mockery at Eva’s obvious rebuff. He passed his reins to the stable boy. ‘I see I am dismissed.’ He nodded brusquely towards Lady Katherine, ignoring Eva. ‘Call me if you need any help.’ Climbing the wooden steps two at a time, he disappeared beneath the ornately tiled archway.
‘Oh, God!’ Eva pressed her palm to her forehead. As the stable lad led Bruin’s horse away, she was forced to release her hold on the horse’s mane; wobbling slightly, she hopped over to the handrail of the steps, clutching at the polished wood. ‘What a nightmare! That man is hell on earth!’
‘But handsome, if truth be told,’ Katherine said, following Bruin’s commanding figure as he vanished into the great hall. ‘Why did you run away? What on earth possessed you?’ Her breath billowed out like a cloud into the snow-filled air.
Eva swept the loose end of her linen wimple back over her shoulder. ‘That man—’ she jabbed a pointing finger towards the doorway ‘—that man looks exactly like that thug who abducted me. Lord Steffen. I wasn’t thinking straight; I saw that hair, those eyes, and I thought, my God, he’s come back to fetch me, to finish what he started.’ Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. ‘Remember, Katherine, I escaped before Lord Steffen discovered the full extent of my inheritance; I suspect by now he’s worked out what I hid from him. The man’s so greedy; he’ll want the rest.’
‘He wouldn’t come back for you; it’s been too long.’ Katherine’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘He’s too busy stealing the riches of other unfortunate heiresses.’
‘But I was the only one to escape from him,’ Eva replied. ‘He’s the sort of man who would never forget a slight. He will claim revenge for something like that.’ Shivering, she shifted her feet from side to side, wincing at her throbbing leg.
‘I think you need to stop worrying,’ Katherine said. ‘Let’s go inside. Martha can look at your injury.’
‘Have you found out why those knights are here?’
‘No, I was so concerned about you, I hadn’t the wit to ask. The old knight has asked for bed and board, for one night. I assume they plan to travel further into Wales.’
Eva’s eyes narrowed to a sapphire glint. ‘I don’t like it; they wear the King’s colours and yet they are bothering with the likes of us. Why?’
Katherine shivered. ‘Do you think my uncle has plans for me?’ She glanced up at the front of the castle, at the warm glow of light spilling out from the open door, and chewed worriedly on her bottom lip. ‘I should hate it—’ her breath caught ‘—if we were taken away from this place.’
‘Just be careful what you say in front of them. At least until we know why they are here. Despite our lack of menfolk, they will regard us as rebels to the Crown.’
A sift of vulnerability crossed Katherine’s face. ‘I hope you are wrong, Eva.’ She shook her head decisively, as if dismissing the unwelcome thoughts. ‘Now, can you manage, or shall I fetch someone?’
Eva pursed her lips together, staggering awkwardly to the steps. Snow whirled around her, driven into the sheltered bailey on a sharp little breeze. Bruin’s cloak dragged on the cobbles, hampering her movement. She swung the wool from her shoulders, dumping the cloak into Katherine’s arms. ‘Here, have this; I can’t move at all!’ Placing her uninjured leg on the bottom step, gripping the rail, Eva pulled herself up with grim determination, slowly, one step at a time.
‘Eva, this is impossible! This will take all night. Let me fetch someone to carry you.’
‘No! You go ahead, Katherine. It won’t take long,’ she replied stubbornly. She could not allow herself to be carried into the great hall, in full view of everyone, in full view of Lord Bruin’s mocking gaze! Sweat gathered along her hairline with the effort of hauling herself up. Katherine remained alongside her, matching Eva’s pace until they finally climbed the one shallow step into the great hall.
The raftered chamber was full of people, eating, talking and laughing. Fresh straw covered the flagstone floor; dogs trotted up and down between the trestle tables, scavenging for scraps of food, the occasional bone flung in their direction. A huge fire roared beneath the thick limestone lintel of the fireplace, situated halfway along one white-plastered wall. Giant, ornate tapestries decorated the plain plaster, each one a riot of coloured thread, depicting scenes of hunting, or great battles. Katherine’s family crest, the golden falcon of the Montagues, was everywhere: in the ornate bosses set into the curving ends of the rafters, above the windows, embroidered extravagantly across the door curtains, gold thread against blue velvet.
Katherine’s hand on her elbow, Eva slumped on to the nearest bench, the peasants alongside nodding briefly at her without ceasing to shove food into their mouths. Their eyes paused momentarily on her wan face, gazes shifting away immediately. A nursemaid was of no interest; she was one of them, a servant of the Montagu family. Peering across the rows of bobbing heads, the faces flushed with mead, Eva checked the knights seated at the top table at the other end of the hall, making sure that he, Bruin, was as far away as possible. Sitting next to the older knight, his gold-red hair shone out like a beacon. He was laughing at something, tipping his head back. The sinews in his neck wrapped powerfully around the shadowed hollow of his throat, up into his bristly beard. An extraordinary sensation unfurled in her belly, a flickering pang of longing. She couldn’t explain it.
‘You’d better go up there, Katherine. Leave me now, otherwise it will look strange that you fuss over me so much.’
‘If you’re sure...?’ Katherine hesitated, bundling Bruin’s cloak against her middle. ‘I’ll send someone to fetch Martha; she can help you to your chamber.’
‘I’ll eat first,’ Eva said. ‘Please, don’t fuss. Just go. And try to find out why those men are here.’
Gilbert watched Katherine’s stately figure move through the great hall. Her progress across the uneven stone floor was slow, as she stopped to engage in conversation along the way: she chatted with the peasants who worked in the fields, the soldiers who kept the castle safe from intruders. She smiled and listened with attention, dropping her head considerately if an older person spoke too quietly, the gemstones on her long fingers flashing in the candlelight as she reached out to touch a shoulder or cup an elbow, before moving on.
‘The perfect lady of the manor,’ Gilbert said, chewing thoughtfully. ‘What a shame I have to take her away from all this.’ Reaching for the earthenware jug of red wine, he poured himself another goblet. A bead of liquid spilled from the mouth of the jug as he set the heavy vessel back down clumsily; it landed on the pristine white tablecloth, spreading out in a crimson circle.
‘When are you going to tell her?’ Bruin speared a slice of pork with his eating knife, depositing it on his pewter plate. The meat was well roasted, crispy. His belly growled; he was hungry after the full day of riding.
‘Tonight. But after I’ve eaten. She’ll take the news badly and I have no intention of missing such a fantastic spread of food!’ Gilbert patted his stomach. ‘But I’ll give her two or three days to pack, which means I can avail myself of this wonderful hospitality for a little longer.’
‘Two or three days?’ Bruin grinned at him. ‘Is the King not waiting for her?’
‘Edward will meet me at my castle in a sennight.’ Gilbert wiped
