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Eric’s skin darkened. ‘My lady, your mother knows about this. Lady Barbara was present at my meeting with Lord Faramus.’
A cool finger lifted her chin and green eyes looked earnestly into hers.
‘My lady, you need not fear me.’ Briefly, his gaze lingered on her lips and his lips quirked into one of those charming smiles she’d seen him direct at the castle maids. ‘Much as I would like to fall in with your father’s suggestion, I believe he is being over-hasty. I am sure that when he is given time to reflect, he will change his mind.’
The stab of disappointment was unexpected. ‘You’re going to take me back to the convent?’
‘Sadly, I can’t do that.’ Eric shoved his hand through his hair. ‘My lady, I didn’t want to tell you this, but if you refuse to come with me, your father is holding someone else in reserve. Someone who may not be as forbearing as I when faced with your refusal to marry him.’
Rowena could hardly breathe. ‘Do I know him?’
‘Yes, my lady, it is Sir Breon de Provins.’ His eyes were watchful. ‘I do not think Sir Breon will hesitate to use force. And imagine the chaos he will cause if he has your father’s blessing to enter the convent.’
‘Not Sir Breon, the sisters would be terrified.’ Rowena put her hand to her throat. A lump had formed and she was very much afraid that she might burst into tears. As a knight Sir Breon was efficient enough. Personally, he came over as brusque and cold and Rowena had always kept out of his way, she could never warm to a man like that.
She felt utterly trapped, exactly as she had done when her father had faced her with marriage to Lord Gawain. ‘I thought Father would leave me in peace once I had the king’s blessing to enter the convent,’ she whispered. ‘I thought I had escaped. I thought I had won leave to order my own life, but it would seem I’ve just swapped one tyranny for another.’
She stared at a spot of sunlight playing on the trunk of a tree and gritted her teeth. She should have known it wouldn’t be easy to escape her father’s will.
Unless she married Eric.
If she married Eric she would be obeying her father and escaping him. A voice in her head was muttering: Better Eric than the convent.Better Eric than Sir Breon. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud.
Mathieu’s face swam into her mind and a pang went through her. It was obvious she wasn’t going to be allowed to mourn him in peace.
Could she marry Eric? She gave him a sideways glance. His strong arms had had no difficulty overpowering her. The boy she had dreamed about so long ago was a successful knight, a landed knight. Doubtless the habit of command had become his second nature. Would he seek to dominate her as her father sought to dominate her mother?
‘Sir Breon is as much a victim as anyone else,’ she murmured.
Eric’s eyebrow shot upwards. ‘You like Sir Breon, my lady?’
Rowena shuddered and gave a swift headshake. She didn’t like Sir Breon, but she thought she understood him. Over the years she’d watched Sir Breon’s ambition warp his nature. He’d begun in a small way. There’d been an archery contest one winter—the men of Jutigny had been pitted against the Provins guard and Sir Breon had been put in charge. The Jutigny team had won, much to her father’s delight. After that the rumours had begun, rumours which went something like this—Sir Breon had contacts in Provins and he’d bribed one or two of their archers to miss their mark. Provins had lost, not badly, just enough to ensure that the Jutigny team won.
‘My father is a cunning man,’ she said. It was clever of her father to offer Eric her hand in marriage. By holding out the promise of a county he was offering Eric everything he’d always wanted. If Eric married her, he would no longer feel like an outsider. ‘He is also a cruel man.’
‘Cruel?’
She shrugged. ‘He is offering what you most want—land—and he is using your best quality—your loyalty—to bend you to do his will.’
‘My lady, I will not marry you if you do not wish it.’
The gold cross at Rowena’s breast flashed as she took in a deep breath. Eric’s heart clenched. His aloof would-be nun was looking rather the worse for wear. Her hair streamed down her back like silk, she didn’t seem to have noticed how it had unravelled. Her eyes, the colour of forget-me-nots, were shiny with unshed tears.
‘Father is such a trial,’ she murmured. ‘Sometimes I think that he hates me.’
Eric shook his head. She looked so small and defenceless. So hurt. He was taken with the urge to take her hand, he wanted to comfort her. She wants to be a nun, don’t touch her, it’s obvious she dislikes men. Eric could understand why. It took a strong man to hold on to a county and her father was just such a man. Sadly, Count Faramus could be extremely inflexible, certainly as far as his womenfolk were concerned. Yet it was more complicated than that. Her father had fought to keep his county and he wanted it to go to his daughter and in turn to her heirs.
