Chapter Five

      Juliana straightened her shoulders, trying to look Lothar square in the eye, though with his immense height she had to reach up on her tiptoes.

      ‘You know that King Stephen laid siege to us nine months ago?’

      He nodded. ‘There were a number of sieges at the time, otherwise the Empress would have sent reinforcements.’

      ‘That’s what my father said. He always defended her, no matter how bad the situation became, but the truth was that we weren’t prepared for a siege. My father...’ she hesitated, searching for a way to explain ‘...had other things on his mind. We held out for three months, but it was no use. Our only choices were to starve, fight or surrender. Father decided to ride out and meet Stephen in battle.’

      ‘He died like a true soldier.’

      ‘Is that what you heard?’

      ‘Yes.’ Dark brows snapped together. ‘Isn’t that what happened?’

      ‘No.’ She shook her head, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. ‘He was injured and taken prisoner, but he never recovered.’

      His grip on her hand tightened. ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘I surrendered because I didn’t want to lose anyone else. I didn’t have a choice.’

      ‘What about your oath of allegiance? Surely you had a choice there?’

      She flinched. There was no way to explain that, not without telling him the whole truth anyway, and she couldn’t do that. But she had to offer some reason, no matter how bad it sounded.

      ‘I’d already lost my father. I didn’t want to lose my home and position, too.’

      A shadow crossed his face. ‘You mean you swore allegiance to Stephen just so you could remain chatelaine?’

      ‘Yes.’ She wrenched her hand away, stung by the contempt in his voice. She couldn’t blame him for thinking the worst of her, even if, for some reason, she didn’t want him to. He actually sounded disappointed—as if he had any right to judge her or whomever she chose to give her allegiance to! She racked her brains, dredging up every argument she’d used to convince herself of the validity of Stephen’s claim.

      ‘And I support him because I want the war to be over. Stephen’s a crowned king. He can bring peace.’

      ‘He’s a usurper.’ Lothar’s tone was implacable. ‘King Henry named his daughter Matilda as his heir.’

      ‘Stephen has royal blood, too. They’re cousins.’

      ‘He stole the crown.’

      ‘Because Matilda wasn’t in the country to claim it! It took her four years even to cross the Channel after King Henry died. England needed a ruler and Stephen was here!’

      ‘She had to deal with Normandy first. Not to mention that she was with child when her father died. Absence doesn’t lessen her claim.’

      ‘Stephen’s an honourable man.’

      ‘Honourable?’ Lothar’s voice positively dripped with disgust. ‘When Henry was alive Stephen swore an oath to accept her as Queen. Twice.’

      ‘Maybe he was coerced.’

      ‘Maybe he’s a liar.’

      ‘He can still bring peace! It’s Matilda who keeps the war going. If she’d go back to Anjou, then we could have peace again. Isn’t that more important than her claim?’

      ‘Your father didn’t think so.’

      ‘I have a mind of my own!’ She flung her cup to the floor in frustration, clenching her fists as the metal clattered loudly across the flagstones. He was infuriating, actually seeming to get calmer the more furious she became. How dare he sound so smug, as if it were all so simple, as if all the choices she’d had to make over the past six months had been easy!

      ‘I can see that.’

      She stiffened at once. Her father had always taken pride in having a daughter who could think for herself, but she knew most men were less tolerant. She knew what they called her, too. A virago. A shrew. Unnatural, unladylike, unsuitable for marriage. Was that what Lothar thought, too? Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. She didn’t care what he thought of her. If her display of temper had changed his mind about her feminine charms, then so much the better. He’d already drunk the wine. There was no need for him to find her attractive any more. Even if the thought made her feel strangely crestfallen.

      ‘Do you think I should agree with my father just because I’m a woman?’ She narrowed her eyes accusingly.

      ‘No.’

      ‘No?’

      ‘On the contrary. I serve the Empress, my lady, I’ve no problem with women thinking for themselves.’ His voice took on a husky undertone as he took a step closer towards her. ‘Or with them taking command.’

      ‘Wh-what do you mean?’ she stammered, feeling alarmingly out of her depth all of a sudden. She’d been braced for another argument, ready for him to call her an unnatural female, but he was acting as if he still wanted her, as if he found the idea of a woman in command appealing. Not that she felt very commanding at that moment.

      ‘I followed you here when you asked me to, didn’t I?’

      ‘Yes, but...’

      ‘So, now that I’m here, why don’t you tell me what you want from me?’

      ‘What I want?’

      He stopped a hair’s breadth away from her, his voice soft as a caress. ‘As I told you, my lady, I’m just a soldier. I’m only here to serve.’

      She heard a strangled sound emerge from her own throat, though words themselves seemed beyond her. She had no idea what he meant by serve her, though if the tone of his voice were anything to go by, it wasn’t something that a lady ought to be doing... Why wasn’t the poppy working yet? She’d given him enough to fell an ordinary-sized man twice over! How could he still be standing?

      He coiled a strand of damp hair around his fingers, using it to tug her face gently upwards. ‘Or you could just show me what you want?’

      She dropped her gaze to hide her confusion, though unfortunately that only brought it level with his mouth. Show him what? Whatever it was, she’d probably only have to play along for a few minutes at most, but what did he expect her to do? Was she supposed to kiss him? To touch him? She wouldn’t know where to start! He was threading his fingers through her hair. Did he expect her to do the same? Not that his shorter style allowed quite the same scope. Perhaps she ought to caress his cheek instead?

      She peeked up again, searching for some clue on his face, just in time to see a quickly concealed look of amusement.

      Amusement! She felt a jolt, suspicion turning to certainty in an instant. He was laughing at her, mocking her pitiful attempt at seduction with a pretence of his own! Suddenly she wished there were a hole she could crawl into. All this time she thought she’d been leading him on, foolishly believing that he was attracted to her, when in fact the very reverse was true. He’d been pretending, too, enjoying