"I am sure you were. I am sure little Willa could hardly wait to rush to your side to tell you tales." A cynical smile curved his lips. He closed the door and moved to the center of the room. "You have proven to be something of a thorn in my side all these years, Willa," he added, his cold eyes moving over her. "Aye. You are just as lovely as Juliana was. 'Tis obvious she was your mother. 'Tis equally obvious who your father is, of course."
Willa took a wary step closer to her father. She watched Garrod - a man she was sure had tried to kill her many times over - with the wariness and respect she would offer an adder.
"I was really hoping to kill you before you got here, thereby avoiding the necessity of murdering my own uncle," he announced, then gave an indifferent shrug. "However, perhaps this is for the best. Uncle Tristan has been taking his time about dying. I would have aided him in the endeavor but he never gave me the opportunity. If he was not off at war, he was here at court while I was stuck at the keep, running things. It made creating a believable accident difficult, I can tell you. I consoled myself with the thought that surely he would be killed in battle soon. From all accounts, he took plenty of foolhardy risks, but he has the damnedest luck. You appear to have inherited that, along with his coloring. You have managed to escape my every attempt."
"Garrod? What nonsense are you spewing?" her father asked in confusion. He was looking quite shaken.
"He is speaking of the fact that he has been trying to kill me ever since my birth," Willa told him quietly.
"What?" Tristan D'Orland turned to her with horror, and Willa nodded.
"Garrod did not return to Claymorgan to find proof of my existence, but to try to end it," she explained. "He lied when he said that everything he learned pointed to my having been born dead. He simply wished I had, and attempted to be sure I was before we could meet and you could see for yourself that I bore your coloring and was your daughter. When he was supposed to be seeking me out, he was actually sneaking into Claymorgan and smothering my wet-nurse's child. Ten years later, he broke the neck of my best friend, who had made the mistake of wearing my gown. Most recently, he has hired one man to kill me whom my husband dispatched, another whom his cousin dispatched, and then resorted to attempting the task himself. He chased my husband and me off a cliff into the river. Fortunately, we were able to make it ashore."
"Is this true?" Lord D'Orland asked his nephew sharply.
"Aye. 'Tis true. She has been a most troublesome wench. Is it not awful when women do not die as they should? Now her mother," he taunted, "I did not even think of killing her. I merely wished her gone ere she could produce a squalling brat for you. I worked at rousing your jealousy to gain that end. Juliana, however, did me the great favor of dying. Your wife was truly a good woman, uncle. Your daughter, however, appears to have inherited your cussedly stubborn nature."
Lord D'Orland shook his head. "But you tried to convince me that Juliana was true to me. You were constantly reassuring me that you believed her faithful."
"And every time I did, it strengthened and encouraged your own doubts," Garrod pointed out with amusement. Then he took on an earnest expression and said, "I realize it looks bad, my lord. Thomas is ever here spending time alone with Juliana, but I am sure she would never dishonor you. They are close, 'tis true, but I am sure friendship is as far as it goes." His words ended on a masterfully doubtful note and Willa's father blanched as he recognized how he'd been manipulated.
"She was true to me," he said faintly.
"Of course she was," Garrod said mockingly. "Juliana loved you. Even I could see that. She cared for Thomas as a brother, nothing more. You were the only one she wished in her bed."
Garrod shook his head with disgust. "Dear Lord, I played you all like a brilliant game of chess. You were jealous, so I nurtured that jealousy. She was afraid of your jealous tempers, especially when you drank. I encouraged her fears with brilliant tales of the violence you were known to wreak while drinking. I made them up on the spot and amazed even myself with some of them." He laughed.
"I even manipulated Thomas. I befriended him and encouraged him to visit often and long. Then I frowned over the matter with you, commenting that he was taking advantage of your hospitality and I was sure it meant nothing that he spent so much time with Juliana." Garrod shook his head. "Then, that last night, I told Juliana's maid to tell her that you planned to force the babe from her belly. And I told you that her maid had warned me Juliana planned to leave you." He gave a short impressed whistle at his own brilliance. "It worked better than I had hoped. She fled, starting the early labor that led to her death at Claymorgan. Everything would have been perfect - " his gaze turned to Willa - "except that you lived."
