Eleanor kicked her young horse to get him to go faster, trying in vain to get closer to Sir Hugh’s lead. Both horses stretched and galloped fast, weaving in and around trees and bushes and criss-crossing each other, masterfully led by their riders.
She glimpsed Hugh’s mocking smile and his nod of approval, then saw him tear a bite out of a piece of wheaten bread. Next, he pulled his flagon from his saddlebag and began drinking out of it.
He was eating and drinking now? At a time like this? Of all the insults!
She couldn’t believe his arrogance. She could feel the slow rise of a red mist of fury building within her as she grabbed onto the reins even tighter, her knuckles turning white. How dared he treat her so? Talk to her so? Behave so? Detestable man. She would show him!
Hugh continued to race ahead, pushing his destrier faster, but not as fast as usual—he had to make it look as though it were a fair contest. He had been taken by surprise with Eleanor’s challenge, which he had found both entertaining and endearing. He’d heartily enjoyed getting a rise out of her, and found that the more annoyed Eleanor became, the more he couldn’t resist goading her. The way she spoke in outrage, defending herself, had almost made him stop and apologise. Almost.
He glanced around at the sound of her grey palfrey at his side with a ready smile, but froze. Eleanor wasn’t riding him any more.
Sheer panic and guilt spiked through him as he abruptly turned his horse around and scanned the surrounding area in the hope of finding her. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have pushed her this far and agreed to her outrageous challenge.
Suddenly, in the distance, he could just make out a crumpled heap beside a tree on a hilly mound. With a sharp kick he led his horse back, but this time at his usual faster speed, riding to the motionless heap.
Hell’s teeth! It was Eleanor, face-down in the long grass. He dismounted and bolted towards her.
‘Eleanor?’ he bellowed. ‘Eleanor, please say something!’
Sick with worry, Hugh prayed she was unharmed. But as he reached her, lying there motionless, something sprang up, caught his foot and sent him hurtling forward, down the mound.
It was her—Eleanor—and there was nothing wrong with her! She had deliberately tripped him up and now he lay with his face in thick dry mud, feeling both embarrassed and humiliated. He groaned, wiping his cheek.
Eleanor quickly got back on her feet, and she raised her eyebrows briefly at him before turning, hitching up her skirts and running towards her horse, which she had whistled for and was now galloping back towards her.
Just as she reached the animal, and was about to mount it, Eleanor felt a sharp tug on her arm and a firm hand clasped around her waist, pulling her back. She fell with a thud, unceremoniously, into the arms of Hugh—who was no doubt furious.
‘Oh, no, you don’t. Tell me, are you always this adept at deception?’ he asked.
‘When there’s a need...’ She wriggled, trying to free herself, but to no avail. He was too strong for her.
‘I wondered where that prickly woman I’d first met had gone under all that finery and false smiles...but here you are!’
‘Let me go!’ she demanded as he gripped her firmly.
‘I don’t think so, my lady. That was a shameless trick you pulled back there.’
‘You deserved nothing less.’ Eleanor was allowing her anger to bubble over, but frankly she didn’t care.
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes, damn you.’
‘Dear me, you’re not very ladylike. Where did you learn to curse like that? It seems you really were telling the truth, Eleanor, when you said you possessed no maidenly manners.’
‘Let me go.’
‘No, I will not—now, hold still.’
Eleanor gasped and froze. Had Hugh de Villiers really uttered exactly the same words that her late husband Richard had used before...before doing the terrible things he’d done to her?
A small sob escaped from her lips as she screwed her eyes shut. So be it. There was little she could do anyway, whatever this man intended to do to her. He was much stronger than she.
Suddenly she realised he had let her go. Nothing she had been expecting had happened, so very slowly she opened her eyes and found Hugh looking at her strangely, his brows furrowed. He was openly studying her, trying to find answers to the questions swirling in his eyes.
‘Come, Eleanor, let me help you mount your horse,’ he said gently, holding out his hand, his eyes never leaving hers.
She nodded curtly, not trusting herself to speak, and placed her hand in his.
They rode back in silence as Hugh’s head was still reeling. What in God’s name had happened back there?
Hugh glanced in Eleanor’s direction and frowned. How could he have misjudged the whole situation as badly as he had? He’d only meant to stop her from riding away. One minute they had been sparring, Eleanor matching him in every sense, word for word, and throwing the nonsense he was saying back in his face, and the next...
He shook his head with frustration as they rode. Eleanor had challenged him to a race on horseback and, to his utter surprise and amazement, had ridden well. Even more surprisingly, and somewhat amusingly, she had resorted to cheating and subterfuge to get ahead, catching him off guard. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that.
But then again her challenge had been a race to reach that oak tree first by any means. Ha, by any means indeed!
Without understanding why or how things had developed as they had, he felt guilt and remorse wash over him. Saints above, there was only one thing for it.
He swallowed before speaking. ‘Lady Eleanor, I owe you an apology for what happened back there. I didn’t mean to cause you any distress.’
‘I believe there is really nothing to
