Eleanor hesitated before stepping around the stretched linen screen in their chamber to see Hugh sitting in a wooden bathtub. He was covered in warm water infused with soap and cleansing herbs, his eyes impassive, his expression hard. And, despite the warmth of the fire that crackled in the hearth, there was a resounding chill in the air.
She exhaled slowly and swallowed down her guilt, knowing full well the reason for his bleak mood.
It had been almost dusk before Hugh and the decoy convoy led by Will had arrived back to the castle keep. Hugh had retired to their solar in a thunderous mood, refusing to see anyone.
And Eleanor didn’t blame him. She felt his pain and wished she could have spared his humiliation, wished it could have been avoided, but there had been no other way. What she and her outlaws had done was just. They had taken back what was rightfully theirs, for Tallany and its people.
But, dear God, Hugh...
Her husband had been prepared to protect the King’s coin at any cost to himself. He truly had honour coursing through his veins, and it showed the extent of his unreserved fealty to his Sovereign. Eleanor understood that for Hugh, as it had been for her own father, to break a solemn oath that had been sworn before God was to breach a sacred vow. Not that this particular King deserved it...
Hugh would have fought to the death if he’d had to. It had been one of the bravest yet most terrifying things she’d ever seen, and Eleanor had had to deploy all her skills to make sure the situation hadn’t got out of hand.
If anything had happened to him it would have devastated her and she would never have forgiven herself. Hugh was a good, honourable man...
But it was more than that—he was more than that.
How had she come to care for Hugh in such a short space of time?
He snapped his gaze to meet hers and offered the ghost of a smile briefly before it faded into a slim, compressed line. She walked over to the hearth, picked up the bucket and topped up his bath with more warm water, wanting to be of some use. She tilted her head, trying to catch his eye, but he stared blankly ahead.
‘It was not your fault, Hugh,’ she murmured after some time. ‘You must believe that.’
‘I thank you for your concern, Eleanor, but I cannot do that,’ he said, looking straight ahead at nothing, clearly lost in his own misery.
She tried again. ‘There was nothing you could have done. The outlaws knew of your plans, as you said yourself.’
She fell to her knees beside the tub as he turned to face her.
‘Yes, but how? How did they know we had the strongbox with the coin? How did they ambush us so easily? They even knew about the decoy cortege, ahead with Will.’ Hugh shook his head slowly. ‘I have failed in this mission. I have never experienced failure before and it doesn’t sit well with me.’
‘Surely the King can’t blame you? Why, you’ve said yourself that the outlaws had targeted him many times before you had even arrived in Tallany.’
‘That may be true, but this happened under my watch, Eleanor. It was my responsibility and I failed.’ He exhaled. ‘One thing is for sure: we have a traitor in our midst. Someone knew of our plan and passed it on to Le Renard and his outlaws.’
‘That can’t be,’ she muttered, trying to mask her anxiety.
‘There is no other explanation as to how the outlaws are continually one step ahead of me.’ He shut his eyes tightly, his brows meeting in the middle.
Eleanor bit the inside of her cheek. The possibility of Hugh discovering the truth about her—that she was the traitor he sought—was real. He was shrewd, intelligent and astute. She had to make sure he never did. It would be an unmitigated disaster. Besides, she couldn’t bear to lose his esteem and his respect for her. And, although she knew what she had done had been for right and good, at this moment she didn’t feel good about it.
She sighed. Watching Hugh, withdrawn and filled with bitter misery, made her want to hold him and make everything better. Again, she felt the weight of responsibility for her actions.
Impulsively, and without being aware of what she was doing, Eleanor reached out and ran her fingers through Hugh’s wet hair, pushing it back. She moved closer and touched the side of his face, tracing his strong, angular jaw. He snapped his eyes open and turned to meet her enigmatic gaze, raising his brows in confusion. She smiled at him—a smile of hope and sanguinity.
Her gaze moved from Hugh’s eyes to his mouth, and slowly she moved in and pressed her lips gently to his—a soft, feather-light kiss. A kiss of peace...a kiss to heal.
She pulled away and regarded him. Bewilderment was etched on his handsome face as she brushed her thumb over his bottom lip. Eleanor dipped her head to cover his lips again with her own.
As if suddenly awoken from the depths of slumber, Hugh moved his lips against hers and his arms came out of the bath to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer and closer until she was pressed against the wooden tub.
