Suzanne Robinson (12 page)

“I told your father you’d be here,” Richard growled.

Juliana looked from her cousin to Gray de Valence, who said nothing but smiled at her in a way that convinced her he’d learned it in some heathen harem. She flushed and turned back to Richard.

“Thunder of heaven! What are you doing here?”

Richard scowled down at her. “My lord, your father, sent me to fetch you.”

“Fetch? Fetch? Are you a hound to be set upon hapless creatures, sniffing and baying? I’ve work to do, Richard. God speed you back to Wellesbrooke.”

She was mortified, furious at her father for embarrassing her by setting Richard and the Sieur de Valence, of all men, to catch her and bring her home like some runaway cow. Juliana turned her back on the men, not daring to look at Gray de Valence again. She hadn’t gone three steps when she heard a voice of commanding timbre speak.

“We would fain escort you home, mistress.”

She stopped in mid-stride and rounded on de Valence. He was still astride his horse. Not the black monster, but a calmer bay of equal girth. He rested his forearms loosely on his saddle and smiled that same smile of barely disguised seduction. This morning she might have responded to that smile, had it been accompanied by the
tipping of a lance in search of her favor. At this thought, Juliana’s rage burst into life again.

“I am home, my lord.” She walked away.

“I told you she was stubborn,” Richard said. “Wait, Juliana. You must come back with us. Your mother is distraught, and your lord father nearly had convulsions when he realized you’d gone.”

Juliana paused in the hall doorway. “So he sent you chasing after me as if I were a lost puppy? And what madness possessed you that you dragged a stranger here to witness this folly?” De Valence threw back his head and laughed. Juliana flushed and bit her inner cheek.

“Gray came so that we might have time to discuss certain … private matters,” Richard said. “If you’re embarrassed at his presence, you’ve only yourself to blame for it, running off to this ruin in the midst of nowhere when you should be at your mother’s side.”

“Don’t you chastise me, Richard Welles.” All she had to do was hold her ground. Richard was too much the perfect gentle knight to win against her. She folded her arms and raised her voice. “Go away, both of you. I’m not coming back, so you might as well leave.”

Shaking his head, Richard threw up his hands and glanced at de Valence. “You see? It’s useless when she sets her mind.”

Gratified, Juliana had her hand on the door latch when de Valence laughed again and dismounted. Her eyes grew wide as he began to stride toward her.

“You’re too much steeped in chivalry and courtesy to deal with this unruly little black duck, Richard.”

Her hand shoved open the door as he neared, and she prepared to flee.

De Valence slowed as he reached her and murmured, “Mistress Juliana, by your leave.”

She thought he was bowing to her, but suddenly he
stooped, wrapped his arms around her thighs, and tossed her over his shoulder. Juliana shrieked as her head went down and her bottom went up. Blood rushed to her face. The net holding her hair came loose and black curls brushed the packed earth of the yard. She arched her back and tried to twist out of his grip, but he bounced her on his shoulder. Jolted, the air rushed from her lungs, and she gasped.

Without warning she was tossed in the air and landed on his saddle. She nearly overbalanced, but de Valence swung up behind her, grabbed her shoulders, and planted her between his thighs. Juliana writhed and jabbed her elbows into his ribs.

“Let me go, vile caitiff whoreson! Son of a crow, damned whelp of Satan, sodding beast-lover!” She twisted in his arms and tried to scratch his eyes.

De Valence let out a curse as she nearly struck his face, then pinned her arms to her sides with a grip that almost suffocated her. Juliana squirmed, breathless and red-faced, her hair streaming about her shoulders. Finally comprehension penetrated rage—she wasn’t going to win.

Breathing hard, she went still and scowled at her cousin through tousled hair. “Richard, how can you let this evil knave treat me so? Where is my courteous and gentle knight?”

Richard had watched the spectacle openmouthed. Now his lashes fluttered as he seemed to wake from a daze, and he let out a guffaw that echoed off the walls of Vyne Hill manor. Around them her retainers had stopped in their duties to form a ring around their betters and watch in horrified awe as the richly garbed, silver-haired stranger bested their mistress.

Juliana caught sight of Eadmer and Warin. Each held a rake and an axe. They hovered nearby, but it was clear to
her that they had no thought of confronting these two noblemen. Nor would she have ordered them to, for it would have meant their deaths.

De Valence’s grip on her arms was beginning to hurt. Juliana made another desperate attempt to free herself. She kicked backward, hitting de Valence in the shin. He yelped and swore. Suddenly she was loose, but only for a moment. Then the world tilted as he lifted her in the air. She came down with a thud on her stomach across his legs, her head and legs dangling and her bottom up. His hand came down on the small of her back and easily held her in place.

Juliana shrieked and wriggled, but a few moments’ struggle left her out of breath and exhausted. She stilled and tried to fill her lungs. Hot and humiliated, she indulged in the most lurid of her abundant store of curses. Through the stream of invective, she heard de Valence chuckle.

“I do believe she’s growing weary, Richard.”

He shifted so that his thigh supported Juliana’s breasts. If she could have, she would have taken a knife to him then. She had to settle for pounding his boot. Her blows made no impression on him, and she finally stopped.

“Ah, the little sparrowhawk has lost the strength to screech and claw.”

Juliana contemplated sinking her teeth into his leg, but decided she didn’t like what he might do to her in return. “You’re going to pay for this, you foul scourge.”

“You’re a right insolent and careless maid, Mistress Welles, and a trial to your poor cousin here. No doubt you’ve never been sharply punished for your waywardness, therefore we must have an understanding. You’re going back with us. You can make the journey upright, or over my saddle. Make your choice quickly.” He pressed
down on her back, thrusting her against his thighs. His voice roughened slightly as he went on. “I myself would enjoy bearing you home as you are now.”

