Falling for Her Captor (10 page)

He moved to the wall and pulled a rope. A bell sounded in the corridor. The door opened and two servants appeared. The Duke instructed them to prepare a room, food and a bath and they left. He spoke briefly to the sentry standing outside the door and passed him the letter.

Stephen turned back to Aline and studied her in silence. She met his gaze steadily. The Duke’s face darkened suddenly. He crossed the room and drew the cloak back from Aline’s shoulders, ignoring the way she flinched at his touch. Aline’s initial fears proved unfounded as Stephen appeared more interested in the cloak than the woman beneath it.

‘This is an interesting addition to your wardrobe,’ he remarked. ‘I believe I recognise it from yesterday, and I find myself wondering what possessed my cousin to give it to you. What happened on your journey that would lead him to do that?’

So many images flickered through Aline’s mind as she thought how best to respond. She hoped her face did not betray the way her chest tightened at the thought of Hugh.

‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘I came to his aid when he was injured. I assume this must be his way of thanking me.’

‘I would not blame you, given your situation, if you had tried to turn his head to your advantage. Many women would do that and more. You will have seen, though, that you failed.’ Stephen laughed. ‘No woman has managed to snare Sir Hugh yet. His loyalty to me is without equal.’

Aline said nothing but looked away quickly, which caused Stephen to laugh wildly. He was still laughing when a servant appeared and led Aline away.

Chapter Ten

A
sentry was waiting outside the Duke’s quarters. He led Aline and one of the maids across the grass courtyard to a square tower. It loomed dark in the moonlight, and even though the sky was now fully black Aline recognised the building as the one that held the entrance to the dungeon. A wave of panic swept over her at the thought that she was being taken there again. She found herself longing for Hugh to be there and hold her safe.

The Duke lied to me!
she thought.

Her knees began to buckle under her. She forced herself upright, determined not to show weakness before her enemies. She had never been more relieved than when the servant gave directions to the guard and they carried on past the iron-grilled doorway leading down.

They entered the tower through a double doorway and climbed up three narrow, winding flights of stairs. Laughter and music floated along the corridors from one of the rooms they passed. The tune was familiar and Aline felt a stab of loneliness at the everyday sounds of castle life.

On the third floor the sounds faded away as the guard led the way to the end of the corridor and stopped in front of the only door. The servant unlocked it, leaving the key in the lock, then stepped back. The guard ushered Aline into the room.

The room was small and plainly decorated, but it was a room, not a cell, and for that Aline was grateful. A high bed with thick curtains around it stood against the back wall, while a table and a low basket chair sat in an alcove in front of a narrow window. Aline nearly wept with joy at the sight of the wooden bathtub standing in front of the fireplace, its sweet herb-scented water steaming. The fire had been lit, and torches burned in the sconces.

Aline heard the key turn in the lock, though scarcely noticed or cared. Her attention was drawn to the scent of food wafting from a tray on the table and her stomach growled. Pulling back the cloth with trembling fingers, she fell on the meal, devouring the chicken legs and bread where she stood. She bit into an apple with contentment. It was a simple meal, but rarely had food tasted so delicious.

When she had eaten she slipped off her clothes, stepped into the heavy wooden tub. She sank into the water, relishing the way the heat made her flesh smart. She rubbed her body and hair with a bundle of floating lavender until her skin turned pink, glad to rid herself of the dirt from the journey, the stench of the dungeon and the feeling of the Duke’s hands upon her.

Once she finally felt clean she reclined against the side of the tub with a contented sigh and closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the water begin to ease her aching muscles.

Her encounter with Stephen shouted for attention, but she pushed the memories of the past day from her. She would think about the repercussions of the letter when she was not so exhausted. If she allowed those thoughts free rein now she knew she would have no peace at all.

When her head began to droop onto her chest she reluctantly climbed out and wrapped herself in the large linen sheet that lay folded next to the tub.

Aline poured a glass of wine. It was rich and smoky and made her head spin pleasantly, so she poured another cup, hoping it would ease her into sleep.

She was sitting on the fur in front of the fire waiting for her hair to dry when it struck her that there were no clothes in the room other than her own—nothing to replace the ones she had taken off. Her dress and undergarments were soiled with dirt and blood, and the smell of the dungeon lingered too much for her to bear putting them back on. Instead she snuffed the lamps and climbed naked into the bed, drawing the curtains closed behind her.

