Lord Greville's Captive. Nicola Cornick
on the table beside her, so close that his breath stirred her hair. ‘That is—if it is true, Lady Anne. Almost I believe you.’
He knew that to trust her was madness. Even now she might be lying to him, tempting him to withdraw his troops, tricking him to defeat. Every instinct in his body protested that she was honest, but he could not afford the weakness of allowing himself to feel sympathy for her. He was tired. His mind was clouded with fatigue and the prospect of the killing to come and he knew it could be fatal to his judgement.
Anne turned her head abruptly. Her dark glare pinned him down like the dagger’s point. She tried to rise, but Simon caught her arm and held her still. They were so close now. A mere hair’s breadth separated them.
‘I do not lie,’ Anne said disdainfully. ‘If I were a man, you would answer for such an insult.’
Simon pulled her to her feet so abruptly that her chair rocked back and almost fell. She felt taut beneath his hands, shaking with anger and resentment.
‘Fine words, my lady,’ he said. ‘Yet you must have lied to one of us, to Malvoisier or to me. And he is your ally now.’
Anne wrenched her arm from his grip, suddenly furious. ‘Do not dare to accuse me of disloyalty to my cause,’ she said. Her voice shook. ‘I serve the King and until and unless he releases me of that charge my loyalty is absolute. Malvoisier—’ She stopped, and there was an odd silence.
‘Aye?’ Simon’s voice was harsh as he prompted her. He was breathing fast. ‘What of him?’
Anne paused. ‘Malvoisier and I share the Royalist cause, but our other loyalties are different,’ she said slowly. ‘My first loyalty is to the King, but my next is to my people. I have to protect Grafton. So…’ She spread her hands. ‘I came here of my own accord this night to beg a truce, my lord. If you attack the Manor, you will almost certainly kill your brother along with half the population of the castle. You have cannon—we cannot survive such an onslaught! Call it off and spare Sir Henry’s life and that of my people!’
The silence spun out between them, taut with tension. It was, Simon knew, the closest that Anne of Grafton would ever come to begging. She had so much pride and she had humbled it to come here tonight to ask him to spare the lives of the people she cared for. And now he had to deny her. He shook his head slowly.
‘No. I will not call off the assault.’
He saw the shock and horror on her face and realised that she had been certain, convinced, that he would do as she asked. She straightened up, her eyes riveted on his face.
‘Do you not understand, my lord?’ she demanded. ‘Sir Henry is too weak to move—too weak to fight! When you attack he will be killed in the battle or, worse, Malvoisier will take him and string him up from the battlements! He is a hostage and Malvoisier will use him to barter for his freedom—or to buy yours! Whichever way you look at it your brother is a dead man!’
‘And do you care about that?’ Simon asked harshly.
‘Of course I care!’ Anne snapped. ‘Your father is my godfather, Lord Greville. Henry is as dear to me as—’ She broke off and finished quietly, ‘as dear to me as a brother.’
‘And yet you thought to use him to buy the safety of Grafton,’ Simon said bitterly, ‘and I cannot surrender to such blackmail.’
Anne stared at him, her eyes full of anger and disbelief. ‘What, you will do nothing to help him?’ she challenged. ‘I do believe you have run mad. You would sacrifice your brother for nothing!’ Her voice warmed into fury. ‘Why not tell me the truth, my lord? You will not withdraw your troops because you have committed to make the attack on Grafton and you cannot be seen to weaken. Henry counts for nothing! It is all about your reputation in front of your men. That is all that you care for!’
They stared at one another for a long moment, dark eyes locked with dark.
‘Even if I called off the attack, I could not free Henry,’ Simon said. He tried to ignore her taunts and the anger they stirred in him. ‘You are correct—he is Malvoisier’s hostage. The only way I can save him is through taking the Manor.’
Anne grabbed her cloak. ‘Then I am wasting my time here. Henry said you would listen to reason. Clearly he overestimates you.’
Simon reached the door in two strides and blocked her path. He leaned his shoulders against the panels and folded his arms. Anne had come to a halt before him and was waiting impatiently for him to let her pass. He did not move.
‘Of course it is the case that you have given me the means to counteract General Malvoisier’s plan,’ he said quietly.
Anne looked up at him and he saw the bewilderment in her eyes.
‘What do you mean?’ she said.
Simon gestured about the room. ‘It is true that Malvoisier holds Henry, but you are here now, in my power. A hostage for a hostage, a life for a life.’ He held her gaze. ‘I will use you to free Henry, Lady Anne. You are my prisoner now.’
Chapter Two
The disbelief and disillusionment hit Anne with a shattering joint blow. For a moment all she could do was remember Henry Greville’s words:
‘My brother is an honourable man. He will thank you for your intervention. He will treat you with all respect…’
And she had believed him. She had remembered the Simon Greville that she had known all those years ago and she had believed without question. How unutterably foolish she had been. In her desire to do the right thing, to tell Simon Greville the truth about his brother and save both Henry and her own people, she had walked directly into peril and into the hands of a man at least as dangerous and ruthless as Gerard Malvoisier himself. She had risked all for justice and this was how Simon Greville, her former suitor, had repaid her.
She spun around so quickly that, on the table beside her, the wine cup trembled and almost fell.
‘You will not do it!’ Her voice broke, betraying her desperation. ‘I trusted you! I came here in good faith to negotiate a truce.’
She saw Simon’s expression harden. ‘As I said before, it is best to trust no one.’
There was silence for a brief second. Anne looked at him. Clearly, the memories she cherished of their previous acquaintance had been misleading. In her mind’s eyes she could still recall that long, hot summer at Grafton four years ago when Simon Greville had courted her—and kissed her with such passion and tenderness that she had tumbled into love with him. In all the time that had followed she had never met another man who had measured up to her memory of him. Consciously or unconsciously she had judged all men by his standard—and found them wanting. And now it seemed that it was her judgement that had been lacking. Simon Greville had no honour and no integrity and would use her for his own ends.
Physically he looked much the same. He had filled out over the intervening years so that now he was not only tall but broadly built as well. He was very dark, with the watchful gaze and the chiselled, patrician looks of a plaster church saint. Unlike his brother, he seldom smiled. But Henry Greville was little more than a charming boy. Simon was a man and altogether more formidable. He was powerful, cold, calculating—and merciless. She should have seen it. She should have run when she had the chance. Instead she had been lulled into a false sense of security by believing Henry and trusting her memories of his brother. She had put her safety in this man’s hands. She felt betrayed. All her disgust, with herself as well as him, rose to the surface.
‘I thought you a man of honour,’ she said. ‘It seems I was wrong.’
Simon was leaning against the door, arms folded, with a carelessness that she despised. It seemed so contemptuous. She could not see any evidence in his face that her accusation had stung him at all.
‘Perhaps there is no room for honour in war,’ he said. ‘You have played into my hands by coming here, madam. It would be foolish of me