Displeasure crossed his face. "I did try to rectify that one small flaw. Many times. But, like your father - who survives battle unscathed while all those about him are slaughtered - you appear to have the devil's own luck."
"Or perhaps you are simply inept," Willa suggested.
Garrod was bristling over that inflammatory comment when Lord D'Orland asked, "Why? After all I did for you, Garrod. Why?"
She glanced at her father and felt her pity stir at his hurt bewilderment.
"All you did for me?" Garrod sounded furious and Willa turned a wary gaze back to him. His hands were fisted with fury. "You have done nothing for me! Nothing! I am your steward. No better than a lackey! I have made your estate prosperous. I defend it, collect rents owed... and for what? A place to eat and sleep and a couple of coins! All those years while you earned your accolades on the battle field I worked for you. I had hopes, dreams of one day being master. And why not? You had not married and produced an heir. I thought surely you meant to leave me all on your death." His mouth tightened and he spoke through gritted teeth. "You never mentioned that you had made a match. Then, all of a sudden you returned and announced 'twas time to go claim your bride."
He struck an arrogant pose and mimicked her father. "Good day, Garrod. How are things? I am off to claim my bride now. I shall be staying here and raising a family."
Willa stiffened nervously as he withdrew his sword from its sheath in one furious jerk. Gripping it tightly in hand, he went on, "One day I was working hard, imagining the estate soon to be my own. The next you announced you were marrying and hoping to raise a son to take your place. I could have struck you dead on the spot! But I knew I would gain naught that way. I needed to be more clever. And I was."
"Not clever enough," Willa pointed out, aware that her father was inching slowly in front of her. He was preparing to protect her even though he was weaponless and she felt a stabbing pain in her heart at the thought of yet another person dying for her. Her gaze dropped to the floor. His sword still lay at their feet where he'd dropped it. If she could just reach it...
"What do you intend to do now?" her father asked, inching another step in front of Willa. "You cannot think killing us will gain you anything."
"Of course it will, you stupid old man! It will keep my neck out of the noose. 'Twill also give me your estate."
"Do not be ridiculous, Garrod," Lord D'Orland snapped. "You cannot succeed at this madness."
Garrod suddenly went calm and smiled. Willa found that more frightening than his anger.
"Time will tell. I am thinking that perhaps just the sight of Willa enraged you," he suggested mildly. "Perhaps your hatred and jealousy were transferred from your poor dead wife to her. Perhaps in your senility, you even mistook her for your Juliana. You killed her. Then in your mad grief, you killed yourself." He nodded. "Aye. That should work. After all, I have already laid the groundwork by whispering to the king that you may not be quite right in the head. Now..." He raised his sword. "I will try to make this quick out of my past affection for you, uncle."
Everything happened in a blur after that. Lord D'Orland gave up his inching and lunged protectively in front of her as Garrod charged. Willa saw her father brace himself for the coming blow as she bent quickly to retrieve his fallen sword. She managed to straighten and rush around him, lifting the sword just in time to parry that blow. Garrod was strong, however. Willa cried out in pain as her arms vibrated with the impact. She felt them begin to give way, and the swords moved toward her. Then her father's arms came around her. His hands grabbed the hilt above her own, adding his strength to the defense. The three of them stood locked in combat for a moment, then the door crashed open. A bellow filled the room.
Willa felt relief course through her as she peered over Garrod's shoulder to see her husband advancing toward them. He looked extremely angry and Willa felt a brief moment of pity for Garrod. Then Garrod tore his sword free and turned to face a charging Hugh. He started to raise his weapon, but was too slow. Hugh felled him before his sword was fully raised.
Her husband glared down at the man who's life blood was coloring the rushes, then turned that glare on Willa and her father.
Willa had never been happier to see him. Even if he hadn't declared his love for her. Releasing the sword, she slid out from under her father's arms and threw herself at Hugh.
