A Knight In Her Bed(7)

He had used the cloth to clean himself and now began to dress. “What of this sister you told me about?”

Juliet shrugged. “It was a lie.”

He looked up from pulling on his boots, giving her one of his intent looks. “So you can lie to me but I must tell you the truth?”

“Yes . . . no. Why will you not tell me?”

Fully dressed now, he stood up and went to the table to get some food, at the same time pouring himself a goblet of wine. “I can’t tell you, not yet. I need to ask someone’s permission. Tomorrow we will be in London and then you will know.”

“But . . .”

“Do you want to know what happened to your friends?” He waited for her nod. “Then you will come with me, Juliet.”

And once more it was a command rather than a request.



Juliet huddled against the wooden side of the cart, bracing herself against the bumping and swaying as they made their way down the rough roads to the capital. Wulfrich had sent her to ride with the other wives and mistresses, as well as the gaggle of prostitutes that followed his army. Her arrival had caused some curiosity but she’d shrugged off their questions and pretended to sleep, and soon they left her alone.

They’d made camp outside the walls of London when a weary looking guard came to fetch her. Dusty, with grit in her hair and between her teeth, Juliet followed him through the men and animals, toward that familiar tent with Lord Wulfrich’s standard fluttering atop it.

There were men inside, and in their midst Wolf looked solemn as they poured over one of his parchment maps. Juliet crept into the tent and found a spot to sit, out of the way, and stayed silent, waiting. Soon her weariness caught up with her and she closed her eyes and despite the noise, slept.

She dreamed. She and her friends were tumbling, faces painted or else wearing animal masks, as they fell about and playacted. Juliet did her cartwheels around the room, and then somersaulted over and over between the tables and chairs. The crowd in the hall laughed and clapped.

She felt light and free. She felt alive. These, her friends, were more dear to her than her family, dead of fever when she was little more than a child. She’d looked after herself for most of her life, been alone for most of her life.

Henry was standing by her, his lean young body clothed in green tunic and hose, and his shoes with little bells on them. On his other side Leonora put her hand on his arm and smiled up at him as if he was her hero. Juliet knew that Leonora was in love with Henry and now Juliet no longer slept in his bed it wouldn’t be long before the other girl claimed him. She should be jealous, but she wasn’t. In her heart Juliet had never loved Henry. He wasn’t the man for her.

He wasn’t Wolf.

Juliet’s eyes opened wide. Long legs were planted before her and as she raised her gaze she found tight breeches and a shirt open at the throat and then the scarred face of the man who made her body clench tight and her heart beat faster.

“We are to go to the royal court, Juliet. I have asked for water to be brought so that you can bathe.”

She blinked, trying not to jerk to her feet in fright. “I do not belong at the royal court.”

His scarred mouth twisted. “No less than me.”

She frowned. “But you are a great man. A lord. I am . . . nothing.”

He dropped down on his haunches before her, and suddenly he was very close, his silver eyes as clear as water. “A great man? I do not see myself as such. Once I was a boy in an orphanage whose family died when one of Matilda’s barons took our lands and castle. This,” he pointed to his scar, “came from that night. Do you know who that man was? He was my Uncle Edward, and when I went screaming to him for help as my father lay dying, he raised his sword and cut my face open. Betrayal can be a bitter thing, Juliet, and I always felt alone, despite those who called themselves my friends in the orphanage. But it was there I learned to fight, and where I dreamed of regaining what was mine. Now I have. Perhaps that makes me a great man, but I do not feel it. And until you came to me, Juliet, I thought I would be alone all my life.” His knuckles brushed her cheek. “You are like my other half. With you I think I could perhaps be that great man.”

“Wolf . . .” she whispered, tears in her eyes. He was an orphan? His uncle had betrayed him in a terrible way, and yet he was saying these deep heartfelt things to her. Juliet could not help but be touched. Were they truly two lost souls who had found each other? The intensity of her feelings when she looked into his eyes frightened her, because once she had given her heart to him she knew there would be no going back.

“Good,” he said, as if she had spoken, “it is settled. Bathe, and then we go to the court in the white tower.” And with a touch of his fingertip on her lips, he rose to his feet and left her there.