Without warning, Hugh leant forward and lifted her up and over, into the bath, making her squeal as she fell on top of him with a splash.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she burst out laughing as she lay on top of him, submerged in delicious-smelling bathwater. He joined in, chuckling at having his fully clothed wife sharing his bath, no doubt.
Then they locked eyes and gradually ceased laughing. Hugh pulled back Eleanor’s veil and threw it to the floor, unpinning her bound hair, releasing the velvety dark lengths that tumbled down, their ends doused in the water. He ran his hand through her hair and cupped her face, dripping water.
‘What have we here, Eleanor?’ he mused, curling his lips into that half-smile, revealing a dimple.
It was astounding how quickly Hugh’s mood had changed, and she realised that his temperament was naturally positive. He had an easy confidence that was both attractive and infectious.
Eleanor wasn’t sure what to do next but was, nevertheless, aware of her closeness to his body...his very hard, very naked body... She tried not to register the size of his shoulders, or the fact that her legs, although shrouded by the many layers of drenched clothing that covered them, were still nonetheless pressed against his strong, muscly ones. Breathless, she didn’t want to admit the other parts of his body were in very close contact with hers too.
Hugh ran his thumb over her bottom lip, imitating what she had done just moments ago. ‘You know, you are very beautiful, Eleanor,’ he whispered as he leaned in and claimed her lips again, kissing her softly before drawing back, grinning. ‘And you’re diverting me in the most unexpected way. I thank you.’
He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and then pushed up, sitting straight in the tub, jerking her to sit across him.
‘But now, if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I wish to get out.’
He gripped the side of the bath, indicating that this diversion, however pleasant, was now at an end. He seemed eager to get back to wallowing in misery on his own.
Eleanor knew she was being gently dismissed, but couldn’t quite move away. She sat on top of him instead, watching him, exhaling quick puffs of air, trying not to think of his nakedness submerged in the opaque bath water.
Hugh caught her gaze, his eyes narrowing. She felt the hardness of his manhood, even against the many layers of wet clothing, but surprisingly it didn’t alarm her. Instead, a rush of heat flooded her senses.
‘Eleanor...?’ he murmured, looking into her eyes, seeking answers.
His breathing seemed to match hers, slow and gasping, and her heartbeat was pounding in the stillness of the moment as they continued to stare at each other. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and then leaned in to press her lips to his again. Her response given, Hugh drew her close and kissed her deeply, with such passion and intensity that she felt she was melting into him.
She tried to match him, kiss for kiss. But Hugh eased away from her lips to kiss her cheeks, and then the soft flesh behind her earlobes. Nipping gently, his mouth moved to savour the side of her neck as she trembled.
‘Are you cold?’ he asked, running his hands down the sides of her shoulders.
She shook her head, unable to say the words, making him smile. His gaze held such intent, such desperate longing, it shifted something deep inside her.
‘Eleanor...?’ He groaned. ‘Is this what you want?’
She watched him, wondering whether his heart was beating as fast as hers.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes.’
In one swift motion Hugh rose from the bath, taking her with him, and set her down close to the hearth, where the fire spread its warmth. He began to dry her with soft lengths of linen cloth, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he dried himself and wrapped another piece of cloth around his waist, securing it tightly. He, too, was breathing heavily as he stepped forward and scooped Eleanor into his arms, capturing her mouth, kissing her deeply.
He carried her to set her down to stand on the rug, and her toes curled into the depths of the soft pile of the wool as warmth flooded her.
‘I’ve wanted you from the moment I set eyes on you, Eleanor of Tallany.’ He cupped the side of her face tenderly. ‘But I wanted you to come to me yourself, when you were ready. This was always to be your choice.’
She reached out and traced his lips with the tips of her fingers, making him groan, and then touched her own, swollen with the lingering effects of his devastating kisses.
‘It is, Hugh,’ she whispered.
She touched the scar that split his eyebrow and placed a kiss where her fingers had been. Then she continued to trace the long, deep battle scars, echoing her own hidden ones, and explored the hard muscles of his shoulders and back.
She heard Hugh’s breath catch as her hands caressed the lean, muscular ridges of his chest, biceps and stomach. She gazed, fascinated, at the smattering of hair that drifted over his chest and trailed down his stomach, disappearing underneath the wrapped linen cloth.