At home she never closed the drapes, preferring to be woken by the light entering the room, but in this strange room she felt vulnerable. She burrowed into the bed, drawing the thick feather-filled coverlet close. The sheets were chilly, and goosebumps broke out all over her flesh, but Aline ignored the chill. Over the past few days she had slept on bare wood, the forest floor and the dirty straw of a cell, so the softness of the mattress outweighed the mild discomfort.

The coolness of the sheets against her body triggered the memory of her dream, and she felt heat rising to her face.

Thinking of Hugh, and the role her unconscious mind had made him play, sent a ripple through her body that she was not wholly at ease with. Suddenly she found herself missing him—missing his laughter and even his mockery. They had not parted on good terms and a small worm of regret burrowed into her. Slowly on their journey she had come to feel safe with him, to think of him not as a friend, exactly, but someone familiar. Certainly nothing more, she told herself. And as for those things she had dreamed about…

As she curled into a ball she wondered when she would see him again and what he was doing. Then, without even being aware it was happening, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

What Hugh was doing at that point was trying very hard to keep his temper. The battle between his urge to barge into the dungeon once more, in order to stand guard outside Aline’s cell, and his sense of caution had been a hard one. He’d contented himself by making his presence felt around the citadel, dropping words into certain ears and ensuring all the guards knew what would happen if any harm befell the visitor.

By the time the sun had set his resolve had been weakening, and he had been in the process of fastening his dagger to his belt when he’d been summoned to Stephen’s chambers. He had unbuckled the dagger and left it in his room, instructing himself to be calm.

On his arrival the Duke had listened calmly to his account of the journey—edited and selective—commiserated over his injury and then, just as Hugh had begun to relax, presented him with the cloak.

‘What possessed you to give her this?’ Stephen shouted, hurling the bundle onto the floor in a rage. ‘I didn’t put her down there to be comfortable. I wanted her broken. So why did you take it upon yourself to give the bitch the means to keep warm?’

‘Do not speak of the lady in that way!’ Hugh growled, the heat rising to his cheeks.

‘Oh,
now
I see!’ The Duke laughed. ‘I know you find it hard to resist a pretty face, but this is glorious.’

Hugh cursed inwardly at his blunder. ‘The lady means nothing to me—a passing fancy,’ he said lightly. Even to his own ears the words sounded unconvincing. ‘She saved my life. Giving her the cloak was a small kindness that cleared the debt I owed her, nothing more,’ he explained, in what he hoped was a more casual voice. ‘Where is she now?’

Stephen pursed his lips and walked slowly round to the fire. ‘She’s not where you left her, if you were thinking of looking,’ he said serenely.

Methodically he prodded at the embers with a poker before turning back to his cousin. When he spoke his voice was full of spite.

‘I asked Lady Aline why she thought you gave her the cloak. She said it had not even occurred to her to wonder—that she had no interest in finding out. Any passion you might have is not returned. What
could
she feel for someone who left her chained in a cart for days other than hate?’

Hugh brought himself up level with Stephen. Evenly matched in height, the two men stared at each other, their faces grim, until Stephen shrugged and turned away with a sneer.

‘If I think your loyalty is in doubt I might well rid myself of you once and for all. Tell me I can trust you, cousin. Swear it!’

‘You know well that I am bound to you by the oaths I swore to your father. My allegiance to you is as it ever was,’ Hugh replied.

Stephen nodded, satisfied. ‘The men you took with you returned with the cart and your horse this morning. Go back to your own estate, Hugh. There is nothing to keep you here.’

Hugh ignored the jibe. He bowed deeply, gathered up his cloak and left the room, thinking intently. He walked purposefully through the citadel until he came to a small house above a bakery and banged on the door until he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. A dark-haired young woman, who gaped in surprise at seeing the nobleman standing there, opened the door.

‘I’m here to see your grandfather,’ Hugh explained.

The girl took Hugh’s arm and pulled him through the door, and led him upstairs to where the old man sat by the fire.

Duncan took one look at the expression on Hugh’s face and gave a rueful smile. ’You had better tell me what happened,’ he said, pushing a stool towards his guest.

Hugh poured out the tale of the past two days, answering the questions Duncan interrupted with, his voice cracking with anger as he spoke of his own deeds.

‘Well, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were falling for her. But what did you think would happen?’ Duncan asked when Hugh had finished. ‘Did you honestly think the Duke would just send her home again and she would accept you as a husband on the journey back?’

‘I didn’t think I would care what he did,’ Hugh answered with a frustrated sigh. ‘Now I’m as good as banished from the citadel. I promised to protect Lady Aline, but I can do nothing for her—not visibly, at any rate. If Stephen suspects I have an interest he’ll put every obstacle in my path.’

