Besieged And Betrothed

She gave an involuntary shudder. A thin morning mist still hung in the air and it was starting to rain, a lowering drizzle that made her wish she’d stopped to pick up a cloak in her haste to reach the battlements. She’d been asleep in a chair, dozing fitfully after yet another restless night when a guard had brought word of the developments outside. She hadn’t even stopped to tie up her hair or put on a headdress, and now her linen tunic offered scant protection against the elements. She’d acted impulsively, as usual, and the last thing she needed was to fall ill. If anything happened to her, what would happen to Castle Haword and all its inhabitants then?

On the other hand, she doubted she’d have time to get sick. Whoever the new arrival was, he didn’t look like a man who waited for things to happen. He looked like someone who made them. She’d been confident of holding the castle against a coward like de Ravenell, but this stranger was a whole different prospect. Even with a moat and stone wall between them, there was something unnerving about him, a kind of disconcerting restraint in his manner, as if he were holding some part of himself back, some intangible, inscrutable darkness. Something dangerous.

She clenched her fingers over the parapet wall so tightly that her knuckles turned white, channelling the full force of her fear and defiance into one savage glare. What now, she wanted to scream at the assembled forces below, what did they want this time? Hadn’t Haword suffered enough? It was hard to remember a time when they hadn’t been beset by one enemy or another. Two sieges in one year was more than enough for one castle to cope with! Never mind everything else! All she, all anyone in their right mind, wanted was for the war to be over and for there to be peace again, but the power struggle between Stephen and Matilda seemed no closer to finding a resolution. After twelve long years of fighting, more than half of her lifetime, she hardly cared who wore the crown any more. Bad enough that her home was caught in the middle, but now the Empress sent this fresh foe against them!

The stranger met her gaze suddenly and she saw a fleeting look of surprise sweep over his features and then vanish, like the faintest ripple of air across a still pond. It was so quick that she almost thought she must have imagined it. A split second later and he was completely expressionless again, more like a statue than a man of flesh and blood, hard as stone and just as unyielding. She felt an ice-cold frisson of fear, sharp and piercing like the tip of a blade, slide inexorably down the length of her spine. The siege was over. Somehow she’d known that the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. This man wasn’t simply going to wait for the castle to fall. He was going to take it. Unless she stopped him.

He dropped his gaze and she felt a brief flicker of triumph, quickly extinguished as he started around the edge of the moat, his long, purposeful strides curving ever closer towards the gatehouse. What was he doing? She held her breath nervously. Was he coming to talk or to threaten her? Either way, she’d only come up to the battlements to see what was happening. She wasn’t ready to confront him, not now, not yet! She wasn’t properly attired, wasn’t even wearing a headdress—and she had the very definite impression that neither excuse was likely to sway him.

Desperately she scoured the horizon for reinforcements she already knew weren’t coming, at least not in time. She’d sent word to Stephen months ago at the very start of the siege, but had received no response until just a week before, a brief message smuggled in from the river at night saying that he was heading west, that he intended to reach Haword in another fortnight; reminding her of the debt she owed him, telling her to hold the bridge.

If it were only that easy! She fought against a rising tide of panic. She’d held it so far, had made sure the castle was prepared for a long siege, with food and water enough to last another month if they were careful. But if it came to a fight...

She glanced over her shoulder, into the bailey at the fifty or so men who were depending upon her to lead them. She didn’t doubt their loyalty, no matter what they might privately think of her change of allegiance from Matilda to Stephen, but they were hungry, exhausted and outnumbered, hardly in any fit state for combat. How could she expect them to fight? How could she expect them to win? Loathe as she was to admit it, if the castle walls were breached then they were doomed. If the stranger’s fearsome appearance were anything to go by, he’d forgotten more about warfare than she’d ever known. He had the look of a man who knew little else.

Damn it! She swore under her breath as he came to a halt directly beneath her. Why now? Why had he arrived now? After four long months of waiting for Stephen to rescue them, all she needed was one more week!

‘Lady Juliana?’ The stranger hailed her in an accent she didn’t recognise. ‘Empress Matilda sends greetings. Will you discuss terms?’

