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Authors: Julia Latham

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BOOK: Sin and Surrender
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“I don’t know what Michael expected—” she began.

He interrupted. “He is concerned that I will take advantage of you. I imagine you are like a sister to the Bladesmen.”

“You once considered me as such,” she said with regret.

He leaned closer. “Nay, I never thought that.”

They shared another of those intense moments that were so inexplicable to her, where she felt his gaze as almost a touch upon her skin.

She cleared her throat. “Then I was your pupil.”

“You were.”

“Just another recruit?”

He hesitated. “Nay, I would not say that.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to explain, but she stopped herself. She didn’t want to know what he’d thought of her then. The mission was all that mattered.

He murmured, “Are you going to rise, or shall I be forced to stay in bed all day?”

She rolled her eyes even as she slid her feet onto the rush-strewn floor. As she sorted through her garments,
choosing an appropriate gown for travel, Paul pulled on a tunic and his boots.

“I should have bathed last night,” she muttered to herself, hands on hips. “Who knows where we shall find ourselves tonight?”

“You were distracted. I am not easy to ignore.”

“You may create any fantasy you wish, Paul, if it keeps you amused.”

Shaking his head, he put both hands up in retreat, saying, “I shall grant you privacy to prepare yourself.”

She blinked in surprise. “You should not do that. You cannot be alone.”

“‘Tis early in our mission yet, my little guardian. No one will care enough to threaten me. Although when Michael arrived, I thought you were going to defend my presence in your bed with your sword.”

“I am only fulfilling my duties,” she said mildly, turning away. “See that you take a Bladesman with you if you leave the courtyard.”

“Aye, mistress.”

When he was gone, she braced both hands on the table for a moment, closing her eyes. She wanted to be angry with him, to keep her distance, to remember how little she could fathom his ingratitude toward the League. But he … intrigued her, even occasionally amused her.

When he wasn’t offending her.

How many times had she been a concubine, indeed. She told herself it was a testament to her acting skills that he would ask such a question.

But what was he truly thinking? She had to discourage this easy playfulness of his. He was bored and restless in this assignment, anxious to be done so that he could be on his own again. He wasn’t a man who wanted permanence of any sort—and neither did she.

After a valet came with water, she quickly washed and dressed for the day’s journey. Paul returned before the rest of the Bladesmen, hair and skin damp. He ducked behind the screen and soon emerged as a pampered, wealthy man; even his traveling cloak was of the finest fabric.

And then the other Bladesmen arrived, crowding into their chamber. She liked the feeling of being among men, the camaraderie, the easy way of their conversation. Old Roger gave her a wink as if it were a call of good morning. Some of the others nodded and looked away too quickly. She felt a moment’s unease, wondering if Michael had said something about her, but then she banished it. He would not be so dishonorable.

Their meeting was brief, as Timothy quietly said he’d had confirmation that word of Paul’s arrival in London had gone north with messengers. The first part of their
plan had been a success. And then when he was seen to leave London quickly, many would wonder about his intentions.

Timothy looked at Paul, who lounged against the door with lazy elegance. “Your work in the tavern yesterday eve had the correct spirit.”

Paul’s nod was his only acknowledgment of the compliment. Juliana watched him with curiosity, then looked back at Timothy, who met her gaze.

“Juliana, do you have any concerns so far?”

“Only one, sir. Am I to play my part throughout the journey, or only when we’re in public?”

“On the journey as well. We shall take no chances.”

As they rode through London, the overcast day grew occasionally misty, not enough to soak through Juliana’s garments, but enough to be uncomfortable. By the time they reached the countryside, the rain was coming down in earnest. Old Roger took the first duty as scurrier, roving ahead of their party to check for problems down the road. Michael fell back to guard their rear.

The road had briefly narrowed as they forded a small stream, and to her surprise, when they’d paired up again, Timothy chose to ride at her side. She saw Paul pull up, his expression unreadable even as he slid into line beside Theobald, who guarded her back.

