Sin and Surrender (20 page)

Lady Margaret had of course heard Juliana’s tale of a cruel father.

“There are many who believe I should not have submitted.”

“Should you have killed yourself then? Is that not one of the worst crimes in God’s eyes?”

Juliana grinned. “I like you, Lady Margaret.”

She blushed and shrugged, then smiled herself. “And I like you, Mistress Juliana. Could I simply call you by your Christian name? I would so like it if I was just Margaret to you.”

“Aye, Margaret, ‘twould be my pleasure.”

Margaret looked over her shoulder, then sighed. “I must go. My mother requested my presence. Shall I see you this afternoon at the festival?”

“The festival?”

“Aye, out on the tournament grounds and in the village.
There will be quite a celebration in anticipation of the beginning of the tournament tomorrow. You will enjoy it!”

“My thanks. I will see you there.”

Margaret waved and hurried back toward the keep.

Paul stood stiffly at Timothy’s side, while his foster father drank thirstily from a wineskin. Paul glanced behind him occasionally at Juliana, who spoke animatedly with Lady Margaret.

“We met the daughter of the earl of Staincliff,” he said, gesturing with his head toward Juliana.

Timothy wiped his mouth on his bare forearm and eyed the two women.

“She says her father is acting far too serious, for a mere tournament. Perhaps he is one we’re looking for.”

“Perhaps.” Timothy continued to watch the women. “Juliana seems to be enjoying herself.”

“As much as she can knowing all think her a prostitute. But aye, she knows how to behave in character. She tells me constantly how well trained she is.”

Timothy sighed. “She accepted this assignment, Paul,” he said softly.

“And you knew she would.”

Timothy looked around to find no one close enough to overhear them. “There are few Bladesmen who refuse an assignment, even yourself.”

“But I am one of the few who did refuse. She has difficulty understanding that.”

“Does she know why you left us?”

Paul stiffened, but Timothy could not possibly suspect that Paul knew the connection between Juliana’s father and the League. “The experiment, you mean?” Paul asked sarcastically. “Aye, and she’s defending you and the League to the bitter end. She is too loyal. I only hope she’s not hurt.”

Timothy perused him for a moment. “As for someone hurting Juliana,” he began, “the bathing tub incident concerns me.”

Paul clenched his jaw. “It shouldn’t. She and I know where we stand with each other.”

“I am not berating you, Paul,” Timothy said quietly. “I know you well, and—”

“Do you?” Paul asked. “I have been gone several years, and much as the League might have kept track of me, you know not whether I’ve changed, whether I’ve become a man who hurts women. And yet you put Juliana with me, alone, night after night.”

Timothy faced him, his frown one of concern. “You’re wrong. I know the man you grew to be. I trust you with my life, with Juliana’s life, or I would never have suggested you for this mission.”

Paul didn’t know what to say, what to feel. He was full of anger at Timothy’s part in the League’s failings,
but Timothy was not the only man making the decisions. Paul could not focus all his ire at his foster father.

“I trust you, Paul,” Timothy repeated. “I think of you as my son, and as such, I hope you never have to make a decision someday that will cause you heartache. No one deserves that.”

“I will make a better choice,” Paul said coolly.

“I hope you do.”

W
ith her arm in Paul’s, Juliana walked through the last gatehouse and left the castle. She glanced at Paul, who took a deep, satisfied breath.

He saw her watching, and grinned. “‘Tis overcrowded in the castle.”

“But you’ve been to so many tournaments.”

“And always I stayed at an inn, or in my own pavilion. Being surrounded by so many people in the castle felt confining.”

“Then let us breathe the open air and enjoy ourselves. Although that does seem contradictory to our purpose here.”

He drew her into his arms. “I
am
supposed to enjoy myself.”

As always, her breath left her lungs at just the feel of the length of his tall body against hers.

“I have orders to act as if nothing is happening,” he continued, “orders from both sides. Today I am Sir
Paul the Dissolute, and I am enjoying a festival with my concubine.”

“You are taking advantage of this concubine,” she murmured, patting his chest and trying unobtrusively to push away.

