The Damsel's Defiance (5 page)

Emmeline drew a deep, teetering breath, her horse slowing to a stop as if sensing her trepidation as they approached. The persistent drizzle had finally worked its way through the fabric of her cloak and now crept, damp and clammy, through the soft material of her
bliaut.

‘How do we get in?’ she called ahead to Talvas, viewing the towering promontory before them.

‘We must ride around to the front gate, through the town,’ Talvas explained. Pulling on his reins slightly, his leather saddle creaked as he turned toward her, his horse’s pace slackening. ‘There’s no access from this side.’ In the dusky half light, she could scarcely decipher his features, just the brilliant flash of his cerulean eyes and the suggestion of a smile. Emmeline shivered, her muscles aching from the long ride. Talvas caught her movement. ‘Having second thoughts?’ he murmured quietly. ‘’Tis formidable, is it not? Like its owner.’

‘Are you trying to scare me?’ Emmeline replied firmly, ignoring the fiery leap of fear in her veins. She lifted her arm to rub the back of her neck, trying to ease the tension.

‘Nay,
mam’selle,
just trying to prepare you. Come, we must continue if we are to arrive before darkness falls completely.’ Emmeline kicked her horse into a gentle walk, reluctantly acknowledging her private relief at their escort. She sincerely doubted that her courage would have pushed her to enter such a castle on her own.

Once through the town, the small party started to ride up the steep ramp to the castle entrance, until their horses’ shod hooves began to slip on the greasy cobbles.

‘Let’s dismount,’ Talvas suggested, his cloak flowing out as he swung his leg over the horse’s rump. ‘The going will be easier.’ Emmeline nodded, aware of the precipitous drop on either side of the slope; there was a distinct possibility of plunging into the undergrowth far below. Before them, two sentries stood guard at the outer gatehouse, the metallic skin of their full armour shining against the bright red of their surcoats emblazoned with the royal arms of King Henry. The two gold lions stood out against the background of red, one lion representing England, one representing Normandy. Both guards stood immediately to attention when they recognised Lord Talvas, remaining still until he and Emmeline had passed under the heavy portcullis before raising a hand in greeting to Guillame.

‘Talvas, my Lord Talvas!’ A gaunt, elegantly dressed noble strode forward across the bustling inner courtyard as eager servants ran to take their horses.

‘Earl Robert!’ Talvas’s face set with an immediate wariness as he swept the hat from his head and ran a hand through his ebony locks. ‘I had no idea that you would be at Torigny.’ His
hair gleamed in the flickering light thrown by a rush torch held by Earl Robert’s servant.

‘Wherever you find the Empress, you will normally find me,’ Earl Robert replied.

‘Then your loyalty as a brother is to be admired,’ said Talvas, formally.

‘And about to be sorely tested.’ Earl Robert frowned, his interested gaze skimming Emmeline’s neat figure, the sweet pale face almost hidden in the voluminous folds of her hood. ‘I know the knight—’ Earl Robert indicated Guillame ‘—but does the maid belong to you? She’s a beauty.’

Emmeline flushed hotly in the darkness, immediately annoyed by her extreme reaction. Talvas scanned her face and body slowly, deliberately. ‘Nay, my lord, we met on the journey from Barfleur. Mam’selle de Lonnieres seeks an audience with the Empress on a particular business matter.’

Earl Robert scowled, the withered lines of his face stern and forbidding. ‘’Twill be difficult,’ he muttered, almost to himself. Suddenly he grabbed Talvas’s arm. ‘I need to speak to you…alone.’ The two men huddled into a corner of the courtyard, deep in the shadows. The torch bearer was ordered to stay by Emmeline, throwing a circle of light over her trim figure as she shifted uncertainly on the spot, conscious of servants rushing about her, intent on some chore or another. Guillame had already left, helping the servants with their horses.

Emmeline stared grimly down at the hem of her
bliaut,
the fabric spattered and stiff with mud from the journey. Saturated with rainwater, her cloak hung heavily from her slim shoulders, as if weighted down with boulders. In her haste to reach Torigny, she had given no thought to her impending appearance before the Empress, or to how she would look, or to what words she would choose. Bubbles of doubt peppered the surface of her consciousness. What in the name of Mary had
she been thinking? She was in no fit state to meet the daughter of the King! But then, if she possessed the one thing the Empress needed, would it matter how she appeared?