“And how are you, Juliana?” Timothy asked softly.

His look of concern made her uneasy. “Well, sir. Do I seem otherwise to you?”

“Now, now, you do not need to be defensive with me. ‘Tis my duty to be watchful of my young Bladesmen—and Bladeswomen.”

But he wasn’t asking anyone else how they were coping.

Timothy glanced up at the sky from beneath his hood, eyes narrowing as the rain lightly splashed his face. She waited patiently, knowing he was trying to find a way to say something he considered important.

“You did not take offense at Paul’s behavior in the tavern?” he finally asked.

She glanced at him in surprise. “Behavior, sir? I felt he was playing the part of his character well. Why should I have cause to complain?”

“Do not misunderstand me, Juliana. You have never been one who complains. But … this is a new situation for you.”

“And I will meet it as I do all others, to the best of my ability.”

“Even sharing a bed?” he asked.

“And what else did Michael say?” She kept her tone impassive.

“I knew how this would look, Juliana. I knew the risks you would be taking, closest to Paul in any danger, the last guard before an assassin can reach him.”

That mollified her. “‘Tis important that we give no one cause to think Paul not what he seems. I will not risk that.”

“There are not many who would be as dedicated as you.”

“Timothy, I mean not to sound defensive, but we’re all taking the same risk. I simply happen to be a woman. But I am not your daughter, and you do not need to worry about me. I made my decision to accept this assignment to protect the Crown. ‘Tis an honor, regardless of what I have to do.”

He smiled at her, shaking his head. “‘Tis a difficult lot you face, always being with men who try to protect you.”

“As long as we all protect each other, then I will be content.”

Riding behind Juliana, Paul could not hear the conversation she was having with Timothy. It was just as well. The countryside was a gray blur in the rain, fields separated by hedgerows, the occasional village clustered about a stream in the distance.

He felt solitary, even among the Bladesmen. There was always a faint sense of distance, for they knew he was reluctant to be with them, reluctant about the League. They could not befriend him if they wanted to, for that was not their role.

Surprisingly, Theobald was the easiest companion. There was no sense of condemnation or disapproval. With his mask a part of him, he was a man at ease with himself and his place in life.

Paul had thought the same of himself until he’d returned to England and realized how much he’d missed his brothers, the only family he’d ever known. He had thought he would return directly to France when this was over, but now didn’t know.

It was a long, damp day, and they were all glad to reach an inn that night in Ware, instead of camping in the open. A valet started a fire when he showed them to their lodgings, and if the room was smaller, including the bed, it did not matter.

He and Juliana took off their wet cloaks, then stood side by side before the fire, letting the heat sink in to their damp clothing. She gave a little shudder, rubbing her hands together.

“We need to get out of these garments,” he said.

And then he realized there was no changing screen, and saw that she did, too.

“I have to speak to Timothy,” he said.

She eyed him. “You are being too gentlemanly for a man who is supposed to be vain and self-important.”

“Are you talking about the real Sir Paul?”

She smiled then, something he’d seen little of since their taunting of each other just two days before.

“I am trapped here regardless of your behavior,” she said.

He wanted to tease her, but he’d watched her too much today. “You never complain, do you?” he said.

Her smile faded. “You expected me to?”

“Nay, not you. I knew your bravery from the moment we met. You chose the League, when by now you could have been married with your own family, regardless of the death of your parents.” It was all he’d known of her past. He’d been warned that she was an orphan, that it would hurt her to speak of it. “Surely there is someone you can return to, some way to escape their hold on you. You are practically their prisoner.”

“Their prisoner?” she echoed wryly. “Paul, you make it sound like the worst of prisons to be one of the League. But they saved me when everyone else refused to take me in.”

“Refused—” He broke off. This was a part of her story he’d never heard before. He felt the need to go forward gently, to find a truth about her background that made her so willing to be loyal, to live a life unlike other women. “Why would anyone refuse to shelter you? Your parents had just died.”

