Ella's Desire (Borderland Ladies Book 3)
Page 3
A bit of the gown had shifted apart, giving him a glimpse of her smooth thigh. He ought to look away, and yet found himself stepping back for a better view.
“Who is down there?” The woman tucked her leg back beneath her skirts with haste.
He straightened in surprise. “I am Bronson Berkley, my lady. The Earl of Calville.” Guilt at having been caught made his tone brusque.
She peered down at him through the leaves. Wavy blonde hair hung over her shoulders, obscuring her face. “That isn’t true,” she said. “He isn’t due to arrive for another few days.”
“I have a fast horse.”
The woman didn’t reply.
“Might I inquire as to who you are?” He queried.
Still she did not answer.
“Are you Lady Ella?”
The face of the woman with shapely legs disappeared.
He leaned to the side in an effort to peer through the branches to see her once more. “You ought to get down from there. It isn’t safe.”
An acorn came hurtling down from the tree and smacked his forehead. He slapped a hand over his smarting brow. Had she just thrown an acorn at him?
He stared up into the leaves as a bedraggled looking squirrel scampered to the end of the branch and launched another acorn at him.
“Moppet, cease that at once.” The woman’s hand reached out toward the squirrel.
“My lady, please.” Bronson lifted his arms in an effort to assist her descent. “Come down before you injure yourself.”
“I’m perfectly fine.” The squirrel evaded her grasp and chattered irritably to itself. She rose with slow care, balancing on the branch in her bare feet. The full skirt of her scarlet kirtle billowed gently in the breeze and offered a teasing glimpse of those slender, shapely legs.
This time he did glance away, surveying the orchard. “My lady, someone will see you in this state of indecency.” And he certainly didn’t wish to be caught taking advantage.
“Are you looking?” She spun about and clutched at her skirt.
The branch, however, was only so thick and there was not enough room for both her feet at once. Her feet slipped from the bark and down she went in a stream of red silk and ribbons of golden hair.
He leapt to her aid, rushing toward her and she landed perfectly in the cradle of his arms. He hadn’t anticipated the impact would be like having a sack of grain dropped on his chest and only just managed to mute his grunt at the impact.
She blinked in surprise and slowly turned her face toward his. If having her land on him hadn’t knocked the wind from him, gazing upon her threatened to steal every breath he’d ever taken. She had the same pale hair as her sisters, with long-lashed blue eyes. The crimson of her gown made the flush of her cheeks and the pink pout of her mouth stand out.
He held her weight easily against him, reveling in the warmth of her body, the sweet scent of the fruit trees clinging to her skin. Her hair was unbound and blew lightly in the gentle breeze.
He wanted to crane his head forward, to brush her lips with his own to see if they were as soft as he imagined they were. “Are you Lady Ella?”
“I am.” She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth very much the same as he’d wanted to do. “And you were not supposed to arrive for several more days.” She squirmed in his embrace. “Release me.”
“Are you injured?” he asked.
“I assure you, I am quite well.” She wriggled again. “Do release me, please.”
Obliging her request, he settled her to the ground. She bent and picked up something. A leather-bound book. Strange that she would have an item so valuable out of the castle.
“What were you doing up in the tree?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Reading.”
He glanced at the book once more. “Psalms?”
She shook her head. “Nay, stories.”
He looked at the blank cover. The books he’d seen had scrolling titles and colorful images painted on them by monks. “What story is it?”
“You wouldn’t know it.” She pursed her lips, considering him, as though unsure if she ought to go on or not. Finally, she lifted her shoulder. “They’re stories my sisters and I created.”
“You mean you wrote them?” he asked.
She nodded and pulled the book to her chest, arms crossed over it like a shield.
Was she intentionally making him dredge every bit of information from her? Because he would. If need be. “What are they about?” He took a step closer and she backed up.
Her brow furrowed, and she stared hard at the ground. “Love,” she whispered. The full effect of her glare hit him like a blow. “They’re about love.” She threw the statement at him with heavy accusation. Before he could reply, she shook her head. “You were not supposed to arrive yet. Do excuse me.” With that, she dashed out of the orchard with bare feet and the acorn-wielding squirrel racing after her.
Bronson watched her go and absently rubbed the ache on his brow where he’d been struck by the acorn. Where did that squirrel get the acorns from in the middle of an orchard?
It was a silly musing, and one he’d rather place his focus on than the blatant truth of his encounter with his beautiful betrothed. For it was quite obvious that Lady Ella did not wish to marry him.
Ella was curled into a ball of misery on the bed she shared with Cat and Leila when they entered some time later.
By all rights as eldest daughter at Werrick, she ought to have their mother’s former rooms, but she hadn’t wanted to take them. Memories of her mother’s screams, of the cloying odor of blood, were too much for Ella to bear. And besides, after over twenty years of sleeping with her sisters, she did not wish to sleep alone. They were warmth and comfort, laughter and love. She would remain in this room, in this bed, with them until she was forced to marry. Which might very well be soon.
“Did Calville find you?” Cat flopped on the bed beside Ella.
“Aye, I saw him.” Ella flipped onto her back. “Or rather, I fell into his arms.”
“That sounds romantic,” Cat said.
Leila nodded her head in agreement. “You are partial to that sort of thing.”
