Borderland Betrayal (12 page)

James nodded with satisfaction and eyed the short, bald-headed man for a moment. He always struck him as owlish in appearance with a round face and slightly sunken eyes. The complete opposite of himself and certainly not a warrior, yet John had always garnered his father’s respect. How was it John commanded such respect but in spite of all his efforts to be everything his father had wished of him, he had never received so much as the smallest of acknowledgements?

With a grateful sigh, he undid his padded armour and discarded it over the back of the chair at the end of the long hall table. Then he unclasped the hood of his hauberk and abandoned that on the chair too, the heavy mail landing with a
clunk
.

“‘Tis too hot for chainmail,” he muttered as he removed his chainmail and studied his sodden shirt.

“Shall I have a bath brought up for you?”

“Aye, if you will. A cool one.”

“Is all well at Thornewall?”

James’ lips quirked at John’s eager expression. “Aye.”

“And the Lady?”

“She is very well.”

John’s smile expanded. “That is good news indeed. Let us pray Thornewall has healthy sons before long.”

Despondency washed over him as he cast his gaze around the room. Aside from two servants and John, the large manor house remained empty, unlived in. Since the death of his mother and father, the place had become an empty shell. While they were thankful their lord was to have babes, James knew well that his villeins hoped the same for him. And as yet, he saw little chance of that happening.

“Well, I shall have your bath sent up, sir. There are some missives in your office that arrived but a few days ago. I saw no sense in sending them on to you, knowing of your impending arrival.”

“My thanks, John. I will see to them shortly and take a tour of the village after my ablutions.”

With a dip of his head, John closed the door. James listened as his footsteps descended the outer steps toward the kitchen. Plucking at his sticky shirt, he grimaced and walked around the large fireplace to the second door. As he stepped into the office, he tamped down the icy shiver that assailed him. His father’s likeness sat on one wall in a gilded frame, ever observant. The man’s cold, but handsome features stared at him as he picked up the missives John had mentioned.

The seal on the first caught his eye. Lord Robert. Ack, the man had been pestering him for months to meet with him. Something about an alliance between them. The Lord was not an overly wealthy man and his daughter’s dowry was paltry compared to some, but was enough for a man like James. However he had no wish to marry a woman he’d never met. He had little wish to marry anyone. How could he, when women baffled him? Besides which, his father had expected better things of him. To pursue a woman of huge wealth.

But he was nearing thirty summers. He could only put off marriage for so long. Ripping open the missive, he cast his gaze over the carefully penned letter and bit back a groan. The Lord had grown more assertive with each missive and it seemed he was already putting about word of a marriage between James and his young daughter. He glanced up at his father’s portrait and shook his head.

Time to put the Lord in his place.

He sat behind the carved desk and pulled out some parchment and a quill. As much as he had a duty to find a wife, he would not be forced into marriage with some young lass he’d never met. If he was to marry, it would be to someone worldly, who could cope with his absences as he tended to Thornewall. Someone like… Ellise.

Aye, strong woman that she was, she was perfect marriage material. If only she was not so elusive. If only her circumstances were better. He laughed aloud as he imagined bringing her home when his father was still alive. He would be furious, though Ellise’s sharp tongue would surely put him in his place. If only he had the ability to put his father in his place those years ago. Mayhap he would not have gone to war and witnessed more bloodshed than he ever needed to see. Mayhap he would take more pleasure in his duties at Harrowsbridge had they not been forced upon him and met with criticism as he tried to learn the ropes as a young lad.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he considered his missive. Was he making a mistake turning down a decent marriage offer? Nay, he’d had enough of his life being dictated to him. If he was to marry, it would be with a woman of his choosing.

