Love's Call (31 page)

Chapter Twenty-nine

She’d run as soon as his back was turned.

Leargan’s heart broke all over again, but he forced his feet toward the man who raised him instead of running after her like he wanted to.

His eyes rested on her father, and he winced at Sir Murdoch’s murderous expression.

King Nathal stepped in front of his captain, blocking Leargan from view. Surprise washed over him when the king pulled him in for a quick, but tight embrace.

“It’s good to see you, lad.” The king’s voice in his ear was accompanied by an affectionate pat on the back that almost knocked him over.

Leargan forced a smile, meeting King Nathal’s pale blue eyes and trying to forget some hurt. Being away from the big man had made Leargan forget just how large the king was. Seven inches past six feet made Leargan feel short at his height of six feet one inch. Tristan was his height; Jorrin a few inches taller. That was what he’d grown accustomed to.

Looking
up
at King Nathal brought back memories.

The king smiled back, his tawny, shoulder-length hair as wild as a lion’s mane, dancing around his shoulders. His pale gaze was warm.

Emotion tightened Leargan’s chest, and he struggled for breath. He wanted the king to fix all his problems. The big man had ordered them to marry, after all.

If Ansley approached her father and Sir Murdoch agreed with her refusal, only one thing would change the older captain’s mind.

Revealing that Leargan had taken her innocence.

The problem was, being totally honest
would
force their marriage to happen—if Sir Murdoch didn’t kill him.

Ansley would hate him even more.

Leargan loved her. Needed her to want him as much as he wanted her. His wife. The only woman he wanted to marry.

Pain clenched his gut and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

His foster father’s expression slid from friendly to concerned.

Jorrin, standing with Tristan and Aimil in the periphery, cringed. The duke wasn’t all that close, but evidently King Nathal could see Leargan’s pain and Lord Aldern could
feel
it.

“Walk with me, lad,” King Nathal said, his tone a gentle order. The king threw his arm around Leargan’s shoulders. Sir Murdoch took a step forward to join them, but King Nathal shook his head. “I need to speak with the lad alone, Murdoch. We’ll join you later.”

The scowl on his face was as big as the Province, but Ansley’s father nodded.

They headed to Lady Cera’s garden. It was large, and because of its maze-like pathways, private.

“Arriving in Greenwald wasn’t exactly as I’d imagined.” King Nathal regarded him seriously, but one corner of his mouth was up. His familiar thick northern brogue made Leargan ache for Terraquist.

He’d been born in South Ascova, but King Nathal had brought him to Terraquist after he’d been orphaned during the battle. Raised him as a warrior, a knight.

“Well, lad…you’re awfully quiet,” King Nathal said.

Leargan glanced at him, then away. “I’ve really messed things up, Majesty.”

“Lad, look at me and tell me what happened.”

Focusing on the order, Leargan sucked in a breath and met the king’s eyes. He opened his mouth to speak. No words came. Was he really about to air what happened with
the king
? Leargan cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Whatever for?” King Nathal’s pale bushy brow arched.

“For choosing her for me.”

The king smiled, broad shoulders relaxing. “Oh. You’ll have to thank Murdoch. The whole thing was his idea.”

Damn. What can I say to that?

“
He was afraid she would never marry if it wasn’t you, lad.” King Nathal squeezed his shoulder.

Leargan closed his eyes. Even her father knew how Ansley felt about him. No wonder she didn’t believe him. She must’ve thought his proposal was too good to be true. Then she’d been crushed when he’d revealed the scroll. And the idiot that he was, he hadn’t known his own heart until he’d lost her.
“Maybe I can thank him. But right now, I think he’d rather kill me than listen to a word I have to say.”

King Nathal’s chuckle made heat rush his neck. “I doubt it’s that serious, lad.”

Disagreeing with the man who’d raised him wasn’t something he was used to, but Leargan shook his head. “You’ve not heard what happened.”

“Aye. Tell me what happened.”

“I love her, your Highness,” Leargan blurted.

The king said nothing, but nodded.

Words tumbled from his mouth. Leargan couldn’t look at the king when he confessed the threat that had torn Ansley’s heart out, but King Nathal offered no judgment. The comforting grip on his forearm remained steady as the big man listened. His expression was concerned, but the king let Leargan get everything out, his chest shaking with the last of his recital.

