She swallowed. ‘I see...’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll find them. Trust me, Eleanor.’
Trust him? Of all the things to say.
There was so much to think about, so much to ponder on, that it made her head spin. Her new husband seemed intent on getting to know her, but she wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t! It would be far too dangerous.
‘I can see already that this may prove to be a long challenge, Eleanor. I hope you’re ready for it?’ he teased.
Yes, she’d play this game—but that didn’t mean he would get any closer to her. Hugh would now be doubling his efforts to capture her outlaw friends, which meant she had to be very vigilant.
What would he do when he realised that the outlaws he sought were the same outlaws that she secretly aided? A shiver went down her spine. There was no way of knowing how he would react. Especially if he discovered that not only did Eleanor help the outlaws but that she was also one of them!
She was, in fact... Le Renard. The Fox he was searching for.
She exhaled slowly. ‘Yes, I’ll be ready.’
One thing was for certain: he must never, ever find out.
Chapter Four
Clank, clank, clank. The quarterstaff of Hugh’s opponent struck out and nearly caught him, but he was too quick and moved swiftly to one side. He briefly looked around the clearing, breathing in clean, fresh air mingled with industrious graft and sweat, and exhaled.
The area around the castle yard was gathering small pockets of curious villagers who were milling around the periphery, watching the combat training in progress. Archers and swordplay in one corner, and targets struck on horseback in another.
Hugh darted to the left and took a few steps back, getting ready to make his own attack as beads of sweat trickled down his face. This was good—very good. Focusing on his training would provide a much-needed balm to his soul. He was a knotted coil of frustration, and the opportunity to expel some of his pent-up energy was welcome indeed.
It had been an inspired suggestion of his to play chess night after night for the past two weeks with Eleanor. He’d watched her, bemused, as she’d become more and more engrossed in their game, her intelligent eyes focussed, the cogs in her head turning. He was impressed that she was so adept at learning and playing the game at the same time. She was giving him a real challenge.
Their evenings were unexpectedly congenial and pleasant, filled with light banter. He sensed that the rare glimpses he’d had of his wife were the real Eleanor and he wanted more... Yet as soon as their game was suspended for the evening she would retreat behind the bed curtain, shutting him out. It was as if she remembered to go back to being distant and reserved when they weren’t playing chess—which was becoming increasingly frustrating and disheartening.
Her reticence and awkwardness must have something to do with Richard Millais. Hugh could only guess what Eleanor had gone through at the hands of her first husband—not that she’d actually confided any of it to him. But the hopelessness and anguish that had been stamped on her lovely face on the fateful night of their wedding was something he could never forget.
‘I’m damaged. I carry terrible scars.’
The fact that Millais had taken sport in inflicting pain upon a woman he’d been supposed to protect and care for made Hugh want to dig the bastard up and tear him limb from limb.
God’s teeth! When he thought of the haughty, imperious woman he had first met, understanding now the pain and hurt beneath that strong exterior, he couldn’t help but admire her. She wore her scars like armour—to protect herself.
There was nothing for it. All he had to do was prove that he was worthy of her and different in every way from Richard Millais.
Ha, all he had to do...
So much easier said than done...
Despite all his attempts to get to know her since their wedding, Eleanor still seemed quite indifferent to him. She had been friendly but guarded since that night, and definitely out of bounds.
Lord above, but it was killing him. Night after night of sleeping in the same chamber, listening to her move and murmur in her sleep, listening to her breathe behind that heavy bed curtain... It was slowly driving him mad.
Hell! There was only one thing for it—he had to woo Eleanor. And for a man who had never had to do very much for women to fall at his feet, it was not going to be easy.
‘You’re a man of few words, old friend, but this is ridiculous. I have been here for a day and you have barely muttered a word. Unless grunting is a word, that is.’
Hugh dodged another scathing blow from the quarterstaff and looked up to meet the amused blue gaze of his friend Sir William Geraint, a man who had taken his knight’s oath the same day as Hugh and had been like a brother and a good friend since.
‘And you, Will, were always one for a conversation even during combat. You’re more suited to the women’s bower chambers,’ he retorted.
‘True.’ William smirked. ‘I am known for my gallantry.’
‘So you say.’
‘So I have always been told by many a good lady.’
‘Not to mention the bad.’
‘Ah, but I’m too much of a chivalrous knight to cast aspersions on any woman’s character.’
‘That is because you’re not too fussy about whom you bed,’ Hugh said as his feet skidded in the dirt.
‘I have standards, whatever you may believe, Sir Hugh.’ Will made an exaggerated mock-bow.
‘It’s Lord Hugh de Villiers of Tallany to you.’
‘So it is.’ Will grinned. ‘You’ve landed on your feet, Hugh, you lucky bastard.’
‘The battlefields at Bouvines were not so lucky for many, Will.’
‘True, but at least some good has come out of it. And it couldn’t have happened to a better man. I’m happy for you, Hugh.’
They continued to circle each other, twisting and
