Suzanne Robinson (31 page)

His desperation only increased upon encountering the river Clare. A lunatic plunge across it, and he was climbing hills. He only woke from the madness when his horse almost toppled backward down a near-vertical slope. The hunter’s scream of terror jolted him back to his senses. Hauling on the reins, he rode the horse back down the slope and dismounted. He stood beside the animal and sucked in huge breaths. He and the horse sweated and trembled together.

After a while he heard running water. Pulling on the reins, he led the horse to a stream that tumbled down the hillside. They drank deeply, then Gray removed his tunic. He cupped his hands and splashed water over his head and torso. Then he tended to the hunter, removing the saddle and wiping the animal down with fists full of grass.

Exhaustion numbed him, blanked out his thoughts except for the need to care for the horse that had served him despite his carelessness. When he’d done, he was shivering, but this time from weariness. He put on his tunic and belt again, and at last took stock of his surroundings.

He was in a ravine between two hills thick with trees and brush. The stream danced over the rocks that its
rushing water had exposed and plunged over an outcrop in a small waterfall that fed the pool in which he’d bathed. Afternoon sunlight formed golden splashes of light on the water while shadows formed by overhanging branches leaped in and out of the brightness.

Gray looked up at the sky. Fat white clouds sat in the sky, unmoving, distant. The sky still held the last vestiges of crisp winter cleanliness. The screech of a hawk pierced the deserted silence. He stood beside his horse and looked east, in the direction of Vyne Hill. In spite of his rank, his possessions, what did he have to give? A body and soul corrupted, used, degraded. She was so quick to anger. What would she think if she ever found out how soiled he was? If she ever found out, how could he face her?

Gray closed his eyes and turned around. Lowering his head, he sighed and took up his horse’s reins. He hopped across stones, tugging the animal behind him. Without glancing in the direction of Vyne Hill, he plunged deeper into the wooded hills.

He couldn’t go back. Not yet. The pain was still too great, his fear too strong. Would it not be safer to take a woman for whom he cared not at all? Then, if she scorned him, turned on him, looked at him with disgust, he wouldn’t care. If he married a less admirable woman, one he didn’t desire, he would risk no pain. He wouldn’t risk enslavement. His heart would remain inviolate, free. No, it would never be free. Juliana held it in her hands, wore it on her girdle with all those damned keys she carried, pinned it on her cloak like a brooch.

These thoughts drove him deeper and deeper into the hills. The farther he climbed, the more frustrated he grew, for he couldn’t escape the feelings. They climbed with him, or, rather, they skipped and flew with him, like gnats swarming around his head. He went faster, tugging
the hunter behind him as he climbed, to no avail. When he stopped again, out of breath and in as great a misery as when he started, he began swearing and kept on until he had no breath left to speak.

Then he looked around and noticed his surroundings again—and realized he was lost. The sun was dropping behind a knobby hill to the west. A chill crept into the air. He should go back. It was dangerous to be out alone in the hills at night. There were wolves, perhaps even bears. As it was, he would have to take shelter at Wellesbrooke. He wouldn’t be able to make Vyne Hill before nightfall.

He should go back. He kept telling himself to start, but he remained motionless, staring at the halo of gold behind the hills that signaled the sun’s descent. He couldn’t seem to summon the will to move or to care whether he risked the dangers of the dark wilderness. Spending the night fighting off wolves was a far more palatable alternative to spending it fighting off a loathing of oneself. Far more palatable, indeed.

WITH IMAD’S HELP, JULIANA DISMOUNTED AT the foot of the hill that concealed Friar Clement’s cave. Lucien was climbing down the slope. She tossed her reins to the squire Simon and went to meet the knight with Imad at her side.

“You’re certain he went to the friar’s cave?” she said.

Lucien gave her a cursory glance before fixing his sunset-blue gaze on some point over her shoulder.
“Oui.”

Raising her brows, Juliana put her hands on her hips and moved so that she blocked Lucien’s view of the tips of her mare’s ears. “Look you, sir knight, I’ve admitted my fault, and I’m trying to amend it. I’ve behaved in most hasty wise, and it’s a great heaviness to me. But put yourself in comfort. I’m going to make an end to this—this havoc wooing. If I’ve ruined myself with your lord, I pray God will give me the grace to withdraw from him in a gentle and Christian manner, no matter the cost to myself.”

Lucien studied her while she spoke, and when she finished, a look of reluctant esteem crept over his features. “Such a course works to increase your honor, demoiselle.”

“I’d rather have Gray de Valence than all the honor in the kingdom.”

A smile brightened Lucien’s dour expression. “I want whatever makes
messire
happy, as do all of us. I only wish
Arthur had been at Vyne Hill when you quarreled. He might have been able to reason with his cousin.”

Juliana was busy rearranging the folds of her cloak. She wasn’t going to let this mocking Frenchman know her opinion of anyone who bore the name Strange. “Where is he?”

Imad came forward, tucking his hands in the wide sleeves of his robe. “Sir Arthur is hunting that murderous bandit, O great mistress.”

“Hunting the band—” Juliana eyed Imad, then Lucien, both of whom returned her look with amused eyes and placid expressions. It was clear they had never considered that Arthur might be the killer or that they might be sending a murderer to hunt an innocent man. “I suppose my lord thought such a mockery was necessary.”

“Oui, demoiselle.”

“I trust verily that the poor man will be allowed to give up the chase for this—uh—bandit soon.” Juliana bit her lip against further comment about how much Arthur had benefitted from his brother’s death. She would talk to Gray privately about her suspicions. Turning away from the men, she pulled off her boot and emptied it of a pebble and replaced it. Then she picked up a bundle containing a blanket, food, and drink, and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m going now.”