‘My lady, you are an heiress. The County of Sainte-Colombe could be yours one day.’
‘I don’t want to be an heiress.’
He smiled. ‘Nevertheless, my lady, that is the role you were born to.’
Her chin lifted. ‘What happens next?’
‘Next, I take you back to my manor where we will wait. I swear you will not be forced to do anything against your will. I feel sure your father will reconsider. After that, you’ll be safe to return to the convent.’
‘And if Father doesn’t relent?’
‘My lady, I will take your part.’
Her pretty mouth set in a bitter line. ‘Much good that will do me.’
‘My lady?’
‘Lord Gawain took my part when he released me from my betrothal. He went to Paris and convinced the king to let me enter a nunnery. If Father won’t listen to the king, sir, I hardly think he will listen to you. He is determined to marry me off.’
Eric lifted an eyebrow. ‘I too would petition the king on your behalf. Don’t you trust me?’
‘I trust you.’ Blue eyes searched his. ‘Up to a point.’
Eric stiffened. ‘My lady, I take exception to that remark. You have my word that if all else fails, I will petition the king.’
‘Thank you.’ She pushed a strand of hair back over her shoulder and sighed. ‘This is all because of my cousin, Sir Armand.’
‘Yes, Count Faramus mentioned him.’
‘Father hates him, he will do anything to prevent him inheriting the estate.’ She looked pleadingly at him. ‘So you plan to take me back to Monfort. And then?’
‘We wait for your father to come to his senses.’
She shook her head and her hair rippled out over her shoulders. ‘That day will never dawn. Father thinks to win you over by giving you a chance to step into his shoes. He’s tempting you as he has tempted Sir Breon over the years.’
Eric stared at her. ‘My lady?’
She shrugged. ‘You must have noticed. Every time Father wants something unsavoury doing he goes straight to Sir Breon and offers him something he knows Sir Breon will not be able to resist. And however distasteful the task, Sir Breon always steps up to the mark. If silver is offered he accepts it. Every time.’
‘I am not Sir Breon.’ Eric’s voice was gruff. It irritated him beyond measure that Lady Rowena should compare him to Sir Breon. Particularly since marriage with her would give him the security he had always longed for. Him? A count? Once it would have seemed impossible, yet now... ‘You will have to trust me, my lady.’
She gave him a small smile that reminded him of her mother and shook her head. ‘Sir, I can see I have little choice but to go with you.’
Eric breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Thank heaven, she was prepared to put a little trust in him, he didn’t want to ride back to Monfort with her fighting him every step of the way.
As soon as Lord Faramus realised that he could not force her into marriage—after all, Lady Rowena was the king’s goddaughter—Eric would do the right thing and send her back to the abbey.
Nearby, a horse whinnied. Alard had followed them into the copse and stood with the horses a little way off. Rising, Eric had extended his hand to help Lady Rowena up before he recalled that she would not like to touch him. To his surprise and pleasure her tiny hand took his and she came gracefully to her feet.
She straightened the cross at her breast, shook out her grey gown and started to tidy her hair. ‘Goodness,’ she said, flushing like a rose as she realised how much of it had worked loose. ‘What a mess. You should have told me.’
Her hair looked beautiful to Eric—small golden tendrils framed her face, long shimmering waves cascaded down her back. A compliment hovered on the tip of his tongue. He folded his lips together and kept it in. A woman who was shortly to make her preliminary vows wouldn’t appreciate compliments.
He cleared his throat. All in all, Lady Rowena was taking this better than he had dared hope. Nevertheless, the tremor in her hands as she plaited her hair told him that she was nervous. Was she afraid of him? Lord, he hoped not. It wouldn’t be surprising if she were though. This—being abducted from the convent—had to be the most unnerving experience of her life.
Eric had considered her cossetted as a child. Now he realised how wrong he’d been. Not having parents himself had blinded him to the truth. Cosseted was definitely not the word to use for the count’s treatment of his only child. Restricted would be a better word. When Lady Rowena had been young, Count Faramus had watched over her like a hawk and, as soon as she had left her childhood behind, she’d spent half her time in a convent.
The nuns must have been instructed to teach her the skills necessary to become some great lord’s wife. Eric’s mouth twisted. They didn’t seem to have followed their instructions very well, all they seemed to have instilled in her was a desire to become one of them. And a dislike of her father and a wariness of men in general. Still, at least she had agreed to go with him to Monfort.
