Once a Bride (21 page)

Simon and Marcus had warned him she wouldn’t give in easily to returning home, nothing he hadn’t known himself. He’d just found her and was having trouble not wrapping his arms around her. He certainly didn’t want to argue. With his insides all churned up, how was he supposed to present clear arguments to … except that was the wrong way to go about winning.

Orders, not cajoling, would win the day.

“You are not going any farther south than this spot. I am taking you home.”

She raised an eyebrow. Her fingers stilled but didn’t leave his arm.

“But I must go on. Roland, my father is in dire need of aid and I cannot forsake him.”

“You sent for Geoffrey and fulfilled the requests in your father’s message. Eloise, there is naught more you can do for him.”

“There
must
be.”

“Such as what?”

“I will not know until I speak with my father.”

He was getting nowhere. He should just pick her up, put her back on her horse, and lead her north, toward home, where she’d be safe. The thought tempted mightily, but the plea in her eyes stopped him cold.

Still, giving into her whim, no matter how strongly felt, wasn’t acceptable.

“If you will not listen to reason for your own sake, then think of your father. He believes you home, protected from the worst of what is to come. If you go to London, then he must not only be concerned for his own situation, but will worry over you. Sir John does not need the distraction of having his daughter running loose in the city and at risk.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Geoffrey will be there soon.”

“Not for several days, too much time for Kenworth to learn you are in the area and take advantage. The risk to you, to your father’s cause, is too great, Eloise. ’Tis best you return to Lelleford. Now.”

“Beg pardon, my lord.”

Roland glanced over his shoulder at the approaching messenger, who he hadn’t yet strangled for his part in Eloise’s escape. “Why for?”

To Daniel’s credit, he didn’t cower. “It may be best for you to continue to the inn for the night. ’Tis but an hour away and her ladyship needs the rest. She is in pain and—”

Roland spun back to Eloise. “You are in pain?”

She shot Daniel an irritated glance. “Not so much that I cannot ride.”

“But not far,” the messenger stated. “Truly, Sir Roland, I only stopped here because every time I looked back I saw her strain become worse. I began to worry if she could keep her seat. Even now she is not steady.”

Her hand tightened on his arm. “That will be enough, Daniel! My legs still hold me up.”

“Barely,” the messenger murmured, then backed away toward his mount.

Roland could have kicked himself for not seeing the obvious before, for not realizing she held on to his arm not because she wanted to touch him, but for balance. His own legs felt the abuse of a punishing ride, and he was used to it. Eloise wasn’t.

The time for both orders and arguments had come to a halt.

He picked her up. Ignoring her feeble protests, he strode toward the stallion that could easily carry them both. And now that he had Eloise in his arms, snug against his chest, right where he wanted her, he loathed letting her go.

“Which inn, Daniel?”

“The Boar’s Head in Windsor.”

“Lead on. Timothy, lead Eloise’s palfrey.”

“I can ride, Roland,” the minx in his arms grumbled. “If you ride with me, I do not have to worry about you falling off your horse.”

“You have no cause to worry about me at all.”

She was wrong, but that argument was for another time.

Once mounted, he settled a stiffly irate Eloise across his thighs, arranged her cloak over her legs, and nudged the stallion forward. The messenger set a swift but not harsh pace.

They rode in silence. Roland did his best to concentrate on the road and not the woman who began to reluctantly relax, eventually snuggling against him, her head pressing against his shoulder.

He smelled the threat of rain. Heard the hoofbeats that assured him Timothy rode close behind, and the steady jingle of his stallion’s tack that seemed to echo his own breathing.

But mostly he felt Eloise’s solid but not unduly heavy weight press against his thighs, her warmth seeping through layer upon layer of garments and chain mail. His loins heated, and the thought of a soft bed at the inn rose up to taunt him.

Perhaps tonight…

“Roland, I need to go to London.”

The fantasy faded.

“You need to go home.”

“But we are so close, only a half day’s ride away.”

“Eloise, I cannot in good conscience allow you—”

“Then silence your conscience by coming with me.” Another foolhardy notion.

