of the room if she had to.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
A bemused grin lit his face. ‘My lady, I never sleep with a stitch of clothing.’
‘Do you mean to tell me that all this time you have been sleeping...?’ she said, waving her hand in the direction of the corner of the chamber where once the lumpy pallet had been.
‘Naked as the day as I was born!’ He chuckled. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t sneaked a look?’
‘No! No, I haven’t.’
‘I can believe it. Well, to spare your blushes I will keep my hose on. Would that suffice?’ He sighed as she moved to the other side of the bed.
‘Yes, but I... I didn’t realise that you...without any...’
‘So, it would seem. Would you prefer it if I slept elsewhere, Eleanor?’
‘No! That’s not necessary. Surely we can muddle along as bedfellows. We are married, after all.’ She shifted uncomfortably.
He gave her an eloquent look and shook his head as he sat on the bed. ‘Very well, wife, I will bid you goodnight. And, Eleanor?’ He noticed she gulped as her gaze lingered on his bare chest and shoulders, just as before when she had tended to his wound. ‘Thank you for thinking of my comfort.’
She gave a curt nod before pulling the coverlet higher and turning to sleep with her back to him.
Well, then, this was interesting... From the vivid curiosity he’d glanced in Eleanor’s eyes mayhap she wasn’t as immune to him as he’d initially thought.
After what seemed many hours, tossing and turning, Hugh was about to drift off to sleep when he felt Eleanor tentatively lay her hand on his shoulder. Just as quickly she removed it.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, in a muffled, sleepy voice.
‘It’s nothing... Hugh, I wondered if you were awake...’
‘Hmm...? I am now.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up but I can’t get to sleep,’ she murmured.
‘Can I help you with anything?’
‘Well, yes, you can,’ she whispered.
That got his attention. His eyes flew open and slowly he turned his head and met her quizzical gaze. ‘Oh?’ he croaked. ‘What would you have me do?’
She was biting the inside of her cheek, clearly finding whatever she wanted from him difficult to ask for. Well, now... His heart beat a little faster. Could she...did she want the same thing as him?
She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘Actually, I don’t believe what I desire from you will be conceivably, remotely possible...’ She lay down again with her back to him.
Hugh darted to the other side of the bed, reaching for her. ‘Whoa, wait—wait... Why not let me be the judge of that.’ He gently turned Eleanor around and stroked her cheek with his callused knuckles. ‘Well, Eleanor?’
He raised his brow, putting his weight on one elbow and waiting eagerly for her to respond. He sent a silent prayer, willing her to say the words he longed to hear from her.
‘I don’t know that I should...’ She shuffled beneath him, clearly flustered.
‘Oh, you should—you definitely should,’ he murmured.
Please, just say it!
‘I’m not certain that it’s an entirely appropriate thing for me to ask you.’ A crease appeared between her brows.
‘Oh, it will be. Ask me anything, Eleanor—nay, demand it of me. As you reminded me earlier, we’re married.’
For the love of God, just say it!
‘Yes, of course... Well, it’s just that I...’
Hugh’s heart was hammering against his chest now.
‘Just say what it is you want from me.’ He stroked the length of her velvety hair, then along the side of her shoulders and down her arm. Reaching for her hand, he clasped it and gave it a squeeze of encouragement. ‘Go on, Eleanor.’
‘Very well. You see, there is something that has been on my mind all day...’
‘There has?’ he ground out, hoping that he was still somehow breathing.
‘Yes?’
Just say it, please!
‘I want... I mean, if it’s not too much trouble, I want to ask you to teach me...’
‘Anything—anything at all.’ Hugh leaned in closer.
‘The impressive quarterstaff technique you exhibited when you were sparring with Sir William.’
Hugh blinked. ‘What?’ He pulled back, staring at her. ‘What did you say?’ he asked, not trusting he had heard her correctly.
Eleanor shrank back slightly, but replied. ‘That swipe, turn and bend thing was remarkable, and I wondered...’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I’m sorry. It was a ridiculous thing to ask.’
Hugh sat up and studied her for a moment. ‘Let me understand this.’ He dragged his fingers through his dark hair. ‘You are asking me to show you how to perform a certain move that you saw me exhibit...’ he exhaled ‘...in combat?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I thought I might need to use it to protect myself one day.’
He stared at her for a moment before responding. ‘There is no need. I will always protect you, my lady.’
‘But there is a need—do you not think? One never knows when the situation may arise, and a lady should know how to defend herself, even if it’s rudimentary.’
‘True, true...’ It was Hugh’s turn to rub his forehead. ‘But really, Eleanor, I cannot believe that this matter is of such importance to you that you had to ask me at this hour.’
She’d woken him up for this?
Eleanor nodded in resignation. ‘No...no, you are right. I’m so sorry to have woken you up. Let’s go back to sleep.’ She plumped her pillow and flopped against it.
As if sleep was a possibility now.
He groaned inwardly, thinking how he had misjudged her and assumed she was bent on more amorous pursuits.
Damn!
Hugh knew he should be shocked at her request, but it was so typical of Eleanor. He sighed, and after a moment’s reflection said, ‘Very well. If it means so much to you.’
‘Really? Do you mean that?’ She grasped his hand and held it against her cheek.
‘Yes, Eleanor, I do.’ Even in the dim light, Hugh could make out the gleam in her eyes. ‘I’ll show you on the morrow, if you like,’ he said, shuffling back to his side of the bed.
‘Oh, thank you! Thank you so much.’
Hugh tucked his hand behind his head, smothering the urge to laugh. ‘My pleasure. Now, let’s try for some sleep.’
If only it were that easy. Mayhap if he could think of something to count he might possibly drift off.
The image of what he had planned as her wedding present popped into his head and he grinned.