Eric looked at the small, shaking fingers deftly braiding all that golden glory into the tightest, most repressive braid he had seen. She must feel the world was falling apart around her. He should say something that would put her at her ease. ‘Until I spoke with your father I had other plans for today.’
She gave him a brief glance. ‘Oh?’
Eric picked up his cloak and shook it out. Crossing to Captain, he fastened the cloak to the back of his saddle and checked the girth. ‘I intended riding to Bar-sur-Aube, to buy horses.’
She came to stand at his elbow and the rest of what Eric had been going to say flew out of his head. She really was a tiny thing and her father was a bully for trying to force her into marriage. His chest ached. ‘My lady, I swear I will do my utmost to help you.’
‘Thank you, Sir Eric.’
He swallowed. ‘You will ride before me?’
She glanced at her own horse. ‘May I not ride Lily?’
‘I am sorry, my lady, not at the moment.’
‘You think I will gallop back to the convent?’
The grin was out before he could stop it. ‘Something like that. Alard will look after Lily.’
Biting her lip, she nodded. Eric took the reins and mounted. Alard came forward to help her up and then she was sitting before him and they were riding towards Monfort. Eric kept one hand on the reins and the other on her waist. She sat before him, stiff-backed. Trying, no doubt, to keep space between them. Eric took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to be the easiest of rides.
By the time they reached the main highway, Lady Rowena’s body had slipped back against his. Eric’s nostrils twitched. When he bent his head to hers, he could smell flowers, she smelt like a summer meadow. He kept his hand firm about that tiny waist. She shifted forward. Captain walked on and gradually she slipped back against him. No sooner had her body touched his than she shifted forward.
Eric ground his teeth together. ‘My lady, it will make for an easier ride for both of us if you would relax. I am not going to hurt you.’
She muttered an apology—her voice was strained—and allowed Eric to pull her more firmly against him.
‘Thank you, my lady. It will be safer this way.’
For the rest of the ride she remained quiescent, but Eric could feel the tension in her. She had said that she trusted him. Why then was she holding her back ramrod straight? She would surely ache when they reached his manor. He held his tongue, likely she would resent further comment.
At least she had agreed to come with him. He could keep her safe until he persuaded Count Faramus to think better of his plans for her. Her reaction when he had mentioned Sir Breon had been telling—she loathed and feared the man. That was some justification for the penance of having to take her back to Monfort. A penance that might go on for some time if her father proved intransigent.
Eric wished Lady Rowena wasn’t quite so pretty; he wished her waist wasn’t so tiny and that she didn’t smell of flowers; he wished that she wouldn’t keep squirming against him. It made him think thoughts that would shock this prim, would-be nun so much she’d never speak to him again. It made him want to take up her father on his suggestion and ask her to marry him, in truth. Not that she would accept him, of course. It just made him wish. She would be his wife and he would have the pleasure of teaching her that men weren’t all monsters. He would enjoy discovering the delights of the marriage bed with Rowena de Sainte-Colombe as his partner. His blood heated at the thought.
Did Count Faramus realise what a temptation he had set before him?
Of course he did, the man was as wily as a fox, as his daughter had already pointed out. Except...the count was clearly of the opinion that the real prize was the lands that went with his daughter rather than his daughter herself.
A mule was headed for the market, laden with bales of cloth. As they trotted past it, a jay screeched somewhere in the woodland to their left. Eric focused his gaze on a large oak and tried not to think about what it would be like to really marry Lady Rowena.
He would think instead about what it would be like to be Count of Sainte-Colombe. It was an honour he had never looked for. Eric still felt stunned when he thought back on yesterday’s interview in the solar of Jutigny Castle. Clearly, the count was desperate. Desperate and determined. Eric hadn’t said as much to Lady Rowena, she was obviously worried enough already, she didn’t need to be told that Eric suspected Lord Faramus might take some while to come to his senses. Lord, the count had suggested that he should seduce his daughter into marriage. He must really hate Sir Armand.
Lady Rowena didn’t need to be told that Lord Faramus had asked him to ruin her. What kind of a father would do that? Eric shook his head. A ruthless one. Which brought his thoughts round to Sir Armand again. When they got to Monfort, Eric would make enquiries. What kind of a man was Sir Armand that he should drive Lord Faramus to have his daughter snatched from the nunnery she had chosen to make her home?
