Read The Hidden Heart for Free Online

stepped forward and reached for Gillian’s hand once again. She gave it reluctantly, fuming while he pressed his lips to her fingers, then grasped her hand more tightly when she would have pulled free. “I would speak with you later, milady,” he told her. His dark brown eyes held hers captive. “When we’ve a chance to be private.”
    â€œI think not, milord,” she said, her voice as cold as her heart.
    â€œFitzClifford,” Talbot called. Gillian took advantage of Rannulf’s start of surprise to free herself. “Leave my ward alone,” he chided, his tone amused. “Else you’ll frighten her off with your ardor. At least allow us a chance to know her.” He paused near the door. “Are you coming?”
    â€œLater, Gillian,” Rannulf repeated, his voice too low for Talbot to hear. He straightened. “I beg your pardon, milord,” he called as he turned on his heel and crossed the hall. “‘Twas not my intention to disturb the lady.” He joined Talbot and Ella. “I was much struck by her beauty, ’tis all.”
    â€œIndeed?” His unusual violet eyes alight with amusement, Talbot sent yet another bow her way. Seething, Gillian nodded in return, polite but cool, and stood watching, waiting for them to leave, but it seemed Talbot wasn’t finished yet. “I cannot fault your taste, FitzClifford,” he added as he turned to leave the chamber. “But see that you keep your distance. I find that I’m feeling protective of my ward....”
    Gillian remained on her feet as Talbot’s voice trailed away. As soon as the sound of their boots upon the stairs faded, however, she slumped into the chair. Hands shaking, she reached up and slid the veil and circlet from her head and dropped them into her lap.
    Blessed Mary save her, how could she bear this? She closed her eyes, but all she could see was her new guardian’s well-tailored clothes, the fantastic, elaborately embroidered design covering his surcoat from neckline to hem. The man had journeyed from London into the fastness of the Marches, yet he appeared more finely turned out than anyone she’d seen in her life. Did the king honestly believe that a man like Talbot—naught but a showy popinjay, from what she’d seen thus far—could protect her people?
    She drew her hand over her face and opened her eyes, erasing the image. ‘Twould serve her better to send word to Prince Llywelyn...nay, even to her cousin Steffan himself, to come take command of I’Eau Clair, than to believe Lord Nicholas Talbot competent enough at the art of war to defend them against the most meager of threats.
    Could that be why he’d brought Rannulf with him? No matter what she thought of Rannulf—and what did she think of him? she asked herself—she could not deny he was a fierce warrior, strong and well trained. Her father had believed Rannulf capable of holding I’Eau Clair, had offered him her hand and all that went with it—the keep, the lands, her heart....
    Her fingers tightened about the metal band in her hand until the jeweled cabochons bit into her palm. To see Rannulf here, once again within these walls, was a situation she’d given up all thought of ever having to face.
    Gillian looked down at the circlet and felt her heart falter. It had been months, perhaps years, since she’d last seen it. Why today, of all days, had Ella placed this circlet upon her head?
    Giving vent to the rage welling up from deep inside her, she leapt to her feet and hurled the offending item across the room. It clattered against the stone wall and fell to the floor, the puny sound in the cavernous room doing little to satisfy her.
    Weariness weighting her movements, she left the dais and crossed the rush-strewn floor, the sharp scent of mint rising from beneath her boots serving to clear away her anger.
    She stooped to pick up the circlet, smoothed her