She suddenly wanted to know more, wanted to see where the trail would end, and reached instinctively to remove the cloth.
Hugh’s hand shot out, clasped her fingers in his, grinning. Then slowly, so exquisitely slowly, he peeled away her layers of heavy, waterlogged clothing, his hands skimming over her, learning the curves of her body, replacing the layers of wet, clinging garments with the explorative touch of his mouth and his hands.
Gradually the outline of Eleanor’s body was revealed, until there was only one last layer of clothing. His fingers slowly went to the hem of her tunic, lifting it a little higher. A warning darted through Eleanor, reminding her to be cautious. There were parts of her body she could never expose, knowing they would only disgust Hugh.
She pulled away.
‘Do you wish me to stop, Eleanor?’ he asked, curling a tendril of her hair around his finger.
‘No, no... But...’ she took in a deep breath ‘...I will remove my tunic.’
‘A little too late for maidenly modesty, don’t you think, wife?’
His eyes smouldered as he raked her from her head to her toes and then back again.
‘If you wouldn’t mind turning around, husband?’
Hugh chuckled softly with his arms crossed over his chest. ‘But I can see all of you anyway.’
‘Humour me, please?’
Hugh shook his head but complied, turning his back on Eleanor. As soon as he did so she peeled off the last layer of wet clothing, threw it on the floor and bounded into bed, dragging the coverlet up to her chin.
Incredibly, Eleanor wasn’t scared about what was about to happen between them. She was nervous, yes—but not scared. Not any more.
Her heart was pounding as she lay naked on her back under the bedding, but she knew the reason for that. Hugh...only because of Hugh.
‘I’m ready, husband.’
‘So you are, my lady.’
His eyes glittered with amusement as he strode to the bed and took off the linen cloth before climbing in and sliding next to her under the coverlet.
‘Now, what do we have here? A naked wife?’
Eleanor giggled nervously. ‘Not such a modest maiden after all?’
‘No...’ he drawled. ‘Not so.’
He kissed her, smiling against her lips, and his hands continued their exploration of her body. Touching, feeling, caressing. Skin to skin.
Saints above!
Hugh’s gloriously naked body pressed so close to hers suddenly brought a wave of awareness. Eleanor wanted so much to please him. She would be everything he wanted her to be. And yet she didn’t know what that was. These sensations were so new, and so different from what she had previously understood about intimacy, that she was unsure how to be what he wanted.
‘Eleanor, are you well?’
‘Of course—why do you ask?’
‘You are rigidly still,’ he whispered. ‘Am I doing something not to your liking?’ He smiled as he stroked and kissed her neck.
‘No, no, everything is well.’
‘Good,’ he said as he grazed his lips over her shoulders, collarbone and chest, moving further down her body.
Her breath hitched.
‘You’re doing it again,’ he said, nipping the inside of her palm.
‘I’m sorry. I’m not sure I’m doing this right.’
Hugh stopped and smiled at her. ‘Believe me, there’s no right and wrong. Not in this and not between us.’
Eleanor returned his smile. ‘Are you saying you’d rather I was ruthlessly dextrous here as well?’
‘Possibly!’ He chuckled, a deep throaty sound. ‘Tell me, am I to teach you about bed sport as well?’
‘Actually, yes,’ she said, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘I wish to know how to please you.’
Hugh lifted his head and gave her a tender look. ‘We could try to please one another.’
‘How do I...? Oh... Oh!’ Eleanor moaned as he kissed and caressed the tops of her breasts. ‘Hugh, it’s difficult for me to know what to think when you’re doing that.’
He continued to kiss and caress her, moving lower. ‘Then don’t think.’
‘But I don’t know...’
‘Hush, no more talking.’ His mouth brushed over her breasts, one and then the other, teasing with his lips and his tongue. ‘Just trust in every sensation, every feeling.’
‘You are still talking...’ she said breathlessly.
‘I’m allowed.’ His hands and mouth ventured further down, following every soft curve of her body. ‘I’m the tutor, remember?’ he whispered, stroking and caressing.
Every graze of his lips and tongue across her breasts, stomach and thighs wound her tighter as heat spread through her, rendering her speechless and without a single thought. Every touch made her lose herself more in a heady sensuality filled with carnal curiosity and raw need.