“I cannot. My duty to the king demands I return to Lelleford.”

She squirmed, and his loins flared to full flame. Her hand came up to his chest to cover his heart. “Your damned duty. Can it not be set aside for a few days?”

“Nay, and you know it.”

“I expected either Simon or Marcus to chase after me, not you. Have you not already abandoned your duty?”

A valid point, but of no consequence.

“Your protection is part of my duty. Now that I have you we must return with all haste.”

She was silent for a few moments. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Eloise, give over. I am not listening.”

“Take me to London. Let me see my father. If he then orders me home, I will return with you without argument.”

“Eloise—”

“I beg you, Roland. I need to see him, ensure he is not in a filthy dungeon, has food and drink. See for myself that he is well and unharmed. Please, Roland. A day or two is all I ask.”

His heart melted at the bleakness in her voice. Nor had he ever dreamed to hear this strong-willed, confident woman beg. Either it was a measure of her upset or she was playing him for a fool. He pushed back her hood, tilted her chin upward.

The moisture glittering in her sapphire eyes tore at his soul.

“No argument?”

“Not a word of protest, I give you my oath.”

A raindrop hit her high cheekbone. She never flinched nor did she brush it away. The drop hovered for a moment before sliding away on its own.

Unable to hold back, he kissed her—the sealing of a bargain borne out of his own needs—and was rewarded with a satisfied sigh. Because she liked the kiss or because she’d won?

He’d probably regret his weakness later, especially when he had to explain his actions to the king. But for now he had Eloise securely in his arms, their mouths melded in the sweetest kiss he’d ever known, and the rest of the world could go hang.

Though he considered the danger low, Roland slept fitfully — eyes closed and ears open — seated outside Eloise’s room, his back against her door.

At dawn, he opened the door a crack, heard no noise but her soft, steady breathing, then crept away before his lust overcame his better sense.

One of the problems with sleeping were the accompanying dreams, fed by yesterday’s ride and kiss. Of Eloise, of her warmth and sparkling eyes, of her soft smiles and how well she fit against him. He’d wanted more of her and suffered for it.

She needed her sleep, had damned near fallen face first in her supper last night, and required her strength for the ride today. Only a villainous lout would deprive her of her needs simply to assuage his own.

Ye gods, but he’d gone ridiculously soft. He’d yielded, agreed to take Eloise to London, and ’twas too late now to go back on his word.

He eased down the stairs and through the inn’s homey and now abandoned common room, his destination the stable, his intention to talk to Daniel, who should now be preparing for the last leg of his journey.

Nay, he hadn’t strangled the man yet, and wouldn’t. Roland could hardly berate Daniel for allowing Eloise to talk him into this foolish journey, not after Roland allowed her to talk him into continuing it.

Roland brushed aside the nagging guilt for abandoning his duty at Lelleford and pushed away his utter foolishness for allowing Eloise to have her way. What was done was done, and the quicker over the better.

Daniel greeted him with a smile that conveyed understanding of Roland’s turmoil, and pleasure at having been relieved of the burden of Eloise.

“A good morn to you, my lord. Is Lady Eloise yet sleeping?”

“Soundly. I imagine she will be out awhile longer, and will be unhappy about not taking leave of you.”

“She is gracious. Perhaps we will meet up again in London.”

Roland had his doubts. Daniel served Lancaster, an earl Roland didn’t plan to allow within shouting distance of Eloise. The earl might be her father’s ally, but of late Roland had developed a healthy distrust of earls.

“If we do not, pray give Lancaster our thanks for sending you to Lelleford. ’Tis well her ladyship learned of her father’s whereabouts, even if it did lead to this.”

Daniel shook his head, chagrined. “I tried to talk her out of making the journey, but …”

Roland laughed lightly, imagining the poor lad trying to stand firm against Eloise’s pleas. “Do not be too hard on yourself. She is hard to resist.”

“Nigh on impossible.” Daniel swung up into the saddle. “To do the lady credit, she is also hardy. Not only did she keep up, she never complained. I swear she would have fallen off her horse before she deigned to ask me to slow down or take an added rest. Most women are not so sturdy or steadfast.”

