Sin and Surrender (8 page)

As the intruder sagged, Roger bent and hoisted him over his shoulder.

“There’s no one else?” Juliana whispered.

Roger shook his head. “The man was outraged at a threat to his king and the hard-earned peace of his country.”

“Drunk,” Paul said.

“Nay, though at first I believed the same. He was serious in his affront. Didn’t want to have to kill him. I’ll keep him well hidden and trussed up until we leave. You have my thanks, mistress.”

“Do you need help carrying him?” Juliana asked.

“I think he can manage without you,” Paul said dryly, tugging her arm.

She stiffened, her eyes going cool as she looked at him.

Though Paul was confused at her reaction, he ignored it to say, “We should retreat before anyone else notices.”

In the near darkness of their bedchamber, Juliana calmly hid her dagger and climbed back into bed.

He studied her, sensing her shift in mood, feeling like he was missing something. But pressing her would accomplish nothing.

“Well done,” he said quietly.

“I am certain you think you could have done better.”

“I did not say so.”

“You did not have to.”

Feeling confused and wary, as if battling an opponent with words rather than weapons, Paul carefully crossed the bed, trying not to touch her, sensing that that would make everything worse.

T
he morning did not improve Juliana’s sense of balance. Before Paul dressed himself, he insisted on helping her pick out her gown. Perhaps he didn’t think a woman could even pick out her own clothing, she thought, still feeling irritated about his behavior during the night while she’d been performing her duty, protecting him. He’d made it far too clear that he felt
he
should be protecting
her,
not the other way around. More than once in her short career, men had openly questioned whether a woman could be trusted in a position of authority. She just hadn’t wanted to believe that a man who’d briefly trained her could feel the same way.

And now he was meddling in her clothing!

“I will be wearing a cloak. ‘Twill not matter what I wear,” she insisted stiffly.

“The sun will soon be up, and the sky bodes a clear day. You will be seen by many.”

She watched, her teeth gritted, as he laid out three
gowns he hadn’t seen. She felt invaded as his rough hands touched her delicate things.

“The bodice on the pink gown is far superior to the green,” he said.

She ignored him, packing away her damp laundry, knowing she would have to lay it out again that night.

“It shows a daring hint of cleavage, but the obvious wealth and craftsmanship of the gown gives it enough refinement. Of course, the waistline of the green gown does flatter you more than the yellow.”

“And why is that?” she asked with studied indifference, as she checked the edge of her blade before sliding it into her boot.

“This really means nothing to you, does it?” he asked at last.

“Nay, not a bit. The gowns are lovely, they all mark me as a wealthy concubine. ‘Tis enough for me.”

“Do you ever even wear gowns?”

She glanced at him. “Never, except on assignments.” Perhaps her dearth of femininity was a way to make him keep his distance.

“Because you never see other women.”

“And neither did you,” she said thoughtfully. “Surely as a young man, that must have been difficult. Or did you take journeys away from the League fortress?”

He turned away, folding up every gown but the pink one with its fine bodice.

She’d struck deep, she realized with interest. “You did not, did you? Did you even know about women?”

“Of course I did,” he answered almost crossly.

She held back her triumph at bothering him the way he so easily bothered her.

“Was I the first woman you saw—nay, wait, you’d already been on missions before I arrived.”

“Robert saw a woman before I did.”

He took off the shirt he’d slept in, a deliberate attempt to distract her from what he obviously wished he hadn’t said.

She approached him, interested in his faint touch of wariness. “How did Robert see a woman? Did one arrive at the Castle, lost in the mountains?”

“You have a vivid imagination. As some boys do, Robert simply ran away.”

“Ran away?” she echoed.

He unlaced his breeches, lowered them a bit with his thumbs, until she could see his hipbones, which framed the ridges of his abdomen. She refused to back down and turn away.

He sighed. “He simply wanted to meet girls. Adam was sent to retrieve him. Robert was quite excited to have kissed a dairymaid before he was captured.”