“Well, it’s a mess, aye,” King Nathal said, but there was no admonition in his voice.

They sighed at the same time.

“Not that I blame her, but she won’t believe a word I say. Even if I told her how I feel, she would call me a liar again.”

“We’ll get it all sorted, lad.”

“I don’t see how,” Leargan said. He tried to banish the hopelessness washing over him. “When Sir Murdoch finds out we’ve already been intimate, he’ll either kill me or force her to marry me. I wouldn’t be opposed to him forcing the issue, after all, she’d be my wife, but I’m sure Ansley would take issue. She would probably run away.”

King Nathal chuckled, shaking his head. “My Senior Riders are made up of stubborn lasses. It’s a handy thing when they’re dealing with life on the road. Not so much when it comes to marrying them. Blessed Spirit forbid if they perceive an order.”

Leargan frowned. “But it was an order.”

“Aye, for
your
purposes. I had hoped you could have affection for her, because I knew you wouldn’t refuse me. It looks like that worked out, at least.”

“It’s done me no good,” Leargan whispered. The king knew him well. He couldn’t be angry for the
disguised
order. After all, he’d accepted the words of the scroll almost immediately, despite expressing his frustration to Jorrin.

Orders
were duty. Not to be questioned.

Even in matters of the heart. Marriages were arranged for alliances all the time, after all.
Love
was rarely considered in the world of nobility and knights, but the king loved his queen.

Leargan was surrounded by strong marriages filled with love.

He ached for the same with Ansley.

“All is not lost, lad.” King Nathal patted his shoulder. “But Murdoch doesn’t need to know his daughter is no longer a maid. That we will keep between us. The rest, we will reveal. Murdoch has a chance to get through to her. They are very much alike. From that display earlier, I’d say even their tempers are similar.” The king grinned and Leargan scowled.

There’s nothing amusing, dammit.

“I was prepared to confess all, actually, so he could get us to the alter quickly, but I don’t want her against her will. I’ll do as you suggest, your Highness.

“And I will do my best to keep your hide intact.” King Nathal laughed again.

Leargan winced.

“Come now, Leargan, you’ve always had a sense of humor.” The big man was crestfallen when their eyes met.

“Aye. When I don’t fear I
need
someone
to
keep my hide intact.”

King Nathal clapped him on the back, almost knocking him off balance.

Leargan groaned and the king threw his head back and bellowed with laughter.

Chapter Thirty

The room spun, and Ansley grabbed the back of the chair to steady herself. She blinked to clear her vision. Swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat.

What’s wrong with me?

Ali whined, and she glanced in the wolf’s direction. Once again, her bondmate had claimed the large hearth in the guest room.

“I’m fine, Ali.”

But am I?

She needed to get dressed. Her father would be there soon to escort her to the feast.

Ansley glanced at the gorgeous dark green gown on her bed. Cera had had it made for her just a few days ago, and had surprised her with it the previous night in the Duchess Solar.

The bodice was a cut a bit lower than Ansley was used to, but it was her favorite shade of green; the hunter green of the Senior Riders.

Cera’s gown maker had outdone herself. Beautiful large golden roses were stitched across the corset. Ansley caressed the shimmery fabric. The skirt was full and would flow when she walked.

The former Senior Rider duchess was infamous for her dislike of all things feminine, but Cera had good taste in gowns. The dress was perfect for Ansley. She loved it.

A knock on the door made her look up. “Come in.”

Daicy grinned, her brown eyes dancing, face lit up. She exuded joy.

Ansley couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. “What are you so excited about?”

“Everyone is in such a good mood. The king and his men are so friendly.”

Ansley laughed, feeling a weight lift off her, despite the negative interaction with Leargan in the great hall.

Daicy had been her constant champion since Ansley had discovered the truth. A new—but true—friend.

“Do I get the hint that perhaps a certain one of the king’s men is friendly?”

The maid grinned again, but her cheeks were pink. “Actually…not one of the king’s men. One of ours.”

“O-o-urs?”

“Yes, Mistress Ansley. You belong in Greenwald.” Daicy nodded, meeting Ansley’s gaze.

