Lady fit for a Lord Page 3

  "He broke my ribs once," Emmanuel said, grinning at the recollection. "Mind, I broke his first."

  "Broke mine too," Alan admitted.

  "Powerful strike."

  "A force of nature."

  They descended into an amicable comparison of tournament techniques. Emmanuel recognised the diversion for what it was, but he seized it gratefully nevertheless. It gave him time to consider his strategy with regard to Juliana.

  He'd been aware, of course, that eligible men would take an interest in her. The thought had preyed on his mind for months. But he hadn't quite acknowledged to himself that some of those men would be from his own circle of acquaintance. The thought of Juliana eyeing them with favour - any of them - made him taste blood.

  "Can I prevail upon you also," Alan said, "to accompany my wife at table?"

  Emmanuel bit his tongue, and forced a polite smile.

  "She will have her father on her other side," Alan went on smoothly.

  Emmanuel brightened. Then turned a gaze of unvarnished suspicion on his host. The arrangement practically guaranteed that Charles and Caroline would be happily chatting throughout the meal, leaving himself free of the burden of participating in the conversation. He could not avoid hearing it, but with luck he'd have more interesting company to hand on his own other side.

  "I will have Madeline and young Merin with me," Alan went on, with so complacent a smile that Emmanuel envied his fortitude. "But since you are acquainted with Juliana, might I trespass on your patience so much as to suggest - "

  "Absolutely," Emmanuel said with indecorous enthusiasm. If he got to sit by Juliana for the entire meal, he could endure her sister with composure.

  "She will have Ralph with her also, unless that would cause you concern?"

  Emmanuel glared at his infernal rival, still locked in conversation with the girl of his own secret dreams. "None in the world."

  "Excellent." Alan drew him on to other topics, deftly partnered him with a couple of lords he'd not had the pleasure of meeting before, then drifted away. Emmanuel gave himself over to conversation, and noted with relief that Ralph finally quit Juliana. To be steered away by Alan, much to Emmanuel's delight. That young man deserved a favour or two, should occasion arise. Juliana herself was claimed by her mother, which was entirely unexceptionable of course. Nevertheless Emmanuel kept a keen eye on the pair, noted every man they spoke to, and was relieved when they joined Caroline for a cosy family conference.

  And after that, himself at table. He was pleased to be singled out for honour by his host, better pleased still to be seated close by Juliana while Charles magnanimously engaged Caroline's attention.

  "Enjoying the company?" Emmanuel asked, because he never could resist prodding a sore tooth. "Ralph is a fine man."

  Juliana blushed - distinctly, a light bloom as of young roses on those delicate cheeks. Emmanuel bit down on an oath, and imagined in vivid detail his impending evisceration of Ralph de Niege.

  "He seems very pleasant," Juliana admitted quietly, without meeting Emmanuel's eye.

  God damn the man. So quickly he'd insinuated himself into a girl's heart. And why not? She was young and impressionable, with a sweet trusting nature born of seclusion from the world. There was no suspicion in her, no reserve, because she had never known any reason to learn caution in matters of love.

  But where one man had succeeded, another might as well. Emmanuel summoned what he could of courtly grace. It was harmless, perhaps, for a young lady thrust into fresh company to find the experience exhilarating. He need not leap at once to suspecting love.

  "You will be fortunate in meeting many new and pleasant people in the days ahead," he observed.

  No reason to warn her against the possibility of finding bad apples among them. Alan had already proved astute, Emmanuel trusted him to have composed the guest list with care. Besides, Madeline and Charles were both present, and would ensure nothing unsuitable developed.

  Juliana shot him an odd, sidelong look. "You may know some of them," she ventured, in a tone uncharacteristically hesitant. "Might you introduce me? Alan is my brother, and of course I trust him entirely, but I don't really know him very well. It would be comfortable to have a friend there too."

  Did he only imagine that little catch in her voice on the word 'friend'? Certainly it stuck in his own throat. But he offered her a reassuring smile nonetheless. The request was more than reasonable. She had not known Alan very long, whereas Emmanuel might as well be a section of the walls in her own home, so old and familiar he must be.

