Betrothed (5 page)

“Well,” he said slowly, “I guess that depends on you.”

“How so?” 

“Should you never refuse me, I should not have the need to use a village girl, should I?”

“But what if it's my time of the month, or I'm laid in with a child?”

Bronson was quiet for a moment.  “I will not if you do not wish me to.”

“I don't wish it.”

“You may change your mind.  You may send me to the village with a kick.  The way I feel now, I may not ever let you rest.”

Julia smiled in the darkness, absurdly pleased to hear of his passion for her.  “I will not tire of it,” she said softly.

Bronson laughed.  “You don't even know whether you like it yet or not.  Shall we find out tonight?”

She froze, her heart in her throat.  She would not refuse him.  But a tent in a soldier's camp was not the way she'd envisioned her first time.  She didn't answer.

“Never mind, little one,” he said lightly.  “You'll have your wedding night like every virtuous lady should.  I'll not take that from you.” 

* * *

Bronson sent the king's soldiers ahead with word that he had Lady Julia with him.  He was more than a little concerned with how she'd be received back at the castle after running away.  He and his troops would stay until Matthias was better able to travel.  He wasn't going to leave his page behind, especially when he'd been injured trying to protect his lady.

His men had taken in the true identity of the young page Jake with great humor.  Now, instead of two protectors, she had every man in camp protecting her, paying her deference and teasing her mercilessly about her page's dress.  It pleased him how quickly she became as beloved to them as she had to him.

After three days, he deemed Matthias fit to travel.  His arm was still in a sling, but his ribs were better and he could hold the reins of his horse with his good arm and manage just fine.  They were traveling through a stretch of woods that was known for its lawlessness, so he put every man on the alert, arrows at the ready. 

Mid-afternoon Matthias pulled his horse up next to his.  “My lord?”  he said timidly.  Bronson took a good look at him.  He was looking pale and his face was pinched with pain. 

“Ready for a rest?” he said gently.  The boy looked relieved.  “If you don't mind, my lord.”

“Not at all, Matthias, I'd planned on it.  He whistled to his men. 

“John, take half the men and keep traveling along the road until you find a good site to camp for the night.  We'll catch up in bit and it will be nice to have supper already warmed when we get there.”

“Aye, my lord.” 

It was a beautiful afternoon, the late summer sun was not too hot and there was a breeze that rustled the leaves underfoot.  After resting for an hour or so, they continued along the road and were heading up a hill when they heard shouts and the sounds of battle.  He gave a sharp order for his men to take heed and galloped up the rest of hill.  Down below the other half of his troops were engaged in battle with what appeared to be a group of bandits. 

“Matthias, Julia— stay here.  Do not move from this hill!  The rest of you, follow!” he ordered and urged his horse down the side of the hill with a war cry.

* * *

He was magnificent to watch.  Not a shred of hesitation as he led his troops down the hill to battle, whipping his sword out from its scabbard.  He was the knight every lady idealized— brave and valiant, yet pure of heart.  How funny it seemed to her now, that she had been so afraid of him— that she had imagined him so differently. 

“He's without armor,” Matthias pointed out, worriedly. 

Sweet Jesu
.  It was naive of her to think him invincible.  She remembered then that she had her archer's bow.  She fitted it with an arrow and took careful aim.  It was hard with them all moving about, but she did finally get a clear shot.  She missed.  She pulled another arrow from the quiver and fit it to her bow.  Suddenly her horse reared and whinnied, stumbling to the side.  Julia was thrown from the horse, her bow and arrow flung from her hands as she went into the air.  She landed on her side and picked herself up immediately.  The mare had been hit with an arrow and was dropping to the ground.  Julia looked around wildly to see where it had come from as she ran to collect the bow and quiver. 

“Over there!” Matthias pointed. 

Two men were running toward them on foot.  She fit her arrow and took aim. 
Steady... steady...
She hit one, right in the throat and he dropped to the ground.  His friend didn't stop and he was running at them with a sword drawn. 

