‘It’s a fine day, my lady.’
Juliana stood on top of the keep steps and stared down at Ulf in surprise. Was he ill? He didn’t look ill. On the contrary, he looked better than he had for months, his wrinkled face and white hair illuminated by the reddish-gold autumn sunshine. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was actually smiling. She blinked, trying to remember the last time she’d seen her Constable look anything other than dour. The sun might be shining for once, but what was there in their present situation that he could possibly find to smile about?
‘Ulf?’ She descended the steps cautiously. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Better than that. See for yourself.’
She looked up, though it took her a few moments to fully appreciate the sight of Sir Guian’s men lugging sacks and barrels from one end of the bailey to the other. If the sound of groaning, not to mention the greenish tinge on most of their faces, was anything to go by, they weren’t accustomed to such hard work.
‘What are they doing?’
‘Sergeant Lothar ordered them to move the supplies to a different storeroom. He made them muck out the stables first.’
‘Did the supplies need moving?’
Ulf’s smile spread into a grin. ‘No one dared ask.’
‘Oh.’
She bit her lip, not quite knowing how to react. On the one hand, the sight of the men who’d sat around taunting them for months being forced to do manual labour was more than a little amusing. On the other, since they were the same men who’d be staying once Lothar and his soldiers left, humiliating them probably wasn’t the best idea. Bad enough that she was going to be stuck with Sir Guian. She didn’t want him feeling vengeful as well...
‘Where are our men?’
‘Behind the smithy. Sergeant Lothar sent them to do weapons’ training with his soldiers. He said they needed to get back into shape.’
‘Did he?’
She glowered at the insult. Not that it was an insult really. He was right. After months of being trapped inside the bailey, her men did need to get back into shape, however much it rankled that someone else was giving them orders now.
‘What about you?’ She glanced towards Ulf resentfully. Judging by his newly cheerful disposition, he appeared to have no problem with the change in command.
‘He told me to stay and look after you.’
‘I’m not a child!’
‘He said you might say that, my lady, and that I should send you back to bed if you argued.’ Ulf held his hands up quickly. ‘Not that I would.’
‘And where is he?’
‘He went out for a ride an hour ago.’
‘Where to?’
‘I don’t know. He’s not the kind of man who shares all his thoughts.’ Ulf glanced at Sir Guian’s soldiers again and chortled. ‘Not that he doesn’t make them obvious sometimes.’
Juliana made a harrumphing sound. She only wished that Lothar had been clearer about what he’d been thinking last night. What had he been doing upstairs? After he’d said that the best thing for her was to run off to Stephen and get married, she’d thought there was nothing left for them to say to each other. He couldn’t have made it any clearer that he’d no personal interest in her—not that she wanted him to—so what had he been doing in her father’s chamber afterwards? Had he been looking for her or something else? If it was her, then why? And if it was something, or someone else, then what had made him suspicious? She didn’t know which idea worried her more.
The feeling of panic had increased tenfold the moment he’d mentioned wanting to jolt his memory. The idea that he might remember their kiss had been alarming enough. The way his gaze had altered, as if he just had been remembering it, had been even worse. Not that he’d said or done anything, and if he’d remembered then surely he would have...wouldn’t he?
Even so, she’d been aware of something, some undercurrent of tension between them. For a heart-stopping moment, she’d even thought he’d been going to kiss her again. His eyes had lingered on her lips as if he’d wanted to. Standing face-to-face in the near-darkness, she’d felt her own treacherous body start to betray her again, too, as if the air of danger that had frightened her so much about him at first had actually started drawing her towards him now. If he hadn’t left when he had, she might have made an even bigger fool of herself than she had before—and this time, there wouldn’t have been any poppy-laced drink to make him forget.
‘Did you get any rest, my lady?’
‘Mmm?’ Ulf’s question brought her back to the present with a jolt. ‘Oh, yes, I dozed a little.’
‘In the taproom?’
She glanced around surreptitiously, checking to make sure no one else was in earshot before answering.
‘I stayed there most of the night, but I was afraid of being summoned this morning so I went back upstairs as soon as I heard noises in the hall. Just in time, too.’
She could still hardly believe the narrowness of that escape. She’d got back to her chamber only minutes before two of Lothar’s soldiers had arrived carrying a large bath tub, then proceeded to fill it to the brim with steaming water. Once she’d got over her relief at such a close call, it had felt wonderful. She’d stepped out of her clothes and into the tub with a feeling of intense, heartfelt relief. She’d been wearing her old brown tunic for two days straight and it hadn’t been particularly flattering before that. Practical was probably the best word to describe it, not that there had been any point dressing up for a siege. No wonder Lothar had treated her more like a girl than a chatelaine. She hadn’t exactly looked the part. Whereas now... She’d soaked herself for as long as she’d dared, then pulled on one of her best gowns, a respectable velvet bliaut in the same shade of muted green as most of her clothes, determined to prove that she could at least look like a chatelaine, as well as a lady, even if the once snug material now swamped her gaunt frame like a sack. She’d had to bunch the material over the top of her girdle just to stop it from trailing on the floor, though overall she’d been reasonably pleased with her appearance.
