The Hidden Heart Read Free

guard when she reached the top.
    â€œâ€˜Tis a party of riders, milady,” he replied. “They’ve got no engines of war, but I can see the sun shinin’ off their armor.” He stepped back from the arrow slit so she could join him. “They rode straight by the village.”
    â€œPraise God.” She breathed a sigh of relief at that blessing. Though many of the villagers had moved within the castle wall since the attacks on the outlying farms of her demesne, still the fields needed to be tilled and the cattle and sheep pastured outside. Unless faced with a direct attack, life beyond the walls of I’Eau Clair must go on, lest they all starve come winter.
    Gillian turned to slip farther into the slit, accepting Will’s help to kneel within the deep embrasure. Bracmg herself with one hand, she raised the other to shade her eyes against the bright spring sun. “Holy Mary save us,” she whispered when the breeze snapped open the pennon atop the lead rider’s lance.
    She could not mistake the raven blazoned stark and bold upon the shimmering silver cloth.
    The device of her Welsh kinsman, Steffan ap Rhys.
    What could he want with her? She feared she knew the answer to that only too well. A shudder swept over her as she recalled the last time they’d met, the feel of his heated gaze, foul and possessive, creeping over her from head to toe. Nay, she’d not permit him to worm his way within these walls by accepting so much as a crust of bread from him.
    â€œMilady?”
    She slumped back against the cold stones and closed her eyes for a moment. “Keep the gates barred, Will, and man the walls.” Why him—and why now? Hadn’t she enough troubles to deal with?
    â€œShall we heat stones and oil, milady?”
    She opened her eyes at the eagerness in Will’s voice. “I doubt that will be necessary.” Straightening, she slid from the slit unassisted, shook out her skirts and adjusted her veil. “Much as I’d enjoy seeing my cousin’s reaction to such a greeting, ‘tis no way to welcome him to I’Eau Clair.” She brushed past Will and headed for the door leading to the battlements. “Of course, he doesn’t deserve much better than that as a welcome, either, the arrogant knave,” she muttered to herself. She stepped through the portal, then turned to the guard at the door. “Send for Sir Henry to join us, if he’s within.”
    â€œAye, milady.” He bowed and left.
    â€œWill, come with me. Steffan’s so thickheaded, it just may take a show of force to convince him to leave.”
    Will chuckled. “I remember Lord Steffan well,” he said. They left the gatehouse, and Gillian led the way to a spot where they’d have the best view of the track to I’Eau Clair. “Do you recall the time, milady, not so many years past, when we crept into his chamber and hid all his fancy clothes while he was in the bath?”
    Heat flooded Gillian’s face. “I do, though it does neither of us credit.” She stared out over the treetops. “Lady Alys was sorely disappointed. She thought she’d made a lady of me.”
    Will snorted.
    Gillian jabbed at his ribs with her elbow—a reaction left over from their childhood—then groaned as she connected with his mail hauberk.
    He somehow contrived to look wounded. “You might have had the look of a lady by then, but inside you were still Gilles, the brave lad who used to join in all our schemes.”
    â€œSteffan thought I was a lady even then, unfortunately.” She couldn’t keep a trace of bitterness from her voice, but she thought she at least hid her fear.
    Will had the right of it, though she’d never admit it. Her transformation from “lad” to lady had taken far longer than she’d ever imagined it would. And there were times—few and far between, ’twas true—when she wished it had