For a stunned moment she thought she’d misheard him. A besieging army usually offered terms only once, were under no obligation to do so again. After that, if the castle fell, its inhabitants and their possessions became fair game. She’d already been to negotiate terms with de Ravenell at the start of the siege, venturing out under a flag of truce that had failed to provide any protection whatsoever. She’d told him exactly what he could do with his terms, though her mind shied away from the memory of that encounter. She certainly wasn’t going to trust one of the Empress’s men so easily again.

And yet...unbelievable as it seemed, this stranger was actually offering her a second chance, probably a last chance to save her men if the castle fell. No matter what her debt to Stephen, how could she refuse such an offer? Besides which, he’d definitely said terms, not surrender. The word gave her hope. If the Empress was prepared to open negotiations again then surely it meant she had some new offer, something besides outright surrender, something that might buy them some time?

‘Lady Juliana?’

The stranger repeated her name and she gave a start, realising that she still hadn’t answered.

‘I’m Lady Juliana.’

‘Are you willing to discuss terms or not, my lady?’

His voice sounded devoid of emotion and for a moment she was tempted to throw the offer back in his face just to see a response. He even looked like a statue, she thought resentfully, as if he hardly cared how she answered. Probably he didn’t. Whether she agreed to negotiate or not likely meant nothing to him, but if she refused then she’d be risking more than just the bridge. She’d be risking the lives of everyone inside the castle and she couldn’t do that. She was the one who’d got them into this position and she was the one who had to find a way out—had to hear what the Empress was offering at least.

‘Stay there!’

She whirled away from the parapet, hauling her tunic up to her knees as she raced down the tower steps, moving quickly so she wouldn’t have time to reconsider. If she were going to discuss terms—if—she needed to speak with him face-to-face, needed to look into his eyes to see if she could trust him first.

‘Prepare to lower the drawbridge!’ she called out to the door warden from the stairwell.

‘Lady Juliana!’ Her Constable, Ulf, seemed to appear out of nowhere, scowling from beneath a thatch of unruly white hair. ‘You can’t go outside.’

‘Only on to the drawbridge.’

‘I have to protest.’ He followed after her as she dodged around him. ‘It’s too risky.’

‘I won’t go far.’

‘He looks dangerous.’

She made a non-committal sound. She could hardly disagree with that, but she wasn’t about to admit it either. She’d no intention of being intimidated by any man, either the stranger or her Constable.

‘He won’t hurt me while he’s wearing the Empress’s crest.’ She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. ‘You can aim as many weapons at him as you like, just don’t shoot unless you have to.’

‘I still have to protest...’

‘It’s not your decision, it’s mine! I’m the chatelaine, aren’t I?’

‘Yes, my lady...’

‘Then it’s my choice, isn’t it?’

The Constable sighed. ‘As you wish, my lady, if you’re certain.’

‘I am.’ She made a swift gesture to the door warden, steeling her nerve as the heavy oak drawbridge creaked reluctantly and then started to descend.

‘I’ll be watching, my lady.’

‘I know you will, Ulf.’ She took up a position under the archway and threw a conciliatory look over her shoulder. ‘I do appreciate your concern, but this won’t take long. I’m only going to find out what he wants, that’s all.’

She turned around again, ardently hoping that she was telling the truth.

Chapter Three

Juliana took a second look at the stranger and decided that she’d changed her mind. He was standing exactly where she’d last seen him on the far side of the moat, immense and foreboding, the very intensity of his gaze seeming to bore a hole through the mist between them.

A mistake. She caught her breath unsteadily. This had definitely been a mistake. Outside the protection of the castle walls she felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable, like a roe deer being stalked by a wolf. If this man were truly as dangerous as he looked, then she wouldn’t stand a chance. Ulf was right. It was too risky... That thought alone gave her courage. If she turned and fled now, then she might as well admit that she wasn’t strong enough to be chatelaine in her own right, without a father or husband or any other man to guide or protect her. And there was no chance in hell that she was going to do that.

She took a tentative step forward and the stranger did the same, mirroring each of her movements until they met, barely an arm’s length apart, in the centre.

‘Lady Juliana.’