One glance at her reflection in the polished metal bowl she used as a mirror had put paid to that. Her only hope was that the change of gown would distract from the huge black rings around her eyes. They looked bad enough in her dimly lit room. In broad daylight, they’d only provoke more suspicion than ever.
‘We can’t use the taproom for long.’ She pushed her apprehensions aside. ‘It’s too cold.’
‘You don’t think we could tell Sergeant Lothar the truth?’
‘What?’ She gawked at Ulf in surprise. ‘I thought you didn’t like him?’
‘It’s not a question of liking, but he seems fair-minded.’
‘When he doesn’t look like he wants to wring someone’s neck, you mean?’
Ulf gave her a strange look. ‘That was for you, my lady. If he hadn’t, then I would have.’
She looked away quickly, refusing to acknowledge that particular debt amongst all the others. But Ulf was right in one way. Ironically, Lothar’s honourable behaviour in preventing any looting had kept her secret safer than she could ever have hoped. No one beside him had ventured any further than the hall of the keep. Still, even if he was as fair-minded as Ulf seemed to think, she couldn’t risk telling him anything. He was still one of the Empress’s men, practically her right-hand man if everything he’d said last night was true. If she told him her secret, then he’d tell Matilda and they’d all have to suffer the consequences. He was clearly in love with Matilda after all. What had he said, that his only home was with her? The words shouldn’t have affected her, but they had, causing an unwonted stab of jealousy. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Somehow it hadn’t bothered her quite so much when her father had said it...
‘There’s no need to tell him anything.’ She lifted her chin stubbornly. ‘He’s leaving today so we won’t have to use the taproom much longer. We’ll use Father’s chamber again. Sir Guian won’t notice what’s under his nose if I make up an excuse.’
‘As you wish, my lady.’
Her chin dropped slightly. ‘You don’t approve?’
‘It’s not my place to say so, my lady.’
She bit her lip anxiously. She wasn’t afraid of Ulf betraying her, but she would have appreciated his—or anyone’s—support. Not that she needed it, she reminded herself. She was the chatelaine, or at least she had been. She could make her own decisions without any man’s advice or support—and she could start by confronting the Baron herself.
‘Where’s Sir Guian?’ Her gaze searched the bailey. ‘Has he gone for a ride, too?’
Ulf didn’t answer and she looked up in surprise. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said he looked secretive, though he’d never kept secrets from her before.
‘Constable?’
‘I believe he’s feeling unwell, my lady.’
‘I didn’t see him in the hall.’
‘That’s because he’s in the gatehouse. Sergeant Lothar summoned him there just after dawn.’
‘And?’
‘I don’t know, my lady. He still hasn’t come out.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘Is he hurt?’
Ulf shrugged as if the answer didn’t particularly bother him. ‘I didn’t hear any sounds of violence.’
‘Has anyone gone in to him since?’
‘Not as far as I know. I’m not sure the Sergeant would approve.’
Approve? She picked up her skirts and strode determinedly across the bailey. Approval be damned, what had Lothar done? Even if he was trying to protect her, he had absolutely no right to take matters into his own hands! Hadn’t she told him she could take care of herself? Hadn’t she demanded that he didn’t use violence? And if Ulf said the word Sergeant one more time she would scream!
She was within arm’s reach of the gatehouse door when a grey stallion burst through the archway suddenly, rearing up on its hind legs as the rider drew rein in front of her.
‘Lady Juliana.’ Lothar’s eyes flickered briefly over her loose-fitting gown before settling on her face with a faintly baffled expression. ‘You seem to look more exhausted every time I see you.’
‘Sergeant.’ She folded her arms belligerently. There was no explanation she could give him for that—besides the fact that her appearance was none of his business, especially when she’d put on her best gown and all he could do was find fault!
‘Where have you been?’
‘Out.’ He swung down from his saddle, landing at her feet with a thud. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘My habits are none of your concern.’
‘But you want me to tell you where I’ve been?’
She glared at him. ‘What have you done to Sir Guian?’
‘Nothing permanent.’
‘Have you hurt him?’
‘Do you care?’
‘Yes! Especially if you make him angry and then leave us to bear the brunt! I told you I can take care of myself.’
‘So you did, but in this case there’ll be no brunt. I didn’t lay as much as a finger on him. We talked, just like I promised. He even gave me a present for you.’
‘What is it?’ She narrowed her eyes as he reached into his gambeson and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment.
‘A letter of safe conduct for when you finally decide to leave.’
‘Oh.’ She reached up slowly, wrapping her fingers around one end of the parchment while he still held on to the other, so that for a moment it seemed as if they were holding hands. The very idea was enough to make the breath catch in her throat. ‘That was thoughtful.’
