The Knight

by Monica McCarty

  In time she would fill the emptiness in her heart again. She hoped. Though it wouldn’t be with Sir David. After James had left they’d talked, and she knew she couldn’t continue to encourage him in a future beyond friendship. Apparently, whatever it was he’d seen on her face had convinced him of her sincerity. Or maybe it was the horrible scene he’d witnessed in the Hall. He tried to change her mind, and made her promise to send for him if she did, but they both knew she would not.

  The man she married deserved to have her whole heart, and until she could pry the last fingers of James’s grasp away, it was not hers to give.

  Time, she told herself. Time was the great healer. Time would cure the misery in her heart and give her the separation and clarity of mind she needed.

  Until then, she had her family. She was seated in the Hall with her mother, helping her with the intricate embroidery of a new cloth she was making for the dais. Normally Joanna avoided needlework, preferring activities that would take her outdoors, but she had not yet completely regained her strength and tended to tire easily.

  She’d just about reached the point that the pleasant quiet monotony turned to boring, however, when her sister Constance came bursting through the door. “He’s here!” she exclaimed excitedly. “He’s returned!”

  Her mother furrowed her brows. “Calm down, child. Take a deep breath and try again. Who is here and returned from where?”

  Constance did as their mother bid—albeit with an impatient huff—and tried again with only slightly less exuberance. “Sir James.” Joanna’s heart dropped. “Returned from wherever he was serving the king.”

  Her mother frowned as she always did now whenever James’s name was mentioned, her eyes flickering to Joanna with concern. “And how do you know this?”

  “Because he just rode in to see Father, and Father told me to tell you to have the servants ready some refreshments for his private solar. Apparently they have something to discuss.” Constance’s brows furrowed together. “It must be important, although I don’t think Father is very pleased.”

  Joanna didn’t think her heart had beat or a breath had left her lungs since her sister’s pronouncement. Her blood seemed to have frozen solid in her veins.

  “Why do you say that?” their mother asked.

  Constance lowered her voice. “He was glowering at Sir James, and Father told him they didn’t have anything to talk about.” She shrugged with all the carelessness of an innocent thirteen-year-old. “But Sir James said something to convince him.” She sighed. “Just wait until you see him, Jo, he looks magnificent. I’ve never seen him look so fine. He’s wearing a surcoat with the Douglas arms.”

  But Joanna had no intention of seeing him. James had come to speak to her father about business, and probably didn’t even know she was here.

  Her gaze shot to her mother. She nodded and Joanna hurried out of the Hall, racing up to her room while her formerly stagnant heart now beat thunderously in her chest.

  The next two hours passed in agonizing slowness, as Joanna tried to control her anxiousness, while she waited for the knock upon her door that would tell her he was gone.

  She was being ridiculous. When she’d decided to return home, she’d done so with the knowledge that she would not be able to avoid seeing him in the future. She just hadn’t anticipated the future being so soon.

  Why was he here? It seemed an odd time to take a break from war with the English king supposedly readying to lead another campaign in the summer. She couldn’t believe King Robert would let one of his most important knights leave at a time like this.

  Finally, the knock came. It wasn’t her mother. Instead, it was one of the servants, telling her that her father wished to see her in the Hall. Assuming James was gone, she was shocked when she entered to see him standing beside her father.

  Constance was right. He did look magnificent. This was the young lord of Douglas he would have been had the war not come. His hair gleamed like polished ebony, falling in silky dark waves across his forehead, his jaw was freshly shaven, his mail coif and sword shimmered like spotless silver, and his velvet surcoat embroidered with the blue stripe and three stars of the Douglas arms—the azure three mullets argent—was fit for a king. He looked more handsome than she’d ever seen him, but so much the important lord, it made her chest pinch.

  She didn’t realize her feet had stopped moving until her father spoke. “Come, daughter. There is no cause for alarm.”

  The soothing tones of her father’s voice did little to ease the trepidation mounting inside her.

  Though she was conscious of the towering man at his side, she kept her gaze fixed on her father, as she slowly made her way down the center aisle of the otherwise empty Hall. Her mother was no longer seated by the fire and the servants who should be setting out the tables for the midday meal were nowhere to be found.

  She stopped a few feet away. “Father,” she said. Then, knowing she couldn’t avoid him any longer, she turned to James and dropped her head in a deferential bob. “My lord.” She lifted her gaze long enough to see his mouth tighten (presumably at the bob, which she’d never given him before), and then quickly turned back to her father. “You asked to see me?”

  The normally jovial expression on her father’s face was gone. His countenance was harder than she’d ever seen it, but it softened with concern when he looked at her. “Aye. The young lord has asked for permission to speak with you. I have granted it.”

  From his voice, she could tell that it had not been granted easily.

  Joanna knew she should refuse—God knew they’d caused each other enough pain the last time they’d “talked”—but after assuming he’d never want to speak with her again, she was also curious as to what he had to say.

  Perhaps sensing her hesitation, James spoke for the first time. “Please, Joanna, it is important.”

