The Hidden Heart (10 page)
“I need you to go to the gatehouse tower, gauge what's happening there while I begin to muster our forces. I've just sent word to sound the alarm for the villagers to seek shelter here at once.”
“Lady Gillian and I returned from the village not long ago, milord. I noticed nothing unusual outside the walls.”
Talbot dragged a hand back through his hair. “Of course notâthe message I received came from a sentry posted along the northern boundary. He likely rode in just before you did. We've plenty of time to set our defenses, if we get to it now,” he said, his tone finally tinged with command.
“Aye, milord.”
Rannulf took one step, then came to a halt when Talbot reached out and caught him by the arm. He surveyed Rannulf's garments, eyes narrowed. “Since you've supposedly just left my ward, I trust you have a good reason why you're soaking wet on a sunny day.” For the first time since Rannulf had met his overlord, Talbot exuded menace.
'Twould be a mistake to underestimate the man, a fact he should have assumed all along.
“Aye, milordâan excellent reason, one I'll share with you at the first opportunity.” Bowing once again, Rannulf left the hall to carry out Talbot's bidding.
L'Eau Clair's soldiers had been well trained. Preparations to defend against an attack were already under way when Rannulf crossed the bailey to the gate tower. Although he couldn't imagine a Welsh war party riding straight for the castle, or permitting themselves to be detected, Talbot was right to prepare for the worst.
He was curious to hear what Sir Henry had to report once he returned, as well.
Rannulf gazed down the road to the village from his vantage point on the wall walk near the gatehouse tower, the same spot where Gillian had awaited his party when they arrived. The position commanded an excellent view of the surrounding area, although not, he was relieved to see, of the pool in the forest.
All he needed was for one of Talbot's men to have seen him with Gillian the two times they'd visited the spot.
If that had happened, he'd likely be residing in the cellars now, under lock and key while he awaited some well deserved punishment, instead of helping to defend I'Eau Clair.
Safe for the moment, he reminded himself. If he'd half a brain, he'd see he stayed that way.
The Welsh arrived much sooner than Talbot had led him to believe they would. Rannulf heard them before he saw them, for they made no secret of their approach. The thunder of hooves on the hard-packed track heralded their arrival before they came into view.
Once he saw them, he knew they'd no need to bar the gates, for it appeared they rode well armed for defense while they traveled, not for war.
A massive wolfhound loped ahead of them, gamboling about like a frisky pup until a sharp command from a dark-haired woman near the front of the column brought the dog to a stop near the edge of the moat.
She looked familiar. Rannulf scanned the group spread out below him, then cursed roundly when he caught a clear look at their leader. By Christ's bones, could he ask for worse luck? he wondered as the man nudged his horse forward and hailed them.
“Why is this keep closed up tight?” he demanded. “Where is your lady?”
The guard posted near the gatehouse stairs to relay messages ran up to Rannulf. “You must let him in, milord,” he gasped. “Lady Gillian'll be right furious when she learns we slammed the gate nigh in her cousin's face.”
He'd the right of that, Rannulf knew, though he could not admit he knew anything about it.
There might be hell to pay for this insult, and Rannulf would rather not be on the receiving end of the transaction.
Too bad Talbot hadn't taken to the walls, instead of sending him. It would have preventedâor at least postponedâwhat could prove to be a delicate situation.
For him, at any rate.
Rannulf took a deep breath. His work here might be over almost before it had begun, should Lord Ian ap Dafydd take it into his head to tell Talbot every
thing
he knew about Rannulf FitzClifford.
thing
he knew about Rannulf FitzClifford.
Chapter Ten
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A
woman's angry shriek carried across the bailey, followed by her raised voice echoing up the stairs. Rannulf didn't even bother to turn and look, for he knew it was Gillian. She'd be here soon enough.
woman's angry shriek carried across the bailey, followed by her raised voice echoing up the stairs. Rannulf didn't even bother to turn and look, for he knew it was Gillian. She'd be here soon enough.
