My Heart Belongs to You (Medieval Romance Trilogy Book 3)

by Bale, Leigh

  “Shh, dear one. You mustn’t be so distressed,” Ada soothed.

  “How can I not be? Will our people pay for my treason with their lives?”

  “Surely not. Wouldn’t the king understand that you were fearful of the soldiers and ran away from them?”

  Ysabelle moaned. “It’s worse than that. When we were surrounded by Lord Marshal’s men, I thought we might be cut down.” Standing, she began to pace the room. “Oh, heaven help me, Ada. I stabbed one of the English soldiers as he tried to pull me off of Nicholas’s horse.”

  Ada hissed with horror. “No! Why would you do such a thing, child? You should have stabbed Nicholas Ramsay instead.”

  “I couldn’t do such a thing. I thought only of Nicholas, fearing they might kill him. I didn’t even think about my own life until later, once we were safe.”

  “No!” Ada cried. “He seeks to use you. Why would you want to protect him, child?

  She clenched her eyes closed. “I don’t know, but I would do it again, as long as I can keep him from harm. How can this be?”

  “Oh,” Ada moaned, her face ashen. “He has enthralled you. You must fight the hold he has over you. Don’t be seduced by his swarthy good looks. He’ll hurt you, just like your mother was hurt.”

  “It’s more than his handsomeness that holds me, Ada. He is unique. His vulnerability cries out to me.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to silence the screaming in her head.

  “Vulnerability? I know of no weakness in the man.” Ada looked at her like she’d gone daft.

  “You’re wrong. He’s suffered so much in his life, yet he asks nothing in return.”

  “He asks everything from you, my lady. He would take all you hold dear.”

  “As is his right. I’m his betrothed. His brother said that Nicholas is loyal to the death.” Ysabelle reasoned softly.

  Ada snorted. “Of course his brother would say that.”

  “But I sense it’s true. I’ve seen how Nicholas treats his men and his horse. He could have come here to Sutcliffe and put many of our people to the sword if it suited his whim. Yet, he’s been kind when didn’t need to be. And now, I’ve killed in his defense.” With a low moan, she covered her face with her hands.

  “Shh, you are overwrought.” Ada led Ysabelle to a chair where she made her sit. “Your actions definitely pose a problem. But surely there is something we can do so the king doesn’t believe you’re a traitor.”

  Ada loosened Ysabelle’s soiled dress and dried her wet hair. Ysabelle sat motionless. Blood covered her gown, the red turning brown as it dried. She couldn’t forget how it had come to be there. The smell of death filled her nostrils. She could still hear the scream of the man she’d stabbed. Lifting her hands, she rubbed her skirts, trying to remove the stains from her clothes and her mind.

  “What have I done?” she exclaimed.

  Ada wrung out a cloth in the washbasin and pressed its coolness to Ysabelle’s heated cheeks. Gently, Ada began to cleanse the dried blood from Ysabelle’s face. The water pinkened as Ada rinsed the cloth out.

  “Look!” Ysabelle pointed at the basin. “That is what I did for Nicholas Ramsay. I killed for him.”

  “I don’t understand your motives, my lady,” Ada spoke as she brushed Ysabelle’s hair. “But I don’t think you should torture yourself. You did what your father would have done. You fought to protect Sutcliffe.”

  “Yes, but did my defense leave us in worse shape than before?” Ysabelle smiled bitterly.

  “It’s done now. Perhaps there’s a way we could sneak you outside the keep and you could go to Lord Marshal and explain.”

  “And be forced into marriage with another old man? I don’t think so.”

  “You’re right, dear one. The only way you can be free is if you remain behind the walls of Sutcliffe and Nicholas Ramsay dies.”

  Ysabelle shivered and spoke with confidence, unwilling to consider his death. “He will not die.”

  “All men die.”

  “It would be a sad day for a man such as Nicholas Ramsay to pass from this world. A day like when my father died.” With a deep sigh, Ysabelle closed her eyes, remembering that horrid time like it was moments ago. The pain was still so raw.

  And then she knew. Maston had loved her and wanted to protect her. He’d known what would happen if he didn’t claim her as his own child. Even if she’d remained at Sutcliffe, she would have been shunned, a bastard all her life. That was why he hadn’t told her the truth. To shield her from the cruelty of others.