“Surely you made him tell you all about it,” she teased.

Did his face actually turn a bit red? Her good humor was beginning to feel restored.

He lowered the breeches even more, until she glimpsed a scrap of linen, and even more dark blond hair. She turned around at last, feeling a bit too breathless.

“You could ask me to give you some privacy,” she said crossly.

“And you could realize when I need it.”

“But what I most realize is your embarrassment. You do not need to feel so, Paul, especially not with me. I know how you were raised. Young men are drawn rather obsessively to girls.”

“Obsessively, is it? What a choice in words. Did someone obsess over you?”

She suddenly remembered the Bladesman maneuvering her into a dark corridor, and the way she’d let him know with her fists that she wanted him to stop. The incident had changed all of her training.

She laughed lightly. “Obsess over me? The girl in breeches? Nay. But I live with men, Paul, and I do not idealize your sex.” She didn’t risk facing him, but did cock her head with exaggeration. “Hmm, so you never saw women. At all. You did tell me of the concern that your parents’ murderer was looking for Keswick’s heirs. So of course, they kept you well protected. But you never walked through a village when you were young? After all, who would have known your face?”

He didn’t answer, and she risked a glance over her
shoulder to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots.

“How did you feel the first time you saw a woman?” she asked. “What did you do?”

He set down his foot and looked at her for a moment. “Do you want the truth?”

“I do.”

“The girl I first saw seemed like a magical creature, all soft, pretty hair and a secretive smile.”

She couldn’t stop staring at him, at his broad shoulders and long arms as he leaned back on the bed they’d just shared.

“And then she invited me to her bed.”

Her smile faded and she blinked at him. “Just like that?” she asked with dismay. No wonder he had such a bad impression of women, and what feats they were capable of.

“Just like that.”

“You must have been quite the young pup, all desperate and needy.”

He laughed rather than take offense.

“And being a man, you did not resist,” she continued.

“Nay, I did not. She taught me everything I needed to know to please her.”

Juliana spoke without thinking. “But did not the League teach you that?”

His eyes widened. “They taught you about intimacy?”

She wanted to refuse to discuss her foolish outburst, but that would only make him more interested. All she did was laugh. “Wouldn’t you simply love to imagine that?”

He narrowed his eyes, but when he said nothing more, she almost sighed her relief. Someone knocked on the door, and she quickly went to lift her bag.

He took it from her. “Let the servants do that.”

And he was correct, of course.

As they left Ware, she could not stop wondering about the mysteries surrounding his childhood. He’d had but two years when his parents had died. No one would have recognized him a few years later. He should have been free to learn about the world, to be with people, even if only occasionally.

But the League had kept the three Hilliard boys isolated, alone. Reluctantly, she began to see that that might make a man like Paul long to see more of the world.

After a morning spent sloshing through mud and avoiding holes, they lined up in single file to cross a small wooden bridge. On the far side, she reigned in her horse until Timothy caught up to her.

He eyed her, his expression concerned. “Roger told me what happened in the night, and that you performed well.”

“He had the situation well in hand. I did little.”

” ‘Tis only the beginning, where danger is concerned. Men both for and against the king will have reason to want Paul dead. Satisfied am I that he has you at his side.”

“At least
someone
feels that way,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“Your pardon?” he asked, watching her too carefully.

“Nothing, sir.”

They rode on side by side, letting the motion of the horses lull them both. She glanced at Timothy when at last he took a deep, satisfied breath of the country air.

“‘Tis a good thing the weather seems clear today,” he said, “because we will make camp this night. Our position will be far more precarious than within the walls of an inn.”

“We will keep careful watch,” she said firmly.

He nodded as if he expected nothing else.

She hesitated, then spoke her mind. “Timothy, Paul told me a story today, but I cannot believe it true.”

“One never knows with Paul,” he said, shaking his head.

She squinted into the sun as she glanced at him. “He said Robert ran away to see a girl.”

He shrugged good-naturedly. “Boys will be boys.”