She heard a soft moan permeate the room, filled with pleasure, and realised the noise was escaping from her own lips. Her hands needed to explore, needed to feel... They ran down the smooth, hard contours of his shoulders, the sinewy muscles of his back.
He kissed her lips again as he slowly edged her legs apart with his own. ‘Look at me, Eleanor,’ he rasped, his eyes glittering with emotion. ‘We please one another,’ he whispered as he entered her, making her gasp. ‘Always...’
He stilled, allowing her to get used to him, and pushed aside a strand of hair that had pasted itself to her forehead. He stroked her cheek and Eleanor snaked her hands around Hugh’s neck and pulled him towards her.
‘Yes,’ she murmured breathlessly as she pressed her lips to his and tentatively dipped her tongue into his mouth.
Eleanor heard Hugh growl in response, meeting her tongue measure for measure, and then he started to thrust inside her.
She instinctively wrapped her legs around his buttocks, feeling stretched, arching her back. He was hard and frantic, surging and retreating, gathering pace, taking her to a higher plane, wordlessly asking her to be brave enough to give herself to him as he was to her. It was true and honest, their mutual ardour, and it made her want to shout out from the top of the castle battlements.
‘Open your eyes, Eleanor,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I want to see you.’
He kissed her, nipping and pulling at her plump bottom lip with his teeth so softly that she could have melted as the tension escalating in her body begged for release.
‘Hugh!’ she cried, and she suddenly felt as though she were floating in a whirl of ecstasy.
He continued to thrust inside her, his eyes locked with hers, holding on to the moment. Eleanor reached out and stroked his jaw with her fingers just as Hugh reached his peak, his body shuddering and collapsing on top of her.
Their bodies entwined, their breathing ragged, they lay there sated in a tangle, unable to move. Until finally Hugh lifted himself off her and kissed the top of her nose. He moved beside her, pulling her close and wrapping the coverlet around them.
A calm silence pervaded the room. The peaceful cocoon that wrapped around them was strangely comforting, and Eleanor was all at once aware of Hugh’s nearness—his smell, his touch, his body pressed next to her side. His arms tightened around her waist as she lay on her back, her body still reeling in the aftermath of what had just passed between them. She felt self-conscious, not wanting to expose more than she already had.
‘Well, that was...’ Hugh took a shaky breath, breaking the silence. ‘Unexpected, and yet...wonderful.’ He rolled onto his side and watched her. ‘Are you well, Eleanor?’ he whispered as he gently caressed her cheek.
‘Yes, I am.’ She turned her head and smiled, meeting his gaze. ‘And now the covenant of our vows is complete. We are truly married.’
‘We have been married for some time, sweetheart,’ Hugh said, kissing her forehead, ‘But, yes, we are truly married.’ He rose out of bed, pulling on his braies. ‘Stay—don’t move, Eleanor. I’m going to see about getting us some food. I have suddenly built up a huge appetite.’
‘Wait,’ she said, sitting up and then recalling that she was in no state to get out of bed. ‘If you allow me to dress, I will attend to it.’
‘No, stay where you are. I’ll get the trencher that was left in the antechamber. Don’t go anywhere.’
He smiled at her before leaving.
As soon as he had gone Eleanor sprang into action, hastily refreshing and readying herself for his return. Pulling a linen chemise over her head, she put on a green woollen kirtle the colour of crisp apples—the exact shade of Hugh’s eyes.
She smiled to herself as she reflected on the way his eyes had smouldered, and his lips had left delicious, sensuous imprints all over her body. He had been incredibly tender and given her so much pleasure, making her experience of this new intimacy so, so good.
Oh, Hugh...
Eleanor’s feelings for him had changed and grown, and yet she had to remind herself be cautious. She couldn’t, wouldn’t allow herself to get too close to him and she had to stand firm. But it was not easy. None of this was easy.
Hugh returned, carrying a trencher of food: cuts of cooked cold chicken and ham, delicate cheese pastries, soft bread rolls and a small pot of apple and mead pickle.
‘I come bearing gifts that should fortify us,’ he announced, and Eleanor went to the coffer and poured two mugs of ale, passing one to him and taking a sip out of the other.
‘Thank you.’ He watched her over the rim of his mug and smiled mischievously. ‘But you needn’t have dressed, my lady.’
