there was no point. It was too late now. He would still feel the same about her, if not worse. His fealty had never been hers and would never be, regardless of what she said. Besides, it would only serve to make him hate her more.

But her reasons for rebellion were born out of a desperate need to uphold justice and peace in Tallany. To help the poor and destitute with the crippling taxes designed to sink both her and her people.

She would, in truth, do it all again in a heartbeat, except...except for hurting Hugh. When he had confronted her last night, Eleanor had expected scorn and vitriol but instead saw barely disguised pain.

‘You have wounded me more than you’ll ever know...’

Lord, how those words had speared through her. They had caused an ache so deep and so intense that she could hardly breathe even now...

The guilt and shame Eleanor felt in causing pain to the man she would now gladly give her heart to made her examine her true feelings for her husband. And with sudden and absolute clarity she realised that, yes, her heart did indeed belong to Hugh, whether he wanted it or not. She had never understood or acknowledged her feelings before, always suppressing and fighting them, and yet she could no longer deny them.

Heartsick, she screwed her eyes shut a moment before opening them wide, as if seeing the truth for the first time.

But...in love with Hugh?

She searched within herself and the reality hitting her like a boulder dropping on her head.

Yes, she did indeed love Hugh...and yet he despised her.

Oh, the irony of it was not lost on her. She was in love with a man who was to bring about her downfall. A man who probably hated her as much as his sworn enemy. Eleanor should be jumping into his arms for joy—instead she felt like weeping.

She cast another glance at Hugh’s forbidding face, stripped of all emotion. She would rather have preferred his anger to this icy cool detachment. It scared her because with every step they were taking to see the King, Hugh was putting a distance between them that was surely a prelude of what was to come. He was going to wash his hands of her once and for all and was marching her to her treasonous end.

Very well, if that was her fate then she would take her guilt in hurting the man she loved to her grave. Hugh would never know of her true feelings for him, nor why she had acted in the way she had. It didn’t matter now anyway.

Hugh felt consumed with despair and bitter disappointment. He didn’t know how he should proceed with Eleanor, his maddening, lying, duplicitous wife—even now, as he walked awkwardly beside her to meet and pay homage to King John at his private solar. He glanced over at her and couldn’t help but admire, begrudgingly, the dignity with which she carried herself. She might be a traitor, but she was brave.

She lifted her head and met his gaze, her face ashen, her eyes with dark smudges beneath, and smiled weakly at him. She looked so forlorn, so defeated, that Hugh’s heart sank. What did she think he would do? Throw her on the King’s mercy?

Something shifted inside him. He might be angry and hurt, but Eleanor Tallany was his maddening, lying and duplicitous wife and no one else’s. Hell would have to freeze over before he would hand her over to anyone. He would deal with her treachery himself, but to accuse her in front of King John...

Never!

He pulled her around by the elbow, making her stop abruptly. Confusion was etched on her face.

‘God’s wounds, woman,’ he hissed, whispering into her ear. ‘Despite everything you have done I’ll be damned if I allow anything to happen to you. I will never allow anyone to hurt you, Eleanor. But know this is not over between us. Do you understand?’

She nodded, her head bent low, her shoulders sagging visibly with relief. ‘Thank you.’

Hugh stared at his wife, looking so young and so deflated that he had to resist the sudden temptation to wrap his arms around her and comfort her.

But although he might not want anything to happen to her, he had meant it: Eleanor had wronged him.

Hugh had thought they had some understanding—he had thought they wanted the same things, especially for Tallany—but, Lord above, not in the way she went about it. Not by consorting with criminal outlaws, damn it. Personally, too, her betrayal had shredded him to bits and he felt strangely exposed—fool that he was.

Will had the right of it. He was her lovelorn swain, whatever she had done.

As for trust? That could never be a possibility between them now. And yet... And yet he couldn’t help his growing feelings for her, despite everything. He wanted her, yearned for her, even now.

Yes, more fool him!

His gut twisted in pain as he recalled how Alais Courville had dealt him a similar blow, playing him false just as Eleanor had. Was it his misfortune to be attached to untrustworthy women? At least with Alais he had been able to walk away, to lick his wounds privately and never see her again, but that was not possible with Eleanor, was it? He was bound and shackled to her in marriage.

His realisation last night that Eleanor somehow cared for him and had been consumed with jealousy had knocked the air out of him. And the revelation had been such a relief that it had caused the spark that had led them to end up in a tangled heap in bed.

But nothing had changed. Eleanor might care for him, but everything about her was a trick. Her attraction to him contradicted her betrayal, but it hadn’t stopped her from committing it. The more time he spent in her company, the more he could sense himself falling prey to her.

He needed to leave. There was no choice in the matter. He

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