Dipping his head a fraction, Eric inhaled. Summer flowers. His hand shifted on her waist.
Mon Dieu, just thinking about marrying her made his blood heat.
Poor, innocent Lady Rowena. She is going to take her vows. She is going to take her vows and I must not think of her in that way.
Chapter Three (#ulink_a8774ee1-934d-51b9-9cb2-104628d38df6)
Sparrows darted in and out of hedgerows dotted with bramble flowers. Monfort was a couple of hours’ ride from Provins. It wasn’t until they had passed the halfway mark and turned into the side road that cut through the fields that Eric noticed the horsemen some distance behind them. There were three of them. Eric couldn’t be certain, but he rather thought they’d been there since they’d left the convent. Twisting in the saddle, he focused his attention on them. This road didn’t go anywhere save for Monfort Manor and the village of the same name that had grown up around it. What business could those riders have coming this way?
Cursing under his breath—Lord Faramus had promised that he would not interfere—Eric glanced at the squire riding at his side. ‘Alard?’
‘Sir?’
Eric jerked his head in the direction of the party behind them. ‘Did you notice those horsemen?’
‘Aye, sir.’
‘How long have they been there?’
‘They’ve been with us pretty much the whole way. I thought you’d seen them.’
Eric sighed, he should have noticed them as soon as they’d turned off the main highway—the scent of summer flowers must be fuddling his wits. He swore under his breath. Lord Faramus was going to meddle, he was sure of it. He was equally sure that his interfering would make matters worse. As things stood Lady Rowena barely trusted him.
Lady Rowena turned her head and looked at him. ‘There’s a problem, sir?’
‘Behind us.’ Eric gestured at the other riders. ‘Your father seems to be keeping an eye on us.’
She leaned out, grasping his arm to steady herself, and her blue gaze focused on the three riders. She had the longest eyelashes Eric had ever seen. Her mouth—it was the colour of ripe cherries and just as tempting—firmed. ‘Father can’t help himself. He is so very controlling.’ Her grip on his arm tightened. ‘Eric, you won’t let them take me?’
Eric’s pulse jumped. When she’d called him Eric, it was as though the years fell away and they were children again. The lack of formality made him feel as though they’d been friends for ever. Tearing his gaze from her, he focused on the men behind them. If it came to a fight it was three against two. He was confident he could protect her, provided she wasn’t sitting before him when they came to blows. ‘They won’t take you. My lady, you may be at ease, you are coming with me to Monfort.’
‘I really don’t want to see my father. Nor do I want to be given to Sir Breon.’
Eric was irritated Lord Faramus was checking up on him after promising otherwise, however, it wasn’t her fault. And he supposed it showed some measure of care that the count wanted to know his daughter had come to no harm. He gave her as reassuring a smile as he could muster. ‘You won’t be. I am sure that your father has sent us an escort simply to make certain that I get you safely back to the manor.’ His mouth twisted. It would be good to think Lady Rowena was happy to come with him because she had a sincere liking for him. He couldn’t delude himself though—he and she had hardly spoken in years. She was only happy to accompany him because she disliked Sir Breon more than him. ‘He wouldn’t want you to be carried off by anyone but me.’
She gave him a straight look and surprised him with a laugh that wasn’t echoed in her eyes. ‘Likely that’s the truth. Father only asks knights he trusts to do his dirty work.’
It didn’t sit well with Eric that Lady Rowena had decided he was doing her father’s dirty work. ‘My lady, I thought you understood, I am only appearing to fall in with your father’s plans. He will change his mind, I am certain. You will be back at the convent before you know it.’
Those large blue eyes searched his before she gave a little shrug and released his arm. ‘So you say.’
Her tone irked him. If she didn’t believe him why was she agreeing to accompany him? Why had she called him Eric? As she turned to face forward once more, Eric put his hand carefully back on her waist. This time she made no move to ease her body from his. He wasn’t sure what she thought of him—she had liked him when she’d been a child, but now? Had her view of him changed so much? If so, why? Was it simply that they were no longer children?
She dislikes men. Had she always done so? Her relationship with her father had always been fiery. In the past Eric had seen this as a sign of her spirit, two strong wills were bound to clash from time to time. Was there more to it than that? Had something happened in the years since he’d seen her? Something that had given her a mistrust of men?