The effort to dampen her rage drained Juliana of the last of her strength. She would have to wait for her revenge.

“Let me up, damn you.”

“Are you going to come meekly, like a proper, biddable maiden?”

“I’ll come,” she muttered.

The hand on her back shifted, and she was whipped upright. With a bump she landed between his legs again. Swiping at her hair, she thrust it back from her damp, pink face.

“I’ll ride with Richard.”

“You’ll ride with me. Richard is too accustomed to bowing to your temper.”

Juliana cast another glance of appeal at her cousin, but he had turned away to give instructions to Piers and his own men. She started when hands encircled her waist and lips whispered near her ear.

“Why did you run away, my sweet lark?”

At the endearment, Juliana lost her hard-won control and jabbed her elbow into his ribs. She smiled at his cry of pain, but her smile vanished when he snaked his arms around her and beneath her breasts. He pressed his lips to her ear again.

“Another such attack, lady, and I’ll tie you to a pack horse for the journey.”

“You wouldn’t—”

“I have before, and I will, though it costs me the feel of your body against mine. Someone has to tame that evil disposition of yours, Juliana Welles, and since your family can’t, I will.” He paused for a moment. “And I’m bound to thank God for setting me the task.”

“Tame? Tame? Speak not of taming, Sir Knave. When I see my father, he’ll have your head on a spit for what you’ve done.”

“More likely he’ll hold a feast in my honor. Now be quiet, your strident voice is unsettling my horse.”

Juliana clamped her mouth closed while she watched Richard walk his horse back across the courtyard. De Valence nudged his own mount with his knees. The movement caused his thighs to surge against her, and Juliana felt a strange disturbance within her body. She tried to lift herself away from him, but de Valence tightened his grip and drew her closer. Feeling at once enraged, thwarted, and oddly stirred in some unnameable way, Juliana distracted herself by planning exactly how she was going to make Gray de Valence pay for humiliating her in front of her servants and the entire village of Vyne Hill.

WHEN HE HAD FORCED JULIANA TO RIDE WITH him, he’d been pleased with the idea of being able to hold her for the entire journey. Too late he had realized he’d condemned himself to purgatory and torture. Every step his horse took caused her bottom to surge against him. He could smell the scent of violets in her hair. And his hands … his hands … It took all his considerable will to keep them from sliding up her body to touch her breasts.

By the time the full moon appeared, he was so uncomfortable he relinquished his burden to Richard. All he could do was hope no one had noticed the sweat on his upper lip or the way he strangled the reins to keep from bellowing his frustration. He spent the rest of the journey willing away the effects of touching Juliana Welles.

She was furious with him, but then, she seemed to spend a good deal of her waking hours in a state of irritation. He suspected she was angry at him for some obscure, Julianaish reason, which was why he had tried to find her after the tournament. It was during his search that Arthur had reminded him of the disaster of her near-marriage to Edmund. He’d forgotten it, but now he could understand some of her aversion to knights and barons.

Edmund was the ambitious eldest son of his father’s sister. He’d made a good match with Juliana only to decide on his wedding day that Yolande was a far richer
prize. Guileless and young, the de Say girl had been unable to hide her infatuation with him. Knowing that the path to greatness lay in accumulating land such as that held by Yolande, Edmund had conceived an ingenious way to rid himself of Juliana. He pretended not to have known of her slight impairment, called attention to it at the bedding ceremony, and cried foul. A furor ensued during which the church intervened. The marriage had been annulled.

Gray shook his head as he guided his horse along the track that would lead to the east bridge of Wellesbrooke castle. Edmund had always been a selfish fool, and mean. One of the reasons Arthur was with Gray was that from boyhood Edmund had amused himself by beating and tormenting his younger brother. Once he’d picked Arthur up and thrown him into a beehive. And when they were youths, Edmund had introduced Arthur to a whore without revealing that she had the pox. Luckily Arthur had been too shy to do more than kiss the woman. Now the two brothers rarely saw each other. If they did, chances were they would end up in a deadly fight.

Thus Gray had no illusions about Edmund, his meanness, or his plotting. God be thanked, his schemes usually failed, as did the one concerning Yolande. After ridding himself of Juliana, he’d abandoned the heiress for a richer one, never realizing that neither the king nor his regent had any intention of bestowing either girl on so unimportant a knight as Edmund Strange. And he’d given up Juliana. Wild, ungovernable, exciting Juliana.
No, don’t think about her
. If he thought about her, he’d begin to lust again.

The ride had given him the opportunity to mend their friendship and to query Welles about his feelings for Yolande. To his relief, Richard seemed uninterested in the girl. Still, what had possessed him to accompany Richard
in his chase after Juliana? He should be at Wellesbrooke wooing little Yolande instead of chasing after a spoiled, unruly black-haired witch. Now that his plans for vengeance had been wrecked, he needed to pursue his second aim, which was equally as important.

He was heir to Stratfield, and his father was in ill health. It was imperative that he make a good marriage, an alliance that would bolster Stratfield against any marauding barons who might cast their greedy glances at the family possessions. In addition, he had two sisters, one barely thirteen, the other at the marriageable age of fifteen. They and his ailing father had to be protected, for a family without an heir was at the mercy of predatory relatives as well as barons who wouldn’t hesitate to attack and take Stratfield upon some flimsy pretext.

Yes, it was his duty to make a powerful and fruitful marriage. He needed sons. Yolande was young enough to bear many children, some of whom would survive.

And he had other reasons for having chosen Yolande. Ones he didn’t like to admit to anyone He wanted a girl young enough to be guided, who would look up to him without asking questions about his past. The difference in their ages would provide a certain distance between them. After what had happened to him, what he’d done, he needed that distance.