The Hidden Heart (4 page)
She dismissed her maid and, heart racing, settled back into the commodious seat of her father's great chair and reached out to clasp the carved armrests in her hands. The appearance, at least, of command. The chair held pride of place on the dais at the far end of the great hall from the stairs, providing her with a clear view of the entire chamber. It also placed her on display.
Talbot led the way, the sunlight streaming through the tall windows gleaming off his blond hair and the silver embroidery adorning his surcoat. Some might count him handsome, but to her he appeared too polished, too finely turned out for a true warrior.
Gillian lowered her gaze lest he find her staring, and remained seated when he stepped up onto the dais and swept a low bow before her. “Lady Gillian.” He reached for her right hand and raised it to his lips, allowing her a glimpse of his unusual violet eyes before she glanced past him at his men. “Rumors of your beauty did you scant justice, I fear.”
“Milord,” she murmured. She bit back a snort of disgust at his empty flattery and sought to look more closely at his retinue where they stood grouped before her on the main floor of the hall, for something seemed familiar....
“Permit me to introduce my men,” Talbot said as he moved aside, allowing her a clear view of them. “Chief among my vassals isâ”
Gillian rose to her feet when the man stepped up onto the dais and swept her a bow so low, it seemed almost a mockery. It took all her control not to lash out with her hand to strike his beloved, lying face.
Only the faint negative shake of his head kept her from saying the name before Talbot did, that and the fact that her shock at the sight of him was so great, she doubted she could force a sound past her lips.
Talbot's words sounded in her muddled brain, echoed loud over the confusion reigning there.
Rannulf FitzClifford.
Chapter Four
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he'd never thought to see him again.
he'd never thought to see him again.
Now that he was here, what should she do?
Force of will alone lent Gillian the strength to remain on her feet, to jolt her heartbeat back to its familiar rhythm, to steady her hand and allow her to rest her fingers upon Rannulf's battle-hardened palm. “I am honored, milady,” he murmured. The low, rough timbre of his voice, combined with the heated glance he sent her way, sent a traitorous ache throughout her body even before he brushed his lips over the back of her hand.
His gaze returned to her face, his eyes widening for some reason before they fixed upon her. The questions she saw within the deep brown warmth of his eyes startled her from her reverie.
How dare he stare at her thus? She looked away and focused on a point just past the breadth of his shoulders.
“Milord,” she said, giving a terse nod.
The urge to snatch her hand free was nigh impossible to fight, but she eased her fingers from Rannulf's grasp and tried to ignore his presence as Talbot presented the lesser of his vassals. Calling upon Lady Alys's training, Gillian remained polite but cool, her welcome no more than courtesy demanded.
Once Talbot had finished, she motioned Sir Henry and Will forward. She made them known to the others, wondering all the while if they'd reveal, through word or deed, that Rannulf FitzClifford was no stranger to them. But neither man betrayed by so much as a scowl any reaction to his sudden presence.
Gillian felt her ireâand her confusionârise to even greater heights. Did no one but she wish to rant and scream, to show some response to the traitor in their midst?
Her men knew nothing of Rannulf betrayal, she reminded herself. She drew in a deep breath and willed herself to calm. They knew the man, even though they were ignorant of what he'd done. Why didn't they...?
Sir Henry leaned close. “Milady, you don't intend to keep 'em standing about in here much longer, I trust,” he whispered, his tone. dry. He urged her to turn slightly away from the others. “You'd best bring this audience to an end soon, else your guardian's apt to start slavering like a hound down the front of that fancy surcoat of his.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Talbot. Indeed, his eyes held the look of a man much taken with what he saw. And she found the smile lighting his handsome face far too arrogant to acknowledge. Stifling a shudder, she nodded and resumed her seat in the great chair.
“Sir Henry will show your captains to their lodgings,” she told Talbot. “And you may trust Will to settle the reminder of your troops in the barracks.” Curling her fingers about the carved armrests, she drew comfort from the memory of her father's hands lingering in the selfsame spots. “You and Lord Rannulf are welcome to stay within the keep, of course.”
Talbot's grin widened at her words, and he accepted with a nod.
While her men led the others away, Gillian rose with as much grace as she could muster and motioned Ella forward. “If you would care to bathe now, Ella will show you to the bathing chamber and assist you. I will have food prepared for you, and your rooms readied, while you refresh yourselves.”