Her eyes traced the shadowed breadth of Talvas as he emerged through the gloom, his mouth set in a forbidding line.

‘It is not convenient for you to see the Empress,’ he announced brusquely, ‘but you can stay the night here, and return to Barfleur on the morrow.’

‘Not convenient?’ she squawked, her eyes wide with incredulity. Her body sagged a little with exhaustion. ‘But surely if she knew I was offering my ship, she would wish to see me?’

‘Hush, keep your voice down!’ Talvas clamped a warning hand around her forearm, his piercing eyes glinting dangerously in the darkness.

‘Nay, I will not!’ She rolled her right shoulder in annoyance, trying to shake off his hold. ‘I haven’t come all this way to be fobbed off like this!’ Without thinking, she poked a slender finger into the middle of his chest.

He grabbed her hand and held it fast against the rich wool of his tunic, hauling her nearer to his muscular frame. ‘It is not convenient,’ he repeated under his breath. Under the amber torchlight, his eyes faded to a pale aquamarine.

She dragged her hand from his loose grip. Reluctantly, he allowed her soft fingers to slide against his palm, a palm hard and calloused from years of handling ropes at sea. He looked down at the top of her head, at the simple circlet of filigreed gold holding her veil securely in place, despite the wayward curls sneaking out around her pale forehead. She was breathtaking, he thought suddenly, noting the heightened flush along her cheekbones. A coil of unsteadiness rose within him; a rare whisper of feeling that danced precariously through his chest. Who was this maid to make him feel so, to ignite these emotions so long buried, emotions locked tight within his heart?

‘I said, “I haven’t come all this way to be fobbed off like this!” I will see her!’ Emmeline’s sharp tones kicked him out of his reverie. ‘Mother of Mary, anyone would think that you didn’t want it to happen!’ Her green eyes accused him under the flare of light.

I don’t, Talvas thought, I don’t want you going anywhere near the Empress. For the Earl had just told him that the King was dead, and that Maud wanted to return to England as soon as possible with her father’s body. And he knew why. To claim the throne for herself. And as his loyalty lay with Stephen, his brother-in-law, and the favoured claimant to the throne, he would do everything in his power to stop her crossing the water.

‘If she knew about my ship, then I’m sure she would see me!’ Emmeline announced deliberately in a loud voice, aware that the Earl Robert stood in the corner of the yard, murmuring something to a servant.

‘God, woman, your infernal outspokenness will be the doom of us all!’ Talvas said angrily, engulfing her shoulders with the wide sweep of his arm and starting to steer her toward the main door of the castle.

‘Lord Talvas, hold for a moment!’ The Earl strode over to them. ‘Did this maid just mention something about a ship?’

‘Nay!’ His grip tightened around her shoulders.

‘Aye!’ Emmeline flashed a triumphant look at a scowling Talvas. ‘I heard that the Empress needs to reach England, and I own a ship, anchored in Barfleur.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier, Lord Talvas? I think this young lady will be very useful to us. Very useful indeed.’

Earl Robert led the way to a thick oak-planked door set into the stonework of one of the four circular towers. Rush torches slung into iron brackets on either side of the
doorway illuminated the entrance before they were plunged into darkness on the stairs. Fortunately a rope had been fixed onto the outside curve of the tower and Emmeline reached for it thankfully, using it as a support and a guide. She concentrated hard on maintaining her footing on the damp steps, the weakness of her right leg making her climb difficult. Above her, the heavy footfall of Earl Robert marked his direction, but of Lord Talvas behind her…no sound. She knew he was angry with her, but why? All she wanted was this chance to travel to England to visit her sister and make some money at the same time. How did it possibly affect him?

She gasped reflexively as her toe scraped the edge of the next step, grinding pain arching through her ankle as she grappled to regain her tremulous balance. Do not fall! Do not fall! To show weakness before these men would be the ultimate humiliation—she did not want their help, and she certainly did not want their pity.