  Somehow, this knowledge lightened her heart. To be so loved was awe-inspiring. Now, she mustn’t shirk her duty to her father and Sutcliffe. She must protect them if possible.

  She let Ada tend her. The handmaiden became unusually quiet, as if lost in her own thoughts. Ysabelle didn’t ask what was on Ada’s mind. She knew the woman hated Nicholas.

  “I must check on Sara,” Ysabelle spoke absentmindedly.

  “Don’t worry. I bathed the child and coaxed her to take some nourishing broth. She’s resting peacefully. Hannah is with her now. You also should rest.”

  “I cannot nap now. Lord Nicholas awaits me.”

  The maidservant hesitated and Ysabelle opened her eyes. Ada shook her head slowly. “What do you mean to do, my lady?”

  “I will wed him, of course.”

  With a cry of grief, Ada cupped Ysabelle’s cheeks with her hands. The older woman’s eyes filled with tears. “No, dear Ysabelle. Don’t marry this man. He will seal your doom.”

  Ysabelle sighed. “Remember what happened to Lord de Lacy after he refused to wed a woman twenty years his senior? The king’s soldiers put him on the rack, then lopped off his head and stuck it on a pike and left it to rot on the castle wall as a reminder of what would happen to anyone else who defied the king. Nicholas cannot win this war. They will kill him eventually, Ada. But I will honor my father’s will and wed the man he betrothed me to.”

  “Perhaps the English will kill him soon and you can be free of him.” A half-gleeful, half-tearful smile curved Ada’s mouth.

  The thought brought a pang of dread to Ysabelle’s heart. She shuddered. “I don’t believe that. He reminds me of father. He will live and defend Sutcliffe.”

  Ada’s spine stiffened and her lips tightened with disapproval. “He is nothing like Lord Maston.”

  Ysabelle didn’t question Ada’s vehemence, but she knew her father would have given up a battle only in death.

  Ysabelle closed her eyes. “The king will send more and more men until Sutcliffe finally falls. To protect our people, I must guard my heart. When Nicholas is finally taken and executed, I must be prepared to face whatever fate King William decrees for me.”

  “Dear child,” Ada gasped.

  “Oh, how I wish father were here,” Ysabelle whispered.

  But he wasn’t. And never had Ysabelle felt more alone.

  *

  “Has she agreed to the wedding?” Alex asked Nicholas as they stood in the chapel, waiting for Ysabelle to appear.

  The heat was oppressive, the sun spraying through the stained window high above.

  Anger twisted in Nicholas’s gut. He could hardly believe Ysabelle would defy him still. After all that had happened, she must realize he was fighting for her good.

  Alex shook his head as he tsk-tsked with irritation. “She won’t come.”

  “She will come.” Even as he spoke the words, Nicholas was filled with doubt. He was a fool to stand her and wait. He should have dragged her to the altar, but he could never do that.

  “You shouldn’t have given her a choice,” Alex admonished.

  “She will come,” Nicholas spoke between clenched teeth. He hoped it was true, for he wouldn’t ask her again.

  Alex looked skeptical. The men and women crowded inside the small chapel also appeared doubtful. Some spectators cast nervous glances in Nicholas’s direction, while others dropped their chins to their chests, weary with boredom. A loud snort filled the air.

 
“How much time did you give her?” Alex asked.

  Nicholas almost bit his tongue. “You know, it would give me great pleasure to smash your face right now.”

  Alex chuckled softly. “You’re welcome to try.”

  Over an hour had passed since Nicholas had left Ysabelle’s chamber. He’d stationed several men at the postern gate, and every outlet, to ensure she couldn’t leave the safety of the castle. He’d threatened the guards with dire consequences if they failed to keep her inside. There were few places she could hide from him. Yet, if she still refused, he’d be forced to admit defeat. And then what? He had no idea what he’d do without holding a legal right to Sutcliffe.

  “Lord Marshal’s men have set up camp outside the castle gates. He has at least two hundred archers and knights with him,” Alex spoke low. “Soon, they’ll send an envoy to demand your surrender.”

