A Knight's Persuasion (3 page)

Edouard spied Nara a short distance from the musicians, talking to two other ladies who looked of similar age. They glanced his way, gasped, and their faces turned red.

Who better to ask about Juliana than her sister, even if speaking to Nara made him want to rip out his own hair?

He smiled warmly at Nara, brushed past Kaine to step down from the dais, and strode to Nara’s side. Ignoring the young ladies’ breathless squeals, he said, “I am sorry to interrupt, but have you seen Juliana?”

Nara’s pretty face clouded with a frown before she looked to the servants clearing away the last table. “She is not here in the hall?”

“Nay.”

“She may be with Mother.” A hard glint touched Nara’s eyes. “She had best not be outside sketching in that wretched book of hers. Father will be furious.”

Aware of Kaine’s keen stare, Edouard said, “Where, outside, might I find her?”

Nara smoothed her hand over her fitted bodice that looked a fraction too tight. “The fish pond. But milord, mayhap you would prefer to stay with us? Juliana might return to the hall later. We can dance. Talk. Become better acquainted.” Her lashes fluttered. “Please, will you not stay?”

“I will return soon.” He winked. “Will you ladies reserve a dance for me?”

Nara’s friends sighed with delight.

Her gaze shone with pleasure. “Of course, milord. We anxiously await your return.”

Leaving the ladies’ excited chattering behind, he wove through the crowd, hurried into the torch-lit forebuilding, and pounded down the stairs to the sun-washed bailey. Servants of the noble guests, most of them drunk, were lounging on parked wagons and empty barrels, drinking and talking; some were swaying to the music drifting from the hall. Only a couple of the commoners looked his way.

No sooner had he started toward the pond glinting a short distance past the slate-roofed kitchens, than Juliana stepped out of the kitchen doorway, carrying a wooden tray laden with food and an earthenware mug. Held tight under the silken drape of her left arm was a leather-bound book. Her face taut with concentration, she started toward the keep, seemingly oblivious to the other people in the bailey. Including him.

As she approached the large well, situated between the kitchens at the keep, he cleared his throat.

Her gaze flew up. She blinked, then tried to drop into a curtsey. “Milor—”

The tray tilted. The mug slid sideways, threatening to pitch its contents onto the ground. She squawked, scrambling to right the tray. He rushed forward and snatched up the vessel.

She blushed. “Thank you. I am glad it did not spill.”

Her sweet lavender fragrance, distinct from the well’s earthy odor, teased him. He savored her scent before looking at the green liquid in the mug. ’Twas an unappetizing-looking brew. “What is it?”

“An herbal infusion for Mother.”

So her responsibilities, not a fit of nerves, had kept her away from the dancing. Triumph began to simmer inside him, even as he strategized how to garner her trust and arrange the meeting for the kiss. “Is your mother still in pain?” He hoped he sounded concerned.

Juliana nodded and looked down at the tray. He followed her gaze to the wheat bread, sliced fowl, and jam tart. A meager repast, compared to the feast. He tried to tamp down inconvenient remorse.

“I did not expect you to be in the bailey, milord.” While flawlessly polite, her tone conveyed her suspicions as to how he happened to be nearby at just the right moment to save her mother’s healing drink.

“I became concerned when I could not find you in the hall.” Unable to resist, he added, “I thought you were avoiding me and the dance you promised me.”

A hint of defiance sparked in Juliana’s eyes. “Mother refused the meal the maidservant brought her. I hope she will feel well enough now to eat a little of this for me.”

Edouard set the mug back on the tray. “’Tis kind of you.”

“She is my mother.”

The protectiveness in Juliana’s voice made him smile. He admired such loyalty to one’s family; he was very close to his parents and younger sister. If and when he married, he’d like that quality in a wife.

He suddenly became aware of footsteps a short distance away, accompanied by an astonished chuckle. Kaine.

Go on, fool! Kiss her right here, in Kaine’s view,
coaxed a mischievous voice inside his head
. Press your lips to hers and win the bet
.

A tempting thought. The drunken servants were farther down the bailey and caught up in their revelry; they wouldn’t notice the kiss. The kitchen door was open, but the folk inside would be dealing with the leftover food, not watching the well. His sire would never know . . .

