His fingers intertwined with hers and he tugged her into his arms. “Gillian,” he breathed against her lips. His touch gentle, he wrapped her into his embrace.
He'd slipped off her veil before she realized what he was about, and buried his fingers in the mass of her hair, loosening her braid and sliding his hands up through the wavy mass to cradle her face.
Her eyes drifted closed, her breath caught on a sob as he nuzzled her cheek, pressed his body against hers in a caress devastating in its tenderness. Force she might have withstood, but this gentle assault proved beyond her will to resist.
She opened her eyes to stare into the familiar brown depths of Rannulf's questioning gaze, lost herself in the web of desire he wove around them so effortlessly, watched as he lowered his lips to hers slowly, so slowly she could feel his touch before their mouths met.
Warmth flowed from his lips to her heart, set up a sense of loss so deep it spilled over into tears that flowed down her cheeks even as her lips clung to Rannulf's.
He gasped against her mouth, his hand sliding up her cheek to capture a teardrop, then slowly stepped away. He fixed his gaze somewhere beyond her shoulder and drew in a deep breath. “Forgive me. I hadn't intended to touch you.”
Before her disbelieving gaze he cast off the languor of desire and resumed the mantle of warriorâor tormentor. Somehow all emotion drained away from his features, leaving behind a shell of the man she'd seen.
The man she'd known so long ago.
“You've grown even more lovely these years past, milady. I don't suppose you'd care to pick up where we left off back then, would you?” he asked, his mouth curved into an insolent grin. “If we're careful enough, Talbot need never know.”
She had the knife free of its sheath before her stunned brain could form the words to curse him straight to hell where he belonged.
Grin still intact, Rannulf eased away from her, one hand held in front of him as though to ward her off. “No one need know you're no longer a maiden. I wouldn't want to harm your chances of making a decent marriage, although with a dowry such as yours, combined with your beauty, I doubt most men would care.”
Gillian drew in a gasp of air and, knife upraised, snatched her skirts into her free hand and charged after him. “Whoreson knave,” she growled, stalking him as he backed through the trees toward his mount. “Get you gone, else I'll gut you where you stand.”
He believed her threat, it seemed, for he spun on his heel and leapt into the saddle. “Let me know if you change your mind, milady,” he called, gathering the reins and nudging the stallion into motion. “At any time.”
She gave a scream of outrage and let the dagger fly, sending it to land, quivering like her shaking limbs, in the thick tree trunk near where they'd kissed.
Though she knew 'twas foolish, she watched him guide his mount through the trees, listened to the hoofbeats fade away, before she roused herself to motion. Not until she knew he'd gone beyond her reach did she dare to relax her guard.
Then, her thundering heart the only sign of her anger and pain, she gathered her disordered locks together and began to fashion them into a neat braid.
No one must know, she reminded herself. Not only that she and her servants knew Rannulf, but especially all that had happened between them.
In both the past and the present.
She settled her veil on her hair, then tugged the dagger free and slid it into its sheath.
She picked up her basket and set off for the track back to I'Eau Clair.
Her step faltered when she walked past her father's grave, and she paused to say a prayer. He'd never have suspected the kind of man Rannulf had become, she thought as Rannulf's parting words echoed in her mind. She knelt beside the grave and laid her hand atop the tender grass, then dashed a traitorous tear from her cheek. He'd never have offered her to Rannulf otherwise, she knew. What had gone through his mind when he'd received the betrothal agreement, with its detestable message, back from Rannulf? Often these past few weeks she'd wondered why her father hadn't told her what he'd done. Perhaps he'd sought to spare her the pain he knew she'd suffer if she knew how Rannulf had responded to the offer of her hand.
'Twas no use thinking of what she'd lost yet again, although with Rannulf there as a constant reminder, how could she ever forget?
Chapter Seven
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annulf stood on the battlements and observed Gillian's progress. He'd spurred his mount hard so he might avoid her as she headed back, yet he felt compelled to watch over her, If only from afar. A stiff breeze tugged at his hair and whipped his tunic snug against his body, but it could not scour away the sickness roiling in his belly and stabbing at his heart over his cruelty to Gillian.
He greatly feared âtwas beyond him to maintain that pose for long, so he'd taken the cowardly way and run from her. The blade she'd brandished nigh in his face had not threatened himâby the rood, he'd permit her to have at him with her sword, knowing full well she might spit him with itâif he thought 'twould help promote his ruse.
But after holding her in his arms, 'twas almost beyond him to let her go.
He saw her pause near a grave in the fields alongside the path to the castleâher father's, perhaps?âdrop to her knees beside it and reach out to place her hand on the mounded soil.
Lord Simon de I'Eau Clair. An honorable man, decent and true, who had never done him ill. Who had made him welcome here. A far better man than his own sire, he thought bitterlyâin every way.
And what had Rannulf done to repay Lord Simon, when he offered Rannulf his greatest treasure, his daughter's hand? It shamed him to recall how he'd repaid his generosity, for not only had he refused his gift, but insulted him and his daughter with his heartless words, made a mockery of so many thingsâhospitality, love, honor.