‘You would have me behave so wantonly?’
‘Aye—but only for my eyes to devour and my lips to savour.’ He chuckled softly.
Eleanor felt herself blush and shook her head. ‘Really, Hugh, must you tease?’
‘Should I not?’ he asked innocently. ‘Now that I’m a proper husband, I thought it was my prerogative to tease you as much as possible.’
‘And there I was, believing you to be a gallant knight.’
Hugh took Eleanor’s mug from her and placed it on the coffer, along with his own, and pressed a kiss to her hand. ‘My gallantry is always assured.’
She arched her brows. ‘Is it, now? Well, I would never want to contradict such strongly held beliefs.’
‘Are you by any chance teasing me, my lady?’
The corners of her lips twitched. ‘Well, as a very proper wife, it is apparently my prerogative to tease my husband.’
He laughed, drawing her into his arms. Close to the bare chest and arms that he had yet to cover. ‘You may do so as often as you wish, Eleanor. Rather that, than cross swords with you.’
Had Hugh really said that? It was a very good thing that he could not see her face, hidden against his neck.
She gave herself a mental shake. ‘Thank you, but for now if you could help lace up my kirtle...?’
She stepped out of his arms, turning her back to him, and shuddered as his fingers, lacing her garment, grazed against the fine chemise tunic covering her back.
‘You make me feel quite underdressed. Either that or I should just untie your kirtle again.’
‘No, I think not.’ She walked to the coffer, pouring more ale into both mugs. ‘Better if you address the situation as I have.’
‘Since I am as gallant as they say, I will comply,’ he said, fetching a dark red linen tunic and pulling it over his head. ‘But you know, Eleanor, there is no need to hide from me.’
Eleanor spilled a little of her drink on the coffer and snapped her head round to meet his eyes. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Come, let’s eat,’ he said as he perched on the small bench to one side of the hearth.
Eleanor sat beside him and passed him his mug, averting her eyes, watching the flickering and crackling of the fire as they shared the trencher of food. She felt her heart hammering against her chest, and was finding it hard to swallow down a bite of food.
She took another nervous sip of ale.
She thought he hadn’t noticed...
Hugh coughed, clearing his throat. ‘I understand why you wouldn’t want me to know, my lady,’ he sighed. ‘But after what we have shared I was going to find out sooner or later.’
Eleanor exhaled, tilting her head to meet Hugh’s eyes. ‘It isn’t something I wish to discuss—especially with you.’
‘It is especially with me that you should, Eleanor.’ He laced his fingers with hers.
‘Don’t you see? It is my shame.’ She shook her head.
‘I don’t see. That shame belongs elsewhere.’ He cupped her chin and lifted it. ‘Show me.’
One moment they had been teasing each other and now suddenly this?
‘I can’t,’ she whispered, unable to say more. No one knew of her hurts—no one except Brunhilde and her steward Gilbert. ‘What will you think of me?’
‘That you are an amazingly brave woman. Now, show me.’ He kissed her fingers. ‘Please.’
It seemed Hugh was intent on stripping away every layer, every barrier she had constructed to protect herself. Very well, then—so be it.
She nodded firmly and stood up.
‘Come.’ He took her by the hand and led her to their bed.
‘I warn you, it is quite objectionable to look at. Can you...?’
She pointed to the ties he had laced only moments ago, which Hugh swiftly untied, then pulled the kirtle off her shoulders, allowing it to fall and pool at her feet.
She took a deep breath before she turned her back to Hugh and started to remove her tunic. Feeling exposed, she screwed her eyes shut and waited for the response she knew would come.
It didn’t.
Instead Hugh’s fingers traced the mangled, corrugated and twisted skin across her back, dipping into the ugly crevices of the damaged rough surface.
‘Does it still hurt?’ he asked gently.
Eleanor shrugged, shaking her head. ‘No, not any more. Brunhilde has a soothing salve that has always helped.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I’m sorry, Hugh. I hadn’t wanted you to see this.’
Eleanor pulled her long linen chemise back over her head, covering herself, and then turned to face him.
‘Why?’ he asked, his voice rising. ‘This is hardly your fault. The blame lies with another.’
‘I know. But I wasn’t what he—’
‘No! You surely cannot make excuses for him.’ He caressed her face. ‘I’ll tell you, Eleanor, that if he were here now I would throw him back to the depths of hell, where he belongs.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled, sitting beside him. ‘For not judging me.’