She strode onto the walk, skirts flying, her eyes flashing emerald fire. “Open the, gate at once!” She shouted additional orders down to the guards, then, ignoring Rannulf's presence, leaned into a crenel and gazed down at her kin.
“Go tell them to do it,” Rannulf said to the guard at his side. “Then go to Talbot and tell him we needn't muster the troops just yet,” he added before sending the man racing down the stairs.
“Ian,” she called. “My apologies.”
“Gillian, what is going on?” the woman below called. “Do you need help?”
Rannulf peered over the wall and shook his head when he saw how angry the woman looked No surprise there; from what he knew of her, she was rarely in any other mood.
A ponderous creaking heralded the lowering of the drawbridge and the portcullis's slow climb. Straightening, Rannulf moved to stand beside Gillian, careful to avoid her fiery gaze. “Enter, and be welcome,” he shouted. Not waiting for a response, he took Gillian by the arm and led her away from the guards near the tower.
“You must talk to Ian at once,” he said quickly. “Make him understand....”
She sighed, but she nodded. “Yes, milord, I'll speak to Ian and Catrin about keeping your secretâ” she gave him a searching glance “âwhatever it is, as soon as they're within.” She stared at his hand, still clutching her arm, until he released her. “But you must promise me that no harm will come to them while they're here.”
“No harm? Who would harm the Dragon? For the love of God, Gillian, the man is Llywelyn's assassin. Mayhap you should show some concern for Talbot,” he suggested dryly. “I doubt Lord Ian will be pleased to learn you've a NormanâKing John's manâas your guardian. Have you considered how he'll react to that?”
“Ian is my cousin, lest you forget. I'll thank you to cease insulting him.” He allowed her to pull free of his hold. “He's also no fool. Nor am I,” she added with a pointed look. “I cannot wait to learn all the reasons why we must hide you in our midst. You do intend to explain it all to me eventually, I trust.”
“Perhaps.” Perhaps when hell froze over. Or if she had him pinned in a corner with her sword while he was tied up and unarmed. He glanced away so she wouldn't notice the amusementâand heatâin his eyes when his mind conjured that image. In that situation he'd give her anything she wanted, he thought.
By the rood, in
any
situation he'd give her whatever she wanted, he thought with a frown, for where Gillian was concerned it seemed he'd no will to refuse her anything.
any
situation he'd give her whatever she wanted, he thought with a frown, for where Gillian was concerned it seemed he'd no will to refuse her anything.
What had brought about that strange expression on Rannulf's face? Gillian wondered. Humor and lust together, it appeared to her, followed by frustration. Or disgust? But whatever thoughts were passing through his mind mattered not a whit to her, especially now that Ian and Catrin had arrived. She could count on them for anything, she knew. If she could convince them to lend her their support, perhaps all her troubles might be resolved.
She glanced at Rannulf, patiently waiting, and felt her heartbeat falter. Nay, some problems would never disappear so easily.
She forced her pulse to steady. He'd drive her mad before long, she knew it. But she could not ignore him, no matter how hard she tried.
Almost every moment she'd spent in his company since he returned to IâEau Clair, she felt as though they were carrying on conversations on several different levels at onceâor speaking at cross purposes much of the time. 'Twas enough to confuse the most clear-minded person, a description she wouldn't apply to herself when she was anywhere near Rannulf.
As for her earlier plan to entice him, to make him long for her, to make him suffer...she must have been mad to consider such a foolish notion. Even if it worked, she'd likely suffer just as much as he, if not more.
She
had loved him once, after all. How could she bear to lose him again?
She
had loved him once, after all. How could she bear to lose him again?
The hollow clatter of hooves on the drawbridge roused her to motion. “I'll go down to welcome them,” she said She shook out her skirts and grimaced when her hands touched the cold, damp material; she'd forgotten what sheâwhat they both, she added, peering quickly through her lashes at Rannulfâlooked like after their unplanned swim. She shrugged. 'Twas too late to do aught about it now. “You stay out of sight until I've had a chance to speak privately with Ian and Catrin.”