  Damn.

  "I'd be delighted," Emmanuel said. "Please feel free to stay as close to me as you wish. I will be only too happy to effect any introductions I can." To ladies, and old married men, and boys too young to interest her. Not to handsome fiends like the lad who sat only two steps down, and now cast a complacent glance in Juliana's direction.

  "And, um." Juliana leaned in a little towards him, as if about to share a profound confidence, and added in a murmur: "If I do something wrong, will you tell me? Mother has been very careful in her instructions, but in truth that's only made me more confused."

  Emmanuel held back a laugh. Poor child, with her exacting mind and endearing inexperience. The worst she was likely to do was spill the sauce, and no one would notice that.

  "You won't disgrace yourself," he reassured her. "Just be pleasant and polite, as you always are, and take your lead from the ladies that surround you. Everyone who sees you will be entirely charmed."

  Juliana laughed then, carefree and at ease, as he longed to be. "Thank you very much. That is so kind." Her glow faded, she met his eye, then rapidly looked away. Towards the assembled company, and then to the dishes set before her. "You are always kind," she said - wistfully, as if she wished for something else.

  As he did. But they differed on the nature of that alternative. He would always be kind to her - how could any man be otherwise? - but affection, passion, desire insisted on their share also. Whereas she, surely, thought of kindness from another source.

  But she threw no glance in Ralph's direction. Showed no tremor of suppressed excitement, no blush of secret hope. That heartened Emmanuel. She had not been completely overset by her first encounter with a genuine prospect for marriage.

  All of a sudden, he felt a crazy urge to confess the nature of his own feelings for her. Tell her that he yearned to make her his wife, to live with her and love her, wed her and bed her - God, the beddings, his throat clotted even now at that thought. She would be so delectable, soft and yielding, a little shy at first and then - he flushed like a youth as he imagined that cool self-possession crumbling under the onslaught of passion.

  If it did crumble. Emmanuel studied her elegant features, her dainty movements. Perhaps she was always composed, and would always so remain. In which case it would be only he who burned, and that alone.

  That he could not wish for. Desire faded, to be replaced by apprehension. He still loved her, of course. Still wanted her. But if he could not light that flame within her body, if she might never come to their union with ardent longing, then their meetings at night must eventually become joyless and cold. And the risk to her life...

  He saw her now not as an enthusiastic bedmate, but simply as the lady of his hall, a companion in his domestic endeavours. There she shone radiant. He had a model before him: Madeline, always charmingly pleasant and carefully correct. Juliana would be much the same, with the gentle sweetness and incisive thought that belonged peculiarly to her. She would grace his hall, and light his days, and be ever a source of joy within his life. Emmanuel had no doubts whatsoever on that score.

  But he knew himself for a passionate man. In love as in combat. The possibility of a wife who submitted to his body only from a sense of duty, and not from her own strength of desire, chilled him to the bone.

  He didn't want to live like that. Nor could he envisage being happy in a marriage devoid of carnal pleasures.

  "I would have you know
more than kindness," he began, hesitantly lest she shrink from him. But he must say something in an effort to know where the matter stood.

  Juliana's attention remained fixed on her food. He left the remark hanging in the air between them, ambiguous, hinting at emotion without the absolute of confession. Because he was not ready to lay his feelings before her, not yet. Not until he knew if she could bear to consider him as a husband, a lover, a partner in intimate adventures.

  He was afraid. Actually afraid of a young woman's judgement.

  But then, Juliana was not just any young woman: she was the one his heart desired, and his body too. If she shrank back from him in disgust and dismay, his own composure would crumble. Fast.

  But she said nothing. Didn't even look at him.

  "I speak of love," Emmanuel pressed on. Quietly, so as not to be overheard. Though there was little risk of that, the general conversation around them had reached a level that covered anything spoken below the volume of a commonplace. And as yet he had said nothing to expose his own hopes. "If you should venture to consider marriage - if there is a man you might think of in that way - then I wish you great joy and satisfaction in the choice."