‘Judge you? No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But I can now fully understand your initial reluctance for our marriage.’
‘Not all men are like him.’ Eleanor reached over to caress the hard, angular jawline of Hugh’s face.
‘I’m happy to hear that—but, God’s blood, I cannot begin to imagine what it must have been like for you.’
‘I was four and ten when I was obliged to marry, and he was ten years older than I. Our union deteriorated very rapidly.’ She sighed.
‘Why?’
‘He was not the man I believed him to be and, as I have told you before, Millais thought I was an unnatural, undutiful wife who needed to be brought to heel.’ She shrugged. ‘Which he did. Constantly.’
‘The bastard!’ Hugh hissed, rubbing his temples. ‘Was the man so ungodly?’
Yes, he was—he truly was.
If only Hugh knew half of what Richard Millais had subjected her to...
‘So now you know that the scars I once spoke of are both visible and invisible, Hugh. And I carry the shame with me always.’
Hugh pulled her gently into his arms and stroked her hair. ‘No, it is not you who should carry the shame. These are your battle wounds—just like the ones on my body. And, like me, you have come through your adversity. You have survived.’
She felt a surge of gratitude towards Hugh with those simple yet necessary words. Words that seemed to unlock something deep inside her. Words that she had never known she’d needed until now.
‘Thank you for understanding, Hugh. I had to survive,’ she whispered. ‘There was no other alternative. But the choices I made were never easy.’
Hugh sighed. ‘I don’t doubt that. Sometimes the choices we make may be difficult, but they are essential for us to be able to carry on living.’ He smiled down at her. ‘And Eleanor...’ he said, kissing the top of her head. ‘Don’t ever hide yourself from me. You don’t need to.’
Oh, but she did—she really did!
Hugh led Eleanor back to the bed and held her close, stroking her hair and her back gently, feeling the mangled, coarse skin beneath his fingers.
How could anyone be so cruel as to inflict such terrible pain on someone they were supposed to care for? The thought of Millais hurting her, a defenceless, innocent woman, made his blood boil and made him want to take up arms for her. He would if he had to. He’d protect her until the end of this world.
God’s teeth! How desperate must her life have been back then? How terrifying for a lonely young girl, grieving after the loss of her family, to endure such horrors? No wonder she was still wary and suspicious of anyone new in her life—especially someone imposed on her. Like him.
What was incredible was the fact that despite it all, after everything she had gone through, her spirit had not been broken. By God, that was one small mercy. She was as remarkable as she was strong, brave and resolute, and he admired her for it. His unusual heiress.
‘Kiss me, Hugh,’ she murmured, snaking her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.
And he kissed her lips, cheeks, eyes, neck and the tip of her nose before returning to her mouth.
They made love again, and this time he took longer to savour and explore every part of her until she lost herself to him. He made their delicious, languid intimacy stretch until they had both surrendered to it. Until once again she had matched his ardour, his passion and desire. Until they both came undone helplessly in one another’s arms.
Hugh felt content, at peace. After such an ominous start to their marriage, being in bed with his wife in his arms was a comforting balm. He needed this, and he was sure she did too. He was grateful, too, knowing that when she had kissed him in the bathtub it had been done out of heartfelt concern and compassion for him after what had happened with those damned outlaws.
It showed that she might possibly care for him.
Through this newly found understanding was there hope for them? Could there be the promise of something more? Of something he had always secretly hoped and longed to find but had rejected, all those years ago? Of contentment, mutual respect and companionship?
Only time would tell whether it was a possibility and whether he was prepared to trust another woman again. Not that he dared hope for love. That was something he could not and would not offer. Not even to Eleanor.
‘What are you thinking about, Hugh?’ she whispered.
‘Nothing, sweetheart. Go to sleep.’ He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.
‘I will after you tell me.’
‘I was thinking how lucky I am to have you in my arms.’
She nestled closer. ‘I believe that is also true for me.’
He realised then, as he held her, that he wanted this—this intimate contentment with Eleanor—and he would fight for it if he had to. He needed it. His hectic life of soldiering was restless, difficult and soulless, and where once he’d thrived on the battlefield he knew now with certainty that he was tired of it all. He wanted to build a home with her—here in Tallany.