"Husband!" she cried happily. Lifting herself on tiptoe, she began to press kisses across his rigid face. When he continued to stand still and stern-faced, she pulled back to see that he was staring at her father with wary uncertainty. "What is it? Oh," she said. "Hugh, this is my father. He had no idea what Garrod was doing. He did not wish me dead. Father, this is my husband, Hugh."
She beamed at the older man as he lowered the weapon they had used to fend off Garrod's attack, then tilted her head in question at his expression. Lord D'Orland was staring at her with a bemused expression.
"You saved my life," he said with awe.
Willa felt herself blush, but shook her head. "Nay. My husband saved us both."
"Aye. But you saved me first," her father insisted.
"Well, I did try, but he was quite strong." She frowned, then turned to Hugh. "I do believe that Lucan has not been using his full strength at practice. I was unable to parry Garrod's blow. Father had to save us by adding his strength."
"Nay, you saved me," her father persisted.
"You saved me, too," Willa countered. "And Hugh saved us both."
"But you saved me first," he argued.
"But Hugh saved us all in the end."
"Dear God! Do stop arguing about who saved whom and shut up!"
Willa stiffened at that order and turned a scowl on the rude man who had spoken. He stood in the open door to the room, a crowd of gawking onlookers behind him. The man was dressed in the finest clothes she'd ever seen. Willa assumed this meant he held a high position at court. She decided his manners, however, did not reflect his position. She turned to Hugh and poked him in the stomach.
"Are you going to let this rude man speak to your wife this way?" she demanded.
Her husband's eyes widened in alarm. "Er... Willa... this is... er... King John."
"Oh." Her expression turned from outrage to disgruntlement. "Well, I suppose he is allowed to be rude then, but really, 'tis not well done of him."
Hugh closed his eyes briefly as the king's narrowed on her. Drawing himself up, King John spoke with exaggerated patience. "You have obviously been through a harrowing experience, Lady Hillcrest, so I will forgive that impertinence. Hugh, see to your wife. Then I wish you and Lord D'Orland to come and explain this matter to me. I will have it resolved today."
" 'Tis - " Hugh's hand over her mouth brought Willa's words to a halt. He smiled and nodded at King John. The royal's lips twitched with amusement; then he turned on his heel and left the room. The crowd of onlookers made way for him, then followed him away.
"I was only going to say that the matter is resolved," Willa explained when Hugh took his hand away.
Hugh gave a half laugh, then leaned his forehead against hers. "Wife?"
"Aye?" she asked warily.
"I love you."
Willa went still at that proclamation and pulled back so that she could see his face. "You do?"
"Aye. You drive me mad at times and are the most troublesome bundle I have ever come across, but - God save me - I love you."
"Oh, Hugh," Willa breathed, then beamed. "I love you, too."
Throwing her arms around him, she sought his mouth with her own in a kiss that soon turned passionate. Willa had just become aware of his hand drifting toward her breast when a throat clearing reminded her of her father's presence. Blushing furiously, she broke the kiss at once.
"Er... perhaps we should see Willa to your chamber and take ourselves off to meet with the king," he suggested to Hugh. "King John is not the most patient of men."
Chapter Twenty-one
"What are you doing? You cannot cross her legs like that. Uncross them. She must push now. Push, Willa," her father instructed. Tristan D'Orland's hair was a wild mass about his head and he wore only a robe.
Willa's father had visited Hillcrest often since their reunion at court. He and Hugh had become good friends, enjoying the hunt and sharing old war stories together. Willa had also grown close to him. She'd even begun to use the affectionate term Papa with him. Richard Hillcrest was still the father of her heart, but her heart had room for two papas.
"Do not push!" Hugh bellowed as Willa grunted and sat up in the bed. He'd taken the linen and furs with him on leaping out of bed, leaving her lying there in only her shift. Now he replaced the linen and ordered, "Wait for Eada. She will - "
"You cannot tell her to wait!" Lord D'Orland snapped. "The babe is ready to come now."
"Babies." Willa panted out the reminder and watched with exasperation as both men blanched.