Borderland Betrayal (8 page)

Rough fingers tucked in the fabric before skimming up to her cheek and brushing away the dampness there. “Forgive me, Ellise, I intended not to scold you. ‘Twas my fault.”

She saw the regret in his eyes as he dropped his hand. “‘Twas not your fault, James. You cannot take responsibility for everyone.”

“Ack, ‘tis my duty to look after you while you are under my care.” He curled his hand back over hers, the heat of his fingers and the warmth of his eyes stealing away the pain, along with her breath. “Is the discomfort very great?”

“Nay,” she said, hearing the husky quality to her voice. When was it she became a simpering fool?

“You look a little pale. We must return and have the cut cleaned. It may need stitching too.”

“I can take care of myself, James. You need not fawn over me,” she replied, trying to inject strength into her voice. She needed to regain some kind of control.

“Aye, that I well know, but, as I said, you are under my care.” Hand hooked around her elbow, he helped her to her feet.

Ellise wavered and stumbled against him as her head swam. Mayhap the cut had been worse than she’d thought. She glanced at the linen and noted the steady blossoming of red. Aye, she’d done fair damage to her hand and James’ prediction of her needing stitches was likely correct.

He glanced down and though his expression remained impassive, she saw the concern and regret in his gaze. “Can you walk?”

“Can I walk? Of course I can walk! I am no swooning maiden.”

“Will you at least permit me to hold onto you? You do look pale.”

How she possibly looked pale with her skin tone was beyond her, but she sighed in defeat. “Aye, as you will.” The pain and blood loss seemed to have sapped her energy.

One arm wrapped quickly around her waist, his fingers pressed into her side and Ellise found herself cocooned in James’ hold. Already light-headed, the sensation of having his solid body flattened against hers threatened to send her into a swoon. And,
mio Dios
, she did not intend for that to happen after having declared she would never do such a thing.

By the time they reached the horses, her legs trembled beneath her. James went from muttering words of encouragement to cursing his lack of care. Ellise shook her head to herself. The man refused to accept she was her own woman and her accident had nothing to do with James’ inability to look after her. The Captain of Thornewall took the idea of duty far too seriously. What was it that made him so rigid, so in control? She longed to find out. That night in Durham she had seen the Captain lose control and she desperately wanted to see it happen again.

But unfortunately it was impossible. If making love was the only way to break through his restraint, then she would likely never see it happen again for such a moment would surely hurt them both. For him, his sense of chivalry would be injured. And for her…?

As much as she wanted to seize the moment, her attachment to him had already grown too great. She
had
to leave Thornewall once the babes were born. It was simply too dangerous for her to stay.

~***~

James released a long low breath as the towers of Thornewall keep jutted up in the distance. On top of a large mound, it came into sight before the scattering of white cottages around it did. They rode slowly, their mounts as close together as possible.

The damned woman had refused to ride with him, in spite of her obvious frailty. She clutched the reins in one hand and cradled the other hand in her lap, but still she kept her back straight and proud. He grudgingly admired her fortitude but it did not stop him from wanting to look after her.

Damnation. What had he been thinking letting her loose with a knife?

He hadn’t been thinking. In truth, Ellise’s company stole all sensible thought. He went from longing to pin her down and plunder her mouth and her body to wanting to bundle her up and protect her from every wrong in the world. And then when she argued with him…

Ack, he wanted to kiss her then too. And argue some more. And release every frustration upon her until he was completely unburdened. The strong woman that she was, she’d take each of them and probably soothe them all away.

But that was not what men did. His father had taught him that. The job of captain was a hard one, but he was proud to have people rely on him. He certainly did not need a lass to help him deal with his problems and he would continue to manage them just as he always had before Ellise came along.

Before Ellise?

What had life been like then? More simple, for certain, but less entertaining.

They worked their way through the main street, bypassing the villagers who nodded a greeting. Ellise smiled and spoke to some even as a light sheen of sweat graced her forehead. God’s teeth, would the lass never cease to amaze? In spite of her discomfort, she still took the time to be gracious to others. It struck James what a shame it was that she wasn’t better connected or wealthier. She was certain to make a fine wife to someone.

