‘Well, then, it must be our presence that distresses her so.’ A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘Damn it, man, my time here should be of short duration. I need to get back to court.’
‘And would my lady have to accompany you?’
So that was what was bothering Lady Eleanor. That she would be made to come to court. Why?
Even Hugh, having spent many years on campaigns in France, knew of this widowed heiress and her desire to be left alone. Her lack of presence at court fuelled further gossip and rumour.
‘That I cannot answer, since I don’t know the contents of this missive nor what King John’s intentions are.’
Not strictly true, since Hugh had another mission, as well as to deliver the King’s demands to this frustrating woman. Hugh also had to find and capture a group of outlaws and their leader, Le Renard—or The Fox, as he was apparently known in these parts. The gang had not only stolen levies intended for the Crown, but also more worryingly had helped and abetted the Northern Rebel Barons. Traitors, who openly opposed and defied the King.
‘Tell your lady that the sooner we hear King John’s command, the sooner we can all go back to whatever it was we were doing. My men are restless, Claymore, as am I. And this situation cannot be endured any more. I believe I have been more than patient. I will go to Lady Eleanor’s solar and drag her down here myself. Either way, the King’s missive must be read today!’
Eleanor looked out of the small arched window from her solar and rubbed the back of her neck and winced. This time the pain was real. She wished the King’s men and the so-called hero of the disastrous Battle of Bouvines—this Hugh de Villiers—would leave, but that was a fool’s wish. They wouldn’t leave until they’d got what they wanted: her. And she couldn’t avoid them any longer.
She had stupidly believed that if she ignored King John’s summons, he would forget about her, as he had done these past few years since her husband’s death from dysentery.
Ah, the solitude of those years and the freedom that had come with being in her ancestral home rather than bound by the shackles of court was something she had enjoyed—relished, even.
Eleanor had finally been doing what her father had taught her, despite being ‘just a woman’. Managing her vast lands and looking after her people to the best of her ability. Yet it seemed now that was all to end.
Since the King’s men had arrived Eleanor had sought to find a solution, a way out of her predicament, but all she had achieved was incensing the men instead—which was not something she had intended. But she didn’t want to know the contents of King John’s missive. Whatever he wanted from her, it would not be good. Nothing he demanded ever was. And now Eleanor had no idea about how to proceed.
Either way, she could never leave Tallany, nor its people, to fend for itself in these difficult times. That was what had made Eleanor secretly ally herself with the Northern Rebel Barons some months back and give them the assistance they’d need against a king bent on destroying everything she believed in. Dangerous on her part, but necessary, nevertheless.
Mayhap that was the reason why the King’s men were here. Mayhap they knew of her treason. But surely no one save her few loyal men knew her part in that...
No, this was about taking her back to court—or, worse still, keeping her at the Tower, just as before her disastrous marriage. A shiver ran through her.
Eleanor wished she had more time. She had always known that her destiny was not hers to determine, but for her freedom to be snatched away so soon made her feel powerless and vulnerable.
She turned and caught her steward’s eye as he entered the chamber. He nodded once and walked out again. No, she could no longer avoid the King’s men and their commander, Sir Hugh de Villiers.
The hall fell silent as the steward of Tallany Castle and its mistress, followed by a couple of older women, walked onto the dais with purpose. Hugh shut his eyes in relief and sighed. Finally she had come. He could get this over and done with and leave this place.
He opened his eyes just as Lady Eleanor turned to face him and his breath caught. A heady scent of flowers and blended mixed spice teased his senses. He hadn’t given the widow herself much thought—hadn’t known what to expect of her—but it certainly had not been the lovely vision in front of him.
He looked her up and down, mesmerised. Oh, yes, a face and body that could send a man to purgatory! Her hair was pulled back and bound underneath a linen veil held by a silver circlet, but he could just glimpse dark glossy strands. Her eyes were dark too, and framed by lashes that curved at the ends. And her pink lips were lush and inviting...though not inviting him anywhere, as they were compressed into a thin line.
He glanced up and saw that she was glaring at him. A look of pure contempt flashed in her eyes before being masked. She stiffened, tilted her head and gave a curt nod.
What in God’s name was he thinking?
He gave himself a mental shake and stepped forward, making a perfunctory bow.
‘Lady Eleanor, it is an honour for me and my men that you grace us with your presence and I’m glad to see that your health seems much improved.’
‘Indeed? And you must be Hugh de Villiers?’
‘At your service, my lady.’
The lady, however, raised her eyebrows and looked down her nose at him.
‘I rather doubt that, Sir Hugh. We both know why I am commanded here.’
He stood there staring at her open-mouthed, stunned by her rudeness.
‘Do we, Lady Eleanor?’
‘As you well know, sir.’
So she preferred plain talking, did she? Very well.
‘My lady, mayhap if you had