  Feeling distracted, Nicholas shook his head. He didn’t wish to mar his wedding day with plans of war, but there was no help for it.

  “It is of no consequence,” he replied. “They willna gain admittance to the keep. Our forces can easily hold off Marshal’s army and many more.”

  “Yes, unless they starve us out.”

  “We are well provisioned,” Nicholas reasoned. “Only illness can force us to yield.”

  “But we don’t know how long a siege might last. We’ll eventually run out of food.”

  “I willna surrender,” Nicholas vowed.

  “If the English are patient, they can wait us out.”

  “I am more patient. Their men will begin to murmur. It’s springtime and they need to return soon to their lands if they’re to plant crops to feed their own families through the coming winter.”

  “We also must plant crops,” Alex advised. “I only hope my father arrives soon. Our Scottish king has said he will support your cause, yet he hasn’t got the men to spare for fighting. Surely my father will send his men to our aid.”

  Nicholas looked away, his muscles tense. “I expect no help from either mon.”

  Alex nodded. “My father will send reinforcements. With our combined efforts, we can route the English and win the day. They’ll scamper back to William Rufus with their tails tucked between their legs. They’ve long tried to take Scottish land along the border, and we continue to repel them. This time will be no different.”

  Nicholas smiled grimly, hoping this was true. “That’s a sight I’d like to see. Lord Marshal scampering off with his tail tucked high under his rump.”

  Alex’s brows quirked. “But first, you must wed the prize, brother. Where is your bride?”

  Turning, Nicholas’s gut tightened as he prepared to go to the gatehouse and signal his surrender. In spite of his insistence that he’d never give up Sutcliffe, he realized he may not have a choice. He didn’t want to cost the lives of all the people here. And Ysabelle would hate him if he dragged her to the chapel.

  “Go and tell her the truth. It’s your only chance,” Alex admonished gently.

  “Do not speak of it,” Nicholas growled.

  “Even if she weds you, if you don’t tell her, she’ll never willingly give herself to you. If you speak the truth, it’ll soften her toward your goal.”

  “I willna win her out of pity.” Everything within him recoiled. He couldn’t bear to hurt Ysabelle in such a way. The truth might destroy any chance of happiness he hoped to have with her.

  She wasn’t coming. It was over. He’d lost everything. He took a step toward the door and froze.

  She was here! Sudden joy pierced his heart. She’d come of her own will. Relief flooded him.

  Dressed in a gown of yellow silk edged with golden cord, Ysabelle wore the finery of a lady. Nicholas now understood what had taken her so long. By the saints, she was worth the wait. When he’d left her, she’d looked like a drowned cat. Now, she was beautiful, regal and poised, a lady ready to meet her new groom.

  Her soft hair glimmered like white gold. A sheer veil covered her head and fell to her waist, but her curls continued down her back, reaching past her hips.

  As she moved toward him, her hair swayed about her like a curtain of exotic silk. He longed to press his face into its softness and breathe deeply of her sweet fragrance.

  Her cheeks were heightened with color, her eyes wide and wary. Luminous, the color of emerald gems. When her gaze sought his, Nicholas was entranced, unable to break her hold. He detected her nervousness and reticence. Then, with a sadness as sharp as a blade, he knew the truth. She didn’t want to be here. She was compelled to wed him, just as he was compelled to fight for Sutcliffe.

  He should leave. He should mount his charger and ride away. But his feet wouldn’t move. How lonely his life had been, how empty. He couldn’t go. Not now when all he’d hoped for was within his grasp. A family of his own. A place of belonging.

  Alex clapped him on the back and grinned widely as he produced a bouquet of battered field daisies. Nicholas stared at the gay flowers. He cast a dubious frown at his brother, wondering how Alex had acquired them.

  A soft murmur filled the air as the crowd opened a path for Ysabelle to pass by them. Followed by a frowning Ada, Ysabelle walked to Nicholas’s side, stopping only when she stood just before the altar. Without comment, Alex handed the bouquet to Ysabelle. Gazing wistfully at the white and yellow flowers, she blessed Alex with a smile so sweet it stole Nicholas’s breath. A lance of jealousy pierced his heart and he wished her smile had been for him. He understood Alex’s motivation in having the flowers.