  Juliana sat absolutely still. She had heard him, he felt certain of that, yet she did not speak.

  Perhaps the subject was indeed distasteful to her.

  "I wish you happiness," Emmanuel said, defeated and strangely annoyed. "That is all I meant."

  She raised her eyes then, cool and expressionless. "Thank you," she said in a flat tone.

  Well. That was him told. And the bitter disappointment that swept through him tasted like the bile of serpents.

  She didn't want him. Couldn't even bear to hear him speak of such things.

  Emmanuel took his own turn at staring down the food. It looked unappetising now, though a moment ago it had seemed perfectly good. He forced himself to eat regardless. It would be rude not to, and he took pride in always being an exemplary guest.

  He said nothing further during the rest of the meal, and Juliana remained equally silent and aloof.

  ***

  CHAPTER 3

  Juliana smiled and smiled. It had never cost her such an effort before. And it was not the fault of the kindly people she was being introduced to.

  No, it was Emmanuel's brooding presence beside her that quelled all good cheer. He was being true to his word, escorting her around the crowd that had gathered in the manor grounds over the course of the afternoon, hailing old acquaintances and making her known to all manner of pleasant women and courteous men. It was fascinating to see so many different faces and colours and modes of dress. She would have enjoyed it immensely, if Emmanuel had been in better spirits.

  But he stalked beside her, grim and silent as he had been ever since that dreadful moment during the meal, when he mentioned marriage and she thought all her hopes and wishes must show plain in her face.

  God, she had thought for a moment - actually believed - that he spoke of their marriage. His and hers. Of them coming together as man and woman, of their bodies meeting. She'd flushed with heat all over, felt certain her skin glowed crimson. He mustn't suspect the strength of her feeling, that was her only conscious thought. So she'd sat absolutely still, and remained as expressionless as she could, and prayed he did not guess at her emotion.

  Because he'd never wish for a wanton wife. Men loved carnal matters, she'd learned enough from Mother to understand that. And they were not averse to women who loved them too - as she did, or would, with Emmanuel, she felt certain of it.

  But women who loved such matters too far might seek them in the wrong place - she had learned that also, from stories and songs. And such women were hated by men, killed by them even, as the ferocity of jealousy took over from the passion of adoration.

  Not that Emmanuel would go to such extremes. Juliana felt certain of it. But he was a man, and must wish for a wife he could trust no matter what the circumstances.

  Which he could. Of course. Juliana was powerless to imagine desiring anyone but him. But how to convince him of that, if once he guessed at the strength of her own passion, was another matter.

  And perhaps she carried a trace of vanity, too. She could not bear to betray her own feelings for him, to risk becoming ridiculous in his eyes, despicable even. She was determined not to reveal them - not until he proved to share them.

  Which was a hopeless dream, she knew that. Still she clung to it, nurtured it even, imagined herself wedded and blissful. Even now, when the man at her side showed no sign of pleasure at being there.

  She glanced up at him, hesitant. It was strange, this fell new mood of his. Not anger, nothing so heated. Nor yet distaste. There was a bleakness to it, a chill of disappointment or even despair. Juliana trembled before such a notion, she could not imagine what might make him suffer so. Some dreadful knowledge or memory beyond her ken, nothing to do with herself or anything she had experienced. She wished she could soothe it away, kiss his face and watch it relax into a smile, whisper words of love or reassurance and feel him settle into her arms.

  God, she was there again. Yet this was not the hunger of desire, such as she had fought with before. This was something different, a wistful yearning for the intimacy of the soul.

  She wanted him to be happy. Just that. And herself to be happy with him.

  "You seem distracted," Juliana told him, in a voice that wavered and broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I trust you are well?"

  It was one of Mother's stock phrases, often brought out as subtle criticism of someone's manner, but also useful when attempting to elucidate a mood. And this bleakness of spirit that had settled over Emmanuel could not be due any suspicion of Juliana's feelings. She reasoned that out within herself. If he was appalled by her, he could easily foist her back on her own family. There was no need whatsoever for him to remain at her side.