‘Steady,
mam’selle.
The treads are uneven here.’ Talvas’s firm hand cupped her elbow as she righted herself, intensely aware of his large body on the step beneath her, warming her back, encircling her jittered senses with its immovable presence. Emmeline bit her lip. How easy it would be to fall back into his strength, to ask for help, to be cocooned in the muscled ropes of his arms. But she wouldn’t do it. She would never give in; her inner strength was enough to let her do this on her own. Her time with Giffard had made certain of that.

‘Don’t trouble yourself on my account, my lord,’ she whispered down to him. ‘Besides, I have the distinct impression that you would prefer me to fall in a heap at the bottom of the steps.’

‘Don’t tempt me,
mam’selle.
’ She jumped as his low voice curled into her ear, and shook her elbow to release his grip, resenting his controlling touch on her. The vehemence of her
movement made him chuckle, and she turned to face him, lips set in an angry line.

‘Why do you resent it so much?’ she flashed at him. ‘’Tis but a simple business transaction that is no concern of yours!’

‘You may come to rue your outspokenness,
mam’selle.
’

‘You’re just trying to scare me. Why are you here anyway? I thought your plan was to travel on to Boulogne.’

He grinned. ‘So anxious to be rid of me,
mam’selle?
I thought you enjoyed my company. Nay, Guillame and I do not choose to ride at night.’

‘Then on the morrow we will go our separate ways?’ Her voice held an edge of relief. She had realised with shock that the difference in step heights meant her eyes were on a level with his mouth. The wide, generous lines of his mouth.

‘We shall see,
mam’selle.
We shall see.’

Her head swam as she felt herself drawn to the tangy smell of him, the glitter of his eyes, the lean, sardonic angles of his face. His hands settled on her neat waist, thumbs roaming outwards to encompass the delicacy of her ribcage. Strings of heat pirouetted from the light pressure of his fingers, streaking across her body into a web of desire. Words of protest formed in her mind, only to burst like bubbles in the growing, churning turmoil that was her chest; her body melted. The rapid pulse of her own breathing echoed in her head as his face leaned into hers…

‘Make haste, my lord Talvas!’ The Earl’s voice rapped down the spiral steps, sloshing over her like cold water. ‘Now is not the time for idle chit-chat!’

‘Nor anything else, my lord!’ Only the thin tremor in Emmeline’s whispered tone belied her befuddled state. Incensed at her own stupidity, she pushed furiously at his hands to find they had already dropped away, leaving her sides cold.

‘My intention was only to steady you,
mam’selle.
’ The guttural rasp of his voice startled her by its terseness. She flounced around and began to climb the stair once more. In the clammy half light, Talvas watched her move away, his eye travelling over the alluring lines of her petite figure, the seductive sway of her skirts. As she had faced him on the stair, the sheer beauty of her delicate features had caught him unawares, carried him back to a time before responsibility, a time before his ill-fated betrothal. For one beautiful moment, she had made him forget who he was. The luminous energy in her face, the feistiness of her nature: all attracted him with a force he was unprepared for, a powerful enchantment that for the sake of his sanity, he had to resist. And resist her he would.

A
fter the darkness of the stairs, the light in the royal solar made her blink in surprise. Emmeline stared around her, astounded by the beauty of the room. Sumptuous tapestries adorned the stone walls, the skill of the workmanship evident in their fine, colourful detail. Furs piled high on the four-poster bed, elaborate curtains tied back during the day and a crowd of thick yellow candles, secured into heavy ironwork candle-stands, spilled fat globules of wax over their sides. Over by the narrow window embrasure, shuttered against the evening draughts, a baby and a little boy of about two winters played on a rug with one of the ladies-in-waiting.

The Empress Maud sat in a carved oak chair in the middle of the chamber, head on one side, listening to one of her ladies playing the harp. Her eyes, red and puffy as if she had been crying, were closed as the sweet notes permeated the room, but one of her ladies bent down to murmur in her ear, alerting her to the visitors. Maud tilted her head, opening her eyes wide to direct an irritable hazel stare toward the threshold. The annoyance slipped from her features as she realised the identity of the guests.