  Nicholas frowned, feeling inadequate. He should have gotten her the flowers, but he’d no idea it would make her so happy. He had so much to learn about the ways of women, but he was determined to try.

  She turned to face him, and the smile dropped from her face like a stone falling to the ground. It mimicked his heart.

  “I will marry you,” she said.

  Turning, she looked at Father Edward, who gave her a reserved smile of encouragement.

  “You’re certain this is what you wish, child?” the priest asked.

  “Yes, I’ll honor my betrothal.” She nodded, but didn’t smile.

  Ada whimpered and shook her head, as if at a loss.

  A smile of approval curved Father Edward’s thin lips. “Lord Nicholas, take the Lady Ysabelle’s hand and kneel.”

  Nicholas did so, his large hand shaking as it engulfed her small, fragile one. They both went down on their knees before the altar. There was much Nicholas longed to say to Ysabelle. Words of praise, consolation, and cheer. His voice caught and the words wouldn’t come. Only feelings were there to remind him that she was a noble woman and he should take special care of this prized gift. He would cherish her all his life.

  “I will spend my life serving you, and one day you’ll no longer regret our marriage,” he vowed.

  She blinked, her fine brows curved in bemusement.

  Nicholas opened his mouth to tell her how grateful he was for her presence, but she bowed her head, staring at the stone floor. Her face was so serene and angelic. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb her when others might hear what he had to say. Later, in the privacy of their room, he’d speak to her.

  She seemed to listen to every word the holy man said as he offered the sacrament and a blessing upon their union. The morning dragged on as Father Edward performed the ceremony, his low voice strong and calming. Nicholas barely noticed as he continued to stare at his bride. She was more than lovely and he could gaze at her all day long. A lump of emotion clogged his throat.

  Finally, it was done. A tremor of elation pulsed through him and he couldn’t prevent a cry of exultation. Pulling Ysabelle into his arms, he kissed her long and hard.

  The small room became stifling. Someone gave a hacking cough. Then a great cheer filled the room. Ysabelle felt her cheeks flame scarlet as Nicholas kissed her. She expected to be released, but his hold went on and on. Ysabelle thought she might swoon from the heat. A lance of desire swept her, but she fought it off.
It was indecent to feel such things in front of a priest and their people, but Nicholas gave her no opportunity to argue. He wrapped his arms tighter about her and slanted his mouth over hers in what she believed was as carnal and base an act as ever she’d been exposed to.

  Heat crept up her throat. Gasping for breath, she finally pushed away from her new husband. He tried to take her hand, but she evaded him. His heat was too overpowering. Looking up, she blinked at the sight that met her eyes.

  He was smiling. His dark eyes crinkled with pure delight, his mouth wide, showing even white teeth. Not once since Ysabelle had met this man had she seen him smile. There was no lust in his expression, only sincere delight. It lit up his expressive eyes, crinkling them at the corners. An expression of pure joy. And all because she’d married him.

  She was mesmerized, wondering why their wedding meant so much to him. She dared to hope he found pleasure in her as well as her wealthy lands. She also wondered what it would have been like to wed the Scots Ram without threat of war to haunt them, or his past reputation to frighten her. They would have met on their wedding day. She would never have known the horrid touch of a man like Sir Malcolm. In her innocence, she would have found Nicholas fine and counted her blessings to be wed to a strong and handsome man when so many of her friends were forced to marry old toads like Malcolm.

  Ysabelle and Nicholas would have supped together at a celebration feast. There would have been laughter, dancing, and singing. Ideally, Ysabelle’s father would have been present, smiling his approval. And then, Nicholas would have taken Ysabelle to his bed.

  A thrill of anticipation flooded her veins. How she hoped Nicholas would be considerate and gentle with her. And that they’d do well together.

  Drawing away, Ysabelle turned her back on her groom and endured the congratulatory kisses and hugs from well-wishers. Tears of misery sparkled in Ada’s eyes as she hugged Ysabelle tightly. No words were spoken between them. Ysabelle knew the woman didn’t approve of her choice and she wasn’t surprised when Ada narrowed her eyes on Nicholas, then made a quick departure.