He nodded, then glanced over the rail of the walkway into the bailey and frowned. Following his gaze, she saw her guardian, garbed for battle in mail hauberk and leggings, on the stairs outside the keep, speaking with the guard who'd just left them. “You'd best get moving, before Talbot comes to greet them,” he said. He bowed, then turned and headed away from her along the wall walk.
Casting a last, despairing glare at her dressâafraid to even consider how her hair lookedâGillian shrugged and hurried down to the bailey. Most of the time she took care with her appearance, but she'd very little vanity about it. Still, her cousins might be startled by her disheveled state, though they'd seen her dressed worse than this. Lord Nicholas, however, had not.
What he thought of how she looked mattered nothing to her. She only hoped he wouldn't ask how she'd ended up that way.
Especially if he'd noticed Rannulfs similar condition.
Ian had just helped Catrin from her mount when Gillian joined them. Catrin turned to enfold her in her arms at once, a stream of Welsh words flowing from her lips so quickly, 'twas all Gillian could do to follow half of them. “Slowly, else I won't know what you're saying.” She leaned down a bit and gladly returned her cousin's warm embrace, more grateful than she could say for the wave of love and comfort that washed over her. Fighting back tears, she gave Catrin a last squeeze.
“You obviously need more practice,” Catrin admonished, slowing her speech to a more understandable pace. “We must visit you more often. We cannot allow you to forget your heritage.” She gave Gillian another squeeze, more gentle this time. “We were sorry to hear of your father's death. He was a good man,” she murmured. “And following so close upon losing Lady Alys....”
Gillian nodded her appreciation, but did not try to speak, for she knew her voice would betray her sense of loss.
Once Catrin released her, Ian swung Gillian up into his arms and held her tight for a moment. “Are you all right?” he asked urgently as he set her on her feet. He bent close enough to whisper, “You're not being held here against your will, are you?”
“What?” Startled as much by his insistent tone as his words, she looked up and met eyes as green as her ownâthough she didn't believe hers ever held the questing drive that was so much a part of Ian's very being. “Of course not. What would make you think such a thing?”
Catrin stepped closer. “I cannot imagine,” she said dryly. “Never before have the gates of I'Eau Clair been shut tight against us, and the guards are strangers to us, as well.” She reached out and touched the tangled end of Gillian's braid. “And do you have any idea how you look?”
Gillian laughed. “Ayeâlike a madwoman, most likely.” She raised her hand to her hair and shoved it back over her shoulder. “That I can explain later. But I've more important concerns for the moment.” Catching sight of Lord Nicholas drawing near, she took Ian by the hand. “Rannulf FitzClifford is here, but Talbot doesn't know we know him. You must not let Talbot know thatâ”
Ian cut off her frantic whisper with a sharp nod. “'Tis all right, Gillian. You can tell us the rest later.”
“Talbot?” Catrin asked. “Who might he be?” She peered past Ian at Lord Nicholas bearing down on them, his handsome face solemn, his dress, even when hurriedly garbed for battle, perfect as always.
Particularly when compared to her own, Gillian thought as she fought back a smile.
“Who is this pretty popinjay?” Catrin asked in Welsh. Gillian bent close to her cousin and jabbed at her side with her elbow, then straightened to drop a polite curtsy when her guardian halted before them.
“Lord Nicholas Talbot, may I introduce my cousins, Lady Catrin uerch Dafydd and her brother Lord Ian ap Dafydd? They've just heard of my father's death and have come to offer their sympathy and to see to my welfare.”
Lord Nicholas bowed, the movement far more elaborate than Ian's terse bow in reply. His eyes lingered on Catrin, Gillian noted without surprise, for a moment longer than mere civility required. Catrin, petite and lovely, her dark hair streaming down her back in a glorious cascade, possessed a dainty beauty certain to appeal to any man with eyes to see.
Gillian couldn't help wondering, however, how he'd react once he'd become acquainted with Catrin's rather forceful personality.