‘He also intends to give you and your men enough supplies for the journey.’
‘He does?’
‘He was feeling generous.’
‘But...’ her gaze drifted towards the gatehouse door ‘...does he need any help?’
‘Why would he?’
‘Ulf thought that he might be feeling unwell.’
He dropped his hand from the parchment abruptly. ‘Still so mistrustful? I just told you that I didn’t touch him.’
‘Then why hasn’t he come out?’
‘Perhaps he’s still recovering from last night. He wasn’t best pleased at being woken up at dawn. Or perhaps he’s just taking some time to consider what we talked about.’
She gasped as the truth dawned on her. ‘You threatened him?’
He shrugged. ‘I made him aware of the repercussions of not listening to me, if that’s what you mean. I wouldn’t call it a threat as much as a warning. He knows I’m a man of my word.’
She felt a quivering sensation in her stomach, something between fear and excitement. She didn’t approve of his methods, but she had no doubt that they would be effective. And if he was telling the truth then there was no need for her to go inside and deal with Sir Guian. That was a relief, even if it did leave her alone with Lothar again. She could feel him watching her, waiting to see what she would decide, as if her decision might actually matter to him, though it was difficult to concentrate under the force of that piercing grey stare.
‘All right.’ She took a step back into the bailey.
‘I appreciate your trust, my lady.’
She narrowed her eyes at the sarcasm. ‘I thought you were leaving.’
‘So eager to be rid of me?’
‘I want things to be settled, that’s all. It’s got nothing to do with you.’
She walked ahead of him, biting her lip on the lie. That wasn’t true at all. He had everything to do with the way she was feeling, as if her head and heart were in conflict. The sooner he was gone, the safer her secret would be, yet the thought of him leaving caused a pang in her chest that she’d never experienced before. Perhaps Ulf was right and she ought to tell him her secret. He did seem fair-minded. Procuring a letter of safe passage for her had been thoughtful, too, and he’d already proven that he had no problem with serving a woman, in which case he ought to treat her as an independent woman as well. Could she tell him her secret and trust him to hold only her accountable and not her men? Could she trust him to persuade Matilda of that, too? If he was leaving, then this might be her last chance...
‘You have a fine estate.’
She blinked, startled out of her train of thought. ‘Yes, though it’s not what it was. The crops on this side of the river are ruined. We had to plant them late after Stephen left, then we couldn’t bring in the harvest once Sir Guian’s men arrived. We’re just lucky to have the other side of the river as well.’
‘I’m glad of it.’
‘So am I, though I know others haven’t been so fortunate.’ She threw him a sideways look. ‘I don’t suppose either Stephen or Matilda are starving, no matter how much everyone else suffers.’
‘The Empress would relieve the suffering if she could.’
‘She could surrender.’
‘So could Stephen.’
She pursed her lips with a vague sense of disappointment. If she’d hoped that he might say something disloyal about Matilda, then clearly she was wasting her time.
‘I hope your horse isn’t too tired.’ She changed the subject instead as one of his soldiers took charge of the reins. ‘I would have thought you had a long enough journey ahead without a morning ride, too.’
‘It wasn’t far. I just wanted a look around.’
‘For anything in particular?’
‘Just Stephen and his army.’ He said the words so nonchalantly that it took a moment for them to sink in.
‘What?’ She almost skidded to a halt.
‘I heard a rumour that Stephen was coming into Herefordshire again. I wanted to take a look.’
‘What rumour?’ Her mouth felt dry all of a sudden. ‘What made you think that?’
He gave her an eloquent look. ‘You did, my lady. Yesterday when I asked what difference a week would make to the siege and you said that it was all you needed. I assumed you were expecting reinforcements.’
She cringed, inwardly berating herself for her own stupidity. She’d muttered something to that effect under her breath, but she’d never imagined he might have noticed. How could she have been so thoughtless? He’d remembered what she’d forgotten herself. In all the upheaval of the past day she hadn’t even thought about Stephen!
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She tried to feign innocence.
‘In that case I admire your loyalty, but the castle still needs to be ready just in case.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the smithy. ‘I thought your men might need some weapons’ practice. You never know when they might be called on to fight.’
‘For Sir Guian?’
‘I’m afraid so. I told you last night, if they want to stay here then it’s their only choice. Perhaps you’ll allow me to show you whilst my horse is resting?’
His gaze locked on to hers, his eyes seeming a whole different shade suddenly, their granite depths shimmering like crystalline violet in the sunlight. No, she warned herself, she ought to say no. It wasn’t just a bad idea, it was a dangerous one. Reckless. Imprudent. Completely irresponsible. No matter how thoughtful he’d been, they were still on different sides in a war. He was her enemy, sort of. Then he extended an arm and, for a moment, she forgot to breathe.