Chapter Six

A nnora watched Richard being ushered from the room by his sister. That the pair were related could not be doubted given how similar their features were. The fact that he had barged into his bedchamber and seen her completely in all her naked glory would rattle her wits for months to come. ’Twas almost worth his embarrassment to witness his startled expression that quickly changed to some form of desire whilst his eyes lingered on her body.

She had seen his heated gaze but briefly before he had been ordered to turn around. But the desire she’d witnessed had most certainly been there, for all the good ’twould do either of them. Their destinies had already been determined by a king and empress who continued to wage a war that had plunged England into the brink of starvation. A war that had placed them on opposite sides. Despite Annora’s repugnance for Stephen, she could not cross the man—not while he held her son’s fate in his hands. Any fanciful thought Annora might have of some kind of future with the man who had taken her captive would have the inevitable outcome of heartbreak. Better to not get involved and continue to hate the man rather than to let love into her heart.

The maid tugged on a tangled knot in her hair and Annora was brought back to the reality of her situation. She must somehow make her escape. If the King learned of her capture, he might think she had willing turned herself over to Empress Matilda’s men—and if he believed that, his revenge was sure to be terrible. Her son’s life depended upon her staying in Stephen’s good graces. Another tug on the mess the maid was trying to undo was enough for Annora. She was used to managing on her own.

She held out her hand and the comb was placed in her palm. “That will be all. I think I can finish on my own. Besides, I have Lady Beatrix here if I require any further help,” Annora said as she watched the servant leave. The fewer people in the room, the greater her chance of making an escape.

Beatrix came to perch herself on the edge of the seat opposite Annora and the two women inspected each other for several minutes before Beatrix spoke up. “My brother is a clod,” she began whilst smoothing down the fabric of her dress. “I am certain he gave no thought that you would still be attending to your morning rituals and will make a fuller apology once you see him again.”

“Your brother and I are hardly on terms that would be considered friendly, Lady Beatrix,” Annora said with a heavy sigh. “He took me captive against my will and is holding me as his prisoner.”

“Did you honestly think he would just release you to go about as you pleased, rallying Stephen’s forces, when he was on the business of his Empress?”

A frown marred her brow at the thought of what she would have done if their situations had been reversed. “Nay,” she replied reluctantly, “I suppose not but he does not understand the importance of why I serve Stephen.”

Beatrix finally relaxed back in her chair. “Considering none of us are going anywhere soon, you shall have plenty of time to fill him in.”

“’Tis none of his business why I do the things I must,” Annora retorted once again angry with herself for being captured in the first place.

“You will soon learn that Richard will make it his business. He is as stubborn as a mule, but he is an honorable man, Lady Annora. Given half a chance, you may even come to favor him.”

A sarcastic laugh left her lips. “When hell freezes over!”

A smirk slid across Beatrix’s mouth. “Well, ’tis awfully cold outside and Stephen is starving us to death with his siege so we may be closer to hell than you think.”

Annora watched as Beatrix stood and went to the bed where several gowns were laid out for her to choose from. “I am not wearing any of those,” she said firmly.

Beatrix looked back over her shoulder. “Any one of these should fit you. I selected them myself from my own wardrobe and from those of the other ladies in waiting who are still here.”

Annora shook her head. “Absolutely not. My own garments are perfectly suitable considering my situation.”

Beatrix went over to the clothes that had been carelessly tossed onto the floor before her bath. She picked up the tunic and lifted the fabric to her nose and sniffed. She immediately dropped it back into the dirty pile. “I cannot allow you to put those filthy things back on your body. At least not until we can have them laundered.”

“Who made you in charge of me?” Annora inquired completely miffed that this woman was telling what she could or could not wear.

“Richard did when he asked me to attend you… at least until you are returned to his company,” Beatrix answered heading back over to the bed and picking out a gown that reminded Annora of autumn.

“I am certain I am much older than you are and am perfectly capable of making my own decisions on what I should wear,” Annora declared folding her arms over her chest.