With a shake of his head, he swiped aside the image of the one woman who plagued him most when he thought on such matters. He barely knew the woman. And he knew her circumstances. Ellise could never be his wife. A woman of his choosing, aye, but one with plentiful wealth and no secrets.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Blowing a strand of hair from her face, Ellise scowled as it fell back over her forehead and stuck to her skin. The warmth from the large fireplace mingled with the summer heat and the air in the kitchen stifled. She dropped the willow bark into a steaming pot and gave it a quick stir before turning back to the big table and gathering up the mint leaves. The cook glowered at her. He hated her taking up cooking space with her ‘useless bits o’ tree’.

A trickle of sweat dribbled down her forehead and she swiped at it angrily before snatching the knife and chopping the mint roughly. The clean scent mingled with the smell of fresh pastries as she worked the knife across the leaves and chopped them into fine pieces.

Mio Dios
, but she was still angry.
Foolish woman.
Even an afternoon of preparing remedies for Lucy would not calm her. Usually it brought her such peace but turmoil still raged.

But it could not be jealousy surely? The conversation she’d had with Winnie earlier had unsettled her though as they spoke of James’ absence. Winnie’s words echoed in her mind.
He will likely be making arrangements for his marriage.
What did it matter to her if James married? However the idea of him marrying some insipid southern lady made her stomach twist. James deserved so much more than an arranged marriage to a young, inexperienced lass.

A jolt of sensation dripped over her and she straightened, sensing him before she spotted him. He approached from behind, as if she had somehow summoned him but he didn’t speak. Merely stood and observed as she reached for another clump of mint leaves and started work on them.

The
thud, thud, thud
of the knife on the wood mirrored her thumping heart as James waited silently. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him, arms folded as he rested back against one of the table tops. The servants and cook paid him little attention aside from greeting him with a dip of their heads as they scurried about preparing the evening meal.

It seemed the only one disturbed by his presence was her.

“What do you make there?” he finally asked.

“A tonic. For stomach ailments,” she answered without looking round.

He didn’t respond and Ellise noted his stiff posture, even as he tried to affect an air of nonchalance. What plagued the man? Something clearly bothered him.

She kept her gaze on the herbs, unable to look at him yet. Her heart still hurt when she thought about what she’d heard. “Is all well?”

“Aye.”

“Lucy is not ailing?”

“Nay.”

“Your journey went well?”

“Indeed.”

“And all is well at Harrowsbridge?”

“Well enough.”

She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Can I aid you with something?”

“Nay.”

Slowly inhaling, she brushed the stray mint leaves from her hands and swivelled to face him. “Then pray tell why you are stood there like an ominous shadow? ‘Tis most disconcerting.”

The muscles in his jaw ticked and he straightened, a hand coming to his sword. Did the man always have to look like he was readying himself for battle? If she didn’t know better, she would suspect he was preparing to run her through with that scowl upon his brow.

But,
Santa Maria,
he still managed to be so beautiful. Her golden
ángel.
Except he was not hers, and never would be. Soon he would belong to another. That stab of raw jealousy struck her again and she tried to brush it aside. The fickle emotion angered her. James had every right to marry someone else.

His gaze clashed with hers and held, making her chest constrict before he turned abruptly away. As if unsure of what to do, he paused and faced her once more.

“I hear tell—” He coughed. “I hear the Earl of Wighthurst is seeking your hand.”

 Ellise blinked. How unexpected. Dare she hope it was jealously that made him so tense? While it would serve neither of them any good, she childishly hoped she was not the only one suffering so. She should have realised the attention Edmund paid her had been noticed by the servants. But they did not know that all his attention was unwelcome. They probably believed his whispered words were like that of a lover and not just taunts and threats.

“You have been listening to the gossips, it seems,” she replied stiffly.

“You will not accept it.” James’ scowl deepened as she decided how to respond. “Ellise, surely you will not?”

She bristled at this. Did he see her as ranking so far below the Earl that she did not deserve such attention? “And why should I not?”

“Tell me you do not love the man?”

Annoyance surged through her, making her spine stiff. “And what if I do?”

A rough hand curled around her arm, chafing against her sleeve and James urged her up the steps and into the middle ward. The walls of the hall and the outer fortifications enclosed them and Ellise squinted in the sun as she wrenched her arm from his hold.

