She heard the swish of skirts as one of the maids hurried past them, and then a giggle. Dear God, what must the girl think of her? But she knew very well what she thought, because all the servants were enamoured of Grendell. Big handsome Grendell with his gentle hands and smile that promised so much.
Grendell the treacherous cur who was plotting to destroy her father and her home!
Tears stung her eyes.
As if he knew the fight had left her, for the moment at least, Grendell set her away from him, but he kept a firm grip on her arms.
“How could you?” she said, her voice faltering.
His expression darkened and he seemed almost a stranger. “This was my land, or should have been. My father and brothers died when your father stole it.”
Shocked and shamed she could only stare at him.
“I am King Stephen’s man,” he went on with pride. “He will bring peace to the country as Matilda never could, and I want peace, Melina. My father and my brothers all died in this cursed war. I want it over. I want men like your father and Lord Saunders to stop their plotting and accept defeat, and if they will not then we must make them.”
“My father . . .” she began, trying to pull from his grip and run back to the great hall. But Grendell read her well, and catching her hand in his own, began to drag her unwillingly behind him, down the steps toward the door to the bailey.
“Where are we going?” she cried out. “Grendell, what are you doing?”
“We are going to let down the drawbridge and open the gate,” he said matter-of-factly, “so that the king can come in. I am going to take back what is mine by right.”
She took a breath to scream but again he read her intention, because his hand came over her mouth, turning her shrill screech into a muffled moan. Hoisting her into his arms, he carried her the last steps into the bailey and with long strides made his way toward the portcullis and the drawbridge.
There was hardly anyone about. Melina realised then that they had chosen their time well. The guards were at the feast, and the man standing watching them approach looked no older than a boy.
“Step aside,” Grendell said quietly, peering into the lad’s eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
The boy hesitated, frightened gaze going to Melina, captive in her bodyguard’s arms. He straightened his back, preparing to fight, but Grendell shot out a fist and knocked him down.
She gave a shocked gasp, but at the same time she could appreciate the boy was safer unconscious. By knocking him out Grendell had saved his life.
He began to turn the wheel that drew up the portcullis and then a moment later the drawbridge went down with a whoosh. Suddenly there were horsemen galloping across it with a noise like thunder. Melina shrank back against Grendell and he slid a protective arm about her. A moment later a man encased in chain mail on a huge warhorse drew up before them. He lifted his helmet from his head, and she saw fair hair, blue eyes, and a drawn and tired but still handsome face.
“Your Highness.” Grendell bowed his head, but the king smiled and put a hand out to touch his dark locks.
“Lord Grendell, you have done well.” The blue eyes slid to the woman held at his side and Melina refused to lower her own angry gaze. To her astonishment the king chuckled pleasantly. “You have a firebrand there, my friend. Is this the one you spoke of? The Lady Melina?”
“Yes, Sir.”
The king nodded. “And you wish to marry her? I do not think you will have a peaceful life with this one.”
Grendell grinned. “I do not look for a peaceful life, Sir.”
Melina’s legs were trembling. As the king rode on, she wrenched herself free of Grendell’s grip on her. “Marry me?” she burst out in astonished fury. “What do you mean by that?”
Grendell fixed her with an intent look. “Listen to me, Melina. What better way to unite this castle and its lands under the king? I will have back that which is rightfully mine, and I will also keep you safe from any retribution.”
“You are very practical,” she said scornfully.
And all the while a disappointed voice in her head was asking, Is that why? Is that all he wants? To have his land back again? Grendell was a lord, he was the king’s man, he had been playing a part all this time and she had fallen for it.
Armed men were filling the bailey now and she could hear cries and the clash of steel from the great hall. Lord Saunders would be fighting for his life in there but she was secretly relieved she would never marry him now.
“What of my father?” she burst out. “I know he took your land, I know you must hate him for what he did to your father and brothers, but he is my father.”