Nessa’s Seduction by Jayne Castel

24

LOYALTY’S PRICE

ONCE THOMAS LEFT the tent, Hugh went back to ignoring Nessa.

Pulling off the loose tunic, he strode to where a steaming bowl of water sat upon a washstand next to the bed. Picking up a cake of lye soap, he then started to wash.

Nessa couldn’t help but watch him.

She knew she shouldn’t, yet her gaze was riveted upon his broad back and the muscles that rippled there as he washed. However, when he stripped off his hose and braies, Nessa did avert her gaze, her heart hammering against her ribs.

He didn’t care she was there and wasn’t the least perturbed about standing naked before her.

Heat rose to Nessa’s cheeks as she stared down at her shackled wrists. Although she longed to bathe as well, she didn’t want to strip off before him and his squire. Just a few weeks earlier, she’d been eager to disrobe before her lover—yet how things changed.

Hugh was brisk in his ablutions, and so by the time Thomas re-entered the pavilion, a saddle bag over each shoulder, and a fresh bowl of hot water in his arms, Hugh had donned fresh hose and a clean tunic.

“I just saw Prince Edward, Sir Hugh,” Thomas announced, setting the items down carefully. “The king wishes to speak to you before supper.”

Hugh nodded. He pulled on a clean gambeson and reached for his boots. “I shall go to him now.” He then cast the squire a meaningful look. “Go and get yourself fed and watered … I’ll take care of things here first.”

Nessa stiffened at his tone. She wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

Neither did Thomas evidently, for the squire’s glance flicked between the two of them. His lips parted, as if to question the knight, before he thought better of it. With a nod, the lad collected the cooling bowl of water Hugh had just used and left the tent.

Nessa’s gaze tracked Hugh as he picked up the fresh bowl of water and placed it on the stand. He then produced a key from a pouch on his belt and advanced toward her.

And although he’d never lifted a hand to her, Nessa flinched.

Hugh’s step faltered. “Do you really think I’d harm you?” he asked gruffly.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Despite everything, we are little more than strangers after all.”

Hugh’s mouth thinned. “Aye,” he murmured, drawing close. “That’s the first thing you’ve said of late I’d agree with.”

Nessa couldn’t help it; she gave a soft snort. Hugh’s brow furrowed in response, yet he didn’t answer her. Instead, he hunkered down, took hold of her wrists, and released the iron shackles.

They fell to the mat with a dull thud.

“Don’t get too used to freedom,” he said, his gaze spearing hers once more. He then gestured to the saddlebags Thomas had placed at the foot of the bed. “You have a little time alone now, and I suggest you use it to wash and change.” His brows drew together then. “However, if you try to escape … or make any mischief at all … I won’t be removing those shackles again. Is that clear?”

Nessa frowned. The man’s commanding tone was starting to grate on her nerves. “Aye,” she replied, her tone clipped. “I’m a woman, Hugh … not a lackwit.”

His gaze widened, and Nessa could have sworn she spied a glimmer of grim amusement spark in his eyes. Yet the spark vanished as quickly as it appeared. “That’s a relief to hear,” he replied, his tone dry. He then stepped back from her and gestured to the still steaming bowl of water. “And I’d hurry up if I were you … I doubt Thomas has seen many naked women … he’ll be eager to change that.”

Nessa frowned, deliberately biting her tongue as her captor strode from the pavilion without a backward glance.

Yet she heeded his words.

She wasn’t going to waste this precious time alone.

The first thing she did was remove the scroll, still tucked away in her bodice. Crossing to the brazier, she dropped it into the flames. The charm had been useless against Hugh de Burgh. Nonetheless, it was dangerous to keep the scroll—she didn’t want the knight finding it.

Then, digging around in her bags, she retrieved clean clothing before stripping off her soiled lèine and kirtle and approaching the washbowl.

The water was still deliciously hot, and the lye soap was scented with rosemary. Breathing in the cloud of steam that surrounded her, she washed carefully, ridding herself of the sweat and grime of the past days.

She even forgot to glance over her shoulder, to make sure the squire hadn’t returned for a peek.

Frankly, the hot water and soap were such a pleasure, she couldn’t have cared less.

A short while later, she was seated upon her stool once more, dressed in a fresh blue kirtle, and combing out her damp hair, when Thomas re-entered the tent. He carried a platter of food and drink, and Nessa’s belly growled loudly at the sight. It was simple fare, for there had likely been no time for the army’s cooks to prepare anything hot, yet the bread, cheese, and cured sausage all looked delicious.

Setting the platter down upon the table, Thomas’s gaze flicked to the washbowl. “Have you finished with that?” he asked.

Nessa nodded. “Aye, thank you.” Unlike Hugh, Thomas didn’t speak a word of Gaelic, and so he and Nessa communicated in English.

The squire’s gaze met hers an instant before he glanced away. A dark-blond fuzz covered his chin, revealing that he was in the midst of the passage between boy and man. As such, there was an odd vulnerability about him.

Thomas glanced up again, his eyes full of questions. “The men are saying you’re a witch,” he said awkwardly. “Is it true?”

