Suzanne Robinson (19 page)

What would a man of such sensual power want with her? Nothing but one of those passing tumbles for which he’d gained fame in the courts of France, Aquitaine, Burgundy, and England. Yes, that was it. He’d been about to seduce her when Hugo interrupted. He was a skilled deceiver, and he was trying to dupe her and Hugo too. No doubt he found it easier to agree with Hugo’s demands for the moment. That way he could trick her into satisfying his lust, and then find some excuse to rid himself of her later.

Juliana raised her head and gasped. She stared at the candle flame. Perhaps he would use the same excuse Edmund had to escape marrying her. If Gray de Valence spurned her openly … Lowering her face to her hands
again, Juliana moaned. She couldn’t endure that again. She had tried to forget that scene in the new hall bedchamber, forget his glance like that of a leech inspecting a leper. The evil feelings came back to her. Her body felt suddenly hot and cold at the same time. No. Better to die than to be shamed before the world a second time.

The prospect chilled her heart and brought tears to her eyes. She nearly sobbed with the pain and fear. She wanted to run away, into the hills, where she could dig a deep tunnel in which to hide like a sick rat.

Juliana scooted off her stool and began to pace around the herb chamber. Her eyes burned from weariness and unshed tears, and she felt a vague queasiness in her stomach, the result of fear. She wouldn’t be fooled by false hope and that pretty face again. In spite of her determination, images of Gray de Valence, all moonlight hair and male sensuality, formed in her head. He stood in the Wellesbrooke chapel along with her family and a great crowd, raised his arm and pointed at her, called her malformed. Everyone stared at her in horror, and she ran.

But she couldn’t run away, not really, not forever. Father wouldn’t let her. Hugo was as delighted to ally himself with de Valence as Mother was. No one would listen to her.

“What am I going to do?” she asked aloud.

No answer came, and she continued to pace. After a while, she returned to the stool. Resting her elbows on the table, she propped her chin on her laced hands.

“Friar Clement!” she whispered.

He would help. If she said vows before him, even Father wouldn’t interfere. Friar Clement wouldn’t want her to be given to a man who so easily abandoned one woman for another. Dedication to God and charity ranked above marriage, even for women. Relief flooded through her, and with it returned her fatigue. She rested
her head on her arms and closed her eyes. A tear formed and slid down her cheek.

Troubadours sang songs about the love of knights and ladies. If her life were like those songs, Gray would have been enthralled with her at first sight. He would have wooed her gently with poetry and pleading. He would have sought her favor at the tourney, chosen her Queen of Love and Beauty, scaled the walls of a mock castle to claim her. But he did none of those things. He cornered her in mud holes and washtubs to ply her with lurid, sinful touches and the temptation of his body. He tossed her over his shoulder and threw her across his saddle like some Viking raider.

Gray de Valence didn’t court her, he marauded and plundered. But she wasn’t going to be one of his victims. She wouldn’t allow him the opportunity of hurting her like his cousin had. Thunder of God, what was she saying? If she wasn’t careful, this silver-haired invader would do her more harm than a thousand Edmunds.

She would refuse this marriage, despite Father’s commands. If she refused to give way and returned Hugo’s bellows with shouts of her own, she would at least gain a reprieve. She would use the time to make Gray de Valence rue the day he attempted to use her for his amusement. Soon he would beg to be released from his commitment. Juliana smiled as she imagined divers fascinating ways to make de Valence eschew their betrothal. But as she began to fall asleep, visions of evil tricks gave way to those of him standing tranquilly and beautifully naked in the midst of her bandits.

“Mistress, wake up, wake up.”

Juliana’s eyes fluttered open. She raised her head from the worktable and winced at the pain that shot through her neck. Looking up, she saw Alice hovering beside her.

“Oh, my neck. God’s mercy, I slept on this table all night.”

Alice was grinning at her, which sat ill with Juliana as she recalled the misery of her situation. “What are you so mirthful about? Don’t you have a backache or a sneeze coming on?”

“No, mistress. Oh, it’s a happy day. They be in the new library at this very moment.” Alice clasped her hands together and almost danced with merriment.

Juliana stood and winced again as a muscle in her side protested. She rubbed her numb bottom. “Who is in the library?”

“Your lord father, of course, and
him
.”

Placing her hands on the small of her back, Juliana stretched backward, then forward to work out the kinks in her muscles. “Him who?”

“Why, the Sieur de Valence.”

Juliana whipped herself upright, spun around, and grabbed Alice’s arm. “What do you mean? Why are they in the library?”

“Ouch! You’re pinching me, mistress.”

Juliana dropped Alice’s arm and raised her voice. “What are they doing in the library, damn you?”

“Why, composing the betrothal documents, discussing your dowry and jointure—”

“Spawn of Satan!”

Alice covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh, mistress.”

Juliana rushed to her chamber with Alice trailing behind. “It’s late in the morn. How long have they been talking?”

“Almost an hour,” Alice said as she stared at her mistress.

Juliana pulled off her clothes, washed quickly in a basin, and donned one of her work gowns. Alice tried to
comb her hair, but Juliana thrust her aside and ran her fingers through the long locks. She rushed to a casket and riffled through it.

“Where are my knives, my knives? Ah, there they are.”

Alice was watching her with a startled-cow expression. “What do you need with a knife, mistress?”

She selected one with a long blade and slipped it into a sheath and threaded her leather girdle through the sheath.

“Mistress, what are you going to do?”

She tied a leather thong around her head to keep her hair out of her face. Grabbing another knife, she rushed out of her chamber. Alice babbled protests and came after her. Juliana stopped before she reached the stairs and turned on the woman.

“Stay here.”