He smiled at Duncan’s granddaughter. ‘Kate, I have a request. You work in the castle. Please contrive to watch over Lady Aline in my stead and keep her as safe as you can. If you believe her to be in any danger send word and I will return.’

Kate nodded her agreement with a smile.

Hugh stood up to depart, satisfied that Aline was in the best hands he could leave her in. As he reached the door he paused and pulled the necklace from his pouch. He held it tightly for a moment, lost in his memories, before pressing it into Kate’s hand.

‘This belongs to Lady Aline. Please will you give it to her if you can. Tell her… Tell her I am sorry I was unable to return it myself,’ he said. He shook hands with Duncan, then walked back to his rooms with a lighter step than when he had set out.

* * *

The sound of singing woke Aline the next morning. Her sleep had been one of complete exhaustion, and for the few moments she fancied herself in her own bed. Smiling, she rolled onto her back and opened her eyes before reality crashed back in on her. The sounds were the same, though, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted invitingly through the air.

Wrapping one of the soft blankets about her body for modesty, Aline stuck her head between the curtains. A maid was sweeping the embers from the fireplace. She jumped, putting her hand to her heart, at the sight of Aline’s disembodied head.

‘Oh, my lady, you startled me! I didn’t mean to wake you,’ the servant exclaimed. She stood up and brushed the ash from her apron with a smile. ‘My name is Kate. You travelled here with my grandfather, Duncan. I brought you some breakfast,’ the girl said with a wave of her hand to the table. ‘Please, come and eat while it is hot.’

Aline blushed. ‘I have no clothes. The ones I was wearing were too filthy to put back on,’ she explained, indicating the bundle by the bathtub.

Kate rolled her eyes. ‘Well, isn’t that just like a man to make no such preparations? My lady, you stay there—I’ll bring the tray over to you. Once I’ve finished here I’ll see about finding you something to wear.’

Aline sat back in the bed and Kate placed the tray on her lap. There was a hunk of bread, still hot, with a piece of honeycomb melting in the centre, a plate with fish in a buttery sauce and a mug of milk. Aline ate hungrily while the maid busied herself around the room, her mood lifting as she watched.

Footsteps echoed unexpectedly in the corridor. Kate hurried to the door and spoke quietly to someone outside. At the sound of the answering voice Aline felt faint with disbelief. It was a voice she had never thought to hear again.

She leaped from the bed, barely aware that she was only wearing a sheet, and lurched to the door, her heart in her mouth.

Chapter Eleven

A
line rounded the door in time to see Hugh pat Kate on the shoulder and begin to walk away.

‘Sir Hugh, wait!’ she called, her voice urgent.

Hugh paused at her voice. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes burning into her.
‘Sir?’
He frowned. ‘The last time we spoke you called me by name.’

‘The last time we spoke you left me in a dungeon!’ Aline retorted.

Hugh strode back down the passageway. He towered over her, so close Aline could almost feel the heat of his body.

‘A place you would not have ended up in if you had taken my advice and been more cautious!’ Hugh said forcefully. ‘You make it very hard for me to guard your wellbeing, my lady.’

Aline looked away, not wanting to admit the truth of his words. ‘Why did you come here?’ she asked.

‘I am leaving the citadel,’ Hugh said. ‘I wanted to see for myself that you were safe before I departed.’

‘To see for yourself, but not to see me?’ Aline blurted out accusingly, her heart twisting. She moved towards him but Hugh stepped backwards and she faltered.

She tried not to think what she must look like to him, unclothed as she was. Hugh’s eyes ranged over her body and his eyes widened as though he was noticing for the first time how she was clad. Aline’s dream came back to her in a rush and she felt heat rising in her belly. A low sigh of longing escaped her lips, and at the sound Hugh brought his head up sharply, his body tensing. His jaw tightened and he looked away.

Aline’s blood ran cold. Had she misjudged his feelings all along? She bunched her fists by her sides, fighting the urge to throw herself against his broad chest and plead with him to stay.

‘You weren’t going to say goodbye?’ she asked, her voice a whisper.

Hugh’s lips were tight, his expression unreadable. ‘No, I was not. It would have been better that way. Nothing good can come of my staying here,’ he said darkly. ‘To think about the time we spent together can only cause sorrow or harm.’

He reached a hand to Aline’s face, briefly brushing his thumb across her cheek. His touch burned into her skin and she closed her eyes, overcome with a longing she could barely contain.