  "Quite well, I thank you." He glanced down at her - and it was there again, a flash of emotion in his eyes. She could have sworn there was passion there, desire. But then he looked away.

  Juliana didn't like that. She was determined to make him look at her. And keep looking. She had taken some trouble over her appearance, and it was all for his sake. The least he could do was appreciate it.

  She looked around for something to comment on, something that would draw his notice. And there it was. The pleasant man from earlier, the one who'd talked to her with such unassuming ease. Who'd won her undying gratitude by showing no trace of awareness while Mother hinted at Juliana's availability for marriage. Ralph de Niege, locked in cheerful conversation with the most formidable man Juliana had ever beheld.

  "My God," Emmanuel said in a tone of blank amazement. Then he raised his voice: "Guillaume, you fucker. Say your prayers, because you're drawn against me tomorrow."

  The giant turned, with a smile so dazzling that Juliana caught her breath. "Said 'em already, by way of thanks for an easy opponent." He bowed to Juliana, with an elegance astonishing in so imposing a figure. "Madam."

  "I do beg your pardon for the language," Emmanuel murmured to Juliana. "Forgot myself for a moment, there."

  Juliana smiled up at Emmanuel. He'd noticed her, at least. "I don't mind at all." In truth, it rather excited her. She was not used to hearing men speak so frankly. "Please do not be constrained by my presence."

  "You'd not say that if you heard his usual mode of speech." Guillaume shot her a glittering look.

  Juliana eyed Guillaume with deep suspicion. This, she believed, rather fell under the heading of flirtation. "I cannot believe any man of my acquaintance would be unguarded in his remarks." She placed a little extra stress on the word 'my', to signify that she certainly did not consider Guillaume to be any acquaintance of hers.

  "Sweet girl," Guillaume told Emmanuel. "Daughter of yours?"

  "No." The bleakness swept over Emmanuel's face, and drove the sunshine from Juliana's heart as well. "One of Charles'."

  "Really?" Guillaume regarded Juliana
with renewed interest, then turned his attention to the crowd. "Is he about? I'll go and pay my respects."

  "In the manor house last I saw," Emmanuel said. "He'll be glad to meet you again - spoke well of you."

  "Best of men," Guillaume remarked, made his excuses, and strode away. Juliana watched him go, her mood thawing. If he thought well of Father, he couldn't be all bad.

  "So what is your usual mode of speech?" she teased Emmanuel. It was a bold ploy, perhaps a little too daring, but Juliana was determined to keep Emmanuel's attention focused on herself.

  He smiled down at her then, a strangely soft smile that she did not recall seeing on him before. The affection in his eyes made her heart leap.

  "Entirely within the bounds of decorum," he reassured her.

  Ralph snorted. "If you believe that, madam - "

  "Usually," Emmanuel added. "In the heat of combat, I admit I am occasionally carried away."

  Ralph snickered.

  "But you wouldn't say anything really terrible," Juliana prompted. "Would you?"

  "Ah, well." Emmanuel's features shifted into an expression she could only describe as awkward. If she didn't know him better, she would believe he was embarrassed. "Let us remain with 'unguarded' for now, shall we? I like to think I'm no worse than most."

  "There I'll agree with you," Ralph said.

  "Tell me about tomorrow," Juliana suggested. "I understand there will be games of some kind, but I'm unsure what they might be." She had learned from Mother the art of steering conversations away from dangerous waters. This ought to qualify.

  Besides, she was interested - and she felt certain Emmanuel was, too. He'd expanded in this company, stood tall and firm and handsome beside her. She wanted to show him off to all the world. Wanted to be seen with him, also, on display as the lady of his affections, the chosen bride of his heart.

  "I take it you weren't listening to Alan earlier," Emmanuel said, and proceeded to instruct her on the day's events, with so many comments and explanations and reminiscences about his own time on the circuit that she felt as if an entirely new world had opened up before her. It had all the excitement and drama of a story, but the resonance of honest experience.