‘Earl Robert.’ She stretched her hand toward her half-brother, white fingers alive with heavy, glittering rings. Earl Robert moved his long frame forwards, knelt and kissed the royal hand. The Empress’s gaze flew over Emmeline’s head to Talvas. ‘And Lord Talvas!’ she exclaimed excitedly. ‘Come, come nearer, my lord. I have not had the pleasure of your company for some months!’ Talvas covered the distance in one stride, before dropping to one knee to kiss the pale flesh of the Empress’s fingers.

‘To be in your presence is an honour, my lady,’ Talvas greeted her formally. ‘I am only sorry we have come at such a sad time for you.’

The Empress’s eyes sprang to the Earl, then back to Talvas. ‘The Earl told you the news.’ Her eyes watered slightly.

Still on the threshold, hidden from the Empress’s view by the broad backs of the two men, Emmeline listened to the exchange with interest, aware of an undercurrent of tension within the room. The ladies-in-waiting, scattered like bright jewels around the chamber, appeared to be immersed in their various tasks, but Emmeline sensed their ears were fixed to the Empress’s every word. As she shifted stealthily from one foot to the other, trying to relieve the pressure of standing on her weak ankle, the Empress noticed her.

‘And who might you be?’ The Empress raised her arm, encased in a tight sleeve of the finest merino wool, to point imperiously at Emmeline. A slight sneer pulled at her lip as she looked toward Earl Robert for an explanation. Acutely conscious that all eyes in the chamber were upon her, Emmeline lifted her chin and took a pace forward.

‘I am Mam’selle de Lonnieres, my lady.’ Her voice echoed clearly around the chamber, and she cursed herself for appearing too bold. To her surprise, the Empress clapped her hands
together, a smile lighting her round face as she turned to Earl Robert in excitement.

‘Aha! You have secured a passage to England, have you not?’

‘I have done nothing,’ Robert admitted, moving to stand close by the Empress’s chair, his hand on her shoulder. His pale gaze raked Emmeline’s slender figure, his mouth twisting with derision as he noted the roughness of her garments. ‘I overheard her say to Lord Talvas that she owned a ship.’

‘Then Fortune smiles upon us,’ said Maud, leaning forward. ‘Come closer, maid, that I may look upon you.’ She gestured with one heavily bejewelled hand.

Emmeline took two paces forward, curtsying as low as she dared. Maud seized her fingers excitedly, dragging her upwards. ‘When can the ship be ready?’

‘The ship is ready now,’ Emmeline explained. ‘It is only a matter of finding crew…and a captain. As the winter storms are upon us, it may be difficult to find willing hands…it may take more coin to persuade them.’

Talvas snorted behind her.

‘Coin I have plenty of.’ The Empress waved her hand dismissively in the air. ‘But we must travel as soon as possible.’

‘It would be advisable to wait until spring, my lady,’ Talvas countered, his voice emerging deep and low from somewhere behind Emmeline.

The Empress screwed up her brown-button gaze with distaste. ‘I can’t wait ’til spring, Talvas! Are you out of your mind? I need to travel to England now!’ Maud half rose from her chair, clearly agitated, her mouth compressed to a thin white line, before she collapsed back into the seat. At the window embrasure, the youngest child started to grizzle. ‘God in Heaven! Will that child never be quiet?’ Maud drew a hand across her forehead. ‘Am I to have no peace in my own chamber?’ Clutching one fist around the arm of the chair, she
turned back to Emmeline. ‘Now, how much gold do you think you will need to be ready to sail in two days’ time?’

Emmeline held back from naming a figure. ‘There is another condition.’ She shifted uncomfortably under the Earl’s constant perusal, a coil of uneasiness snaking through her insides.

‘Name it,’ Maud said.

‘I wish to travel to England with you.’

The Empress gave a narrow, tight-lipped smile. ‘In truth, maid, I would be glad of your company. Most of my ladies are useless at travelling, and I would prefer it if they stayed with the children. You can come as my lady’s maid.’

‘I would prefer to come as your equal.’

