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

by Bale, Leigh

  “You might be killed if you remain here. What have you gained if you die?”

  He sucked in a harsh breath. A silent battle waged between them. He spoke softly, staring at the fire in the brazier. “I didn’t tell you about Malcolm because I didn’t want you to hate me more than you already do. I thought I could woo you if only I had more time. Until I knew if Malcolm was really alive, I feared such unhappy news would only frighten you more.”

  Goosebumps prickled Ysabelle’s flesh and she wrapped her arms about herself. His confession left her speechless. It was the first time he had spoken of his deep emotions for her. But it changed nothing, except to pummel her heart even more. It would be best if he left. She would rather belong to Fat Malcolm than watch Nicholas die. They could not hold out against the English forever. It was only a matter of time.

  Restless energy pulsed from him. A clap of thunder broke the night sky and a flash of light filled the room. The drumbeat of rain pounding the roof could be heard overhead.

  Nicholas swallowed. His confession had left him shaking and he prayed Ysabelle would not spurn him now. He had laid his heart open to her as much as he dared. Would she hate him for not telling her the truth about Malcolm?

  She stood so still, so small, her face ashen, her eyes wide and fearful. She closed her eyes and tears hovered beneath her lashes. When she opened her eyes again, a silvery tear slid down her cheek. His heart wrenched. How he hated to see her cry.

  “And what of our child?” she asked quietly. “Will he be declared a bastard, like his father?”

  Nicholas blinked. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. “What are you saying? Are you with child?”

  She looked away, her countenance sad and forlorn. “Yes, I’m carrying your babe.”

  A spear of light and happiness pierced his heart. A longing to see her smile, to hear her laughter, welled inside him with such intensity that he almost shouted. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “You have made me verra happy.”

  “But what of our child’s future, Nicholas? Will he be treated as cruelly as you have been? Will he be shunned and grow up to be a harsh man like…?”

  She did not finish, but she did not need to. Nicholas knew what she had been about to say. “You mean a harsh man like me?”

  Looking away, she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Even you deserve to be loved,” she whispered.

  Standing, he stepped to her side and reached his hand out to cup her chin and raise her gaze to his. “I don’t plan to die any time soon, Ysabelle. Our child will have no doubt who his parents are. He will be nurtured by our care.”

  The pain in his shoulder seemed vague when he considered the great joy in his heart. Ysabelle carried his child. Finally, he had a family of his own and people who needed him. He would never abandon them, even if it meant his death.

  He kissed her, trying to communicate the feelings in his heart even though he didn’t understand them fully. He knew only that he longed to pull Ysabelle close to his chest and hold her against his heart for all time.

  Her trembling gave him pause and he withdrew. “Would you rather be wed to Sir Malcolm?”

  She gave a harsh laugh. “Of course not.”

  “Yet, you willna trust me.”

  “It’s not a matter of trust. Nicholas, you should flee while there is still time.”

  Why would she not leave it alone? If only he could make her understand how important being at Sutcliffe was to him.

  “I won’t go, don’t ask it of me again.” He stepped back and, with a muttered oath, he quit the room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “We are dangerously low on provisions. Soon, we will be desperate for supplies,” Alex advised Nicholas as they stood alone in the great hall.

  “I’m aware of that,” Nicholas agreed, staring at the fire as he leaned against the giant stone hearth.

  To conserve their fuel, no wall sconces had been lit. The fire was the only source of light and he watched the flames licking over the precious wood. They had been forced to tear apart the dovecoat. “Tonight, I want you to leave under cover of darkness and take Ysabelle to Castle Ramsay, where she will be safe.”

  Alex arched one brow as he sipped his warm ale. “Do you think that wise?”

  “Without her, the English cannot claim Sutcliffe, even if they take possession and kill me. I would hold these lands for my heir. As long as Ysabelle and my son live, there is hope.”

  Amazement glimmered in Alex’s eyes. “Ysabelle is expecting your child?”

  Nicholas nodded.

  A wide grin spread its way across Alex’s face and he clapped Nicholas on the back. “That is marvelous news, brother. Congratulations.”