What are you thinking?
a more rational voice intruded.
Have you, the firstborn son of a famous knight, forgotten how to be chivalrous? Stand down from your bet, out of respect for her.

At that moment, Juliana looked past him and dipped her head in a gracious nod to Kaine. Edouard sensed her preparing to say “goodbye” to go and see her mother. Sunlight swept her profile, turning her skin to the hue of virgin snow. Her lips were the color of the trellised roses growing in Branton Keep’s gardens.

He swallowed, stunned by the realization forming in his mind. He wanted Lady Juliana de Greyne’s kiss. Not merely to win the bet, but because he
wished
to kiss her.

She started to turn away. Purely on instinct, he touched her right arm; his fingers rubbed over her silk sleeve, noting the warmth of the skin beneath.

Juliana jumped and then twisted free, her skirt rasping against the well’s stonework; the mortared side was level with her lower thigh. Wide-eyed, she said, “Milord, I . . . must be on my way.”

How loudly his pulse was drumming. “When you have visited your mother, will you grant me our dance?”

Her breathing quickened. He glanced at her luscious bosom outlined by the shimmering silk—he couldn’t help himself—then raised his gaze to meet hers.

“I . . . Mayhap, milord.”

The unguarded insolence in her tone should annoy him; he was, after all, the son of the most powerful man in Moydenshire. But he found himself even more captivated. He hadn’t yet met a woman who didn’t giggle and swoon when he wooed them. Juliana, however, still seemed immune to his attempts to charm her.

He clearly hadn’t found the right means of persuasion.

Aye, ’tis the right of it,
the mischievous voice coaxed.
You must lure her in, convince her she’s the only lady you’ve ever desired, and then claim your kiss.

“Please, Juliana.” Edouard smiled as though he found her the most ravishing of women and dared to close the slight distance between them. “Surely you will not deny me one dance? I would be honored to have that memory of this day.”

She gnawed her lip and glanced about the bailey, obviously unsure. Before she could move away, he closed his hands over hers, still holding the tray.

“Milord!”

She trembled in his grasp. How soft her skin felt against his. The yearning inside him strengthened.

Hurry! Kiss her.

He sensed Kaine edging nearer for a better view.

“Juliana,” Edouard murmured, leaning forward, the tray pressing against his belly. He didn’t care. His mind shut out all but her, very close now. Instinct told him he had an excellent chance of succeeding in his kiss. And he craved it.
How
he craved it.

“Milord.” Her gaze locked on his mouth. “What—?”

“You are beautiful, Juliana.”

A shivered sigh broke from her. “I . . . am?”

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

“Kiss?” Her gaze darted away, as though searching for Kaine.

Did she fear him witnessing their kiss and then telling their sires? She might think he and Edouard were trying to trap her into a betrothal; she couldn’t possibly know about the bet.

“Kaine will tell no one,” he said softly, trying to think past the anticipation humming in his blood. “’Twill be our secret. I promise.”

He lifted his hands from hers, readying to trail his fingers along her jaw and tilt her face up for his kiss. Juliana’s lavender scent flooded his senses. He could almost
taste
the sweetness of her lips.

Just as he reached for her, stomped footfalls approached.

“Juliana!” Nara shrieked.

“Nara?” Kaine called. “What are you—?”

Before Edouard could glance her way, Nara plowed into her sister. A deliberate attempt to thwart the kiss.

Juliana gasped. Stumbled sideways.

Forcing down a curse, Edouard caught the younger lady’s arm and hauled her away from Juliana. Giggling, Nara spun against him and slid her arm around his neck. “I am tired of waiting for our dance. Return to the hall with me.”

Scowling, he pushed her toward a shocked-looking Kaine and turned back to Juliana. She’d almost regained balance of the tray, but it teetered. An object hit the rim of the well, then landed with a
slap
.

“My sketchbook!” Juliana cried.

Edouard looked at the tome, lying partway over the well’s opening. The parchment pages, secured to the cover by a strip of leather, had fallen open to reveal a rough sketch of a man’s face.

His face.

Surprise rippled through him, while with a low moan, Juliana scrambled to retrieve the book. Trying to help, he grabbed for it, and his elbow knocked the tray.

As it crashed onto the rim, the mug shattered. The bread and fowl fell into the well, while the jam tart landed sticky side down near Juliana’s sketchbook.

Edouard groaned. “I am sorry.”

