Borderland Betrayal Page 6

  They strolled through the woods, following the natural tracks that snaked between the trees as gnarled roots crawled across the landscape. Their silence ceased to be uncomfortable but she couldn’t decide when it became companionable. The steady beat of his boots on the earth soothed her, but after several moments of peaceful walking, curiosity got the better of her. She yearned to know more about the man with whom she’d spent one magical night.

  “Have you been a captain long?”

  “Aye.”

  Ellise shook her head at his taciturn response. “How came you to be captain of such a great demesne? And at a young age too?”

  James paused, his eyes lighting with amusement before pressing aside a branch and ushering her through. “I fostered at Thornewall. Lord Dominic and I grew up together. When I went off to fight in France, his father died and upon my return Dominic made me captain.”

  “And you enjoy the role?”

  “Aye.”

  “And your family is proud of you?”

  He remained slightly behind her so she couldn’t see his expression but his voice sounded tense. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I am curious, James. I wish to know more about you.”

  “You would be wise to remember that ‘tis not always sensible to bow to curiosity.”

  “Why? Have you some dark secrets you wish to keep hidden?”

  “No more than you, I suspect.”

  She paused and tried to relax her stiff body. Was it obvious she kept secrets? She did not wish to, but her past had no place at Thornewall and she certainly did not want to share her problems with James. He would likely try to take them all upon those great shoulders of his.

  “But we are not talking of me.” She kept her voice light.

  “A trade,” he said abruptly.

  Ellise turned with a frown. “What is your meaning?”

  “I offer you a trade.” His mouth quirked. “A secret for a secret.”

  Swallowing, she pondered this. Few people knew of her foresight and she knew well how women like her were treated. She could hardly risk revealing such a thing to James. Who knew how he would react?

  “You are scared?” James prompted.

  “Nay!” She pushed aside a protruding branch and continued forward. “I just do not believe any of your secrets are worth much.”

  “Aye, my life holds little mystery, that is true.” He fell into step beside her. “I hold no deep, dark secrets, so why should you wish to know any of it?”

  “As I said, James, I would like to know more of you.”

  “You are a curious creature, are you not?”

  “I am indeed. So will you tell me more of yourself? What of your family? And your lands? Have you sisters and brothers?”

  James chuckled. “Aye, a younger brother and a sister. My brother is in the church and my sister lives in the south. I see little of her for she spends much time at court.”

  “And your mother and father?”

  “Dead.”

  “I am sorry. Was it long ago?” She peeked at him, noting the muscles working in his jaw.

  “Aye.”

  “James!” she exclaimed, exasperated. Would the man tell her nothing?

  “Ack, must you be so inquisitive?” He sighed with a shake of his head and grinned as she fixed him with a glare. “Fine. My mother died giving birth to my sister and my father died whilst I fought in France. ‘Twas no surprise. He was much older than my mother.”

  The coldness in his voice sent a shiver through her. She only remembered her parents with fondness but it seemed James did not.

  “I am sorry,” she said again.

  He shrugged. “‘Twas a long time ago.”

  Fighting the urge to push further, Ellise opened her mouth and clamped it shut again. Their companionable silence has turned uncomfortable once more and it was all her doing. Curse her unthinking tongue. The strong warrior likely never shared tales of his past and she had pushed further than he would go. And for what? Once her job at Thornewall was done, she would be gone. She resolved to stem her prying where James was concerned. Knowing more of him would only increase her attachment and she could not afford to be attached to anyone. Her son had to remain her priority.

  “What of you, Ellise?” His deep voice broke through her thoughts. “Will you not tell me your secret?”

  Astute green eyes met hers, deep and intrusive and her throat tightened. From longing or from fear? She was unsure, because both assailed her. How did he see so easily through her?

  She brought her chin up. “Yours was no secret—Oh, a willow tree. We must stop.” She scurried up to the tree and pressed aside the leaves, stepping underneath them.

  James followed, ducked under and stood close behind, the green vines enclosing them in a shady world of their own. “I will not be distracted that easily. You still owe me my due.”

  The tightness in her throat increased as she glanced over her shoulder at him. His eyes took on a dark quality and she wondered what kind of ‘due’ he meant. The wanting look in his gaze heated her skin. How easy it would be to give into desire again. But it was only ever meant to be one night, nothing more.

  She turned and smoothed a hand over the bark, willing her pulse to calm. “W-willow bark tea is good for pain. ‘Twill help Lucy when the babes comes. Have you a knife?”

  When he failed to respond, she held out her palm and peered at him expectantly. He blinked and nodded, handing over his blade with a gruff ‘aye.’ Gripping the handle, her fingertips brushed against his warm callused ones, making the skin on her arm tingle. Her lips twisted. How was it so tiny a touch could create such an effect when they had shared so much before?

  Notching the blade into the bark, she carved a thin slice and stuffed it into her pouch. She sliced several more pieces from it while James watched silently. As she propped a hand against the tree trunk and dug out one last strip, the knife slipped and she cried out as it cut across her palm, sending a sharp sting through her.

  “Maldito!” Ellise dropped the knife and clutched her hand as blood dripped from between her fingers.

  James cursed and snatched her hand as she yelped in protest. “Ack, foolish lass. I should never have let you handle a blade.” He peeled her other hand away to examine the damage and cursed again.

  “‘Tis naught,” she insisted in spite of the throbbing pain in her hand.

  “Naught?” he scoffed. “‘Tis deep, you daft lass.”

  “Aye, well, insulting me won’t make it any better!”

  “Hold it tight,” he ordered and pressed her other hand back over it, “and sit down.”

  The discomfort stole the stiffness from her spine and she sagged to the ground and rested her back against the willow tree. James plucked the knife from the forest floor and used it to cut a jagged piece of linen from the bottom of his shirt. Kneeling, he coaxed open her hand once more and began binding the laceration with the fabric. The press of the material against the gash brought tears to her eyes and she bit her lip. What a fool she was. She could curse her own idiocy.

  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.

&nb
sp; “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. Act
ing 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.”