  The quiet urgency of his tone surprised her. As did the look in his eyes when their gazes finally locked. He was pleading with her, which was ridiculous. James Douglas didn’t plead.

  “Please,” he repeated, belying her thoughts.

  Her chest squeezed. The small sign of weakness made her want to refuse.

  “Listen to him, daughter,” her father said. “Then you can decide whether you want me to send him away.”

  She looked back and forth between the two men, men who used to act more like father and son than vassal and lord, but now stood in stiff anger, and felt her chest squeeze again. She might not be able to do anything to repair the damage that had been done to her relationship with James, but she could do something about her relationship with her father. She would not let what had happened between her and James come between them. She, too, had a duty. Finally, she nodded.

  The moment her father left, Joanna wanted to call him back. Her nerves were jumping, and she had to clasp her hands together to prevent them from twisting.

  Perhaps sensing her nervousness, James said, “Will you walk with me outside?”

  She nodded gratefully and walked alongside him as he led her out of the Hall and down the wooden stairs to the yard.

  He didn’t say anything, nor did he take her arm as he usually did, but he seemed to be doing his best to give her time to get used to him again. But his presence was never anything she could get used to. Awareness leapt to every one of her nerve endings and filled her senses whenever he was near. Just the way he smelled—always so clean with the faintest tinge of soap—made her feel as if she’d drunk one too many goblets of wine.

  They crossed the small yard and exited the gate in the wooden palisade. It was a warm spring day and the heather that blanketed the ground around the castle had started to bloom in vibrant shades of purple. Consciously or not, he started to walk toward the hills—their hills—and she stopped him. “What is it you want, James?”

  You, James thought. But he didn’t say it, not wanting to do anything to scare her off. She was like a startled hare right now, one wrong move, and she would run.

&nbs
p; He tugged the coif at his neck, which suddenly felt too tight. Actually everything felt too tight. And though the day wasn’t hot, he could feel that his skin was slick with sweat.

  Bloody hell, he was nervous. More nervous than he could ever recall being in his life. Even when he’d been a lad of eight and ten and allowed Lamberton to convince him to try to appeal to the English king, and Edward had launched into one of his terrifying Angevin fits of temper that had sent James racing from the castle for his life with that crude title following after him. Lord of the Garderobe. He told himself he’d forgotten the shame—that it had stung a lad’s pride, not a man’s. His reaction to Joanna’s ill-fated choice of words proved him wrong.

  But he was a man, and it was time he start acting like one.

  He drew a deep breath. “I came to tell you that you were right. You deserve far better than I gave you, Jo. And the man who left you with child and made you feel like you weren’t good enough to be his wife isn’t fit to clean your garderobe.”

  Her face twisted with remorse. “I’m sorry, James. I didn’t realize what I was saying until it was too late. I never meant to hurt you like that.”

  He shook off her apology. “Nay, you were right. I’m glad you said it, as it forced me to face some unpleasant truths about myself. The worst being that I caused the only woman I’ll ever love to think that she didn’t matter to me. I took you for granted, Jo, and I’m sorry for that. You cannot know how sorry. When I think of everything you went through alone, and the things I said…” He couldn’t repress the reflexive shudder of disgust. “You have every right to hate me for it.”

  She put her hand on his arm. He told himself not to put too much store in the unconscious gesture, but it was the first time she’d voluntarily touched him since he’d left her three months ago. “I don’t hate you, James.”

  “But you no longer love me.”

  She held his gaze for a moment and looked away, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

  His chest felt like it was on fire. He hadn’t realized it would hurt so much to hear it. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s no more than I deserve.”

  Her gaze lifted back to his uncertainly. “It’s not?”

  He nodded. “I will never forgive myself for what I did, but I hope in time that you will forgive me. I am not that man any longer, Jo.”

  She didn’t say anything right away but started walking toward their hills again. That was good, wasn’t it?

  “I don’t blame you, James. I was just as much at fault for what happened. I knew the risk. I was naive—”

  He took her by the arm and stopped her. “You were not naive. You had every right to expect that I would honor you and our love with marriage; it is me who failed you. I should have gotten on my knees and begged you to marry me years ago, not bit out some harshly worded proposal to you in anger.” He drew a deep breath. “I have no excuse. You were right. I was blinded by ambition and couldn’t see what was right in front of me.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “Why are you doing this, James? Why are you telling me all this when I’ve told you that it’s too late?”

  He couldn’t believe that. He refused to believe that. He’d wronged her, horribly, and knew it. This girl—this woman—who’d loved him practically her whole life. He’d taken her and that love for granted, thinking it would always be there. Only when he realized that it wouldn’t had he seen the truth and known what he had to do. He would prove it to her. He would do anything to make her fall in love with him again, even if it took the rest of his life and he had to lose everything he’d accomplished thus far.

  He drew a deep breath, trying to ignore the shakiness. “I’ve asked your father for permission to court you.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’ve what?”