“I received the distinct impression that Robert—and his brothers—had never seen a girl before that.”

Timothy’s smile faded to one of faint melancholy.

“You know I cannot discuss a Bladesman’s past, Juliana.”

“But … why would he have never seen a girl? It simply doesn’t make sense. Unless he was never permitted to leave the fortress. And I do understand the threat of death they were under, but …”

She let her voice trail off.

Timothy sighed. “Paul did not discuss it with you?”

“Not the reasons, nay.”

“He knows the League rules.”

And she had not followed them, for she’d told Paul of her past, felt compelled to, as if she needed him to know the truth. Had she been trying to drive him away, make him wary of being associated with her? His reaction had been to take off his clothes, deliberately forcing
her
away.

It was all such a puzzle, the way they played games to distract each other. But she wouldn’t forget, and would do all she could to discover the truth. She couldn’t explain why she felt this way, wouldn’t look at it too closely. But the need to uncover his secrets was like an itch she had to scratch.

They stopped for the midday meal at a village crossroads. Still mounted, Paul watched cows graze the village green nearby, while he awaited Timothy’s preparations. Many men lingered outside the tavern on benches, eyeing them with unabashed interest.

To Juliana, Paul said, idly, loudly, “Another village tavern. Rather small and plain, is it not, my little duckling?”

She dismounted and went to him, leaning against his leg to look up at him. “It is, my love, but that cannot be helped. This is not Paris.”

“Ah, Paris,” he murmured, staring off into the distance. He could see that he’d aroused some interest as well as disdain. “Do you remember that romantic boat ride we took down the Seine? I do believe you danced for me that night, a pale Aphrodite in the moonlight.”

He saw the way the men now looked with lascivious interest at Juliana, but it couldn’t be helped. It had to be apparent what kind of woman she was from the beginning.

Timothy ducked as he emerged from the tavern doorway, then led them inside, leaving Joseph to care for the horses. Theobald stayed near Juliana, hand on the sword hilt at his waist. Most of the Bladesmen had to duck to enter, and Paul saw that even Juliana almost grazed the door lintel. Vegetables hung on strings along various beams, as well as a ham. A large table had been cleared for them in the rear, and they had to pass down a narrow aisle between several crude tables.

Paul tossed his cloak back from his shoulders, letting the villagers see his doublet embroidered with gold threads. He was bigger and broader than most
of the men, and he knew his fair coloring stood out.

Soon they were seated, with the tavern’s specialty of mutton pie with chunks of meat and vegetables steaming before them.

Paul didn’t find it too difficult to make a nuisance of himself. He asked for wine they couldn’t possibly have, patted the backside of every maidservant that went by, and laughed too loudly at Juliana’s display of cool anger. He chatted with farmers and peddlers and met with success when he learned that the local lord’s son was dining as well. The man had long since seen his first tournament, and he watched Paul with speculation.

Paul made a point of asking about the countryside, and how far it was to York, where he had vague memories from his youth. Timothy and old Roger exchanged obvious looks of discomfort at his chattiness, but it was all part of the charade.

Michael was overly obvious as he pushed Juliana against Paul’s side as if to distract him. She smiled up at Paul, leaning her breasts against his arm in a way that was a bit
too
distracting. Slipping an arm about her, he drew her even tighter against him until she was forced to brace her hand on his thigh or fall across his chest.

He leaned down toward her face, and he saw the awareness in her eyes, the moment when she thought he would kiss her. Instead he nuzzled his face against her neck as she gave a belated giggle.

“Next time,” he whispered.

Her fingernails dug into his thigh.

After pressing a kiss to her cheek, he brought her hand to his lips.

“Seems as if you need to persuade the wench,” the lord’s son said, laughing.

“She comes to my bed quite willingly.” Paul grinned down at her before returning his attention to the self-important man. “I found her in Paris, where her protector had left her when he tired of her.”

“I tired of
him,”
Juliana corrected, her voice sweet with certainty.