“I'm pleased to welcome you to I'Eau Clair,” Lord Nicholas said. “And I'm certain Gillian will be glad of your company, though her well-being is now my concern.”
“Is that so? âTis her family's dutyâour rightâto care for our own,” Ian said, subtle menace threading through his silky voice, his hand moving to his sword. “What brings you to I'Eau Clair, milord, that you believe
you've
any say over my cousin's welfare?”
you've
any say over my cousin's welfare?”
Lord Nicholas's welcoming expression faded, transforming to a look of...challenge? Gillian's instincts sharpened.
His lips curled into a smile that made her distinctly uneasy. “Didn't Gillian tell you? Her overlord, King John himself, made me guardian of your cousin and all she possesses.”
Standing so close to Catrin, Gillian heard her cousin's indrawn breath at Lord Nicholas's provocation; she only hoped her guardian didn't notice. She didn't want him suspicious of anyone or anything associated with IâEau Clair, although he could hardly suspect her family's concern for her. 'Twas bad enough he had some degree of power over her and her lifeâtoo much power, in her estimation.
“Come within the keep where we may all be comfortable,” she suggested. “'Tis nearly time for dinner.” Lord Nicholas and Ian each eyed her with a proprietary air; she wouldn't be surprised if they began to snap and snarl at any moment.
Just so had she seen two dogs act, when faced with one juicy bone between the two of them, she thought with disgust.
Did they think her a pawn to do battle over?
Outrageâand a lingering aura of helplessness she refused to acknowledgeâstiffened her spine. She linked arms with Catrin and led her cousin around the two men and toward the keep, striking up a conversation about their journey. A glance over her shoulder showed Lord Nicholas and Ian walking in silence behind them.
Their bearing, however, spoke more loudly than words of the tension sparking between them.
“Lady Gillian,” Lord Nicholas called. She halted, released Catrin's arm and turned to face him. “Have you seen FitzClifford since you returned from the village? I sent him out here when I heard of your cousins' approach.”
“Aye, he was on the wall and ordered the gates opened.” She gave him an innocent smile; she'd done enough to conceal Rannulf's intrigues for one day. “But he left as soon as he gave the order. I don't know where he went,” she added with a shrug.
Her guardian frowned, but motioned for her to proceed. Gillian turned and focused her attention on Catrin, though she could barely concentrate on her cousin's words. The weight of too many concerns pressed upon her. Their unknown attackers, Lord Nicholas, Rannulf...and now Ian and Catnn arrived to add spice to her melee of cares and woes.
Never before had the thought of escapeâof actually picking up her skirts and running until she'd left the walls of her home far behindâseemed so appealing as it did at that moment.
Catrin's fingers tightened about Gillian's arm and Gillian ceased her inconsequential chatter. Catrin paused at the top of the stairs, suspicion darkening her steady gray gaze. “What's wrong?” Catrin murmured, her words hidden from the others' notice by the creak of the great door into the keep as Ian opened it.
Gillian shook her head and gestured for them to go on to the table on the dais, already prepared for the midday meal. Servants swarmed about the room, carrying in dishes and pitchers of drink to set out on the trestle tables in the hall. “Would you care to retire for a bit, refresh yourselves before you eat?” she asked her cousins.
“Nayâlater will be fine,” Catrin said. She leaned close to Gillian and whispered, “You cannot expect us to wander away now.”
What
had
she been thinking? Gillian wondered wryly. “Then please, sit and be comfortable,” she suggested, leading them to the head of the room and waiting to see them take their places at the long, narrow table. She motioned for a servant to lay two more settings. “Help yourselves. I'll join you once I've arranged for your chambers to be prepared.”
had
she been thinking? Gillian wondered wryly. “Then please, sit and be comfortable,” she suggested, leading them to the head of the room and waiting to see them take their places at the long, narrow table. She motioned for a servant to lay two more settings. “Help yourselves. I'll join you once I've arranged for your chambers to be prepared.”
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