More important—what would he say? Would he claim Mary for his bride, now that William had been vanquished? Nay, that could not be, Eleanor moaned silently, twisting her hands in anguish. She had to admit the truth—the truth she had hidden from herself for so long.
She wanted Hugh—and she wanted him as her own! She wanted to feel his arms holding her, pressing her close to him again. She wanted him to stroke her, run his fingers through her hair, and kiss her…and never, ever stop. There! She had admitted it to herself.
She was lost!
Chapter Seventeen
“Love drew me strongly, pursuing me through all my thoughts like the hunter who hunts everywhere and always keeping my heart under his wing.”
- Le Roman de la Rose, 13th c.
Eleanor tried to compose herself, and she took Mary’s hand as together they climbed the steps into the Great Hall.
“What will happen now?” Mary asked her, breathlessly, as they reached the top of the stairs and entered the huge anteroom filled with chattering ladies and knights talking loudly.
“I don’t know,” Eleanor admitted, drawing Mary to the side, near an alcove. “I do think that William will not be wedding me, though. King Edward would not force me to wed such a wretched toad, after Hugh tells him of William’s treachery. I, myself, will refuse to wed William, no matter what the cost. The King could not be so cruel as to go against my wishes in the face of all the facts.” Dear God in heaven, let that be true; it had to be true!
“Will not William have to hang for murdering poor Osbert?” Mary asked.
“Hah!” Eleanor said. “William was not the one who slew him but merely gave the order, and I fear he was right—that it cannot be proven, save by John de Bretton’s statement. He is too powerful a lord to hang just for the murder of a chief forester on the say-so of only one man, and not a noble one, at that.” She shrugged. “Had it been the murder of a nobleman, it would be different. But not for the murder of poor Osbert.”
“’Tis passing strange, how a treacherous man like William can go free,” Mary answered.
“He will pay in more ways than one,” Eleanor reminded her. “No doubt the King himself will take his forests away and award them t-to—to Hugh.” Stumble not in your speech, Eleanor scolded herself. “And, William’s reputation, if bad before, will be even worse now. He will lose much power and influence at court and not have his way as he had schemed and planned.”
“Oh, dear sister,” Mary exclaimed, clasping her hands together, “do you mean that I will not have to go to France?”
Eleanor smiled. “I think not, Mary.”
Her expression suddenly worried, Mary took both Eleanor’s hands in hers. “Do you mean I shall have to marry Hugh, then?” she asked.
“What mean you, ‘shall have to’?” a deep voice spoke from behind Eleanor.
Mary gasped, and Eleanor whirled about and found herself face to face with Hugh. Her forehead broke out in a cold sweat and she trembled to see how close she was to him. Marry, his glance alone was enough to make her dizzy.
Hugh’s blue eyes seemed to bore right through Eleanor and she felt her cheeks flame.
“L-Lord Hugh!” she stammered. “What a surprise! I thought you would be readying for your departure,” she said quickly, trying to cover her confusion.
God’s bones, but she was even lovelier when she was distraught than when she was composed and trying to give him a lecture, Hugh thought in amusement. Her anxious expression, her upturned nose dusted with a few freckles, her green eyes luminous. How he would like to caress her shoulders and neck, lingering on the softness, and press his mouth to hers…
“I have something to speak of with you, Lady Eleanor,” Hugh said formally. A half-smile crept across his face. “I thought you were never to speak with me again,” he gibed, gently.
Eleanor’s hand flew to her mouth in dismay. Mary took a step backwards and bumped into the wall.
Hugh looked at the two sisters. “Now, now,” he chided, “you might think I was an ogre, judging by your reactions,” he said.
Eleanor tried to collect herself swiftly, hiding her trembling hands inside the sleeves of her surcoat. She cleared her throat. “Lord Hugh, we do not think of you as an ogre,” she protested, lifting her chin. “I do thank you for bringing John to justice for my chief forester’s murder.”
“That was a task that needed doing, seeing that your liege lord, William, was negligent in his duties,” Hugh drawled. “You won’t have to worry yourselves with any marriage he might arrange for Mary—in France or anywhere,” he added. “King Edward will not stand for the treachery William has engaged in. I will see to that, myself.”
“Thank you,” Mary breathed, dipping in a low curtsey.
“I thank you, as well,” Eleanor chimed in, curtseying as well. Hesitantly, she looked back up at Hugh. His eyes! Her heart hammered so that she was sure he could hear it. She could just reach out and touch him—he was only a hand’s breadth away—but she dare not.
“I can see the question in your eyes,” Hugh went on, glancing at Mary, but settling his gaze on Eleanor. “Will I, then, continue to press my suit for Mary’s hand?”
Eleanor swallowed hard, and next to her, she sensed Mary stiffen with fear.
Then, to Eleanor’s amazement and chagrin, Hugh laughed out loud. “The pair of you are like two doves, caught in a thicket!” He shook his head, chuckling. “Nay, but you both must think me a monster.” He took a step closer, and Eleanor thought she was going to faint. So near, he was so near that she could practically breathe in his scent and feel the touch of his skin. She breathed deeply and slowly, trying to calm herself.
“I will
