Forbidden Lord (13 page)

Within her bed she burrowed deep beneath the covers, curled into a tight ball. She forced herself to suffocate all thoughts of the kiss and the feelings he had roused in her. It should not have happened and was something she preferred to forget, but, try as she might, she was unable to stop herself thinking of the way he had held her, of how it had felt when he had pressed her body to his own—even now it made her pulses race. So lost was she in her reflections that she didn't notice the moment when sleep claimed her.

I
t was a subdued and nervous household that went about its business over the following days, but when a week had passed and nothing had happened, tension eased and they began to relax, but William insisted that a watch was to be kept at all times.

Eleanor felt herself to be in a state of waiting, not knowing how long she would stay at Staxton Hall, but she knew the time would come when there would be decisions to make, plans to consider.

The morning following her arrival she spent helping Anne and Jane alter one of Anne's gowns for her to wear. It was a subtle shade of yellow with a gossamer-fine green embroidery. The bodice was fitted and the skirt parted at the front to reveal an underskirt of pastel green. The lace on the collar and cuffs, tied with fine green ribbons, reproduced the pattern of the embroidery on the skirt. At her small waist was a belt of gold satin.

‘Oh, yes,' Anne cried, when they had fitted it on Eleanor. ‘I told you the colour is just perfect for you, and it looks so nice. It suits your colouring and your figure. Go and look in the mirror and tell us what you think.'

Eleanor padded across the floor in her stockinged feet and
her reaction when she saw her reflection was all the twins could have asked for.

‘Yes,' she gasped, laughing gaily, genuinely impressed, allowing herself the luxury of running her hands down the folds of the sumptuous skirt. It was cool to the touch and, looking down, she noted with delight that it was the right length. She knew that the gown was wonderfully becoming to her complexion and to her eyes. ‘It's perfect. I feel as though I've been dressed like a youth for so long I've forgotten I have a feminine side.'

‘I assure you no one else has.'

The deep, masculine voice caused Eleanor to spin round to find William on the threshold to her chamber, leaning casually against the door frame. Her heart gave a traitorous leap at the sight of his darkly handsome face. His crooked smile and the sparkle in his translucent eyes almost sapped the strength from her knees. She dropped her lashes in sudden confusion as his voice wound around her senses like a coil of dark silk. All at once her heart began to beat in thick, rapid strokes.

When she had got out of bed that morning, in the cold light of day, the kiss they had shared had been uppermost in her mind. Their camaraderie had suddenly changed to something else, something she was going to find hard to deal with while ever she remained in his home.

A slow smile of admiration swept across his face as he beheld the lovely vision in a yellow and green gown. His eyes unabashedly displayed his approval as his gaze ranged over the full length of her. Her glorious wealth of hair was parted down the centre and tumbled over her shoulders and down her spine in a shimmering, waving mass, framing her creamy-skinned visage. Her lips were soft and sensuous, her eyes a warm shade of amber, fringed by thick, dark lashes. Even with the undisguised fullness of womanhood, the features were unmistakably Eleanor's.

The remembrance of her being in his arms stirred him in
a way he had never known before. He had felt he was holding the promise of something deep and untouched, something that eluded him for the present, but one day… Something in his chest gripped him—an urgent need to walk up to her, to reach out and take her in his arms, but he dare not, not in front of his sisters; if he were to do so, in all probability Eleanor would reprimand him and slap his face.

‘She does look lovely,' Jane enthused, clasping her hands in delight. ‘Don't you think so, William? Not a bit like the youth who accompanied you from London.'

‘I am many things, Jane, but I am not blind—and it is not the first time I have seen Eleanor in a gown.' His gaze settled on her face and he moved to her side so as not to be overheard by his chattering sisters. ‘So,' he breathed, ‘you have put aside your tunic and hose and become a lady, Eleanor.'

‘A woman,' she whispered, foolishly wanting him to look at her, to see her as she truly was—a woman, not a girl in boy's clothes.

‘And a woman,' he agreed. ‘A remarkably lovely young woman—although I shall miss the youth.' He stepped back and said in a louder tone, ‘The colour becomes you, Eleanor—in fact, you look every inch a Court lady.'