Shocked, Maud leaned back abruptly in her chair. A hush fell over the room, as if the walls held their breath. A muscle jerked in the Earl’s sunken cheek.

‘You are bold for a maid,’ the Empress answered slowly, her mouth stretching to a terse smile. ‘But I admire your spirit.’ She shifted her regard to her half-brother, who hung over her chair like a shadow. ‘I like this girl, Robert.’

‘I like her, too,’ he responded. An uneven menace punched his tone. His fingers clenched around the top carving along the chair back, and he looked as if he could scarce restrain himself from openly licking his lips.

Maud switched her beady eyes back to Emmeline, the finely spun silk of her veil glistening in the candlelight. ‘Take care that you do not overstep the mark with me, young maid. I am not known for my kind nature.’ Her brown eyes narrowed. ‘Now, I can offer you twenty gold coins for your ship.’

Emmeline schooled her features to remain blank, to show no reaction to the offer. She had hoped to gain a little more. Slowly, she folded her arms over her chest, mimicking negotiation patterns of old. ‘I will need more than that to persuade Captain Lecherche and his crew. Let us say thirty.’ By naming
a far higher price she hoped they would meet somewhere in the middle.

Earl Robert frowned, and bent over to whisper into Maud’s ear. Maud nodded, then shrugged. ‘We are somewhat at your mercy,
mam’selle.
But remember, as royalty I could have you thrown into the dungeon for insubordination and seize the ship in my father’s name. You are fortunate that I like you. Shall we agree on twenty-five?’

‘I will do it for nothing,’ Talvas moved to stand beside Emmeline.

Her head whipped round as his melodious tones broke her concentration. Fury plucked at her veins as she glared at the rounded curve of his muscular shoulder, the strong cords of his neck. ‘What in God’s name are you doing?’ she hissed, clutching at his forearm. Her mind struggled to comprehend his thinking.

He ignored her, his eyes on the Empress.

Maud clapped her hands, laughing. ‘Dear Talvas, of course! You can captain the ship…’

‘And I have a willing crew,’ he added drily.

‘I still need twenty-five for the hire of the ship’ gabbled Emmeline, aware that the deal was nearly lost. She wanted to kill Talvas!

‘Don’t push your luck,
mam’selle,
’ Talvas murmured. He brushed her clasping fingers away from his forearm. His words dropped over her like a steel net, as if he pulled on an invisible mesh, halting her speech.

The Empress folded her arms over her ample bosom, a faint glow of satisfaction on her face. She murmured to the Earl, before leaning back in her chair, exhausted, and closing her eyes.

Robert laced his fingers before him. ‘We can give you fifteen gold coins for the ship,
mam’selle.
Take it or leave it.’

She had to take it.

Emmeline scrubbed her slim white arms viciously with a soft linen washcloth, still fuming at Talvas’s offer to the Empress. How dare he interfere with her plans? He had effectively robbed her of ten gold coins, damn him! Ten gold coins…money that would have bought her mother and her much needed food over the lean winter months when
La Belle Saumur
would be unused, dragged high up on the beach for safety. But at least with the fifteen coins they would not starve and she still had managed to secure her own passage to England.

‘Shall I wash your hair now, mistress?’ Maud had sent one of her own maids, the docile Beatrice, to attend to Emmeline before the evening’s feasting.

‘Pardon…? Oh, I’m sorry, Beatrice. Aye, go ahead.’ As Beatrice poured a delicious stream of warm water over her loosened hair and down her back, Emmeline flexed the strained muscles in the back of her neck, rolling her shoulders forward to try and relieve the stiffness. Sighing, she tried to allow the heat of the water to steady her frazzled nerves, to temper her annoyance, to try to forget that man! But as she tipped her head back and Beatrice began to soap her scalp, vivid scenes of the day began to play exhaustingly in her mind; images that inevitably, inexorably, led to a pair of bright, disapproving eyes.

The wrought-iron door latch clicked upwards.

Emmeline’s eyes lifted to those of the servant, as her fingers drifted through the layer of sweet-smelling rose petals scattered on the surface of the water. ‘I don’t deserve this attention,’ she murmured.

