Sin and Surrender (12 page)

And she could not forget that he hadn’t even wanted a female guard, that he couldn’t treat her as the others. That was a disappointment she should keep at the forefront of her thoughts.

“We all want things we cannot have,” she answered, striving to sound calm.

He gave a crooked smile, then looked down at the linen in his hands. “Aye, I know you’re right. And you want the gratitude and good will of the League.”

She frowned. He made it sound as if she was only here for her own selfish reasons. “I want to do my work, the assignment I accepted. I want to keep the kingdom safe. I vowed to do my best.”

“Aye, and that is true as well.”

She went back to the bed, feeling angry and frus
trated with his words—and how close she’d come to giving in to her new weakness for him.

As she lay in bed, eyes closed, listening to him wash, she reminded herself that anything they shared would be temporary, for enjoyment’s sake, and not the honesty of marriage vows before God. She remembered Paul saying he would never marry, and although she didn’t believe it was simply because of his longing for adventure, that only proved that he could not be trusted. He was a man who dallied with women he didn’t plan to marry, and there was no reason for him to change his mind now. She was simply convenient, and treating him as a lover in public. He was confusing what was true and what wasn’t.

And he was dragging her with him into the fantasy.

Paul awoke before dawn and lay still, listening to the church bells peal across the town, calling the humble to daily mass. But not Sir Paul, the dissolute. He had absolutely nothing to do this morn. That was surely a first for him, and he felt … uneasy.

Through his boyhood, there had always been assignments and studying and training. When he’d left the League, he’d traveled and competed and trained some more. But Timothy had decided that Paul’s character was fond of tavern-drinking late into the night, and doing little in the morn.

He dozed until the sun came up, telling himself to enjoy the quiet. But he could hear the enticing sound of Juliana breathing. He thought she looked impossibly young and innocent for all the responsibilities the League had put on her shoulders. Several curls had come loose from her braid and slinked among the cushions. She didn’t look like a woman knowledgeable about men; she looked as if she needed to be protected.

But she would be offended by that, he well knew.

She wanted to protect
him,
and perhaps she was not far off the mark, for she needed to protect him from himself, for thoughts of her were constant, especially of that kiss. She’d been as hungry as he was. Two of them in that condition were an explosive combination, alone night after night.

She stirred and frowned, as if she sensed what he was thinking. Her lashes fluttered, then her eyes slowly opened and looked right into his.

With a groan, she closed her eyes again.

He gave a soft laugh and dropped onto his back, stretching his arms over his head.

“You take up too much of the bed,” she mumbled, flouncing onto her side away from him.

He was so tempted to slide in behind her, to cup her thighs with his, let her ass cradle his erection. Instead, he took several deep breaths.

Dimly, he heard the sound of steel clashing out
side. He tossed back his blankets, slid over the top of her—his body touching her hips and shoulders a bit too much—and went to the window. Throwing back the shutters, he saw that the day was overcast and hazy, cool for summer.

And then he saw their fellow Bladesmen. They were training in the stable yard below, and although they were holding back their true skill, they were still drawing a crowd of grooms and kitchen boys.

Juliana came up beside him and leaned both elbows on the window ledge. “Ah,” she murmured softly.

“Ah?”

“You are thinking how we’re trapped here, pretending to sleep off a drinking binge, while they’re permitted to train.”

“It did cross my mind.”

He left her at the window and went to the door. As he reached for the latch, he was surprised to find Juliana suddenly there, bracing her hand on the door. She listened a moment, eyes closed, while Paul folded his arms over his chest.

“I can hear Joseph’s footsteps,” she said at last, looking up at him. “You may open the door.”

“You remembered whose turn it was to guard our door?”

“Nay.”

“A guess?”

“A logical deduction from my memorization of his pacing.”

Paul reached around her and opened the door to find Joseph pacing the corridor. The Bladesman came to a stop and eyed them both in surprise.

“An excellent deduction,” Paul said to Juliana.

She smiled at Joseph and went back to the window, ignoring Paul’s praise as if she knew she deserved it.