He inclined his head and she dug her heels into the wooden planks beneath her feet, resisting the urge to back down, heart thumping so loudly she was sure his whole army must be able to hear it. She was reasonably tall for a woman, but he towered a full head above her, even bigger and broader than he’d seemed from the battlements, his shoulders so wide they seemed to obscure her view of the enemy camp behind. His stern expression was more forbidding, too, though he was also younger than she’d expected, probably no more than thirty, closer to her own age than de Ravenell’s. That fact made her even more nervous. They were as good as alone, out of earshot of her men, so close that she could smell the musky scent of leather and sweat on his skin, could feel the heat radiating from his broad chest, could see it rising and falling just inches from hers...

Her legs trembled unsteadily and she dropped into a token curtsy, glad of the opportunity to lower her gaze, if only for a moment. Everything about him felt overpowering, and the last thing she wanted was for him to guess how strongly he was affecting her.

‘You have me at a disadvantage, sir.’ She straightened up again, lifting her chin in the air defiantly. ‘You know who I am, but who are you?’

‘My name is Lothar, my lady.’

‘Just Lothar?’

‘Some call me the Frank.’

‘You’re from Francia?’

She tilted her head to one side, but the expression on his face didn’t encourage further questions. If anything, he looked even more severe. Well, at least that explained his accent... She cleared her throat hastily.

‘You said you’ve brought terms, Sir Lothar?’

‘Just Lothar. I’m not a knight.’

‘You’re not?’ She blinked in surprise. From his authoritative manner, she’d assumed that he was a baron at least, but now he mentioned it, she noticed that he wasn’t dressed any differently from the rest of his soldiers in a dark leather surcoat, black tunic, black hose and knee-length riding boots. But if he wasn’t a knight... She stiffened indignantly.

‘Is this a joke?’

‘In what way?’

‘Is the Empress trying to insult me by sending a soldier to negotiate?’

‘A sergeant,’ he corrected her, ‘and no insult, at least none that I’m aware of. The Empress simply thought that Sir Guian was in need of a rest. Unless you prefer to deal with him?’

‘No!’

She bit her lip, inwardly rebuking herself for answering too quickly. De Ravenell was the last person in the world she wanted to deal with, but she’d no intention of telling this man anything about why.

‘My lady?’ His grey gaze seemed to flicker briefly.

‘I mean, you’re here now. We might as well continue.’ She tossed her head. ‘Do you have the authority to discuss terms?’

‘I do.’

‘Then tell me, Sergeant, what exactly is the Empress offering?’

‘A last chance. If you surrender the castle today, you and your men will be spared.’

‘Surrender?’ Her attempt at composure crumbled at once. ‘You said you were here to discuss terms!’

‘I am. Those are better than you might expect.’

‘They’re the same as four months ago!’

‘As I said, better than you might expect.’

‘But...’

She heard the crack in her own voice. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Under the circumstances, they were the best terms she could possibly hope for. The Empress was under no obligation to offer anything at all. If this man wanted, he could simply storm the walls, capture the bridge and ransack the castle. She didn’t doubt that he could, but an outright surrender? Until that moment, she hadn’t let herself even acknowledge the possibility. If she surrendered now then she’d be failing Stephen just when he needed her, after she’d given him her word, her promise, to hold the bridge no matter what. What would he think of her if she gave up now? How else would she ever repay her debt?

‘And if I refuse?’ She tried to stay calm. ‘What then?’

‘Then the result will be the same. The castle will fall tomorrow and the normal rules of war will apply.’ He paused significantly. ‘Do you understand what that means?’

‘We can defend ourselves.’

‘No. You cannot.’

She caught her breath, fighting the urge to turn tail and run, to flee back inside the castle and hide. She didn’t want to believe him, but something told her she couldn’t simply hide from this man, couldn’t rely on the protection of cold, stone walls. She had a feeling that he’d smash straight through.

‘Then I’ll destroy the bridge.’ She pressed her hands together so that he couldn’t see them trembling. ‘If you try to take the castle by force, I’ll order my men to drop missiles over the walls. We have boulders ready inside. Haword will be worthless to you then.’

‘True.’

‘Then I mean it! If you attack, then I’ll give the order.’