‘Farewell, Aline.’

He turned and walked away before Aline could reply.

Kate had been watching the exchange. She took Aline’s hand and pressed something into it. Aline looked down at her necklace. She closed her hand around the jewel and bowed her head so Kate would not see the tears that sprang to her eyes. She had been foolish enough to believe that Hugh cared about her existence, but she had been wrong. The realisation was like a knife through Aline’s heart.

She heard Kate give a small sigh of pity, then leave the room. When she heard the door shut and the key turn Aline lay down on the bed, curled her knees up to her chest and sobbed until she could cry no more.

Kate was true to her word and returned before noon, waking Aline, who had fallen asleep again, fretfully curled in the tangle of sheets. The maid had brought an old woman she introduced as Goodwife Themper, the castle’s chief seamstress.

The goodwife stared at Aline through half-narrowed eyes. She handed Aline a cream linen shift and a grey wool dress. Kate helped Aline into the dress, then laced it as tightly as it would go, though it still hung from Aline’s slim frame. It was too large, but the goodwife explained that she had nothing else to spare.

‘We did not expect to have such a guest as you, my lady,’ she explained as she measured Aline.

She departed with the promise of instructing the seamstresses to create dresses more suited to a noblewoman’s taste as quickly as possible.

Aline’s necklace was lying in the bed, where it had dropped from her hand as she slept. Kate scooped it up and fastened it round Aline’s neck. Aline touched her hand to the jewel, wondering if Kate knew the significance of what she had delivered.

‘My grandfather told me about your journey here,’ Kate said, as if she had read Aline’s thoughts. ‘He said you were very courageous when Sir Hugh was injured, and he isn’t one to waste his compliments!’

‘I don’t feel very brave now,’ Aline whispered, her voice shaking.

The mention of Hugh threatened to tip her back into misery. How could she bear to speak of him, knowing he had left her here?

Aline expected Kate to say that everything would be all right, or that the Duke was a kinder man than Aline thought or some such platitude, but the girl said nothing, only patted Aline’s hand. Somehow this was worse.

* * *

Aline had little need for fine clothes in the first days of her captivity. Her body finally succumbed to the fatigue she had been denying and she felt weak and feverish. For three days she did little but sleep or sit at the window, wrapped in furs to keep her from shivering.

Invitations from the Duke arrived daily, requesting that she join him to dine—and they
were
invitations, not commands or threats. Each one was accompanied by a gift: an embroidered veil one day, a pair of caged wrens the next. She refused them all and released the wrens, having little taste to see creatures in cages, wondering briefly whether the Duke had intended the irony of his gift.

From the tower she could see into the courtyard outside the castle, where people went busily about their lives, unaware of the prisoner watching from above. If she stood in the window arch she could see further into the citadel itself, with its narrow streets winding down to the heavy walls and the hills purple and hazy in the distance.

She pictured the rider speeding from Leavingham, bearing the message that would decide her destiny. In her wilder moments she made rash plans to escape, somehow finding her way out of the castle and down into the city. But then what? Even if she could slip free she had no one to turn to and nowhere to go. The one man who might have aided her had made his allegiances clear.

She thought for hours at a time on Hugh’s departure, running their conversations over and over in her mind and picking at the words he had spoken at their last meeting. If she had heeded his words would he have left? His face haunted her nights: sometimes bloody and lifeless as the wolf tore at his throat, other times smiling, his blue eyes sparkling with promise. She was unable to decide which disturbed her more.

Her face grew hot as she remembered his arms around her. She did not love him—she knew too little about him for that—but her stomach turned somersaults at the thought that she might have in time. She would try to forget the tremor that had passed through her when he caught her eye and the feel of his body as they had ridden together.

Aline came to the conclusion that the protection he had offered had been nothing more than a fiction. He had been kind enough to try to soothe her as he led her into captivity but nothing more.

Gradually her feelings changed from sorrow at his leaving to anger at his deception and he no longer visited her dreams.

Maybe it was this that made her decide, on the morning of her fourth day in the tower, to accept Stephen’s invitation. It was delivered as usual, in the middle of the morning, and sent this time with a glazed dish containing ripe fruits in honey: pears, apricots, and the first of autumn’s blackberries.

Aline read the note expressing the Duke’s hope that she was recovering from her illness and requesting her company that evening. She crumpled it in her fist and was about to throw it in the fire when she hesitated.