‘Do you know what I am thinking?’ she asked.
He shook his head.
‘That I still don’t know much about you and I should, Hugh. You’re my husband.’
He kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘I’m glad we’ve established that now, but mayhap this conversation can wait for another time?’
‘I’m sure it can—but I feel I have been remiss in my wifely duties in more ways than one.’
Hugh folded his arm with his hand beneath his head, staring into the darkness. The truth was that he didn’t find it easy talking about himself. Some things in life were best left well alone, never to be thought of again. Yet here, tonight, Eleanor had opened up to him, revealing aspects of her life that were horrific. It must have been incredibly hard to do.
‘Tell me, Hugh.’
He sighed. ‘What would you like to know?’
‘Anything, really—such as where you grew up, whether you have siblings or whether you’re an only child... That sort of thing.’
Hugh turned his head and watched the moonlight dancing across her face. ‘So many questions to answer in the middle of the night.’ He smiled, bemused. ‘Very well. I am from the small hamlet of Watamestede, near St Albans. I am the south to your north, Eleanor, and I’m a third son, with two older brothers and three younger sisters. Only three of us survived into adulthood.’
Eleanor rested her chin on his chest. ‘I’m sorry. It’s never easy losing one’s family. Is that why you left to find your fortune?’
‘Yes...’ He sighed again. ‘But that was not the only reason.’
‘Oh? What else made you leave your home?’
‘I was a poor younger son, but I was ambitious to prove myself. To make something of myself,’ he said. ‘And I had a reason to as I believed myself in love.’
‘Oh, I see.’ She wriggled uncomfortably.
‘No, I don’t think you do, Eleanor.’ Hugh shook his head as he laced his fingers through hers. ‘It took a long time for me to get where I needed to be, but after years and years of hard work I eventually became a knight. Though finally I was a success, I was only a hearth knight—landless and, in the eyes of Alais Courville, still not good enough.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She raised her brows. ‘What happened?’
‘I went home and found that the woman who had promised herself to me—who had apparently given her heart to me—had married my eldest brother. No doubt to become the mistress of the manor,’ he said bitterly. ‘After that, I never went back.’
‘You haven’t seen your family since then?’
‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Anyway, it was better for my brother that I didn’t go back...and better for Alais.’
‘But what about you? It was your home.’
‘It was better for me too, sweetheart. To sever those ties and establish myself as a soldier. And I don’t have a home. Not any more.’
‘She didn’t deserve you.’ Eleanor squeezed his hand. ‘And, Hugh? You do know... Your home is here in Tallany.’
Hugh felt a tightness in his chest, and was gripped with a sudden sense of yearning. He had never shared this with anyone before—not even Will, who knew some of his past—and it felt somehow good to unburden himself to his wife.
‘Thank you,’ he said, feeling a little self-conscious. ‘Come, enough of this morbid conversation, wife. Let us get some much-needed sleep.’ He kissed her forehead.
‘Hugh?’ She reached out, her fingers grazing the sharp angles of his jaw. ‘I’m sorry she hurt you.’
He swallowed as he nodded his thanks. ‘I realised two things after that whole sorry episode, Eleanor. And as a result I will never repeat such a mistake. I realised that I would never put my faith in courtly love. There is no such thing, I’m afraid.’
She drew back a little, watching him in the dark. ‘You don’t believe there is? Well, at least you don’t make a pretence of that.’
‘No, sadly I don’t. Love is an emotion that’s oppressive, inequitable, and makes people act without reason or sense. It only serves to bring out the worst in people.’
‘I see,’ she murmured.
‘I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said any of that. It was unfair of me. But you and I agreed a while back that affections of the heart were never going to affect us.’
‘Yes, I know we did.’ She exhaled. ‘May I ask what your other realisation was?’
‘I hope you don’t think less of me for this, Eleanor, but I’ve realised that there are some things in life that I can never forgive or forget. I know it is a failing.’ He frowned. ‘But, for me, the betrayal of trust is the worst sin of all. Once my trust has gone, it has gone for ever.’
No, he dared not hope for anything resembling love. It was not for a practical, pragmatic man like him. He would do well to remember that. He’d risked his heart once, and it had turned out very badly. He would not risk it again.
He pulled Eleanor closer and kissed her hair. ‘Goodnight, wife. Until the morrow.’