A humorless smile stretched Nessa’s mouth. “Aye, and if you aren’t careful, I shall turn you into a toad.”

The lad’s blue eyes widened, the look on his face was so startled that Nessa immediately regretted her flippant reply. She didn’t want to frighten him. However, an idea took root in her mind then. Hugh was immune to her witching, yet she wagered Thomas wouldn’t be. Perhaps she could work a charm upon him so that she could ask him questions about the army. Any information she could glean would help the order.

“Does Sir Hugh believe you’re dangerous?” the squire asked, taking a step back from her as if she were about to spring at him.

Nessa snorted a laugh, even as her hand moved toward a pouch on her belt. She wished to retrieve her cairn stone—and she needed to move fast before Hugh returned. “Aye, that’ll be why he shackled my wrists.”

Thomas’s gaze dropped meaningfully to the said shackles, which were currently sitting at her feet.

“A temporary reprieve,” she answered his unvoiced question.

“Aye, that it is,” a low male voice intruded.

Thomas jumped as if prodded with a red-hot poker, while Nessa dropped her hand from her belt.

Curse the man for returning so soon.

Her gaze slid past Thomas to where Hugh straightened up after ducking into the tent.

“Stop pestering the woman, lad,” Hugh continued. “Ajax could do with a proper rub down … go and see to him.”

“Aye, Sir Hugh.” Blushing as scarlet as the English surcoat, Thomas hurried from the tent.

Irritation thrummed through Nessa as she held out her wrists to Hugh. “There ye go.” As always, when they were alone, she shifted into Gaelic. It was the language that flowed the easiest between them.

Hugh cocked an eyebrow before making his way to the long table. He then started to set out the food and two wooden dishes. “You might as well eat first,” he replied, his voice off-hand. “Take a seat.”

Watching him warily, Nessa rose to her feet and walked to the table. After the events of the past days, she didn’t trust this man any more than he did her. She wondered if his gentler treatment of her this evening had a purpose behind it.

Now ye are starting to think the man’s as devious as ye, she chided herself, sinking down onto the bench seat opposite him.

Hugh placed the food between them before helping himself to a large chunk of bread and cheese. He then poured them both goblets of wine. His expression was carefully shuttered, and he seemed to be taking great care not to look at her.

Even so, Nessa’s mouth filled with saliva at the sight of the food. Eagerly, she took a large bite of bread, forcing herself not to stuff it into her mouth. Even so, she grabbed a sausage as if she expected it to sprout legs and run off.

Hugh glanced up. “Have we been starving you?”

Nessa nodded, swallowing a mouthful before replying. “I’ve been given little more than a crust of bread and a cup of hot broth all day.”

She expected a growled rebuke, yet Hugh frowned. “An oversight, Nessa. I’ll see that doesn’t happen again.”

Surprised by his reaction, Nessa picked up the goblet of wine and took a gulp. “And now we’re in Stirling … have ye decided what to do with me?”

He gave her a probing look. “Well … I might keep you my prisoner … or I could hand you over to the king?”

“Or ye could let me go?” Nessa inserted a hopeful edge to her voice. Of course, she wished to remain in the camp as a spy, yet she couldn’t risk Hugh suspecting that was her plan.

He inclined his head, yet didn’t answer.

Nessa swallowed the wine. “I heard ye earlier,” she said, feigning a casual attitude. “Stirling town is taken.”

“Aye, but that was always the easiest part.” He paused then, his mouth twisting as he picked up his goblet. “And, of course, your friends were here to greet us.”

Nessa’s mouth thinned. She wasn’t going to apologize for that.

“How many more of them will crawl out of the shadows?” Hugh asked, meeting her eye squarely.

Nessa put down the piece of bread and sausage she’d been about to bite into. “I don’t know. I was sent to spy on ye, not to rally warriors.” She paused there, deciding that, thanks to her, this man knew too much already. “I have no idea how much resistance ye will find here.”

Hugh regarded her over the rim of his goblet. He didn’t need to say a word; she knew he didn’t believe her.

“It’s a hard life you’ve chosen, Nessa,” he said after a long pause. “Such loyalty always comes at a price.”

Nessa stared back at him—unbalanced by the sudden change of topic. A moment later, her jaw clenched. “That’s rich … coming from ye,” she muttered. With that, she stuffed the bread and sausage she held into her mouth, to prevent herself from saying anything else.

Hugh cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Nessa swallowed her mouthful. “Ye and I aren’t so different.”

He snorted. “We aren’t alike at all.”

“Really? Whenever ye talked to me of yer home at Grosmont Castle, yer eyes misted over with longing,” she countered with a frown. “Yer marriage was empty … ye have a son ye have hardly seen … and ye sacrificed yer life for yer king.”

Hugh lowered his goblet to the table with the thud, his jaw tightening. He wouldn’t appreciate her reminder that he’d confided in her. “Following Edward has been a privilege, not a sacrifice,” he said coldly.

Nessa frowned. She knew she was vexing the man, yet she couldn’t help herself. His arrogance was galling. “Aye … and I feel the same way about my own cause.” She paused then, her gaze fusing with his. “See, Hugh … we are more similar than ye’d care to admit.”