Joseph shook his head. “Sir Paul, Mistress Juliana, how may I serve you?”

“Could you have the maidservant bring us food to break our fast?”

“This early? Would Sir Paul be awake?”

Paul sighed. “You simply don’t want to show your pretty face to the maidservants and be overwhelmed.”

Joseph grinned and brought forth a wallet from a pack resting neatly on the floor. “I brought you something to tide you over.”

“You are a good man, regardless of what anyone else says.” Paul opened the wallet to see bread and cheese. “‘Tis a start. We’ll want something far more substantial in several hours.”

He watched as Joseph peered past him into the bedchamber.

“Did you wish to join us?” Paul asked dryly.

Joseph smiled and shook his head. “Nay, I have a wife waiting at home for me.”

“And why do you mention something so personal about yourself, Sir Joseph?” Paul asked, amused. “Is that allowed?”

“I only mention it because you do not have the inducement of a waiting wife to keep you on a proper path.”

Looking both ways down the corridor, Paul lowered his voice. “Nay, I have a fierce Bladeswoman who believes in this mission with the only passion she lets show. All by herself, she makes certain she is untouched.”

“Untouched” was perhaps misleading, but Joseph seemed relieved to hear it.

Paul closed the door, took the food to the window, and watched Juliana rip a piece from the brown bread.

“Your Bladesmen are all concerned with protecting your honor,” he said casually.

She swallowed her bread even as she frowned. “What does that mean?”

“First Timothy and now Joseph. All seem to believe I have designs on your person.”

Stiffening, she said, “If I were a man, they would not be questioning my competence this way.”

“I do not believe ‘tis your competence they question, but my ability to control my raging passions,” he answered with faint sarcasm.

She turned back to the view from the window. “You are behaving adequately, for a mere man.”

“I do believe I should take that as a form of praise.”

“Only if you are desperate,” she said wryly.

He smiled, enjoying her sense of humor. She made it easy to be with her, and the rest of the morning only emphasized that, regardless of the desire he could never quite forget. They spent several hours shoulder to shoulder at the window, watching the Bladesmen practice. They dissected each man’s skill, then debated who had needed the most training after they’d been selected to join. As the morning wore on, they even began to create wild stories about how each man had come to the attention of the League.

“That is one story you’ll never have to create about me,” Paul said.

Juliana withheld the urge to press him about his past. She was watching him closely, and felt their easy camaraderie fading. And she regretted it. It had been a pleasant morn, and she’d learned much about the techniques he’d discovered in Europe, as he discussed them in relation to the moves of the Bladesmen. He was a good teacher, able to explain himself succinctly. He hadn’t lost the skill of patience. More than once he’d glanced at the door, as if estimating when they could be free of the chamber, but otherwise, he hadn’t betrayed any restlessness.

Unlike the previous evening, but she didn’t think that
related to restlessness so much as forced confinement with a woman he couldn’t bed.

At the midday meal in the tavern below, she watched Paul pretend to drink too much in competition with old Roger. They easily displayed a long friendship that hinted at shared secrets, perfect for Roger’s cover as the man who might have led the young Prince Richard out of the Tower of London to freedom.

Juliana felt more than one stranger watching her, and she knew that her dance of the previous evening had brought her a bit too much attention. She was uncomfortable with it, far too used to blending in with her fellow Bladesmen, or being unseen when in disguise for a mission. But as the concubine Juliana, she had to be bold, flamboyant, sexual, and far too focused on her man.

After Paul pretended to over-imbibe at dinner, Juliana stood patiently at his side while he talked to the innkeeper about the best shops to frequent. Acting secretive, in the way of a drunkard, he spoke too loudly. He even slipped the innkeeper several coins to be informed if people were asking about him.

Then they went on an afternoon tour of York, with only Michael as their guard, after a particularly loud argument about why Paul refused to let Theobald come and scare the merchants. Paul freely ordered clothing at
the tailor’s, hats at the haberdasher’s, while managing to only pay part of each bill.