‘I believe you, but I wouldn’t recommend it.’ His voice was just as cold and expressionless as the rest of him. ‘Stephen wants the bridge as much as the Empress does. If you destroy it, I doubt either one of them will be pleased.’

‘He’ll understand.’

‘Perhaps, but what about de Ravenell’s soldiers? They’ve been camped here for months. Do you think they’ll simply give up their chance to pillage once you remove the only cause for restraint?’

She stared at him, aghast. ‘But why would they still risk attacking us? We’ve nothing of any value. I’ll give them anything they want to go away.’

‘Such as yourself?’ He leaned forward, lowering his voice as if he were sharing some secret too intimate to be said aloud. ‘Men have other motives beside greed and revenge, my lady.’

She gasped before she could stop herself. His breath was warm on her cheek, but his words were chilling. She couldn’t deny the truth of them, though she had the distinct impression that he was trying to intimidate her, to frighten her into submission.

‘When do you want an answer?’

‘You have one hour.’

‘One hour?’

‘You’ve had enough time to think, my lady.’

‘Not about this!’

She staggered backwards, appalled. She needed more than one hour! How could he possibly expect her to make such a momentous decision so quickly? It was no time at all! On the other hand, what choice did she really have? If she wanted to save her men, there was only one thing she could do.

He gave a terse nod, as if he knew it, too. ‘I’ll be back in one hour. No longer.’

She stared at him bleakly. That gave her an hour to make ready, to speak to her men, to tell them to lay down their weapons and hide their valuables as best as they could. If only she could hide the truth about her bargain with Stephen, too, but that was impossible. Once this man took possession of Castle Haword he’d find out exactly what she’d done to keep it. And when he did, he’d likely turn her over to the Empress himself.

Unless... She inhaled sharply, half-alarmed, half-exhilarated by a new idea. Unless she stopped him right now, never gave him the chance to order an assault. Unless she took him prisoner instead!

She bit her lip, struggling to keep her expression calm, gripped by a heady blend of excitement and fear. If she took him prisoner, then in all likelihood de Ravenell would remain in charge and the siege would go on as before. It might not stop an assault in the long run, but it might stall it long enough for Stephen to arrive with reinforcements.

But how could she do it? Her mind raced to formulate a plan. She wouldn’t be able to overpower him on her own, that was obvious, and if she didn’t want to risk any of her men, then she’d have to use another, more insidious means of subduing him. That was if she could persuade him to enter the castle in the first place, and how could she do that? There was only one possible method that sprang to mind, though the very idea filled her with horror—a means of entrapping him, too, if she only had nerve enough to try it. If she flirted with him, made him believe that she wanted more than simply to negotiate, that she had a private, ulterior, personal motive for inviting him inside the castle walls...would he follow her then?

She felt her cheeks flood with colour and castigated herself inwardly. How could she possibly pretend to seduce him if she couldn’t even imagine such a thing without blushing? Beside the fact that she’d never flirted with a man in her life, hardly knew where to begin. Everything she knew she’d learned from overheard snatches of gossip, from watching other people, never participating herself. Her father had made it clear what would happen if any of his men ever dared to so much as glance at her in that way. Not that any ever had. They’d always viewed her in the same way he did—as an honorary man. Certainly never as a woman...

Her heart sank. How could somebody like her possibly hope to tempt someone like this warrior? She had no idea what to say, let alone how to act! What if she did it wrong? Bad enough that she was already damp and bedraggled, and he looked like the kind of man who’d be accustomed to plenty of female attention. If he rejected, or even worse, laughed at her, she’d be mortified. It was a ridiculous idea, too demeaning to contemplate, and yet she had to do something, no matter how potentially humiliating. He was already turning away. If she were going to act, it had to be now.

‘Lothar!’ She called his name out impulsively.

‘Lady Juliana?’ He looked back over his shoulder, though he didn’t turn around.

‘I don’t need an hour. I’ll surrender now.’

‘Now?’

She nodded, trying to look as innocent as possible as he turned slowly back again, his expression as unreadable as ever. What was he thinking? She ran her tongue along her lips to moisten them, struck by a fresh wave of panic. How could she possibly hope to seduce this man of all men? He seemed to have no emotions at all. Surely a statue would be easier! But it was too late to retreat. If she were going to protect her men and keep her promise to Stephen, then this was the only way. At the very least, she had to try. And she was a woman after all, no matter what everyone else seemed to think. There had to be something feminine about her, something that might tempt him. Sir Guian had certainly thought so.