Lucien held out his hand to assist her, but she shook her head. “You and Imad will camp here. I’ll not have you looming over me when I find my lord.”

“Mon
Dieu
, he’ll have my head on a pike if I let you wander these hills alone.”

Imad nodded vigorously, and Juliana could see a look of resolution on Lucien’s face. She folded her arms and sauntered over to the knight.

“Very well, but I should warn you that I intend to go directly to the cave and throw myself in my lord’s arms,
and when I do that, he won’t thank you for lurking about and gawking at him like a pair of milk cows.”

“We will stay far enough behind you to prevent such an unfitting occurrence, O beauteous mistress of the sun.”

“Imad, if you and this French knave follow me, I’ll lead you such a chase that you’ll end up spending the night in a bramble patch. I’ve been climbing these hills since I was a child and need no escort, but if you don’t stop arguing with me, I won’t reach the cave before dark.”

Lucien sighed and shook his head. “As you wish, demoiselle. We’ll escort you halfway and return here to make camp. But upon the morrow we’ll seek you out.” He gave her a sly glance. “If
messire
doesn’t toss you back down the hill before then.”

“I’ll try to prevent that with my uttermost power.”

She set out without further argument from Lucien. Imad clambered after them, cursing each rock in his path and lamenting his fate at having to leave the shelter of civilization for savage country. True to their word, they left her halfway up the hill. Juliana watched them until they vanished down the slope, then made her way up the hill to the friar’s cave.

She’d discovered that Gray had quit Vyne Hill when his turbulent departure created a tumult among his men. Knowing that a large party following him would invite their lord’s wrath, only the squire Simon had pursued his master with Lucien not far behind. The Frenchman had refused to wait for Juliana, but she soon caught up with him with Imad trailing after her. Simon had shown Lucien their lord’s whereabouts and been sent home.

Sunset was almost upon her when she reached the clearing before the cave. She hid behind a tree that offered a view across the open space to the mouth of the
cavern. At first she was dismayed at not seeing Gray, but then she saw his hunter unsaddled and tethered nearby.

The journey into the hills had given Juliana time to consider ways in which to atone for her miserable actions. Looking back on her behavior toward Gray had been an unpleasant task. Her attitude embittered by her past, she’d belabored him with insults and suspicion from the beginning. Without bothering to get to know him, except through her unconquerable and sinful desire.

If she hadn’t been so busy wallowing in craven fears, she would have talked to him as he’d asked. Then she might have learned from him the things Imad had told her. Or perhaps not. She wasn’t the only one filled with reluctance to confide, to bare her innermost secrets. Well, the past was past. Her task now was supplication. But she knew Gray de Valence. He wouldn’t believe pretty apologies. Mere words wouldn’t hack a path through the ice fortress he’d erected around himself by now.

And she had to reach him, for that look on his face when she had wounded him had stripped away that exotic and glamorous façade to reveal something she never hoped to find in him, something that even now she dared not name to herself. She wouldn’t name it, but she would have it, and him, no matter the cost.

Bold and valiant measures, that’s what she needed. She would have to startle him, deny him the opportunity to rebuff her outright. She had searched her soul for the way, for the right answer, the key to his maltreated heart. And she’d found it. The question was, did she have the courage to use this most unusual key?

Glancing around the clearing, she decided that Gray was either deep inside the cave or had left for the moment. A fire before the cave entrance signified his intention to remain the night. She ran to his horse, untethered
it, and took it deep into the trees. If Gray tried to leave before she could speak to him, he’d have to do it on foot. She was walking back to the clearing when she heard the crack of twigs under a boot. She crept back to her tree and peered around it.

Gray had returned with an armload of wood, which he dumped near the fire. He stood up, then turned quickly to look at the place where his horse should have been. Swearing, he clamped his hand to the sword at his side, rushed to the spot, and studied the ground. He knelt for a moment, then lifted his head and stared at her.

“Come out of there,” he said in that wintery tone that so frightened her.

Juliana Welles, don’t let him intimidate you. It’s what he wants. He’s afraid he’s revealed too much. Thunder of God, remember what he feels like beneath those lordly garments. Remember how he moans when he’s inside you. This is that same man
.

With such thoughts racing through her head, Juliana left the shelter of the tree and took several hesitant steps that brought her to the middle of the clearing. He watched her the whole time, his expression blank, his eyes like new leaves encased in frost. Juliana stared into that chilly gaze as she stopped, and her legs began to feel as if they were turning to slush. Her tongue darted out to lathe her lips.

“I—I’ve come to beg you to forgive me.”

He gave her a stately nod, the mighty lord enshrouded in the formality of chivalry.

“No,” she said, her voice faint. “Not with words. Through my hell-cursed temper I’ve almost destroyed your—your affection for me, and I must atone. I have to show you—”

“That is unnecessary. I forgive you. Now go away. I trust you’ve come with my men. They wouldn’t have let
you make the journey alone. Good e’en to you.” He turned to go.

“No, wait!”

She watched his shoulders go rigid, his back stiff, but she didn’t move.

“You didn’t let me finish. I have to show you that I’m sorry. I was afraid, like you.”

He faced her again, this time chuckling, although the sound held little merriment. “I assure you, mistress. I’ve never been afraid of you.”

“No? Well, I’ve been afraid of you, and I’ve been evil to you.”

He was turning again, his body and heart removed from her.

“If you’re not afraid, why are you leaving?”

That stopped him. A flicker of annoyance broke through the frost of his gaze. Now, now was the time. Juliana held his gaze with hers, dropped her hands to her girdle and unfastened it quickly. Casting it aside, she drew her gown over her head and discarded it as well. She heard a curse.