  He winced at the outrage in her voice. It was deserved, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. Of course he’d known it wasn’t going to be easy. But if her expression was any indication, it was going to be much more difficult than he imagined.

  “I want to marry you, Jo. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you. And when I’ve convinced you of that, I will ask you to be my wife—the right way this time.”

  She was furious, and for the first time since he’d returned he could see vestiges of the girl he remembered. The girl who sparked with life and emotion. “Did you hear nothing I said? It is too late. You can’t make it all better, James, not this time.”

  Her voice broke at the last, and James felt as if a dagger were twisting inside him. Emotion he’d buried since hearing about the baby rose up to grab him by the throat. “God, don’t you think I know that? Not a day goes by that I don’t think about the child we lost and that I wasn’t there to share the pain with you. There is nothing I can do to change that, and I know it. But I’m not that same man anymore. I intend to make you see that, and I won’t leave until I do.”

  She gave him a long look. “Then I hope you are prepared to be here for a long time because I don’t know if that is possible.”

  “Just give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking you for.”

  Her eyes scanned his and the wariness—the fear—in her expression sent another dagger into his gut. “I…”

  Her eyes filled, her voice broke, and she turned and left him standing there.

  He didn’t know if that was a yes, but he was going to take it as one. Joanna was the most important thing in his life, and he wasn’t going to give up until he proved it to her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  It wouldn’t last, she told herself. James would get bored or angry and give up.

  But after a fortnight, Joanna was no longer so sure. For two weeks, James arrived at Hazelside about an hour after the morning meal and asked to see her. And for two weeks he left a short while later after being refused.

  Each day he would glance up to her room in the tower house as he rode away, and from where she peeked out behind the wooden shutter, Joanna swore she could see the silent plea in his eyes. The plea for forgiveness that would melt even the hardest of hearts, including her father’s.

  On the fifteenth day her father brought the request to her himself. He gave her a solemn look. “I don’t know what happened to turn your heart against the young lord, but I’ll assume whatever it was, it was horrible. But I also know you’ve loved him a long time, and if you care at all about him, you’ll put a stop to this. He’s determined to prove something to you, no matter what it costs him. His stepmother demanded to see me yesterday and ordered me to force you to marry him before he destroys the family. Apparently, he was supposed to return to Bruce last week, but he’s refused, and the king is furious. He’s threatened to send James to the Island of St. Kilda as his sheriff if he doesn’t appear soon.”

  St. Kilda was an island in the farthest reaches of the Western Isles—it would be like being exiled to the end of the world. And the thought that Eleanor de Lovaine—whose ambition rivaled James’s—would be so desperate that she would see James marry Joanna gave her a moment’s pause.

  But only a moment, and then her mouth fell in a hard line.

  Her father made a sound of frustration. “You are as much a stubborn fool as he is. But this is not a game, Joanna. This will cost the young lord dearly.”

  When the young lord strode into the Hall the next morning, it was Joanna who waited for him and not her father.

  The look of surprise was followed quickly by a smile—the boyishly crooked one she loved—that slammed into her chest and put the first crack in the ice around her heart.

  Furious by her reaction, she scowled. “Why are you doing this, James?”

  “Doing what?”

  She didn’t buy the innocent act for one minute. She put her hands on her hips and gave him her most stern look. “What do you plan to do, come here every day until someone arrives to put you in chains for dereliction of duty or treason?”

  His jaw locked. “If that’s what it takes to prove to you that I love you, then yes.”
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br />   He sounded so calm, while she was anything but. “Are you mad? You can’t ignore the king’s orders.”

  “I didn’t. I told him I had a family emergency.”

  “So you haven’t been ordered to return?”

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  “And he’ll have to wait.”

  “Have you informed King Edward of this by any chance? Isn’t he planning something soon? A war maybe?”

  He answered her sarcasm with a shrug.

  Joanna couldn’t believe his carelessness. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this, James. Would you really throw it all away?”

  “Throwing something away is exactly what I’m trying not to do. You are the most important thing in the world to me, Jo. I’ll not walk away from you again.”

  “You won’t have to. You’ll be dragged away.”

  He smiled at her outrage. “I don’t think it will come to that. But, aye, I suspect the Bruce is angry enough to divest me of a few of my properties—and perhaps my title—right about now.”

  Joanna looked at him in horror. How could he jest about something like this? Their eyes met and she felt another whack of the hammer strike the ice around her heart. Her voice was a whisper. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

  He nodded and held out his hand. “Give me a chance to show you, Jo. Just a chance—a few days—that’s all I’m asking.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. The feelings that she’d buried on that horrible day over three months ago came back to her not in a rush but in a whisper. A tantalizing whisper of what could be.

  Could she trust him again? Could she put the past behind her and give him another chance?

  Joanna didn’t know, but she knew she was going to try.

  With a deep breath, she slipped her hand into his.

  Joanna had given him his few days, and James made the most of them. He took her riding, fishing, to the fair in Lanark on Saturday, and dragged her all over Douglasdale to practically every place they’d ever been, trying to remind her of all the memories they shared.