Everywhere they went over the next few days, they slowly built up more and more debt, but merchants continued to believe in him by his very attitude and sense of wealth. Juliana watched with amazement as the hardened warrior played the merry ne’er-do-well with true skill.

They frequented York’s entertainments, from cock-fighting and bearbaiting to gambling over dice, where Paul had an amazing ability to lose much.

And his debts increased.

While they played the waiting game, Juliana felt her patience slowly unraveling like a worn tapestry. She followed Paul’s example and tried to exercise within their bedchamber, preferably when he was asleep. If he was awake, he watched her closely, and it began to feel too sensual.

They spent their evenings exploring the town’s taverns, where loose women constantly approached him to flirt.

In a quiet moment, as they were awaiting drinks from a suggestive serving girl, Juliana asked with exasperation, “Do women throw themselves at you
all
the time?”

“All
the time.” He grinned and cupped her face as he kissed the tip of her nose.

She was growing too used to his touches, for he employed them frequently.

“And I don’t often resist,” he continued with true wickedness. “I would make a poor woman a terrible husband.”

“Then ‘tis a good thing I am not looking for one,” she countered with sweetness.

And then his creditors began to approach him. Paul paid some, put off others, all while acting affronted and arrogant. As the League had planned, he’d given himself the perfect vulnerability.

He received an invitation to hunt with Baron Sum-merscales; the local nobility were finally noticing him. Yet the earl of Suffolk, a known Yorkist, did not attend. It would have been a particular triumph to reach him, since his brother, the earl of Lincoln, one-time successor to the late King Richard, had been killed in battle by Henry’s army just months before. No one tried to speak to Paul in secret, but he well played his exuberant character. And Juliana felt happy to be riding again, and even brought down a deer with her bow and arrow.

Late at night, she watched Paul pace, his movements restless.

“This endless waiting is a terrible thing,” he groaned, collapsing onto a bench. “And I swear my mouth hurts from smiling so much. I begin to question the League’s plan.”

“‘Twill work,” she said with confidence. She sat at the table in the faint lamplight, sharpening her daggers.

“Since I left the League, never have I remained in one place for more than a sennight. Even as a child I grew restless easily. Can you imagine me staying in one place forever?”

She glanced at him impassively, wondering if again, he was hinting that she should not grow too attached to him. He didn’t have to worry.

Someone knocked softly, and after exchanging a glance with Paul, she quickly hid her daggers on her person. They both went to the door, he on one side, she on the other.

“‘Tis late!” Paul half shouted, half slurred his words. “Who is it?”

“Timothy. May I enter?”

They looked at each other in surprise, for he hadn’t used a League knock. Paul opened the door and closed it behind his foster father. Juliana was growing used to the faint tension between the men, but that did not mean she didn’t grieve its necessity for both their sakes.

Timothy held up a rolled parchment and grinned. “You’ve been sent a message, Paul. I think ‘tis the contact we’ve been waiting for.”

The two men read it standing shoulder to shoulder, while Juliana waited patiently.

Paul looked up at her, his handsome smile full of satisfaction. “Someone has bought up all my debts.”

“How thoughtful of him,” she said, returning his smile with growing excitement.

“He wants to meet with me to discuss the best way to settle my obligations. We are to travel to his manor just outside of York, cloaked to hide our identities. He says he’ll be watching to ensure we comply.”

“Threats,” Timothy said. “A good sign. And he’s permitting you only one guard.”

“And I will be foolish enough to go along with that.”

Juliana said, “But you will also bring your concubine, because you cannot bear to be without her.”

Both men studied her, and she knew Paul wanted to refuse. She was not flattered that he thought to protect her. It only proved that he considered her a woman, not a Bladeswoman.

Before Paul could speak, Timothy said, “Of course you will attend, Juliana. ‘Tis the reason you are part of this assignment.”

She had no need to show Paul her triumph, but she felt it just the same.

T
he next morning, Paul rode with Timothy and Juliana outside the gates of York, well cloaked as requested. The day was overcast with a scattering of rain, so at least they did not look out of place. His restlessness had fallen away and he’d slept deeply, satisfied that at last the mission seemed to be beginning in earnest.