Hugh paced outside the inner bailey of the castle, almost colliding with a hapless boy carrying a wheel of cheese from the buttery. He barked at him to be careful and then put up a hand in apology for his own overreaction. He stopped abruptly and exhaled slowly, trying to control his foul mood. He never lost his temper, but after days and nights of frustration, waiting for this woman who had so sorely tested his patience, he felt he just might give in to it spectacularly.
It had to be a jest—it had to.
Hell’s teeth!
What was King John thinking?
Marriage to Eleanor Tallany?
He knew he should feel honoured at having such an heiress bestowed upon him, but he didn’t want a wife. His experience had taught him that women were not worth the inevitable heartache, and the only ones he allowed into his life were those who followed camp and warmed his pallet at night.
He was not interested in marriage. Hugh was a soldier, a knight, and a life serving his King was all he wanted. And yet he was obliged to follow this command. He would be a fool to refuse—not that he could anyway. But why had John not told him of his intentions? It would have saved Hugh the embarrassment of gaping at that priest and muttering that there had to be a mistake. Not a great start in front of the woman who would soon be his wife...
Knowing King John, he would be delighting in his surprise and would declare that this rise in fortune was a befitting honorarium, elevating Hugh’s status after having once saved his Sovereign’s life. A debt that John no doubt felt he owed him. But he didn’t. Hugh had only done his duty as a knight to protect his King—which he would always do.
And yet for John to bestow this unexpected gift upon him did show his trust in him. And it would also bind these northern lands to the King for good, allowing one of his own men to be guardian of a huge area of the north.
Hugh stopped in his tracks and thought through the implications of these tidings properly. He realised that, despite his reservations, the idea of finally having a home of his own, somewhere he could put roots down after being on the road since the age of twelve, was something he did secretly long for. Not that he had entertained that idea in a long time. But he would have to take a wife. One that King John wanted for him.
Lady Eleanor Tallany...
A woman like her—imperious, wilful, rude and superior—was certainly not what he wanted.
Only he had no choice in the matter.
Hugh raked his fingers through his hair, knowing that he’d better find his betrothed and make amends for his unpardonable behaviour earlier—not that she would make it easy for him.
Hugh had a funny suspicion that nothing was going to be easy with Lady Eleanor Tallany.
Eleanor was pacing back and forth in her solar, trying to think of a way through this unholy mess. She still couldn’t believe it. A husband? A husband who would try to control her, use her and abuse her as before. Saints above! She couldn’t do it again.
Of all the things she had imagined, a husband was not something she had thought the King was going to force on her. Not at this time of civil unrest. But of course it made perfect sense to attach her to one of his own men—especially in an area of England that was largely sympathetic to the rebel cause. As was she.
This man—this Hugh De Villiers—didn’t seem that enamoured of the idea of marriage to her anyway...which was surprising, given the way he had looked at her before formal introductions had been made. Given that marriage to her would make him powerful and rich.
Eleanor’s shoulders slumped as she sighed. Their initial meeting couldn’t have gone any worse than it had. Not only had she erred by making the man wait for days before granting him an audience, she had also behaved badly when they’d met. She shouldn’t have done it. She shouldn’t have been so belligerent. It had not been well done of her—and in front of all his men and her people...
But something inside her had just snapped when he’d gazed at her from head to toe. So she’d thrown him icy daggers, held herself rigid and clasped her hands tightly to stop them shaking, trying not to betray the apprehension she’d been feeling.
Eleanor might have assumed that Hugh De Villiers had known of the King’s wishes and was sizing up his new chattel, but he’d seemed just as shocked as she when Father Thomas had read out the missive.
No, the way he had looked at her was the way so many men had before. He was no different from her cruel first husband or from the guards at the Tower, who had taunted her, tried to touch her. No different from any man who had wanted her and her land and wealth. Except that he was different—or soon would be. She would once again belong to a man, along with everything she possessed.
If only she could prevent the marriage...
Could she refuse?
There was rap on the wooden door and her old maid Brunhilde opened it to allow Hugh de Villiers to enter.
Eleanor turned to face him. ‘Well, Sir Hugh, I take it that this was a surprise for us both?’
‘Just so, my lady.’
‘However, it is an unwelcome surprise. And I can see this...betrothal is just as unpalatable to you as it is to me.’
‘What gave you that idea, my lady?’
The fact that you stormed out of the hall after the missive was read.
‘Am I wrong?’
He shook his head. ‘I never thought to be... Well, I never thought to take a wife.’
For some reason his honesty suddenly made her feel hollow.
Now, where had that thought come