Ella stepped down from the dais and curtsied. “If you'll come with me, milords?”
Talbot bowed to Gillian. “I'll see you at supper, then, milady, if you'll deign to join us?” he asked.
“Of course,” she murmured.
His smile broadening, he bowed again and turned to follow Ella.
Rannulf stepped forward and reached for Gillian's hand once again. She gave it reluctantly, fuming while he pressed his lips to her fingers, then grasped her hand more tightly when she would have pulled free. “I would speak with you later, milady,” he told her. His dark brown eyes held hers captive. “When we've a chance to be private.”
“I think not, milord,” she said, her voice as cold as her heart.
“FitzClifford,” Talbot called. Gillian took advantage of Rannulf's start of surprise to free herself. “Leave my ward alone,” he chided, his tone amused. “Else you'll frighten her off with your ardor. At least allow us a chance to know her.” He paused near the door. “Are you coming?”
“Later, Gillian,” Rannulf repeated, his voice too low for Talbot to hear. He straightened. “I beg your pardon, milord,” he called as he turned on his heel and crossed the hall. “âTwas not my intention to disturb the lady.” He joined Talbot and Ella. “I was much struck by her beauty, 'tis all.”
“Indeed?” His unusual violet eyes alight with amusement, Talbot sent yet another bow her way. Seething, Gillian nodded in return, polite but cool, and stood watching, waiting for them to leave, but it seemed Talbot wasn't finished yet. “I cannot fault your taste, FitzClifford,” he added as he turned to leave the chamber. “But see that you keep your distance. I find that I'm feeling protective of my ward....”
Gillian remained on her feet as Talbot's voice trailed away. As soon as the sound of their boots upon the stairs faded, however, she slumped into the chair. Hands shaking, she reached up and slid the veil and circlet from her head and dropped them into her lap.
Blessed Mary save her, how could she bear this? She closed her eyes, but all she could see was her new guardian's well-tailored clothes, the fantastic, elaborately embroidered design covering his surcoat from neckline to hem. The man had journeyed from London into the fastness of the Marches, yet he appeared more finely turned out than anyone she'd seen in her life. Did the king honestly believe that a man like Talbotânaught but a showy popinjay, from what she'd seen thus farâcould protect her people?
She drew her hand over her face and opened her eyes, erasing the image. âTwould serve her better to send word to Prince Llywelyn...nay, even to her cousin Steffan himself, to come take command of I'Eau Clair, than to believe Lord Nicholas Talbot competent enough at the art of war to defend them against the most meager of threats.
Could that be why he'd brought Rannulf with him? No matter what she thought of Rannulfâand what did she think of him? she asked herselfâshe could not deny he was a fierce warrior, strong and well trained. Her father had believed Rannulf capable of holding I'Eau Clair, had offered him her hand and all that went with itâthe keep, the lands, her heart....
Her fingers tightened about the metal band in her hand until the jeweled cabochons bit into her palm. To see Rannulf here, once again within these walls, was a situation she'd given up all thought of ever having to face.
Gillian looked down at the circlet and felt her heart falter. It had been months, perhaps years, since she'd last seen it. Why today, of all days, had Ella placed this circlet upon her head?
Giving vent to the rage welling up from deep inside her, she leapt to her feet and hurled the offending item across the room. It clattered against the stone wall and fell to the floor, the puny sound in the cavernous room doing little to satisfy her.
Weariness weighting her movements, she left the dais and crossed the rush-strewn floor, the sharp scent of mint rising from beneath her boots serving to clear away her anger.
She stooped to pick up the circlet, smoothed her fingertips over the flowers etched into the soft copper as she'd done so often in the past. How many times over the years had she sat staring out the window, the copper and jade band clutched in her hands while she stroked the beautiful design and turned her thoughts upon the man who'd given it to her?
A tear trickled down her cheek as she smoothed her fingers over the misshapen circle, then pressed the cool metal to her lips.
'Twas as battered as her heart, she thought, choking back a mirthless laugh. And her heart was like to become more bruised yet, the longer Rannulf remained within her sight.
Gillian dabbed at her wet cheek with the trailing end of her sleeve and straightened her shoulders.
'Twas no wonder Rannulf had stared at herâshe could only imagine what he'd thought, to see that circlet upon her head.
But how could Ella have suspected Rannulf FitzClifford's presence in Talbot's party?