“Here, here!  Get up here!” Matthias was leaning off his horse with his arm outstretched.  She knew it was his hurt arm so she threw the bow over her shoulder, tucked the quiver under her arm and took both his hand and the back of his saddle to scramble up behind him.  He whirled the horse around and took off down the hillside.  She fit another arrow, turned around on the horse and squeezed one eye closed, sighting the man giving them chase.  Bulls-eye! 

“Yes!” she exclaimed.  Matthias whirled around to see the man drop and he gave her a grin.  When they arrived below, the Duke's troops had just finished the battle but were still in a complete case of chaos.  She didn't see Bronson anywhere.

“JULIA!”  She heard him calling to her.

“Here.  I'm here,” she called, but her voice came out more like a squeak.

“JULIA!”  The Duke's frantic voice boomed through the decimated camp. 

“HERE!  She's here, my lord,” Matthias called out. 

Julia started to dismount, but found she was so shaky that she'd lost all coordination in her limbs.  It turned out it didn't matter, because when the Duke reached their horse, he yanked her down so fast her teeth rattled. 

* * *

“Mother of God, why did you not obey my orders?  I told you to stay on that hill!” 

Bronson's heart had done a complete flip in his chest when he'd looked up on the hill and seen that Julia and Matthias were not there.  Now that fear quickly morphed into anger as he saw they were both safe. 

“My lord,” Matthias cut in, dismounting and coming to stand next to Julia. 

“Am I speaking to you?” he snarled.  Matthias shook his head.  “Then shut it!”

He turned back to berating Julia.  “Whether it's as my wife or as my soldier, when you're given an order, you damn well better obey it.  That's what keeps you safe.  If you ever, ever disobey an order again I will give you the worst whipping of your life.  Do you understand me?”

As the rage started to recede, he became aware that his troops had all gone completely silent, in shock over his uncharacteristic tirade.  Most were studiously looking away to give them privacy, except for Matthias, who still was trying to interject.  But it was the look on Julia's face that stopped him cold.  Her eyes were wide and filled with absolute terror. 

“I'm sorry,” he reached for her and she flinched as if he was going to strike her.  “I'm sorry.  I was afraid, that's all.”  He clutched her against his chest, reassuring himself that she was alive and well.  She did not return his embrace, but stood stiffly against him.  He released her.

“My lord,” Matthias tried again, his brows an angry slash.  “Her horse was
shot.
  We were attacked on that hill.  Did you wish us to stay and die?” he demanded. 

“Mind your tone with me,” he warned Matthias.  He looked up on the hill and saw what he had missed before— Julia's mare, laying on her side, writhing in the throes of death.  Oh God.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Forgive me.” He sought Julia's eyes, but she would not look at him. 

“And you needn't have worried about us— she killed both our attackers with her own arrows.” 

His mouth dropped at that, but he should not have been so shocked.  After all, he'd seen her kill before.  He digested this new bit of information and felt the last of his anger and fear melt away, replaced by relief and weariness.  Matthias was glaring at him, his good arm on his hip.  He had clearly become Julia's staunchest supporter. 

“Well done, both of you.  I apologize.” 

She met his eyes briefly and shrugged.  “Are you finished?”  From someone else's lips it might have sounded defiant, but she was careful to keep her eyes lowered respectfully.  It came across as a simple question.  Yes,
he
was finished, but she was clearly upset and he didn't trust her well enough to be sure she wouldn't run away again. 

“Julia, I—”

“I need to see to my horse,” she muttered and started to walk away without being dismissed, which was crossing the lines into disrespect.  But she was his lady, not his page, and women are wont to do such things.  As he followed on her heel, she whirled around, angry.  “I just need a moment alone, all right?” she snapped.  Her face was flushed, her lips trembled. 

He stopped walking.  “Well, take Matthias with you, then,” he said mildly.

“I said ALONE!”  He saw then that it was not so much anger in her face, as a desperate attempt to hold back her tears.  She wanted to be alone because she didn't want him or his men to see her crying.  He could understand that— everyone had their pride.  And he had just damaged hers severely with that undeserved tongue lashing in front of all his men.  She turned and ran toward the hill.  He didn't like it, but at least she was in plain view and he could keep an eye on her from where they were. 