She licked her lips again, fluttering her eyelashes in the way she’d seen the castle maids act around her soldiers.

‘Why don’t you come inside so we can talk?’

* * *

‘You want me to come inside?’ Lothar repeated the question to make sure he hadn’t misheard.

‘Why not?’ Lady Juliana tossed her head, sending a cascade of wet ringlets tumbling over one shoulder. ‘So we can discuss terms.’

That settled it. That time he definitely hadn’t imagined the coy tilt of her head or the glint in those luminous green eyes. For an alarming moment, he thought he’d let his imagination run away with him, distracted by the way her damp dress was clinging to her body in all the right places. But, no, unlikely as it seemed, she was actually batting her eyelashes at him—dark lashes so lush and long they seemed to be catching raindrops on the tips.

‘Perhaps you’d care for some refreshment?’

Her voice sounded low and breathy all of a sudden, almost a purr, and he arched an eyebrow before he could stop himself. Normally he prided himself on never being caught off guard by an opponent, but the abrupt change in her demeanour took even him by surprise. He’d known enough women to know when one was flirting with him.

And when one was pretending.

He studied her for a moment, trying to work out what she was doing. He didn’t know quite what he’d expected, but she was nothing like the duplicitous shrew Sir Guian had described. Nothing like her father either, except for her eyes. They were the same shade of vivid jade-green, shining with the same spark of intelligence, too. The similarity had disturbed him at first, as if he’d actually been looking into the eyes of his dead friend, though the longer he’d looked at the daughter, the more he’d become aware of the innocence beneath the defiant façade. He’d been deliberately harsh when he’d spoken to her, trying to intimidate her into surrender, though he’d done nothing but tell the blunt truth. It was a tried and tested tactic, one that usually worked, too, even if he’d felt strangely uncomfortable using it on her, as if he’d been doing something wrong. He hadn’t wanted to intimidate her, even for her own good, though why she was different from any other opponent he had no idea.

He thought he’d been on the verge of success, too, had seen the unmistakable look of defeat in her eyes just a few moments before, quickly followed by something else, a flash of nervous excitement that she was trying too hard to conceal. And now she was playing the part of seductress, though her lack of experience was obvious. Try as she might, she couldn’t hide the uncertainty behind her eyes or the heat in her skin—the vivid pink blush spreading all the way up from the throat of her gown to the very roots of her hair. Judging by the way her fingers were toying nervously with the ends of her belt, he suspected it was the first time she’d flirted with anyone. The idea was unexpectedly appealing. If it weren’t for the hint of fear behind her forced smile, he might be tempted to find out just how far her blushes spread...

‘You should take the time to consider, my lady.’

‘You don’t want me to surrender?’

She opened her eyes wide and he felt a stirring in his loins, quickly suppressed. For someone so obviously new to the role of temptress, she was surprisingly good at it. She was watching him intently, biting her bottom lip between even, white teeth, though he suspected it was more of a nervous gesture than one designed to entice him. Even so, the effect was surprisingly potent.

‘Surrender?’ He lowered his voice huskily, responding in kind. Did she even know what she was suggesting?

She gave a low murmur, something that sounded like agreement, before spinning on her heel and throwing a beckoning glance over her shoulder.

‘Shall we discuss it inside? Out of the rain?’

He watched her go with regret, his gaze lingering on the way her red hair swung loosely against her slender hips and pert behind as she sauntered slowly back along the bridge. It was a shame she was only pretending, otherwise... He fought to bring his mind, not to mention his body, back under control. This was neither the time nor the place for such distractions, but there was something unusually winsome about her. It certainly wasn’t the way she was dressed. Her drab brown tunic didn’t do her justice at all. A Celtic queen ought to be decked out in jewels—emeralds to match her eyes or rubies to complement her hair. Maybe even gold... He frowned, surprised by the direction of his own thoughts. Since when did he care what women wore? Since when did he notice?