“But mistress—”

Snatching Alice’s arm, Juliana propelled her back into the chamber and slammed the door. She ran until she reached the landing outside the library above the new hall.

At that moment a clerk opened the library door, started, and gawked at her.

Flustered, the clerk bolted back inside the library and shut the door. Juliana thrust it open again, sending it crashing against the wall, and startled a room full of men. At a long table Hugo’s steward and clerk had been scribbling notes, flanked by her father and Gray de Valence. Arthur Strange and Lucien had been consulting parchment documents while Barnaby engaged in a serious discussion with Hugo and Gray. Everyone had looked up when the door banged.

She raised her arm and pointed at Gray. “I’ll not betroth myself to that man.”

“Now, daughter,” Hugo said. “You’re fevered.”

Juliana nearly roared. “Thunder of God! I’m not fevered. I’m not ill at all. I won’t have him.”

She fingered the knife she was holding when Gray threw back his head and laughed. Turning crimson, Hugo jumped from his chair and bellowed back at her.

“I’ll not be ranted at by my own daughter. Get yourself from here at once. I’ll make my arrangements known to you when we’re finished.” Hugo turned his back on her. “Now, about Vyne Hill.”

Juliana uttered a furious growl and took a step into the library. “You’re not giving him Vyne Hill!”

“The use of your possessions will pass from me to your husband,” Hugo shouted. “Now begone.”

This new peril robbed her of speech. Juliana wavered, squeezing the knife blade between her fingers, and looked from Hugo to Gray. Gray was regarding her with amused appreciation, as if she were a prize colt. He had propped his legs on the table, and his hand rested on the draft of the marriage agreement. She saw a list of her possessions, and her brows drew together.

Gray chuckled when he saw the direction of her gaze. “Are you going to fight me for every pin and bag of grain?”

She felt a muscle in her jaw twitch. In a blur of movement, she cocked back her arm and threw the knife. The blade sliced through the air. There was a snap, and the point stabbed into the parchment between Gray’s second and third fingers. The clerk and the steward gasped.

Gray’s smile vanished, but that was the only reaction he displayed. His hand didn’t move. He didn’t look at the knife; he looked at Juliana, his eyes narrowing. Even Hugo was silent.

With their eyes locked, Juliana gave him a cold smile. “Unless you want to end up like that parchment, you’ll withdraw your offer.”

“Unless you want to end up in another washtub,” Gray said with a look that spoke of battlefields and ruthless slaughter, “you’ll cease interfering.”

Juliana put her hand to the hilt of the knife on her girdle. As she did so, Gray swept his legs from the table and stood in one swift movement. Juliana faltered, remembering his speed and strength; Gray vaulted over the table. Crying out, she ran from the room. She heard Hugo as she fled.

“By the Trinity, my lord, you’re the only man I’ve ever met who could make Juliana turn and run. You’re the husband for her.”

Gray’s laughter floated after her; he hadn’t bothered to chase after her. Red with fury and humiliation, Juliana ran to the stables. Her glowers and bullying forced a groom to saddle her mare. She jumped into the saddle, kicked her horse into motion, and fled before Gray de Valence decided to come looking for her.

GRAY TRIED TO KEEP HIS MIRTH CURBED AS HE resumed his perusal of the marriage-agreement draft. Juliana had burst in upon the meeting and set his senses aflame with her wildfire presence. She’d been so furious he thought lightning would shoot from the tips of her fingers, and she’d had that polished-steel glint in her eyes. He thanked God that he was sitting, or Hugo would have notice the effect on his body.

Late into the night he’d wrestled with his conscience. He would create a furor among the English barons with this marriage that brought little gain. But after hours and hours of thought, he still wanted Juliana.

Before she had interrupted the discussion, his head had felt leaden and he couldn’t shake weariness brought on by a disturbed and restless sleep. Thrice he awakened in a fit of swollen lust, roused by the ferocity of his desire for her. Thrice he’d emptied cold water over his head to quell his appetite. With no such remedy open to him at the moment, he was reciting Psalms.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters
.

“Still waters,” Gray muttered under his breath as he tried to master his body. “Right still, placid, calm waters. Still.”

“Are you well, my lord?” Hugo stood over him holding out the list of Juliana’s dowry.

Gray swallowed. “Right well, my lord, now that I am to take your daughter to wife.”

“Ah, about Juliana. She’s a most obdurate child, always has been. But you must understand that for all her raucous ways and willfulness, her heart is full of compassion. She never spares herself when there’s sickness abroad, and she looks after those folk at Vyne Hill as if they were her kin. And she’s a sensible girl, not like my other two. She’ll keep your households in good order.”

“My lord,” Gray said before Hugo could continue.

“Yes?”

“You’ve no need to convince me of your daughter’s virtues or to warn me of her faults.”

Hugo stuck his thumbs in his belt and bounced on the balls of his feet. “I want no repetition of the disaster with your cousin. Thus I’m plain with you now. I’ll have you know Juliana’s faults and imperfections. Have you heard the tale of their betrothal?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have you know the truth of it, though. My Juliana has a small imperfection of the body.”

“I know,” Gray said. “Is there anyone born of woman who doesn’t have at least one? This is a matter of no consequence to me.”

Hugo glanced around the room at the men listening. “It’s good you say so before these witnesses, for I’ll not have my Juliana shamed again. Be warned, my lord. Though you be a powerful knight and beloved of the justiciar and the king, I’ll have your teeth for a necklace if you hurt her.”

“Have no fear,” Gray said with a smile. “For I’d rather burn at the stake than hurt her.”

Lord Welles fixed Gray with a severe stare, then nodded his satisfaction. “I also feel obliged to warn you that
my daughter will no doubt contrive some plot to try to force you to give her up.”