“I could kiss you, you know,” he said slyly. “No one, not even you, would stop me.”

“You know the Bladesmen are watching us,” she said, growing curious. “Is there more meaning than a simple kiss?”

His smile faded as he looked down at her. She felt his hands stroke her back gently.

“Is there such a thing as a simple kiss with you, Juliana?” he whispered.

And then he leaned down and gently kissed her cheek, lingering too long. His mouth was moist and soft, his breath warm near her ear. A quiver moved through her, and she knew he must feel it. The tenderness of the gesture was as overwhelming as the sensuality.

Then with a pat on her backside, he released her. She was left with an unsettled feeling of confusion and yearning, as well as disappointment, the latter of which she regretted. Sooner or later, she would not be able to hide her eagerness for what he could teach her. But that would break the vow she’d sworn to herself.

Yet … she was beginning to question how being with Paul broke her vow. He had his own vow, that he
would never return to the League, so if he were not a Bladesman …

But oh, he was her partner in a dangerous mission, where emotions might affect judgments. She had to remember that.

The earl of Kilborn treated his guests well. He’d had tents set up throughout a field of flowers, where tables overflowing with food awaited hungry guests.

For their further enjoyment, several football games commenced between the boys of the village and those of the castle. There were running races and stone-throwing competitions for the men, and the winners received prizes of horses and arms. Juliana saw the occasional Bladesman from her party competing, but none brought attention to themselves by winning. Theobald, on the other hand, never left her perimeter, his expression impassive, but menacing just because of the mask.

To Juliana’s delight, she saw Alex hurling a stone in the final round, and he won a large fish for second place. He held it up to laughter and applause, then handed it off to a squire to be taken to the kitchen.

He waved at Juliana, and she waved back, beckoning him. As he approached, she saw him glance at Paul almost hesitantly, but Paul’s smile did not fade. Yet she felt his occasional touches, a caress to her hip, the slide of his fingers as he brushed her hair back from her cheek. He made it hard to concentrate on her conversation
with Alex, but she was determined not to show it.

“Well done,” she said, smiling, when Alex approached.

He bowed elaborately. “Ah, if only you could still throw a rock as you did when we were children. You might win!”

“Who says I have lost the skill?” she inquired, tilting her head.

He laughed at first, then looked taken aback. “In truth?”

“I may look feminine,” she said in a softer voice, “but I have not forgotten the arts of my youth.”

“She likes to challenge me with a dagger,” Paul said dryly, pinching her cheek as he spoke.

Alex’s eyes widened. “That, I cannot believe.”

“He is teasing,” Juliana said, reaching behind her to push Paul’s hand off her backside. Alex didn’t seem to notice.

“So what skills did she favor?” Paul asked Alex.

She didn’t know what purpose these questions served, but she could not challenge her patron.

“She was very good with a dagger, now that you mention it,” Alex said, green eyes gleaming with mischief. “She could hit the center of a target with her arrow when others could barely find the target in the distance.”

“By others, do you mean yourself?” Paul asked. “Was she your better?”

“If it gives you pleasure to think so, sir,” she said sweetly before Alex could speak.

“Aye, she was my better in many ways,” Alex answered anyway. “Her horsemanship was legendary.”

“That, I have seen,” Paul said, nodding. “Mounted, she can ride endlessly.”

Alex did not seem to hear the subtle insinuation, but Juliana did. She swallowed heavily, tried not to look at Paul, then at last had no choice. He was watching her, his eyes a devilish blue, his mouth sensually amused.

Though her own mouth was still dry, she said, “But the feminine pursuits eluded me, Alex. Do tell Sir Paul that I was a failure with needle and harp.”

Alex looked confused. “I am certain you grew out of that, Juliana.”

“And she has no need to convince me of her femininity,” Paul said huskily.

Juliana’s simmering passion was replaced by confusion. He played the jealous lover well, but could he mean it as a true warning to Alex? Why would that be necessary?

Unless it was to keep Alex away from the danger of their mission. If so, she was surprised by Paul’s thoughtfulness.

Alex took his leave with a bow and a grin.

“You chased him away with your questions,” she said with a sigh, sitting down on an empty bench.