  “I don’t want any harm to come to either of them.” Nicholas turned and looked intently at his brother. “I entrust them to your care. If I should die, I ask only that you see they are taken care of. I want my babe to know I am his father and that I never regretted his birth. He must know he was no bastard and that I wed Ysabelle legally. Don’t…” he swallowed, “don’t let him be raised as harshly as I was. Help him have a joyous life, Alex. I can’t bear the thought of him or Ysabelle being miserable.”

  Alex rubbed his chin, glancing away. “I understand and will do it. You have my word. But Ysabelle won’t go with me.”

  “I willna give her a choice.”

  “I also would rather not leave you,” Alex told him. “It would require a garrison of men to accompany us safely to Scotland. You’ll need every available man to stay here and fight.”

  Nicholas frowned. “Don’t you think I can fight without you by my side?”

  Alex stiffened. “I’m very aware of your skills, brother. Yet, you are only one man. If I leave, my father willna rally to help you.”

  With an impatient scoff, Nicholas shook his head and finished the last of his ale in two gulps. “Your father has not rallied to assist me even with your presence here at Sutcliffe. And I’m not surprised. The man detests me.”

  Alex shifted restlessly, a frown of consternation on his brow. “Late last night, I sent another runner to again seek his aid. No doubt it has taken time for him to gather his allies together so he can fight the English on your behalf.”

  “It shouldn’t take this long,” Nicholas spoke low as he tugged a slim reed from the brush by the fire. “Archibald doesn’t care about my cause, nor my skin. I doubt he wants to endanger his own hide by doing battle for me.”

  From the scowl on his face, it was obvious Alex took offense at this comment. He took a step back, his hands clutching the edge of the table with whitened knuckles. “You know my father has never fled from battle, Nicholas. He would come to your defense and have Sutcliffe declared for Scotland.”

  Nicholas hated to insult his brother. But it would be best to send him and Ysabelle away, so they might both be safe. He did not want Ysabelle to witness his death. In order to get Alex to take her and leave Sutcliffe, he decided to be harsh.

  “No, Archibald hates me,” Nicholas cracked the reed in two and tossed one piece into the fire. “My death would please him. You know what I say is true. But it is a pity he would sacrifice you merely to punish me.”

  An expression of angry hurt crossed Alex’s face. “That’s not true. My father is no coward, Nicholas.”

  Their gazes clashed. “And when has Archibald lifted a finger on my behalf? He would prefer me dead.”

  Alex blinked and Nicholas could see the pain his words caused. Nicholas’s throat constricted, but he could not relent. He was about to lose everything, Ysabelle, Sutcliffe, his own life. Yet, he had won all. His child would live and carry on his line. To remind the world that the Scots Ram would not be defeated, even in death.

  Nicholas had never spoken of Archibald Ramsay’s indifference so bluntly. Because Alex was filled with so much goodness and justice, Nicholas suspected Archibald’s callous disregard hurt Alex deeply. But Alex would not leave with Ysabelle unless Nicholas angered him so mu
ch that he could not stay. It was for the best. To keep Alex and Ysabelle safe.

  “I don’t need you here. I don’t want you to stay,” Nicholas lied.

  The two men glared at one another. Nicholas grit his teeth and Alex tightened his jaw.

  “You are an ass, brother,” Alex said before he turned and stormed out of the hall.

  Nicholas stared after him. The room felt hot and oppressive. He longed to call Alex back, to apologize. When Archibald had deserted him, Alex had always stayed. This might be the last time they ever saw each other and Nicholas hated to part ways with bad feelings. Alex was the one man who had always stood by him, no matter how bad it got. No matter how ugly Nicholas became. Alex, whom he loved dearly. His one, true friend.

  Nicholas remained silent, praying Alex would leave with Ysabelle soon. Knowing they were safe, he would be able to face his death alone.

  *

  Ysabelle sat before the brazier in the lord’s chamber. Mesmerized by the flickering fire, she stared at the flames. Their undulating talons consumed the birch logs, just as the English would soon consume Sutcliffe. Restless energy pulsed in her veins. If only there was a way for her to prevent the demise of her people. She must find a way to protect Nicholas.

  “My dearest, what has happened? Surely it cannot be so bad.”

