Besieged And Betrothed

She held the cup to his lips, bending at the waist and stretching her arms out in an apparent attempt to keep the rest of her body as far away from the bed as possible. If it hadn’t been for his own position he might have found such a bizarre posture amusing, though as it was he was too thirsty to care. After a moment’s hesitation he drank, keeping his eyes on her face the whole time, though she kept her own studiously averted, blinking so rapidly it looked as if she were struggling to stay awake.

‘Am I keeping you up?’ He moved his mouth away, making his tone as scathing as possible. ‘Perhaps you need to go to bed, my lady.’

‘I can’t.’ She put the cup to one side with a look of relief. ‘You’re in it.’

‘What?’

He was so surprised that for a moment he actually forgot to scowl. Instead he looked around, reappraising the room in the flickering candlelight, finally noticing the tapestries on the walls and the small trinket boxes set on a table by the bed. Definitely not a prison, but what on earth was she doing, putting him in her bedchamber? He wasn’t easily shocked, but he could only imagine two types of woman who would drug a man and then tie him up in their bed—ones who were either extremely innocent or extremely experienced. Under the circumstances, he wasn’t sure which alarmed him more.

‘This is your chamber?’

‘Yes. I had my men carry you up. I thought you’d be more comfortable here.’

‘Comfortable? Tied up?’

‘Apart from that.’

He let out a shout of laughter, anger and shock turning to incredulity. ‘Your father always said you were one of a kind. I’m starting to think he was right.’

‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes shot to his face, meeting his for the first time since she’d entered. ‘My father told you about me?’

‘He said he had a flame-headed firebrand for a daughter. Foolishly I thought he was exaggerating.’

‘Truly? He said that?’

He narrowed his gaze, struck by the flicker of uncertainty in hers. Apparently what her father had said about her really mattered, as if she hadn’t known how he’d felt. Strange, but he’d had the impression they were close. Or had been anyway...

‘Something like that. I forget the exact words.’

‘Oh.’ Her expression wavered. ‘Did he say it like it was a bad thing?’

‘A bad thing?’ The question took him by surprise. ‘No, I wouldn’t say that...’

He leaned back against the wall, stalling for time as he wondered what exactly he would say. Generally he favoured the truth, no matter how blunt, but this was hardly the time for discussing her father’s fears for her future. He certainly wasn’t in any position to offer advice. Even if he wasn’t tied up, he was the last person in the world to talk to about any kind of paternal relationship.

‘He said he’d like to introduce us one day.’ That was true, he recalled with a jolt of surprise, though as to why William had said it, he couldn’t remember.

Her mouth dropped open. ‘You mean you were actually friends with him?’

‘For my part, yes. I told you we fought together at Lincoln, but we spent a lot of time on the march talking, too. He had a way of making people talk. He was one of the cleverest men I ever met.’ He paused meaningfully. ‘I should have known better than to underestimate his daughter. I won’t make the same mistake twice.’

She studied him intently for a moment as if considering whether or not to ask something else, before drawing up a stool.

‘Are you hungry? We only have pottage, but I can ask one of the guards to fetch you some if you want?’

He had to stop himself from laughing again. Of all the questions he’d anticipated, that hadn’t been one of them. She was certainly one of a kind. Now that she’d taken him prisoner, she seemed more concerned with his well-being than in interrogating or making any demands of him. She looked as if she’d rather close her eyes and go to sleep instead, though if the hour were really as late, or as early, as he suspected, then it wasn’t long until dawn. Which meant that they were almost out of time. If he were going to convince her to surrender, then he had to hurry.

‘You haven’t taken many men captive, I presume?’

‘Why?’ Her expression turned guarded. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s not usual to care so much about your prisoner’s comfort.’

‘Oh... No, I’ve never taken anyone prisoner before.’

‘Then I’m honoured to be your first.’ He was gratified to see a faint blush spread across her cheeks. She’d noticed that sarcasm at least. ‘So what are we doing here, my lady?’

‘I’d like to talk.’

‘Isn’t that what we were doing yesterday?’

‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes jumped to his again, the look of exhaustion in them replaced by one of sheer, sudden panic.

He arched an eyebrow, surprised by such an extreme reaction. ‘You made quite a good defence of Stephen, as I recall.’

‘Oh.’ The panic receded slightly. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Was there something else?’

‘No! We talked, that’s all.’

‘Then what do you want from me, my lady?’

He started, struck by the sudden conviction that he’d said those words before and recently. Judging by the vibrant shade of Lady Juliana’s cheeks, she remembered them, too. Her skin was almost the same colour as her hair, as if she were embarrassed about something, but what? Just what exactly had happened between them? Surely none of the things he thought he remembered...

‘I want you to tell your soldiers to go.’ Her voice shook slightly.

‘Mmm?’ He was so busy trying to remember that he barely paid any attention to her words. ‘Just like that?’

‘Yes. Sir Guian’s, too. Tell them they have until noon to pack up and leave.’

‘Or?’

‘Or there’ll be consequences.’

‘Such as?’

‘Consequences!’

She looked so fierce that his lips twitched involuntarily. ‘You’ll need to be a bit more specific.’

‘It’s not funny!’

‘No.’

‘No, it’s not funny?’

‘No, it’s not and, no, I won’t do it. Just no.’