Her two encounters with the Duke had been frightening, but in these letters his manner seemed gentler and more courteous. She was lonely, too; it would be at least another two days before an answer arrived from Leavingham and she was unused to such solitude and inactivity.

She smiled at the pageboy, who was waiting patiently for the customary refusal.

‘Tell the Duke that I will join him today.’

Mid-afternoon a heavy wooden box was delivered to the room. Aline opened it curiously. Her exclamation of surprise caused Kate to rush from the fire to her side. Nestling inside the box was a circlet of silver, the threads twisted into spirals and flowers. Rubies glittered in the centre of each twist and caught the sunlight as she lifted it from the case.

‘You should read what the Duke says,’ Kate prompted.

Aline picked up the letter with shaking hands. This gift was so much more extravagant than any he had sent previously. She feared what he expected in exchange.

Lady Aline,

You would do me a great honour if you were to wear this tonight, along with your finest gown.

Your servant, Stephen

‘I think I had better speak to the goodwife!’ Kate remarked.

From then until evening the day passed in a blur of activity. Kate supervised the delivery of pails of hot water and helped Aline bathe and wash her hair in water infused with rosemary. From the chest of dresses that had been delivered Aline chose a sleeveless blue gown embroidered with silver roses over a white chemise with full, billowing sleeves.

She slipped the velvet dress over her head, the cloth falling in heavy folds before gathering in a belt of brocade that emphasised her small waist. The neckline plunged low, hinting at the mounds of her breasts. Kate dressed her hair in thick curls that cascaded down her back. She topped them with the circlet.

Staring at her reflection in the polished brass mirror, Aline felt doubts begin to gnaw. ‘This is too formal. I can’t wear this,’ she protested.

‘Duke Stephen requested that you wear your finest gown, and he sent the jewellery himself,’ Kate reminded her. ‘My lady, you look beautiful,’ she said.

Aline shook her head and looked away. ‘I should have refused his invitation,’ she whispered.

‘Now, my lady!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘It will do you no good to stay in this room dwelling on matters you cannot control.’

‘I know, but I dread what lies ahead of me. How can I spend time with the Duke knowing how he brought me here and what he plans for me?’

‘Well, many a marriage has started on bad terms. Mayhap the more time you spend with him the happier you’ll be?’ Kate suggested, though Aline saw uncertainty in her eyes.

Aline’s mind flew back to Stephen’s words regarding marriage. He was right; it was not for a woman to decide her own fate, however much she wished it. She had been more fortunate than many women who had been given to husbands who cared for nothing but the wealth and power they brought. If she had not been brought here under such circumstances—if her grandfather had arranged a match in the conventional manner—would she have found it an acceptable union?

But as she stared at her reflection another face rose in her memory and her heart lurched painfully. Marriage to someone she did not love might be bearable, but marriage to a man who looked so similar to Hugh would be unendurable. She was glad now that he had left the citadel; he had been wise to do so. She found her resentment melting away.

A knock at the door caused both women to jump. Kate opened it to admit a man, plump, with a straggly beard, dressed in velvet robes. He bowed to Aline with a flourish.

‘Lady Aline, it is indeed an honour. I am Lorrimer, Chamberlain to Duke Stephen. His Lordship bids me to escort you to his chambers,’ he said. He held out an arm and Aline took it with a sideways glance at Kate, who gave a small smile of encouragement.

Together Aline and Lorrimer walked through the castle, with Lorrimer pointing out what he considered interesting features of its architecture. Aline was glad of the distraction and the friendly arm to hold, as both went someway to calm her nerves. She turned to walk towards the Duke’s chambers but Lorrimer held out an arm across her path.

‘Not that way, my lady, His Lordship wishes you join him in the Great Hall,’ he explained as he guided her across the courtyard.

Heralds stood before a pair of large double-height doors and threw them open as Aline approached. As soon as she stepped through them she was overwhelmed by heat and noise. She froze in shock. This was no private supper but a public banquet! She whipped round to run from the hall, her heart racing, but the door had been closed behind her. She had no choice but to stay.

The guests were occupied watching a troupe of jugglers, performing in the middle of the room, so Aline’s arrival went largely unnoticed. Thankful for this small mercy, she moved her eyes around the room as she tried to regain her composure. Stephen sat at the centre of a long table. His face looked grim as an old man standing behind him whispered in his ear.

Then Aline’s heart stopped as blue eyes bored into her from a face she had never expected to see again. Her head swam and she clutched Lorrimer’s arm tightly, fearing she might faint at any moment and longing to run from the room.

Hugh was there, and he looked furious!