  Looking up, Ysabelle saw Ada standing before the door. The woman had entered silently.

  “It is, Ada,” Ysabelle croaked.

  Coming to stand beside Ysabelle, Ada folded her arms and looked at her mistress, her eyes crinkled with concern. “Tell me what has happened.”

  “Malcolm de Litz is still alive,” Ysabelle whispered hoarsely. “Nicholas knew and didn’t tell me. Now, I’m a bigamist and may be excommunicated for adultery. My soul may be condemned.”

  Ada gasped and took a step back. “What? This cannot be. Have you seen Sir Malcolm?”

  “No, but his son, Lambert, and Father Eustace, brought me the news.”

  “Perhaps they lied. I would expect no less,” Ada pointed out.

  “Nicholas believed they spoke the truth and so do I.”

  Ysabelle stood and began to pace the room. Her fingers twined together in nervous energy. “How dare he? How dare Nicholas lie to me? Why didn’t he tell me Malcolm still lived?”

  Ada followed her, standing with her back to the open window. Sunlight streamed through the room, along with the constant rumble of yelling and siege weapons. “Did he lie or did he just not tell you?”

  “They are one and the same, are they not?”

  Ada pursed her lips. “Perhaps your husband didn’t want to worry you with such bad news.”

  Ysabelle whirled and stared at the handmaiden. “Which of my husbands are you referring to? Sir Malcolm or Nicholas Ramsay?”

  Ada’s lips pursed tight, her eyes lowered as she studied the stone floor for several moments. Then, she seemed to arrive at a decision. “Lord Nicholas, of course. He is your only husband.”

  Ysabelle raised a brow. “You think so? I thought you didn’t like him.”

  With a sigh of resignation, Ada’s expression softened. “At one time, that was true. I thought he might abuse you. I could not stand to watch you go through what your mother suffered. But now, I’ve had time to see that Lord Nicholas cares for you. He has been kind when he need not be. Perhaps he is like Lord Maston after all. He is your husband.”

  An abrasive laugh slipped from Ysabelle’s throat. “I only hope the Pope agrees with you.”

  As she moved about the room, Ysabelle gazed past Ada out the window. She stared blindly at the plumes of smoke billowing up from the siege fires started by the English. Fury pulsed hot in her veins. Men were conniving creatures, one and all. She could trust none of them. “My soul may be condemned but I will not see Sutcliffe destroyed. Nor will I have my babe declared a bastard.”

  Ada gasped. “You have conceived a child?”

  Ysabelle bit her bottom lip. “Yes.”

  Clapping her hands, Ada smiled widely. “How wonderful. I must be on hand to help you when you give birth. I am much more experienced at birthing babes now. You might have difficulty, like your mother. Oh, your father would be so pleased with this news.”

  Jerking around, Ysabelle glared at the woman. “My father would be heartbroken. I don’t believe he knew what a mess this betrothal would become.”

  “It’s understandable that you are upset, my lady. But you mustn’t give up hope. It will be well…” Ada’s torso lurched and she went very still. Her eyes widened and she blinked, the blood draining from her face. Her mouth rounded with surprise and she took a faltering step toward Ysabelle.

  “Ada? What is wrong?” Walking to her side, Ysabelle took Ada’s hands in her own.

  The woman fell forward. Scrambling to catch her, Ysabelle screamed. An arrow protruded from Ada’s back, high up on her right shoulder.

  The open window! An English arrow had hit its mark with unerring accuracy.

  “Ada! Oh, no,” Ysabelle cried as she lowered the handmaiden to the floor.

  “Ysabelle, forgive me, dear one,” the woman whispered, her voice fraught with pain.

  “There is nothing to forgive. Lie still and I’ll get help,” Ysabelle reassured with a quavering voice.

  Ada clutched folds of Ysabelle’s dress, her hands blotching the linen with blood. “There is much I must tell you. Much I must ask forgiveness for.”

  Ysabelle almost had to pry the woman’s hands loose. Panic raced up her throat. “We will talk later.”

  Jumping to her feet, Ysabelle dashed to the door, throwing it wide. “Margaret! Genevieve! Help me!”