But not him.

Hell, he hated the thought of her being a wife to someone else, though. A man with lesser responsibilities might happily marry her. But how could he? He was expected to expand his lands, increase his wealth, and gain more influence in England. His father had even hoped for him to gain connections to royalty, though he doubted that was likely, and he hardly relished the thought. With politics the way they were, anyone caught in the middle of it all risked death.

Why did he even think of marriage anyway? It was not as if Ellise had shown any intention of wanting him to court her. Aside from that one kiss, it seemed as though she tried to avoid him, and her reticence should have been enough to dissuade any notions of… of
anything
between them. She certainly was a mystery.

The clatter of hooves across the drawbridge drew him from his thoughts as they moved through the shadows of the gatehouse into the bailey. James quickly dismounted and threw his reins into the hands of a stable boy before helping Ellise down. She sagged against him, weariness stamped on her features and he kept an arm around her as she rested most of her weight on him.

“Forgive me,” she murmured.

He ignored her apology and concentrated on getting her to her chamber. With encouraging words from him, they climbed the spiral staircase. Her breaths came heavily by the time they reached the top.

“God’s blood, I should have carried you,” he muttered but she made a sound of complaint as he tried to force her into his hold and he had to content himself with allowing her to rest against him once more.

After he shoved the door open, she flopped onto the bed and closed her eyes. James grimaced as he noted the red soaked linen around her hand. With no white visible, he concluded she had lost a lot of blood. He’d seen before how people had died after a severe blood-letting and had little intention of allowing Ellise to meet the same fate.

She remained motionless but as he turned on his heel to fetch the physician she called out to him, her voice tremulous, “I-I have some cream. For infection. ‘Twill clean the wound.”

“I need to get the physician.”

“Nay,” she protested breathily. “There’s no need. Just the cream. And some thread and a needle.”

James clenched his hand around the door handle and considered her. “You’ll not be able to stitch it yourself.”

“You can do it.”

He stared at his hand, his knuckles white. “I cannot. My hands are too big. I’ll fetch Winnie.”

“Nay!
¡Por favor!
Pray, I do not wish to be a bother. I feel a fool enough already.”

Releasing the handle, he blew out a breath. “Aye, as you will. I’ll be but a moment.”

She didn’t respond as he left and he wondered if he should even leave her alone. With torturous thoughts in his mind, he stormed down the stone steps of the tower and marched across the bailey to the armoury. A few medical supplies were kept there, considering weapons practice was when they were all most likely to be injured.

Pushing past a guardsman with a grunt, he yanked open a drawer in the supplies chest and dug out a needle and thread as well as more linen strips. He wasted no time in hurrying back to Ellise, his heart beating a tattoo in his chest.

Ashen skin and closed eyes greeted him and he threw down his supplies on the carved side table next to the bed, sending a candle toppling. Bile welled in his throat as he flattened the back of his hand against her forehead. Her skin was clammy. 

He should never have left her alone. “Hell’s teeth!”

Her lids jolted open and a dark, clear gaze met his.

“What is it?” she whispered.

He dropped to the floor beside the bed and gripped her uninjured hand in his own slightly trembling ones. “Dear Lord, I thought I’d lost you.”

“Lost me?” A faint smile stretched across her lips. “James, I was merely resting.”

With an inward groan, he forced himself back to his feet as heat rose in his face. Ack, what a fool. Acting as if Ellise even had a part to play in his life. But the fear of losing her still resounded in his mind.

Aye, he was a fool.

“Where is the potion of yours?”

“You shall have me accused of witchcraft with words like that,” she teased, her voice hoarse.

She struggled to sitting, the bed creaking and the canopy juddering. Ellise’s beautiful big gaze peering around at him from behind the pale blue curtains sent a thunderbolt to his chest. Hair awry and skirts splayed around her legs, she made an enticing image. Lord, he sickened himself, lusting after an injured woman. Words of how she had bewitched him sat on his tongue but he held them back.