Eleanor grimaced. ‘Perish the thought.'

‘Wouldn't you like to go to Court, Eleanor?' Jane asked. ‘I would,' she said, her eyes sparkling with the images Court life conjured up. ‘I'd love to see the Queen and all the pageantry that surrounds her. It must be so exciting.'

‘It appears to be, and if you want to know all about it, who better to ask than your brother,' she remarked, giving William a sideways glance, a mischievous look to remind him of the time he had spent as a Court favourite, receiving a darkly humorous scowl in return. ‘As for myself, I have no place there. My clothes may be fashionable and I do savour the pleasures of conversation, which since Elizabeth has come to the throne has so transformed the Court, I believe, but I fear
I would show myself awkward in such illustrious company. On account of my origins, my family not being as exalted as some, the doors of Whitehall Palace will remain closed to me.'

‘Then you will have to marry a man with a title—an earl or even a duke,' Jane enthused, making an adjustment to the bodice of Eleanor's dress. ‘If you do that, your place will be assured among the finest courtiers in the land.'

Aware that William was watching her closely, avoiding his penetrating gaze Eleanor laughed lightly, a soft flush mantling her cheeks. ‘I do not think I care for an earl or a duke, Jane. I will be content to live a quiet life with someone who will make me happy.'

‘And love,' Anne was quick to say.

Eleanor smiled at her indulgently. ‘That would be an added bonus, Anne—and, yes, it would be nice.'

 

Life at Staxton Hall was comfortable. Dinner was served at eleven in the morning, supper at six. The long dark evenings before bed threw them all together. At supper William was tersely quiet, while his mother and the twins supplied all the conversation. After the meal they would retire to the withdrawing room where they would play cards and chess. With the twins Eleanor found pleasure reading and writing verse. Both Jane and Anne loved music, and Jane, accomplished on the lute, would reach for her instrument and pick out a soothing ballad and sing to them in her clear voice.

Sometimes William would peruse a book Eleanor was reading and they would discuss its content together, but Eleanor's pulse would quicken at his nearness. His lean, handsome, dark face with its crooked, sardonic smile that was capable of turning her bones to water, his vivid silver-grey eyes that hypnotised her, would bring her under his spell so that she was incapable of using her own intelligent mind.

Everywhere she went in the house she was aware of him. Even when he was off riding about the estate with Godfrey,
hunting or hawking for herons around the lake, there was the lingering scent of him, the cologne he used, the brandy he drank. The very essence of William Marston was like an irresistible drug she could not deny but which she kept at bay night and day.

 

A hint of spring was in the air when William and Eleanor, Anne and Jane set out early one morning to ride to York. After many long weeks of being confined to the house the twins were excited and eager for the trip. With Godfrey and two of William's men in attendance, they were a happy band of travellers that disturbed the quietness of the countryside.

York was a fascinating maze of narrow streets and alleys all jumbled together. As soon as they rode through Monk Bar and began to proceed along Groodramgate, with the majestic Minster towering to the right of them, the crowds, the clamour of church bells, the noise and colour and vitality of the bustling city fascinated Eleanor just as much as it had always done and she felt a lifting of her spirits.

Observing her, William laughed and remarked, ‘You look happy, Eleanor.'

‘I am,' she replied, looking about her, her eyes shining. ‘I love York. I always have. It holds so many happy memories.'

Dodging darting urchins and carts, carriages and drays that rumbled over the cobbled streets, it was difficult staying together. People had to be on their guard, with pickpockets abounding and young women in particular easy prey to villains with evil intentions.

It was a lovely March day with a cloudless sky—not that much of it could be seen with rooftops crowded together and slanting out over the streets, sometimes almost touching in the middle. Each floor of the houses and shops overhung the smaller one below it. In this way space was saved in the increasingly crowded city, but light and air was lost in the lower storeys.

‘Oh, wait,' Jane cried excitedly as there was a disturbance
among the pedestrians in St Sampson's Square, who stepped aside to make way for a merry travelling group of players in elaborate outfits, colourful and flamboyant. Music was provided by a trio of minstrels who led the way. ‘How lively they are.' She laughed delightedly when two of the young men in the group did somersaults in front of their horses. ‘And how clever they are. Do you think they are going to perform? I'd love to see them, wouldn't you, Anne?'