“
Mio Dios
, what is the meaning of this? I pray you do not think it acceptable to handle a woman so just because you are captain!”

He sprang back, as if she had stung him and cursed under his breath. “Forgive me.” He peered at her from under his brow. “Do you truly love him?”

“Nay,” she admitted. “Nay, I do not.”

“You will not marry him.”

His statement riled her. How dare he dictate what she should and should not do? “I know not, James. What is it to you?”

The hand tensed on his sword again. “You could not marry such a man. He would suffocate you, Ellise.” Pain swam in his eyes and doused her anger briefly until he declared with a shake of his head, “Nay, you will not marry him.”

“Is it so hard for you to believe that I may wish to marry a rich earl? Or mayhap you do not think he will ask me. Mayhap ‘tis too hard for you to imagine a
common thief
marrying a lord.”

“A common—?” he fumed. “You know I do not think of you that way.”

“And what of you, anyhow? ‘Tis fine for you to marry a woman you do not know. Why should I not marry a man who can offer me an escape from poverty?”

“Who is this woman you speak of? I have made no marriage arrangements.”

Was he lying to her? Did he think she wouldn’t find out? And why was he so angry at the idea of her marrying Edmund? It was not as if James had made an offer. Or ever would. She would never fit his notion of the perfect wife. While the attraction between them still raged, it was not enough. Surely he did not believe that being merely attracted to her meant he could command her?

“I have heard that a lord is courting you for his daughter’s hand,” she said tightly past the knot in her throat.

“Have you indeed?” James edged closer, bore down upon her. “And have you heard that I’ve accepted the offer.”

“N-nay.”

“Mayhap you should be more careful as to whom you listen to.”

Ellise felt the air leave her lungs. “You will not marry her?”

“I have little intention of marrying a woman I know naught of. Particularly one embroiled in the political turmoil of southern England. I trust her not. Nor do I trust this Edmund, your future betrothed.”

“I did not say he was my betrothed.”

“But you said you were considering it.”

“I—James…” His wide shoulders filled her vision as he towered over her. “You confuse me,” she said softly.

“No more than you confuse me.”

She jumped, realising he had inched even closer. Braving a peek up at him, her mouth dried as she saw the longing in his gaze.

His shoulders dropped marginally. “I only wish the best for you, Ellise.”

“Do you? Truly?”

“Aye, why would you question it?”

Because you will not marry me,
she longed to cry.

There, she had admitted it. She wanted James. The thought of him marrying anyone else tore at her. Unable to respond, she retreated until warm stone hit her back. Could love be any more agonising? It near crippled her as the realisation struck. She loved him, completely, perfectly, unbearably.

A hand reached out and brushed a loose strand of her hair away. The touch of his finger twisted at her heart. He leaned forward, so close his breath caressed her hair before he dipped down and skimmed his lips across her cheek. It burned a fiery path over her skin as he lingered there, just next to her ear.

“Ellise,” he whispered, “you addle my mind. I cannot think with you around. Tell me you feel the same. Tell me I do not suffer this agony alone.”

Heat swirled through her veins as her body tingled with need. She longed to turn her head and take those firm lips but the pain in her chest prevented her from doing so. Nay, he did not suffer alone but he could never know the hurt of understanding there was no future for them, not while she held the secret of her visions. And whilst one night had once been sufficient, it would never be now. Not now she loved him.

Remaining motionless, hands fisted at her sides, she whispered back, “I can do this no more. This game. No more kisses, no more idle words. I have had enough.”

Still his lips lingered at the side of her face and she waited for what felt like an eternity yet not long enough. Her heart dropped as James stepped back. His gaze shuttered abruptly, becoming cold and distant before he dipped his head.

“Forgive me, my lady. I shall bid you good day.”

With that, he spun on his heel and marched away. Ellise’s heart screamed out for him to turn back and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as tears clouded her vision. That was it, then. The folly of their attraction was over. And she would continue on with her original plan.