Slowly Hugh pulled away from her lips and pressed hot kisses on her cheeks, down the column of her neck. Then he moved back to her lips.
‘Eleanor...’ he whispered softly against her hair. ‘What have you done to me?’ He nipped the tender spot just behind her ear.
What had she done to him?
What was he doing to her?
Had a kiss ever felt like this? This inexplicable wonder?
‘I want you. God knows I do.’ He gazed searchingly in her eyes. ‘But I understand if you’re still not... I mean if you need more time.’ He sighed heavily, pulling Eleanor into his arms and stroking the length of her hair.
Oh, Lord, she knew what that meant... But could she? Was she ready?
‘Think on it. I will come to you only if you want me to. But...’ He swallowed. ‘I cannot kiss you or sleep next to you in bed without wanting more.’ He pressed his forehead against hers. ‘I am only but a man, Eleanor, and a weak-willed man, it seems.’
No, he wasn’t. Hugh had honour and kindness coursing through his veins and he was nothing like Richard. It stood to reason that sleeping with him would be different. Besides, he was her husband, and Eleanor knew that they had to cement their union and consummate their marriage eventually.
In any case, curiosity was getting the better of her, wasn’t it? No, it was more than that. She liked him, and could no longer deny her attraction and desire for him.
She lifted her head and met his quizzical gaze. She smiled. ‘Yes, you’re right.’
He sighed. ‘Exactly. I’ll find somewhere else to sleep without causing any suspicion and—’
‘No... No, Hugh, that’s not what I meant.’ She flushed, not knowing how to put it into words. ‘I... I don’t want you to sleep anywhere else.’
Hugh pulled back, studying her for a moment. ‘Well, now... Does that...? Does that mean what I think it does?’ He arched a brow. ‘I never did believe that you were repulsed by my kiss.’
‘Are you bragging, my lord?’
‘Absolutely.’ He chuckled. ‘I hope this happy event is going to come sooner rather than later, but never fear: I’ll wait until you cannot resist me any more.’
She giggled, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. But when had she ever felt like this? Hugh was unlike anyone she had met before. He valued her and made her feel special. He didn’t deride her or ridicule her for being different, nor did he take pleasure in hurting her... And yet, a little voice warned her, she could get hurt. In more ways than one.
No, she mustn’t allow her feelings to get the better of her. She had told him that her heart would never be his. It was the only way to protect herself. Eleanor would do her duty, but no more than that. Hugh was King John’s man and he would never forsake his fealty to his liege.
They both jumped as they heard an urgent knocking on the door of the antechamber.
‘My lord, your presence is needed immediately,’ a muffled male voice said from the other side of the door.
For one of Hugh’s men to come so deep into their private solar could only mean one thing—it was something important.
‘What is it?’ Hugh responded.
‘The outlaws have been sighted in the woods outside the demesne!’ the voice cried.
‘This is turning out to be a good day.’ He smiled at Eleanor, then called out to his man. ‘Saddle my horse. I will be there presently.’
Chapter Seven
The next few hours were spent in a state of anxious confusion. As dusk settled Eleanor was racking her brain, trying to understand how this calamitous situation could have come about. She was always meticulous in her plans—always. Leaving no detail to chance and never taking unnecessary risks.
But this was different. She had issued no orders to her outlaws.
Had they acted on their own initiative? In which case, why? Had they grown weary? Restless? Since her marriage it had been too dangerous for Le Renard to lead her men in person, so had they taken things into their own hands?
Not that they knew her to be The Fox. No, only three people knew of her secret: her maid Brunhilde, her steward Gilbert Claymore, and of course Father Thomas. The outlaws knew that Lady Eleanor aided and abetted them, but not that she was Le Renard. That would be far too risky.
She twisted the corner of her veil tightly in her hand, her knuckles white. She had to ensure the safety of the outlaws at whatever cost, and had instructed Gilbert to warn them that Hugh and his men were coming after them. It was imperative that they’d got the message, but she had yet to discover whether the mission had been successful or not.
Eleanor stared out of the arched window, leaning against the cold stone wall, and sighed, thinking of the dangers the outlaws—her friends—would be facing.
They were a group of ordinary men, immersed in extraordinary deeds. Local men from all walks of life who had sworn their fealty and allegiance to her when she had helped them survive the hunger and misery that had swept the north. Good, true men. And when they came together in secret to form their band of brotherhood they served Eleanor to eradicate tyranny.
With a little help from their elusive leader, Le Renard, of course.
Her decision to defy the King and his demands for yet more scutage had not been an easy one, and nor had it been taken lightly. Yet, it had been either that or face despair and destitution. Eleanor had had to do something, even though it would be incredibly dangerous.
So, with Gilbert’s aid, she had formulated a plan. An outrageous plan that had brought like-minded people together for a common cause and to work under a secret