Beatrix lifted one delicate brow. “Your judgement must be severely impaired if you plan on wearing those foul-smelling garments when there are other options available. As to my age, I am a score and four, not that it should matter.”

She was younger than Annora, though not as young as she had supposed. “And not as yet married.” That seemed surprising. The woman was quite beautiful, and from the richness of her gowns, Annora doubted she lacked for fortune.

A sigh escaped the younger lady. “Do not remind me. My brother does so often enough that I am tempted to run away with the first eligible man who might make me happy.”

“Like the one who stood guard at the door?”

Beatrix turned with the gown draped over her arm. “Aye. Exactly so, but do not think you have succeeded in distracting me from the inevitable. Let us get you dressed. This gown will look lovely on you.”

Annora’s turned her eyes toward her own garments left on the floor. As much as she wished to cling to the familiarity they represented, she had to admit that she could not remember the last time she had been able to wash them. Aye… she had very little desire to put the tunic and hose back on now that she had been allowed the luxury of a bath. Dressing in something so filthy would negate all the benefits of the bath, and there was no telling when she might be allowed another one. She assumed the resources at Oxford Castle were running low. This bath might be her last one for a while.

When had she last been dressed in a gown? Memories of her life with Leofric came into her mind reminding her of happier times. Theirs had been an arranged marriage between their families and they had been virtually strangers at the time when they were wed. Still, she had come to care for her husband, and she missed him dearly, even if she could not honesty say that she had been madly in love with him. He had been appropriately named for he had always reminded her of a lion with his long blondish hair and soft brown eyes. And when their son had been born, Leif had been named after Leofric’s sire. They had been happy—a quiet sort of happiness that she’d learned to adjust to over time. There was never any of the passion between them that Annora had always longed for in her marriage, but ’twas a small sacrifice to lay aside those foolish, girlish dreams in favor of a peaceful, contented life. She performed her duties and had given birth to Leofric’s heir. Even though he desired more sons, Leif had not been blessed with any further siblings, a situation that had caused some discord in her marriage, putting a wedge between her and her husband that furthered the distance between them.

But Leofric was still fair and had indulged her when she asked to continue her sword play. ’Twas a practice that had carried over since she was quite young, when her own father taught her to defend herself. And whilst the lady of the castle had dressed according to her station in the evenings, she would easily be found in tunic and hose during the days to permit her to move freely during her hours of training. She started to have a reputation as an accomplished swordswoman and Leofric would invite his friends to their home to see if they could best her on the training field. It had pleased her that her husband had been proud of her accomplishments rather than disappointed that she wasn’t more ladylike. She had been more than happy to demonstrate her prowess to any and all comers.

Mayhap that had been her downfall in the end. Had she been less eager to show off, less proud of her achievements, word of her skill with the blade might have stayed hidden, and she could have avoided the situation she now found herself in. Her castle had been ransacked. Her husband had fallen in his attempts to protect their home. And her son had been taken hostage whilst she had been forced to serve a man she would never accept as her king. All in all, her life was a shambles and she had no idea how or when she would see her son anytime soon.

Once she was gowned and her hair had been dressed—twisted back neatly in a bun—Beatrix gave her final approval and she was deemed ready to join the others to break their fast. They left the bedchamber and Annora half listened while Beatrix chatted away with some nonsense about her brother’s vow to find her a husband and keeping her safe. Keep her safe ? If this was truly Richard’s intent, then Beatrix should be far from her current situation. Annora did not think Richard knew the meaning of keeping someone safe if his sister was being kept here during a siege!

Annora continued to follow Beatrix down the stairs to exit the turret of Oxford Castle. When they reached the great hall, the young woman swept her hand before them as if she were a favored guest being welcomed into their company. Guest … she was hardly that, but Annora stepped forward into the room whilst conversations lowered to hushed whispers as all who were gathered stopped to stare. For better or worse, she had the feeling her life had just altered and there was no going back to the way things used to be.