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Rannulf followed Talbot and Ella to the bathing chamber near the laundry, his mind brimming with confusion. He went through the motions of bathing, his brain registering Talbot's continuing commentary about Gillian's beauty even as he silently berated himself for a fool.
If he kept on as he'd started, 'twould be no time at all before Talbot discovered far more about Rannulf FitzClifford than Rannulf had ever planned to reveal. By the rood, once he'd noticed the copper circlet Gillian woreâhis gift to her the day she'd given herself to him body and soulâit had been all he could manage to keep from sweeping her into his arms, Talbot be damned!
He drew in a deep breath and ducked his head beneath the steaming water, drowning out Talbot's voice and allowing himself a few moments to clear his thoughts. He could not continue to remind himself of the past. 'Twas long gone, taking the dreams of his youthâand any hope of a future with Gillianâwith it.
He could scarce afford to jeopardize all that he had accomplished for Pembroke, simply for the gift of Gillian's presence in his life.
Not that she'd have aught to do with him at any rate, to judge by her attitude toward him and Talbot both. The Gillian he'd come to know would have welcomed guests to I'Eau Clair with warmth and a genuine smile.
The cold, imperious woman who had greeted them from the dais was a stranger to him, the circlet notwithstanding.
Rannulf popped his head up out of the water and took a gulp of air. He'd be naught but a fool to read anything into the fact that she'd worn his gift. She'd no way of knowing he was part of Talbot's party. 'Twas a coincidence, nothing more.
Though 'twas surprising she'd kept it after his defection, he mused.
He rubbed his eyes. At least she'd no knowledge of the hateful words he'd penned upon the betrothal agreement. Otherwise he'd never have escaped the hall intact.
He accepted the towel Ella held out to him and wiped his face, then glanced up at the old woman m surprise once her stern glare made an impression upon his befuddled brain.
“My lady is a virtuous maiden, milord,” she said, indignation lending her voice an arrogance not usually heard from a servant.
In his shock, he barely resisted the urge to snap out a responseâany responseâto her words. Did she think to take him to task here?
Now?
Now?
And did she suspect...?
Her scowl deepening, Ella looked past him to Talbot, settled into a tub nearer the fire, and he realized she'd spoken to his overlord, not to him. What had Talbot said that he'd missed?
“I care not what the custom is elsewhere, milord, but at IâEau Clair 'tis not proper for a young lady, innocent and unwed, to bathe a man.” Ella drew a length of toweling from the stack draped over her arm and fairly snapped it into Talbot's outstretched hand.
“âInnocent' and âunwed' don't necessarily go together,” Talbot pointed out with a grin. Ella drew herself up and stared down her nose at him. Talbot sat up straighter and held out a placating hand before she could say more. “Though I've no doubt your mistress is pure as the Blessed Mother herself, of course.”
Rannulf watched Talbot carefully; the other man's apparent sincerity lightened the burden of concern he carried. He'd troubles enough to deal with already, without having to worry that Talbot might see Gillian as tainted goods, fair game for his obvious attraction to her.
And if Talbot ever discovered the full truth of Gillian's purity or lack thereofâand Rannulf's part in it...
No sense wandering down that peril-strewn path unless they must.
He knew of no reason why the subject should ever arise, so long as he found a chance to speak with Gillian as soon as possible.
Assuming she agreed to do as he asked.
“Indeed, you'd better believe it.” Ella gave a rude snort. “And as for the bathing, I care not whether the guest be King John himself! My lamb'll not be helping any man with that chore, not while I'm here to stop it,” she added with a decisive nod.
Stifling a chuckle at Ella's vehemence, Rannulf rose, wrapped the towel about his waist and climbed out of the tub. He turned to face Talbot, curious about how the arrogant lord reacted to the maidservant's words.
He didn't seem to have taken offense. Indeed, he appeared at his ease as he slicked back his hair with his free hand and swiped the towel over his face. “I'm pleased to see that my ward has so staunch a champion.” He settled back against the padded edge of the tub with a sigh. “'Twill make my task easier, for I know little about protecting a lady's virtue.”
Ella bobbed a brusque curtsy in response and turned away, muttering under her breath all the while. “Too busy relieving 'em of it, most like,” Rannulf heard her say as she walked past him, crossed the chamber and knelt by the hearth to tend the fire.
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