  Several servants came running. Within minutes, Ada was carried to her room and laid on her pallet. The woman groaned, her eyes closed with pain. Terror clawed Ysabelle’s heart. She couldn’t lose Ada, the only mother she’d ever known. Not now. Not when she needed her so much.

  Be calm. Think! She must not lose her composure now.

  She inspected Ada’s wound, accepting the cloths Margaret handed her to staunch the flow of blood. “You will be all right. I don’t think the wound is lethal.”

  She cut the apron and dress from Ada’s torso so she might get a better look. Blood ran between Ysabelle’s fingers as she tugged gently on the arrow to see how tight it was against the bone.

  Ada whimpered.

  “I’m sorry to hurt you, but it must come out,” Ysabelle said.

  Biting her lip, Ada nodded her graying head.

  Grasping the shaft in a firm hold, Ysabelle pulled quick and hard. The arrow gave way and Ada’s shrill scream vibrated in the room.

  Ada fainted. Ysabelle sighed with relief as Hannah helped her staunch the flow of blood. While Margaret heated water to cleanse the wound, Ysabelle mixed herbs to kill the poisons. Within an hour, Ysabelle had bandaged Ada’s torso. If poison did not set in, Ada would live. Ysabelle would accept nothing else.

  “Lord Nicholas has been informed of what has happened,” Hannah told her later when she returned with a cup of broth. “He will come as soon as he can break away from the siege.”

  Ysabelle suspected Nicholas’s motives. She knew he didn’t care for Ada. But he wasn’t a cruel man who would desire Ada’s death.

  Nodding her thanks, Ysabelle added a pain reliever to the broth and spooned it down Ada’s throat. Ada smiled weakly and Ysabelle kissed her wrinkled brow, swallowing the tears that threatened to fall. She couldn’t lose Ada. Not now. Caressing Ada’s wrinkled cheek, she ignored the tears streaming down her face.

  “I should have fought Nicholas to the death,” she whispered with regret. “I should never have let him enter Sutcliffe. I should not have wed him. And yet, even now, I love him. How has he wrapped around my heart so that I can think of nothing but seeing him again?”

  Ada shook her head, her silvery eyes dimmed with pain. She reached her bony hand up to caress Ysabelle’s arm. “At one time, I agreed you shouldn’t wed him. But now, I know you did the right thing. Maston want
ed both you and Nicholas to hold Sutcliffe together.”

  Fury pulsed in Ysabelle’s veins. Her love for Nicholas was a selfish thing. And now, her passion for him might cost Ada her life. “If Nicholas hadn’t come here, you would not be injured. He has no right to be here. I had no right to endanger you by wedding him.”

  “No!” Ada cried and tried to rise. “He has every right to hold these lands. He is Lord Maston’s…”

  “Ada, don’t talk now. You must rest.” Ysabelle pressed the woman back on the pallet. Ada had tried to kill Nicholas, yet now, she was defending the Scotsman. How odd!

  “I might not live, child. We must speak now,” Ada said.

  Tears filled Ysabelle’s eyes. “You will not die. I forbid it.”

  A wan smile curved Ada’s lips. Her pale face gleamed in the shadows, her voice a weak whisper. “I have watched you grow into a woman. Your father would be proud of you. But you must never think Lord Nicholas has no right to rule Sutcliffe.”

  Ysabelle was confused. “I thought you hated him. You tried to kill him.”

  “You know I regret that. I thought only to protect you from a brutal man. But now, I realize he loves you.”

  Ysabelle snorted. “He loves what our union has brought to him. Power and land.”

  Ada shook her head. “He has always loved you, even when he didn’t know you. Your father betrothed you to him. You have a right to know why.”

  What? Ada was speaking nonsense. She must be delirious. But a coil of curiosity churned into Ysabelle’s stomach. “I have often wondered why father insisted in betrothing me to Nicholas.”

  “He knows the truth about your birth.”

  Feeling the blood leave her face, Ysabelle fought off the shock. “How could Nicholas know? Why didn’t he tell me?”

  Ada turned her face away, wiping her own damp eyes. “There is more, and I regret I must hurt you further. I never wanted to be the one to tell you the truth. I had hoped, if the day ever came when you must know everything, that Lord Nicholas or Father Edward would tell you.”