Paul sat beside her, long legs stretched out, his arm behind her on the back of the bench. “Did you want him to stay?”

She studied him, looking for the truth of his question. “Aye, I did,” she said softly. “He is a reminder of another time in my life, when the world stretched before me.”

“Do you not feel that with the adventures of the League?”

“Of course but … there was an innocence then, that has since been lost.”

“Do you regret the loss?”

His fingers touched her earlobe, rubbing it until she shivered again.

“Or do the pleasures you share make up for it?”

His eyes were hooded, his touch gentle, his words too intimate. He was talking about lovemaking again, and she knew what he thought, because she’d led him there—that she was experienced. It gave her a certain power, took away the girlishness.

But it also exposed her to his seduction.

All she had to do to stop it was tell him the truth: that she was a virgin.

She knew she wouldn’t do it. She wanted to be his equal, not an innocent.

And she
liked
the way he could make her feel.

It was as if she danced too near the coals of a fire, and
she thought she could keep herself from getting burned.

“You speak of pleasure,” she whispered, then slowly smiled. “‘Twas worth it.”

He stared at her, then with a groan, he hung his head. “You are a temptress, Juliana.”

“I need to be, do I not?”

She turned away from him, and the first thing she noticed was Margaret, standing near a colorful group of pavilions. An impressive pennant flew above the largest, and she recognized the coat of arms of Staincliff.

An older man had his arm around Margaret, and a hand on little Edward. The man had close-cropped gray hair, but beneath his embroidered tunic, he still stood tall and imposing.

“Think you that is the earl of Staincliff?” Juliana mused.

Paul looked up. “With Margaret? Aye, it seems so. And there is young Edward,” he added.

Juliana felt Paul’s curious regard but ignored it. Her interest in the boy would seem too … parental to him. “And here they come,” she said, as Margaret took her brother’s hand and marched toward them with determination.

Poor Edward looked anything but happy, and although Paul hid it well, she thought he might be uncomfortable. Perhaps these clues that Juliana was more
than the object of his pursuit were too much for him.

Margaret smiled brightly. “A good afternoon, Juliana, Sir Paul.”

Edward stared at his scuffed boots, his sandy brown curls damp with perspiration. Clutching his sister’s hand, he slowly inched behind her.

“I would like to introduce my brother, Edward, Baron Foxe,” Margaret said with determination. “Edward, this is Sir Paul and Mistress Juliana. Say good day to them.”

He didn’t lift his head; he didn’t speak.

“Good day, Lord Foxe,” Juliana said. It was obvious by his title that this little boy would inherit his father’s earldom.

Edward mumbled something.

Margaret’s smile didn’t diminish, but she looked exasperated. “Your pardon, Edward? We could not hear you.”

“Just Edward.”

His voice was weak, but now Juliana heard him.

“A fine name, Edward,” Paul said in a too-cheerful voice.

Juliana winced. The boy shrank back as far as he could without releasing his grip on his sister’s hand.

Juliana and Margaret exchanged the look of women who don’t know what a man could be thinking. Juliana realized it had been a long time since she’d shared this silent female communication. Perhaps the last had been
with her mother. The thought made her feel melancholy, yet glad for the memory.

“Edward, how old are you?” she asked.

The mumbling started again, until Margaret leaned down and spoke in his ear.

“Six,” he finally answered, without looking up.

Juliana wanted to put him out of his misery, let him drag his sister away, but Margaret seemed firm.

“I thought you had at least ten years,” Juliana said in shock.

She had a quick impression of dark blue eyes as he gaped at her, then looked back down.

“I thought the same,” Paul said. “You handle a sword well.”

“Nay, I do not,” he said, stamping a foot. Then he glared at Paul with damp eyes. “If the sword were real, I would have hurt a lady!”

He yanked hard and escaped his sister’s grip, then ran as if the hounds were chasing him.

Margaret shrugged, then said in a matter-of-fact voice, “He will forget all about this by the morrow.”

“Aye,” Paul said. “Little boys find other things to occupy them.”

Juliana glanced at him in surprise. Was he trying to make her feel better? She turned back to Margaret and the mission.