Pain gripped her chest and threated to bowl her over. She didn’t belong in Greenwald.

Because Leargan didn’t want her.

Ansley looked away from Daicy. She sucked in a breath and cleared her throat.
Normal.
She needed normal. “So, who’s the lucky man?”

“Merrick.” Daicy fairly sighed his name.

“He’s very handsome.”

Sir Merrick, one of the knights of Cera’s personal guard, wasn’t as tall as Leargan, but he had pretty green eyes and pale hair, like his younger brother, Laith. The brothers had been raised like Leargan, by King Nathal in Terraquist, groomed to be knights. From what Ansley knew of him, Merrick was a jester like Alasdair.

Daicy’s smile faded, and her teeth sank into her full bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I…don’t want to make you sad…”

“No, no. Don’t be silly, I’m fine.” Ansley mustered a weak smile.

Silence fell, and Daicy looked away first, her nod making her ponytail bob. Neither of them had fallen for Ansley’s statement.

“Well, let’s get you dressed,” the maid announced, rubbing her palms together, a smile back in place on her pretty face.

“Aye. I don’t want to be late. My father is escorting me.”

“Your da, mistress?” Daicy asked, raising a brow. Her tone made it plain she was of the opinion Sir Murdoch Fraser was the wrong choice.

Funny, since she’d been the one to keep Leargan
away
from Ansley. Had Daicy changed her mind about the captain? The maid knew Ansley loved him. Perhaps budding feelings for Merrick had made Daicy reassess things.

“Aye, and he’s always been fond of punctuality. So we’d better get moving.” Ansley made a grab for the dress and missed. The bed spun along with her head and she reeled, rocking back on her heels.

Daicy gripped her forearm; it was the only thing that kept her on her feet. “Are you all right?” Her brown eyes were concerned when Ansley met her gaze.

“Aye…aye…” Nodding made her head somersault.

Daicy’s eyes darted all over Ansley’s face and body. “Perhaps you should lie down.”

“No. I need to dress. Cera had this gown made for me. I need to go to the feast. My da will be here any moment. Everyone’s expecting me.”

“Shall I fetch Lord Dagget?”

“I’m fine. I skipped midday meal. That’s all it is. I broke my fast very early this morning.”

“All right.” Daicy’s tone shouted she didn’t believe Ansley, though the maid would never call her a liar.

Needing a distraction, Ansley picked up the gown, holding it up to her body. “I’ll need help lacing this.”

Daicy’s chest rose and fell as if she had taken a deep breath. However, the maid’s expression was still much too concerned for Ansley’s liking. “That’s what I’m here for. Then we’ll do your hair. How would you like it?”

Her instinct was to say
down.
Leargan loved to run his hands through it.

Ansley met Daicy’s gaze and ignored the pain that crept up from her gut, burning her from the inside out. “Up. Can you do any special braids?”

“Of course. I can even weave flowers in if you like.”

Ansley tried to stave off tears.

She needed to forget about Leargan.

Like that would ever happen.

Ali whined, and she mentally shushed her, praying to the Blessed Spirit she would make it through this night.

****

The second knock at the door came only moments after Daicy had taken her leave, and Ansley sucked in a breath.

For a split second, she wished Leargan was standing in the corridor waiting for her.

Sense descended with the pain, and she panted as she went to let her father in, her head spinning all over again.

It’s the braids.

Maybe Daicy had pulled too tightly.

The gorgeous style was reminiscent of something Queen Morghyn would have done to her pale locks; intricate braids crossing and crisscrossing each other, some up, some left down, with flowers woven in above her ears and down her back.

Beautiful.

And she looked fantastic in the dress. It brought out the color of her eyes and pushed her breasts up.

Ansley looked like a lady. Too bad she didn’t feel like one.

The longer it’d taken to get ready, the more she wanted to avoid the feast—and Leargan. Her bed looked inviting.

Curling up with Ali was all she desired at the moment. However, she’d spoken the truth to Daicy; she
was
expected in the great hall. And Ansley was hungry.

“Oh, lass. You look beautiful. If your coloring was hers, I would think your mother was looking back at me.” Her father’s tone was thick, his teal eyes misty.