But part of him worried that if he let her walk away now, the wound between them would just fester.  He looked around at his troops.  They were handling everything with the efficient post-battle protocol they always followed.  He was completely useless to them in this frame of mind anyway.  He felt eyes on his back.  Matthias was still staring at him, that hand on his hip.  It was easy to imagine the big-hearted knight he would someday become.  Matthias lifted his eyes to Julia's figure, climbing the hill and Bronson gave him a ghost of a smile and nodded before he followed. 

He walked slowly to give her space.  When he reached her, she was resting her face on the mare's neck, stroking her ears with one hand.  In the other hand she clutched her dagger, which she clearly hadn't brought herself to use yet.  She hadn't heard him approach, her sniffles drowning out his footsteps.  He gently placed his hand around her dagger hand to take it from her.  She jerked her hand away, but then relaxed when she saw it was him. 

“Shall I do it?” he asked gently.  She sniffed and nodded, handing him the dagger.  He ran it swiftly across the mare's throat, ending her misery. 

Julia stood up and took a step away from the grotesque sight.  He saw the bodies of the two bandits she had taken down, both of them with an arrow to the throat.  She'd been very, very well trained. 

“What do we do with her body?” she asked shakily, indicating her dead mare.  “Put it in a cart to take to the village?” 

He smiled at her attempt at wry humor.  “Let's leave it for the animals.  We have enough bodies to deal with.  I'll send some men back up to take care of them,” he said indicating the dead men. 

He held out his hand to her.  She looked at him warily, but put her hand in his.  It was so slender and delicate.  Yet just as capable of killing as his own.  She'd proven that twice.  He would do well to have a little faith in her abilities.  He led her slowly down the hill, not because he wanted to bring her to the mayhem below, but because the sight and smell of the horse made staying where they were impossible. 

“I apologize for that horrible display of temper back there.  I just— I had imagined you captured and it felt as though my heart would never beat again.” 

She looked at him from under her lashes.  They were at the base of the hill and he stopped and put his arms around her.  She still did not return his embrace, but she did seem to melt into him a bit.  “That was a fine way of showing that you care,” she said.

“Know that I do care,” he said seriously.  “Do you believe that?”

She blinked back tears and nodded.

“I feel terrible that I raised my voice to you in front of all the men...even more so that it wasn't deserved.  Can you forgive me?”

She didn't answer. 

“If it makes you feel better, I'll let you beat
me
with a belt.”

Julia laughed, then, and he knew she wouldn't stay mad much longer. 

“Listen,” he said seriously.  “I know I frightened you.”

Her smile faded.

“I want you to know I would never lift a hand to you when I'm in a temper like that.  I promised you that, remember?”

She nodded slowly, searching his face as if to be sure she could believe him. 

“And I will never strike your face or any place other than here,” he said, gently patting her sweet backside.  He brought her face up to his and bent slowly to kiss her.  Her lips were unbelievably soft and yielding.  It was the first time he'd kissed her— even after he'd known she was his intended, he hadn't trusted himself to be able to hold back once he'd started.  But here, in plain view of all his men, kissing her seemed like the most important thing he could possibly do. 

He caressed and stroked her lips with his, using his tongue to part them, teasing her with it as she relaxed in his arms.  His hand was at the nape of her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek.  He knew the exact moment she had fully forgiven him when he felt her complete yielding and her own soft demands begin.  She pressed her body close to his, and he had to fight the urge to pick her up right there and find a tree to put her back against so he could... no.  He pulled away and stroked her cheek some more.  “Friends?”

She laughed and pulled his head back down for another kiss.  “Aye.  Friends.”  She gave him that long-lashed look that he so adored. 

Chapter Four

It was the tension from Bronson more than anything that told her she had something to fear from the king.  After all, he was far better acquainted with the ways of their monarch, having fought with him and for him for the past ten years. 

A steward met them when they were inside the gates and after peering at the group, said to Bronson, “I was told the Lady Julia was in your company?”