She turned back to the flames, her dark eyes flickering with the light. “You do not understand,” she said softly. “No one would take me in, but for the League. My father had been accused of treason.”

Paul felt the first stirrings of uneasiness, of recognition. “Treason?”

“He was innocent, but the king’s men arrested him anyway. He died in the Tower before even being brought to trial. Another prisoner took his life.”

“So he was never cleared,” Paul said slowly, his mind whirling with the truth of it.

“But I
know
he was innocent. I knew everything about him, and although we’d grown apart as I’d matured, that had nothing to do with my understanding of his loyalty. Grief over his arrest nearly destroyed my mother; I had a difficult time even making her eat or sleep, as if she couldn’t even care for herself. When she heard of his death, I thought her weakened heart gave up rather than go on.”

Leaving her only child alone, Paul thought in bitterness.

“I cannot blame my mother’s relatives for refusing us—we were a scandal, outcasts. And then I was alone, soon to be destitute. The League
found
me, Paul,” she said, looking up at him with shining eyes. “They saved me from a life of poverty, gave me a purpose when no one else would bother with me, when I was a burden on our servants, who wanted to risk themselves to keep me safe.”

She didn’t know the truth, he thought, feeling dazed.

“I am doing more with my life than I ever thought
possible. They
saved
me,” she repeated, “and in return, I’m helping them save others. I do not understand how you can’t see that.”

He was now certain that he knew the story of her father—it was surely the same one he’d overheard the League discuss, just months after she arrived. That was why the League had taken her in—they’d ruined her father’s life with a false accusation of treason, all to further another Bladesman’s mission.

Chapter 5

V
iscount Gresham, Paul remembered. The name of Juliana’s father had been burned into his brain after he’d overheard the Council of Elders—and Timothy—discussing their regret that the man had suffered, that he’d died under a traitor’s disgrace. Paul hadn’t been able to remain with a League that used whatever methods necessary to further their cause. Aye, the king was saved, but the cost had been great—too great, he knew, looking into Juliana’s cool eyes.

Timothy had been involved in the Gresham case, just as he’d handed over three orphaned brothers. Paul felt sick with anger and frustration. The king had taken everything away from Juliana’s family—land, money, reputation—and the League had welcomed her to the fortress to hide their part in it. Now they were using her just as they’d used Paul and his brothers.

The League was all she had, and she was happy with them and proud of her accomplishments. She fully believed they’d given her purpose. It would destroy her
to know what her supposed benefactors had done, how they’d assuaged their own guilt by housing her.

How could he tell her the truth? Or should it remain a secret, as the League obviously preferred? He would eventually have to make a decision. There was no one else who cared as much as he did—as Juliana did. King Edward was dead; there would be no repercussions if the truth came out about treason against him.

“I am not convincing you, am I?” she said with obvious regret.

“Convincing me of what?” He’d lost all track of their conversation.

“That I want to be here, that I see the goodness of the League. Why do you not? They took you in, the same as they did me. I always felt we had a bond because of that. They protected you.”

He stalked away from her and pulled his damp tunic off over his head. “We were three small boys given no choice in the matter.”

“But your parents had been murdered—you told me the murderer hadn’t been caught. Who else could protect you so well?”

He thought of Timothy, and the foolish ache he used to feel when his foster father had to return to his real life, leaving them behind with the League.

“If it had simply been protection, I would have understood it better, but it wasn’t.”

“Then what was it, Paul?” she demanded. “Tell me.”

He looked at her, at her damp, straggling hair, at the earnestness in her face, at her belief in the League’s very goodness.

And he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t burden her with the truth, didn’t want to see her dawning understanding, her pity. He hated pity.

He began to take his shirt off instead of answering. The linen stuck to his cold, damp flesh, and by the time he’d drawn it over his head, he caught her staring at his bare chest. Again, he waited for her blush, for a maidenly protest, but none were forthcoming.

Roughly, he said, “Turn your back, and I will change.”

BOOK: Sin and Surrender
11.11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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