‘No, you most certainly don’t.’ Talvas’s familiar tones cut across the chamber. Beatrice’s mouth widened to a large ‘O’. Emmeline criss-crossed her arms across her bosom. ‘Get out!’ she cried through gritted teeth, sinking down into the water,
hoping—nay, praying that he couldn’t see over the high level of the wooden bath tub.

‘I came to see if you needed an escort to the great hall.’ Folding his arms high on his chest, Talvas leant against the stone wall. It amused him to see this virago at a loss as to how to deal with him, especially when she had no clothes on. The gleam of her pearly white shoulder hooked his glance, peeking above the edge of the tub. Beatrice flustered around, trying to find a towel to cover Emmeline, knocking her shin against an elaborately carved oak coffer in her haste.

‘I have no need of you ever again,’ Emmeline bit out, anger beginning to take precedence over the embarrassment of her nakedness. He couldn’t see very much from where he stood, of that she was certain. ‘You have caused enough trouble already. How dare you interfere with my plans?’

‘I was just trying to save the Empress some money,’ he replied. ‘You drive a hard bargain, mistress.’

‘I normally do.’ She whipped her head around, eyes sparking with anger. ‘At least I do when my plans aren’t scuppered by some infernal man!’

Talvas grinned, the corners of his mouth turning up to make his face seem much younger than his years. ‘So glad that you hold such a high opinion of me,’ he countered. ‘But with thirty gold coins the Empress could have raised a whole fleet of ships to cross the Channel.’ His tone sounded laconic, amused.

‘She would have paid it—’ Emmeline seethed ‘—if you hadn’t interfered.’

‘Does it really mean that much to you?’ The green depths of his eyes drilled into her. ‘The money, I mean.’

Incredulity washed over her face. ‘Are you completely mad? Of course it does! How else do you think my mother and I have enough to live on?’ She tore her gaze from him and
studied the surface of the water, water that was rapidly losing its heat. Jiggling her legs, the ripples pooling away from her knees and lapping the wooden sides, she tried to warm up. ‘Now get out.’

Talvas smiled. ‘When I’m good and ready.’

Emmeline drew her knees up to her chest, looping her hands around them. She would rather freeze to death than give him the satisfaction of watching her climb from the bath. ‘Why did you offer to captain the ship?’

‘To annoy you.’

She ignored him. ‘Surely you planned to travel to Boulogne?’

‘It matters not to me whether I stay here or return to England.’ Talvas shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘I have castles and lands in both.’

‘And you condemn me for trying to squeeze an extra ten gold coins from the Empress!’ she flung back at him, green eyes blazing. He obviously had no idea what it was like to live from hand to mouth, to worry each day where the next meal was coming from. She shook her head. ‘Why not choose to stay here? I will find another captain.’

‘So desperate to be rid of me,
mam’selle?
Nay, I will travel to England.’ The tempting upper curve of her breast snared his gaze, just visible after she turned her head.

‘Unluckily for me.’ Her fingers scrabbled for the towel that Beatrice held out to her, wrapping it around her shoulders and rising in one movement so that the towel’s soft folds covered her nakedness.

Talvas’s breath caught. Her hair, darkened by the water, straggled out in ripples over the rough gathers of the towel, falling to her hips from the pale shimmer of her face. ‘What’s the matter,
mam’selle?
’ His voice spiralled sarcastically into her ear. ‘Suddenly regretting your generosity to the Empress now that I’ll be at the helm?’

‘It wasn’t supposed to be generosity,’ she spat back. ‘She was supposed to pay well for the privilege.’

‘You still have fifteen gold coins,’ he replied. The humour dropped from his face. ‘Your greed will get the better of you one day.’

She wrapped the towel more tightly around her, her face flushing. He made her transaction with the Empress sound underhand and dishonest. ‘I have done nothing to be ashamed of.’ She drew herself up, conscious that Beatrice had retreated to a far corner of the room. ‘I realise that high-born nobles such as yourself would not dirty your lily-white hands with “trade”, but the rest of us have to earn a living. How dare you judge me!’