‘No, stay where you are. I’ll get the trencher that was left in the antechamber. Don’t go anywhere.’
He smiled at her before leaving.
As soon as he had gone Eleanor sprang into action, hastily refreshing and readying herself for his return. Pulling a linen chemise over her head, she put on a green woollen kirtle the colour of crisp apples—the exact shade of Hugh’s eyes.
She smiled to herself as she reflected on the way his eyes had smouldered, and his lips had left delicious, sensuous imprints all over her body. He had been incredibly tender and given her so much pleasure, making her experience of this new intimacy so, so good.
Oh, Hugh...
Eleanor’s feelings for him had changed and grown, and yet she had to remind herself be cautious. She couldn’t, wouldn’t allow herself to get too close to him and she had to stand firm. But it was not easy. None of this was easy.
Hugh returned, carrying a trencher of food: cuts of cooked cold chicken and ham, delicate cheese pastries, soft bread rolls and a small pot of apple and mead pickle.
‘I come bearing gifts that should fortify us,’ he announced, and Eleanor went to the coffer and poured two mugs of ale, passing one to him and taking a sip out of the other.
‘Thank you.’ He watched her over the rim of his mug and smiled mischievously. ‘But you needn’t have dressed, my lady.’
‘You would have me behave so wantonly?’
‘Aye—but only for my eyes to devour and my lips to savour.’ He chuckled softly.
Eleanor felt herself blush and shook her head. ‘Really, Hugh, must you tease?’
‘Should I not?’ he asked innocently. ‘Now that I’m a proper husband, I thought it was my prerogative to tease you as much as possible.’
‘And there I was, believing you to be a gallant knight.’
Hugh took Eleanor’s mug from her and placed it on the coffer, along with his own, and pressed a kiss to her hand. ‘My gallantry is always assured.’
She arched her brows. ‘Is it, now? Well, I would never want to contradict such strongly held beliefs.’
‘Are you by any chance teasing me, my lady?’
The corners of her lips twitched. ‘Well, as a very proper wife, it is apparently my prerogative to tease my husband.’
He laughed, drawing her into his arms. Close to the bare chest and arms that he had yet to cover. ‘You may do so as often as you wish, Eleanor. Rather that, than cross swords with you.’
Had Hugh really said that? It was a very good thing that he could not see her face, hidden against his neck.
She gave herself a mental shake. ‘Thank you, but for now if you could help lace up my kirtle...?’
She stepped out of his arms, turning her back to him, and shuddered as his fingers, lacing her garment, grazed against the fine chemise tunic covering her back.
‘You make me feel quite underdressed. Either that or I should just untie your kirtle again.’
‘No, I think not.’ She walked to the coffer, pouring more ale into both mugs. ‘Better if you address the situation as I have.’
‘Since I am as gallant as they say, I will comply,’ he said, fetching a dark red linen tunic and pulling it over his head. ‘But you know, Eleanor, there is no need to hide from me.’
Eleanor spilled a little of her drink on the coffer and snapped her head round to meet his eyes. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Come, let’s eat,’ he said as he perched on the small bench to one side of the hearth.
Eleanor sat beside him and passed him his mug, averting her eyes, watching the flickering and crackling of the fire as they shared the trencher of food. She felt her heart hammering against her chest, and was finding it hard to swallow down a bite of food.
She took another nervous sip of ale.
She thought he hadn’t noticed...
Hugh coughed, clearing his throat. ‘I understand why you wouldn’t want me to know, my lady,’ he sighed. ‘But after what we have shared I was going to find out sooner or later.’
Eleanor exhaled, tilting her head to meet Hugh’s eyes. ‘It isn’t something I wish to discuss—especially with you.’
‘It is especially with me that you should, Eleanor.’ He laced his fingers with hers.
‘Don’t you see? It is my shame.’ She shook her head.
‘I don’t see. That shame belongs elsewhere.’ He cupped her chin and lifted it. ‘Show me.’
One moment they had been teasing each other and now suddenly this?
‘I can’t,’ she whispered, unable to say more. No one knew of her hurts—no one except Brunhilde and her steward Gilbert. ‘What will you think of me?’
‘That you are an amazingly brave woman. Now, show me.’ He kissed her fingers. ‘Please.’
It seemed Hugh was intent on stripping away every layer, every barrier she had constructed to protect herself. Very well, then—so be it.
She nodded firmly and stood up.
‘Come.’ He took her by the hand and led her to their bed.
‘I warn you, it is quite objectionable to look at. Can you...?’
She pointed to the ties he had laced only moments ago, which Hugh swiftly untied, then pulled the kirtle off her shoulders, allowing it to fall and pool at her feet.
She took a deep breath before she turned her back to Hugh and started to remove her tunic. Feeling exposed, she screwed her eyes shut and waited for the response she knew would come.
It didn’t.
Instead Hugh’s fingers traced the mangled, corrugated and twisted skin across her back, dipping into the ugly crevices of the damaged rough surface.
‘Does it still hurt?’ he asked gently.
Eleanor shrugged, shaking her head. ‘No, not any more. Brunhilde has a soothing salve that has always helped.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I’m sorry, Hugh. I hadn’t wanted you to see this.’
Eleanor pulled her long linen chemise back over her head, covering herself, and then turned to face him.
‘Why?’ he asked,
