Will rose and gave her hand another squeeze. ‘I will leave you now, but remember what I said, my lady.’ He bowed over her hand. ‘Everyone makes mistakes, and some may be bigger than others. I truly hope that you both find a way through your current difficulty. I really do.’
Will passed Hugh and clasped his friend’s arm, exchanging a few words with him before continuing to walk in a different direction. Her husband approached and perched next to her wordlessly, without offering a single look or smile, sinking her spirits even lower.
What were the mistakes that Will had alluded to?
Just as Eleanor was about to say something to Hugh, the blue-eyed beauty sat on a low stool in the middle of the hall and started to pluck the strings of a lute. Her elegant fingers worked effortlessly to create the most achingly sweet and melodic music, and when it was accompanied with her lovely voice it brought a lump to Eleanor’s throat.
She turned to see that Hugh was equally moved by the captivating music. The song was one she vaguely recalled from when she was young—an ode to springtime and something about a lost love that she remembered her mother singing to her.
It made Eleanor feel so desperately sad and forlorn that she could hardly breathe, with tears filling her eyes. But what made it infinitely worse was that when the music eventually ended Eleanor had to watch in disbelief as the young woman gave such a lingering look to Hugh, as if she had been singing every single word to him.
Oh, Lord, what was happening?
Eleanor felt as if her world was somehow unfolding. She closed her eyes, hoping to shut out those unwelcome thoughts and push away her miserable feelings. She opened them again and rose abruptly, started to walk away, mumbling something about wanting to get some air. She’d had enough!
Needing to be outside, she strode out of the hall as fast as she could and kept on going, practically running until she had put some distance between the hall and wherever it was she had got to.
She had reached a corner of an outbuilding, and she turned and leaned against the stone wall, panting, catching her breath. She loosened her veil and opened the neckline of her dress. The cool night air felt good against her skin, compared to the stuffy, oppressive atmosphere of the hall.
She heard soft footfall and looked around. She grabbed the first thing that she could find—a rake that had been left against the wall.
‘Where are you going?’ Hugh said, as he rounded the corner.
Eleanor pushed away from the wall and started to stride away, still holding the rake, swinging it by her side. ‘Are you following me again? Like you did in Milnthorpe?’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you how incredibly rude that is?’
Hugh walked behind her. ‘Yes, but I was worried about you. Are you unwell?’
‘Go back to your friends, Hugh. I am perfectly well,’ she said curtly.
‘If that was so then you wouldn’t have left in the way you just did, Eleanor.’
‘Leave me, please, to my own contemplations. I’m in no mood for company.’ She carried on walking, God knew where, with her husband following behind.
‘I can see that, my lady, but what I cannot understand is the reason for it.’
She gave an exasperated toss of her head. ‘Mayhap you didn’t look hard enough, being otherwise occupied. Now, I’d be much obliged if you’d comply with my wishes and leave me be.’
‘What is the matter?’
She crossed in a different direction that brought her to a secluded path.
‘Nothing. I’m fine,’ she said.
‘You don’t look fine—you look angry. Which I find bewildering, considering I’m the one who should be angry.’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ she snapped. ‘Are you suggesting that we should compete to find out who merits being the angriest?’
‘There is no contest, believe me.’ Hugh caught her elbow and pulled her to a halt. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Back to my chamber, my lord.’
‘You’re going the wrong way. Come, I’ll escort you there.’
‘That,’ she said, ‘is unnecessary.’
She yanked away from his hold and walked ahead.
‘Possibly, but it’s not safe to go on your own at this time of night.’
‘I don’t need your help, Hugh. I can look after myself.’
‘Is that so?’
She quickly spun and turned the rake round, pointed the end a fraction away from Hugh’s face. ‘Yes,’ she replied through gritted teeth. ‘You see, I had a tutor who told me once that I have a natural ability when it comes to defending myself from anyone who wishes me harm.’
Hugh put his hands in the air, his palms outward, and smirked. ‘So, do you think that I mean you harm, my lady?’
‘I don’t know. Do you?’ Eleanor pushed the end of the rake against his chest, making him take a few steps back. ‘I may not possess any maidenly manners, as you well know, or be proficient at stitching. Nor can I play the lute and sing, oh, so beautifully, like your pretty friend back there, but I can look after myself, Hugh de Villiers.’
His lips curved into that lopsided smile of his. ‘Are you...? Are you jealous?’
‘Hell’s teeth—no, I am not!’
‘Are you sure?’ Hugh grabbed the end of the rake and started to tug, pulling Eleanor slowly towards him.
‘Yes...no. I don’t know.’ She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. ‘What have I to be jealous of?’
Hugh shrugged, continuing to pull her closer even whilst she resisted, pulling back. ‘I would not claim to know, Eleanor.’
‘Precisely. I don’t need to be, since I have the one thing that all those women seem to want.’
‘Oh? And what is that?’ he whispered, and he yanked the pole sharply, hurtling Eleanor forward into his arms.
‘You.’
Hugh’s smile widened into a grin as he let go of the rake and curled his fingers lightly around her waist, drawing her closer. He bent his head and closed his eyes, his