‘I suspect they have only just arrived in York and will be looking for somewhere to act out their performances—more than likely in the Guildhall or St Anthony's Hall, Jane,' Eleanor told her. ‘Come, let's head for The Pavement where there are some splendid shops and we can get some refreshment.'

‘Might I suggest we go to the Bull on Coney Street,' William said, beginning to head in that direction. ‘We can leave the horses there to feed and rest and proceed on foot.'

After eating a good and wholesome meal they made their way to The Pavement, the decorative fronts of the houses enlivening the street. Here there was the traditional market—the same as in every town all over England. It was both a business enterprise and social occasion, somewhere to purchase a wide variety of goods, meet friends and exchange the latest gossip.

Purchasing materials and the like, browsing among the market stalls and in the shops, buying oranges from a street hawker, then leaving her purchases with one of the men who accompanied them, Eleanor wandered away from the others when she saw a particularly attractive hat furnished with a plume and a jewel attached to the band in a shop window. She leaned forward to get a better look. Seeing other hats which were equally as fetching, she followed the shop window round the side of the building into an alley.

Apart from a man leaning against a wall the alley was deserted. Not in the slightest bit alarmed, she paid no notice and didn't see when he shoved himself away from the wall and slipped behind her. She was about to return to the others
when a man's hand came from behind her and an arm circled her waist. With a hand clapped across her mouth, she felt herself being dragged farther along the alley with brutal force to where the man's accomplice waited.

‘How is your uncle?' The sibilant hiss of the assailant's voice only added to his air of menace. ‘Dead, I hope, otherwise I would have to inform your stepfather that our work at Hollymead was not successful—but taking you back with us to Fryston Hall will more than compensate for that.'

Momentarily stunned, Eleanor could do nothing, and then, realising the threat was real and her senses returning, rage, full blown and frenzied, erupted inside her. The thought that this villainous murderer had set fire to her home, killing her uncle, overwhelmed her and she bit his revolting hand. Her assailant cursed and snatched it away. Taking advantage of the moment, she turned her head and screamed shrilly in his ear, a scream that pierced him like a knife. At once he let go of her.

Her ears filled with her own cries, she did not hear the shout from the entrance of the alley, neither was she aware of the huge hands that snatched her assailant away from her, flinging him in one movement against the wall. Her saviour was Godfrey. Thank God he had come. She looked towards the end of the alley where William stood outlined against the light. Quickly she stumbled towards him.

William took her arms and peered into her face, his gaze probing hers and finding fear and distress within their depths. Her face was white, having lost every vestige of colour.

‘Eleanor—Eleanor?'

Her name spoken in concern and anger rose above the roaring in her ears and she felt herself drawn against William's chest and held in a tight circle.

‘Eleanor, thank God I saw you wander off and followed you. Are you hurt?'

She shook her head, glancing over her shoulder at her assailant struggling with Godfrey.

William held her hard against him, feeling her body tremble. ‘It's all right,' he soothed, ‘it's over. You're safe.'

He looked down the alley to where Godfrey was holding the man who had attacked her, his accomplice having been apprehended by two men William assumed to be parish constables. As Eleanor's trembling lessened he held her away from him, looking at her intently.

‘Who are these men, Eleanor? Do you know them?'

She nodded, forcing her shattered senses to work. ‘They are the men sent by my stepfather to burn Hollymead. The man who attacked me said he hoped my uncle was dead and he meant to take me back to London—to Fryston Hall. He must have been waiting for me to be by myself—watching me—following me.' She shuddered, aware suddenly of her tingling nerves. She looked down the alley at Godfrey holding her assailant in his massive arms. ‘What will happen to them?'

‘They set fire to Hollymead and your uncle died as a result. That could be interpreted as murder.'

‘And the sentence?'

William shrugged. ‘They will be remanded until the Assizes are held when the central judges arrive in York. The Guildhall is used for the hearings, but these men are as guilty as hell and will hang.'

Eleanor shuddered. ‘This is terrible, but I'm glad they've been caught.'