“Over there.” She pointed to the chest tucked in one corner. “‘Tis in a small silver pot.”

James turned away, grateful to be free from her alluring gaze, and bent to rummage through the chest. She had little. A few gowns that he recognised as Lucy’s and that God-awful apron she’d worn when they had first met. He also noted she had kept the simple gown he had bought off the serving girl for her. For some reason, it made him smile to picture her wearing it and hopefully thinking of him.

Gaze alighting on the silver pot, he scooped it up and settled on her bedside, wincing as the bed dipped under his weight. “‘Tis a fine trinket,” he muttered as she offered him her hand and he unbound it. Fresh blood pooled in her palm, though it did not flow as steadily as before and he felt some of the tension leave his stiff muscles. The salve would likely hurt, so he spoke again, “Is it yours?”

Her gaze hardened. “Aye, ‘tis mine. I have not stolen it, if that is what you fear. It belonged to my
mamá.”

“Nay, you mistake me, Ellise. ‘Twas not my intention to accuse you of thievery.” She hissed as he rubbed the balm across the lesion, the scent of lemon pervading the air. “I see the Lady has been generous with her gowns.”

“Aye,” she said stiffly. “Lucy knows of my predicament but I intend to pay her back for the gowns.”

“I do not doubt it.”

Something in his serious tone made her expression soften and a small smile slid across her face. “Do you not? ‘Twas not long ago you were ready to drag me to the sheriff.”

James shook his head as he readied the needle and thread. He tried to ignore the slight tremble in his hands. Ack, he should have insisted on fetching one of the women. They were well-practised with needles. He was used to stitching up wounds in desperate times when it mattered not if the scar was pretty.

“I had little intention of dragging you to the sheriff. I would not have wished to see you in the stocks.”

“Then what was your intention? To shame me?”

Gulping, he made the first stitch, fighting the desire to turn away, unable to answer her question due to the tightness of her throat. She gasped at the prick of the needle and James wished to God he could take away the pain, absorb it into him somehow and suffer it instead.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “‘Twill be over soon.”

She whimpered and shook as he drew the needle through, and he cursed to himself over and over, promising never to let her come to harm again. With the last stitch made, he pulled out his wretched dagger and cut the thread. Ellise studied his work with a shaky smile and watery eyes.

“You sew well for a knight,” she commented.

James coughed to clear his tight throat and proceeded to dress the cut, skimming his fingertips over her slender fingers. They were still rough from work, but to him they were perfect. So elegant yet so unique. Just like Ellise.

Tucking in the loose end, he managed to stop himself from kissing her hand and instead settled for an awkward pat. “You’re a brave lass.”

She laughed. “I could do with a drink!”

“Aye.”
And I.
“I’ll have Winnie bring you some wine. I have to return to my duties.”

“Forgive me for taking you away from them.”

 “You are my duty, Ellise.” He shrugged. “Just as everyone in Thornewall is,” he added swiftly. Spinning on his heel, he paused as she called out to him.

“You never told me why you let me rob you that night. You did allow me to take your coin deliberately, did you not?”

“Mayhap I thought I was saving you.”

“From what?”

“The fate of a common criminal.”

“Ah, a noble cause, but pray tell why did I not deserve such a fate?”

“You deserve much more than that, any fool can see that.” Silence hung in the air at his admission and he watched the darkening of her cheeks. “Well, I will bid you good day. I shall have Winnie sent to you shortly.” He dipped his head and turned away before she could delay him any longer.

Aye, Ellise deserved so much more than she had in life. But it would never be up to him to give her that, he thought sadly.

CHAPTER FIVE

Enjoying the feel of silk beneath her fingers, Ellise carefully laced up Lucy’s gown as they sat on the elaborately carved bed. Winnie had let the gown out and added extra fabric but it was becoming tight again.

Lucy giggled as Ellise fought to tie the ribbons. “Ack, I’m too fat, Ellise.”

“You are not fat, my lady. Just carrying two big healthy babes.”