'Twas no doubt he was indeed his father's son. How else could he have done the things he'd doneâsaid the words he'd forced from his lips this very day, smiling all the while like the most false-hearted knave at court?
Who would ever believe he had reasons for what he'd done? And to his shame, he continued to believe his reasons valid and true.
He continued to watch as Gillian rose and brushed dirt from her bliaut, then raised her hand and swiped at her cheeks as well. Her tears were all that had saved him from insanity by the pool this morn, jarring him from his selfish greed as he stole from Gillianâher taste, her touch, the priceless gift of peace he felt within her arms.
His brief respite over, Rannulf descended the stairs and went to the bailey to await Gillian's return. He'd told Gillian one truth this morning, for Talbot did wish to see her.
Supper the night before had been a strained and stilted affair, the presence of Talbotâand himself, he had no doubtâat the high table seeming to rob Gillian of her appetite and her conversation. Perhaps Talbot was more observant than Rannulf gave him credit for, since he excused Gillian from attending him after the meal, instead postponing his meeting with her until today.
But the time of reckoningâif that was what Talbot intendedâhad arrived. Since Rannulf was still attempting to establish himself with his overlord, he'd best do as he was bid and bring Talbot his ward.
He walked up to her as soon as she passed through the gate, reaching for the basket she carried on her arm and calling for a servant to come take it for her.
She refused to release it. “No, milord,” she said, waving away the maid and tugging on the handle until Rannulf let go of it. “What's inside is far too valuable.” She turned her face away from him. “And you, sir, are far too high-handed. How dare you order my servants in my presence?”
He took her by the arm and turned her toward him. “Your guardian wishes to see you at once, milady. I suggest you come with me now.”
“You didn't seem to be in such a hurry earlier. Nor as considerate of me, either. What's brought about this change? Were you distracted from your duty, perhaps?” She shook her head. “Nay, that couldn't be the reason. I haven't the power to divert your attention from anything,” she snapped. “Though it appeared to me that your master's command was the last thing on your mind then.” She met his narrowing gaze fully, her own expression thoughtful. “I wonder what he'd have to say if I were to tell himâ”
“Enough!” he snarled. His fingers tight about her forearm, he resisted the urge to haul her along after him and instead led her in a calm fashion to a sheltered spot beneath the wall and blocked her from view with his body. But his voice when he spoke again was far from calm, though he spoke in a whisper. “Are you mad, Gillian, to even consider telling him about this mom? About everything?” He eased his grip, though he did not release her. “Because you'd have to confess it all before you were through, I have no doubt. He's already your guardian by the king's order. How much power do you want him to have over you?” he demanded. “I don't even know how much control he has over me.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “By the rood, you make me daft! Neither of us knows what he's capable of doing.”
“He's
your
overlord. Don't you know?” she asked, her eyes sharp with curiosity.
He shook his head. “I managed to avoid meeting him until I was ordered to come here with him. I know little of Talbot, save that he's King John's crony.” Absently smoothing down his hair, he added, “That alone is cause for concern, wouldn't you say?”
She lifted his hand from her arm, her face pale. “There is much going on here that you've not told me, Rannulf, of that I'm certain.” She shook out her skirts and adjusted the basket on her arm. “I'll go with you now to see Lord Nicholas, but only if you swear you'll explain this situation to me more fully later.” She grasped his arm. “And soon. I'll not be put off for long, or I'll be forced to reconsider going along with your initial request.” Leaning closer, her gaze holding his as surely as her hand held him there, she added, “I mean it, Rannulf. You owe me that much, at least.”
He weighed her requestâand her sincerity. She'd follow through, he knew, for once set upon a course, Gillian seldom wavered. “You've my word, if you'll trust it.”
“I will, so long as you give me no reason to change my mind.”
“Agreed.”
His mind awhirl, he took her by the elbow, as custom dictated, and led her through the bailey and into the keep. They discovered Sir Henry and Will seated at a table in the hall, a pitcher of ale between them.
Sir Henry turned on the bench and eyed them as they trod sedately across the room. “Now isn't this a pretty sight?” he murmured when they halted by the table.
Rannulf released Gillian at once; she sent Sir Henry a look fit to slay a lesser man.
Will sloshed the last of the ale into his cup and chuckled. “âTis milady Gilles, I vow, finally come to enchant her guardian,” he teased, saluting her with the ale before downing the draft. He glanced up at Rannulf, a frown replacing his grin. “Took you long enough to bring her back, milord. Mayhap you should have sent someone who knows the lay o' the land to seek her out.”
“Since I found her, I'd say I know it well enough.” Rannulf couldn't quite keep a menacing note from his voice. Will hadn't wanted to go along with the ruse that Rannulf was a stranger to them; only the fact that Sir Henryâand Gillianâhad ordered it so could compel his obedience.