Or headstrong, or single-minded, or so accustomed to getting their way.

“She is … uncommon.”

“An apt description.” Daniel looked up the road. “Is there any other message you wish me to deliver? To Sir John, mayhap?”

Roland had given thought to warning Sir John about Eloise’s visit, then decided not. Best to let father and daughter meet on equal footing, not give the father time to dream up possible punishments for her actions.

Roland intended to secure lodging for tonight, take her to see her father, and on the morn head back to Lelleford. Not for one moment did he doubt Sir John would vehemently order his wayward daughter to go home.

“Nay, no message. Take care on the road.”

“You also, Sir Roland. My regards to the lady.”

Roland watched the messenger raise a cloud of dust in his wake, then entered the stable. Timothy still slept, wrapped up in a blanket in his horse’s stall. Roland let the lad be. No sense waking the squire until Eloise stirred. Time enough then to prepare for the day ahead.

Quietly he slipped into the palfrey’s stall and checked the shoe that had thrown a nail, thankful the horse hadn’t also thrown the shoe, and possibly stumbled, and thrown the rider, and … he shook off the morbid thoughts that had plagued him during most of yesterday. The new nail seemed solid enough to hold the shoe in place until turned over to Lelleford’s smithy.

He’d not set a fast pace into London, allowing Eloise several rests. If they made the city by midafternoon, ’twould give him plenty of time to secure lodgings and for Eloise to see Sir John.

They’d be in and out of the city within a day.

She’d sworn him an oath, and he intended to hold her to it.

“Have you ever been to London?”

Eloise feasted on the sight of the western gate, the huge stone arch allowing passage through the thick walls that surrounded the city.

“Twice. Once when I was a little girl, barely old enough to have memory of it. Then again about seven years ago. That I remember quite clearly.”

“What was the occasion?”

She glanced at Roland, who’d been making conversation all morning, mostly, she suspected, to keep her mind off her numb bottom. He’d set a leisurely pace, stopped several times. She found the consideration endearing, but at times had wanted him to pick up speed just to have the journey over with.

Was he truly interested? And how much should she tell him?

“Father was to attend a parliament, one where most of the bishops would also attend. He had his sights set on a church appointment for Geoffrey, so he brought my brother to talk to several of the bishops to see what could be accomplished.”

Roland frowned slightly. “That would not leave your father much time to look after you. I am surprised he took you with him.”

Eloise sighed inwardly. She should really keep her mouth shut, but Roland already knew her a willful female, so might as well hear the tale.

“He did not take me. I abhorred the thought of being left alone—again—at home while the two of them were about to embark on what I thought was a grand adventure. I snuck into a tarp-covered baggage cart. By the time Father caught me, ’twas too late for him to do aught about it.”

Did she detect an effort to withhold a smile?

“When were you caught?”

“As they were unloading the cart to haul the baggage into the rooms Father had let.”

“So you spent two days bouncing in the back of a cart.”

“Three.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “How did you manage without someone seeing you? I mean, you had to crawl out sometime. To eat. For relief.”

She’d been rather proud of her accomplishment, even though her father turned her bare backside a bright red afterward. Still, he’d not sent her home, just as he wouldn’t send her home now, she hoped.

“I slept the day away and climbed out at night for … necessities. One can get along for several days on dried fruit and nuts.”

“You planned ahead, took food along.”

“Well, nay. Sacks of them were in the cart.”

He was still shaking his head when he pulled ahead of her to speak to the guard at the city’s gate. Given permission to enter, he signaled her to follow.

The lanes were as narrow as she remembered. The upper stories of the buildings—filled with shops on the bottom and residences above—had been built out over the street to create a canopy, casting the streets and people below into shadow.

Eloise endured the foul smell of bodily refuse in the gutters, of the stench created by too many people crowded into too small an area. ’Twas not easy to hold one’s breath until they turned onto a wider lane. Roland slowed his horse, signaled her to again come alongside.

“If Geoffrey went to the Church, then why is he now married to … Leah, is it?”