Moving in behind him, Nara tsked. “Now look what you have done, Juliana.” How horribly smug she sounded.

“What
Juliana
has done?” Kaine snorted.

Edouard glared at Nara. What a nasty, deceitful little—

“Why, ’twas not
your
fault, milord.” With a blinding smile, the young woman blinked up at him and squeezed her way in between him and Juliana. “Let me get that sketchbook.”

“Nay!” Juliana grabbed for the tome. Her shaking fingers tried to grasp hold of the sliding book, spattered with green droplets.

With a rasp, the tome slid closer to the opening of the well.

“Careful!” Edouard snapped.

Just as he reached past Nara to snatch hold of the book, she poked out a finger . . . and shoved the book off the edge. Pages turned as it tumbled down into the darkness.

“Nay!” he roared.

With a choked cry, Juliana lurched forward. She fell to her stomach on the well’s rim and made a frantic downward grab.

Nara sniffed, a sound of disdain. “Forget those foolish sketches.”

“Go away, Nara.” Anguish thickened Juliana’s voice. “You have done quite enough.”

Edouard’s gut clenched. If Juliana leaned any farther into the well, she might fall in.

He pushed Nara out of the way. Now that he stood beside Juliana, he leaned forward to hold her waist.

A swift kick knocked his right foot, causing his boot’s sole to skid on the dirt.
Nara’s doing
. He roared, even as he tried to regain his balance. Losing his foothold, he pitched toward Juliana.

“God’s teeth,” Kaine shouted.

Edouard fell against her. With a shrill scream, she hurtled forward.

Her hands flailed, trying to grab the opposite side of the rim. Her legs thrashed. Kicking up a froth of silk, she continued to slide forward.

Worry and rage threatened to choke Edouard. She could be badly injured falling into the well. She could die. Grabbing for Juliana’s skirts, he yelled, “Hold still!”

“I am falling!” she shrieked.

Edouard caught rising voices somewhere nearby. Others about the castle were aware of the crisis. Soon, all would know. Including his father.

He couldn’t think of that now. “Do not worry,” he called to her. “I will pull you out.”

“Edouard!” Kaine, too, caught part of Juliana’s gown.

The fragile silk tore.

“Juliana!” Edouard cried, lunging for her arm.

She screamed again and plummeted head first into the depths.

Chapter Three

The scream seared the back of Juliana’s throat as she fell in the inky dankness.

She scrambled to catch hold of the stones passing by, to find a handhold and stop her descent. Impossible. She was falling too fast.

The wooden bucket for drawing water loomed ahead. She twisted her body, tried to grab for the bucket, but missed.

Down she plunged, for what seemed an eternity, until she splashed feet first into icy water. Before she could draw a shocked gasp, she submerged; the water dragged her into its depths. She shoved out with her arms, forced her body upward. When she broke through the surface, she hauled air into her lungs. The sound echoed back to her, ghastly and hollow.

Kicking her feet, she fought to stay afloat.

“Help!” she yelled to the circle of sunlight far above. “Help!”

“Juliana!” Edouard called down to her, while Kaine and Nara leaned in beside him. Edouard sounded anxious. Worried, no doubt, that he’d be in trouble for what had happened. Well, he deserved to be punished for shoving her into this hellish pit!

“Help me!” she shrilled. The darkness was so intense, she couldn’t even see her arms moving in the water. She’d been told Sherstowe’s well was wider and deeper than most; a long-ago lord had ordered it built that way, so if necessary, the castle could withstand months of siege.

If she didn’t leave these depths soon, she could suffer a severe chill or drown.

She moaned.

“Hold on,” Edouard said. “I promise, Juliana, we will get you out.”

An eerie whisper echoed—her silk gown, floating on the water’s surface. She couldn’t see it, but fabric bobbed against her skin, a sensation akin to the nudging of a submerged creature.

Something else bumped against her. A bit of wood? A lost toy? A monstrous toad who was lord of this underworld? Smothering a hysterical giggle, she dared to reach out and touch the object and found her floating, waterlogged sketchbook.

Tears stung her eyes as she drew the book close. It squelched as she pressed it tight to her chest, the odor of soggy parchment sharp in her nostrils. Her book was ruined. She’d know for certain when she’d got it into the light, but she doubted her sketches had survived.