'Twas clear to Rannulf that the other man suspected him of somethingâexactly what, he could not say. If he hadn't known better, he might have believed that Will, Gillian's lifelong friend, was jealous.
But he knew, better than any of them, that there was nothing to be jealous
of.
For despite any lingering feelings he might harbor for Gillian, Rannulf knew just how unlikely it was that Gillian felt anything for him but hatred.
He'd certainly done everything he could think of to ensure that end.
Sir Henry thumped his mug down on the table and stood. “Come along, then, children.” He hitched up his braes and settled his belt around his middle with a sigh. “We've kept his lordship waiting long enough, I'd imagine. We don't need him growing too curious about the goings-on here, now do we?”
After asking where her guardian could be found, Gillian led the way to the small, well-appointed chamber that had been her father's sanctuary, her expression tinged with sorrow, to Rannulf's mind. It must be difficult for her to see another in her father's place.
She knocked, and Talbot bid her enter. Rannulf, Sir Henry and Will trooped in after her, her two men ranging themselves on a bench by the door while she and Rannulf took seats at the narrow table in the middle of the room.
Gillian arranged her skirts about her, folded her hands in her lap and waited.
The perfect picture of a lady, Rannulf thought, hiding a smile. Ah, if Talbot only knew the truth of the matter....
Gillian glanced at her guardian, standing at the table's headâher father's placeâand forced her sense of resentment deep. Lord Nicholas was only doing his duty, she reminded herself, as his overlordâtheir overlord, in factâhad ordered him to do. For all she knew, Talbot had no more desire to command I'Eau Clair, to be saddled with a ward, than she had for him to do so.
He'd already commandeered her father's chair, she noted when he resumed his seat after gifting her with a polite bow. Though Talbot stood as tall as her father had, he lacked her father's bulky frame and did not present her father's imposing presence.
And certainly not as impressive a presence as 'twas clearâto her, at leastâhe thought he did.
Or perhaps he hoped he did. Though she'd had scant opportunity as yet to observe him, what she had noticed about her guardian thus far led her to a rather strange, and no doubt completely false, conclusion.
To her it appeared that Lord Nicholas was playing a role.
He wore his fine clothes with a natural grace, and carried himself with an almost challenging arroganceâas if he dared anyone to think him less than what he seemed. But she'd watched him carefully at supper the evening before, and it looked to her as if he observed everyone else nigh as closely as she did him.
It could be natural curiosity, she supposed, or a suspicious nature, but...she didn't know him. She'd do well to guard herself and her secrets m Lord Nicholas's presence.
In his vassal's presence as well, she reminded herself as she glanced across the table at Rannulf.
“I'm sorry for the delay, milord,” Rannulf said. “Lady Gillian was busy in the village when I ran her to ground.”
Ran her to ground
âdid he think her his quarry? She resisted the urge to grimace. “I brought her back as soon as her tasks were finished.”
Gillian darted another look at Rannulf when he uttered that patent falsehood, but his face, his eyes, bore an expression of complete sincerity.
Interesting, the skills he'd acquired in recent years.
It seemed that Talbot believed him, at any rate, for he nodded his acceptance. Leaning forward, he picked up a map from the stack of parchments littering the table and pushed it toward them. “Come join us,” he told Sir Henry and Will, then waited while they dragged the bench to the end of the table opposite him and resumed their seats. “I understand from what the king told me that you've had trouble with raids and attacks about the demesne?”
“Aye, milord,” Sir Henry said. He squinted down at the map. âHereâ' he pointed to a small farm high in the hills on the far western. edge of her lands ”âand in several places along the northern border here,” he said as he drew his finger over a dark, winding line near the top of the drawing.
“They never do much damage,” Will added. “But enough people have come to harmâtwo injured badly enough that they died of their woundsâthat 'tis difficult to work the lands away from the castle itself. We haven't enough men to mount guards everywhere we've work to do and our people are fearful whenever their duties take them away from the keep.”
Talbot stood, pulled the parchment closer and turned it about to study it. 'Did you take any guards with you to the village, milady?” he asked.
Startled by his question, she glanced up at him. “Of course not.” His violet gaze held an unexpected look of censure. “'Tis just down the track. What harm could come to me there, in my own village?”
Placing his hands palms down on the pile of documents, he leaned toward her, his handsome visage set in stern lines. “I doubt you so ignorant that you're unaware of your worth, Lady Gillian. All it would take to threaten your safetyâand that of all who dwell hereâwould be for a few brawny men to drag you from the road and haul you into the forest. No one would even know you were gone till the ransom demand arrived, most likeâa demand that we turn over I'Eau Clair in exchange for you.” He straightened and settled his hands upon his hips. “I have no desire to explain to the king why I traded this holding to ensure your safe return because of your imprudent behavior. From this moment on, you're not to leave these walls unescorted.”
Gillian rose to her feet and met his eyes. “That is impossible, milord,” she said low-voiced, not bothering to disguise her outrage. “I am lady of this keep. I have a duty to my people, and I will not allow you to keep me from it.”