Ella scoffed. “Perhaps if he hadn’t made me fall, it would have been romantic. Catching me was the least he could do.” Shame heated her cheeks. “I wasn’t very kind to him afterward. I imagine he’ll have his own hesitations in marrying me as well.”
“He didn’t seem like the type to intentionally cause a woman to fall from a tree.” Cat rolled onto her back too and stared up at the wooden underside of their canopy. “He was quite concerned when he found Leila and I alone in the garden.” Cat nudged Ella’s foot with her own. “I thought he was handsome.”
Ella almost scoffed again, but then stopped herself. He was handsome. She would grudgingly admit it to herself but refused to say as much aloud.
He had light brown hair and deep green eyes. His lower lip was fuller than the top and it softened the hard lines of his angular face. His body had been firm when he caught her, and then he’d continued to hold her as if her weight was insignificant.
But handsome was not love.
“Cat can marry him.” Leila sat on the bed and stroked Ella’s hair where it lay splayed against the coverlet. “But I don’t want either of you to go away. Soon I’ll be the only one left.”
“I don’t wish to wed either.” Cat wrinkled her nose. “It seems terribly bothersome. Leila, you and I can grow old together in this castle.” She sat up abruptly as though something had just occurred to her. “What if you made him not wish to wed you, Ella?”
“I’m sure he already feels that way.” Ella sighed. Surely, it hadn’t been enough to dissuade his intent to wed her, and she hated how thoughts back on her behavior made her stomach twist with guilt. She had just been…surprised…and overwhelmed.
“What if he refuses to marry you?” Cat grinned. “You cannot be faulted for agreeing to the marriage and having him not going through with the union.”
“You’d better think quickly then.” Leila nudged Ella with her elbow. “Because now it’s nearly time for supper.”
“Quick, help me put my hair up.” Ella scooped up her locks. “Once he sees how large my ears are, he will not think me very attractive.”
Her thick, wavy curls rebelled against her attempts to gather it all. She’d always hated her ears and took desperate attempts to hide them. While she would never be as beautiful as Anice, she did ordinarily try to look her best.
Not tonight.
Leila rushed to her aid, twisting the mass. Cat got a ribbon and secured the locks with a giggle. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen your ears.”
The two younger sisters stepped back to regard Ella with wide smiles. Leila’s wilted somewhat. “Your ears aren’t all that big.”
Ella frowned slightly and touched her ears. They felt huge and exposed. “Are you certain?”
“We could dress you in one of my old gowns.” Cat rushed over to her clothing trunk. “They are too small, and the ill fit will be unflattering.”
“I suppose,” Ella agreed. “Though we’ll need more than just my appearance.” And she refused to do anything that might shame their father. Like dipping her fingers into the salt bowl instead of using the tip of her knife. After all, she was a clever girl, she could surely find a way to dissuade Calville’s attentions without being crude.
Cat set to work on Ella’s gown, removing her kirtle and replacing it with one of Cat’s. The fit was tight across the shoulders and chest. It was horrendously uncomfortable, if Ella was being honest, and restricted her movements. However, when Cat held up the small mirror and Ella saw how the front strained at her waist and breasts, she was forced to agree the gown was indeed terribly unflattering.
The three sisters held hands on their way down to the great hall. Ella had nearly brought Moppet with her, but feared doing so might be disastrous, to the point of humiliating her family. Papa was still at Truce Day and Anice had returned to her own manor. Marin and Bran had remained at Werrick Castle and were already at the table, along with the steward, William. Calville was the last to arrive with three dogs in tow.
Ella lifted a brow. “You brought your hunting dogs to Werrick?”
He grinned. “Aye, it’s rumored there is great hunting to be had in these lands.”
The castle priest, Bernard, blessed the meal and bowls of water were brought out to each of them at the family table. Ella and Calville dipped their hands in the water and servants wiped them clean.
Trenchers of meat and stewed vegetables were brought out along with baskets of bread. While they were indeed a noble family, they did not go through the pomp of several courses. Not on the border where airs were not required to the same effect as one might expect in the rest of England. No doubt Marin was dying inside at the lack of time to prepare a more respectable dinner for their guest.
“Do you not think it’s cruel?” Ella asked.
The earl gave her his full attention despite the trencher of food placed between them. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”
“Hunting,” she clarified. “Do you not find it cruel?”
If he was offended at having received the first meal in its entirety without a fruit, broth and a lighter meat served first, he offered no comment. He sliced into the venison at the joint, carving out the choicest, tenderest piece. “I only find it cruel if one does not intend to eat what they have caught, and if they aren’t good hunters and the poor beast suffers.”
“And what of the animal that’s been hunted down?” she demanded.
He slid the best cut of meat onto her trencher and her words suddenly went dry in her mouth at the show of kindness.
“If the hunt is over quickly, the beast does not suffer. Not with anticipation, nor with fear or pain.”
A snuffling sound came from beneath the table and the head of a gray hunting dog lifted to reveal a pair of hopeful brown eyes.
“Hardy, be gone with you.” Calville gently nudged the dog. It didn’t move. “Hardy. Now.” The dog continued to stare up at Ella.
“Hardy, go lay down,” she said. The beast obediently turned and flopped to the ground with a grumble of disappointment.
Calville nodded with approval. “I’m impressed. Hardy doesn’t listen to anyone.”
“I hold great affection for animals,” she said pointedly. Then she cut a piece of the venison he’d given her, pulled it from her blade and slid it into her mouth.
“Like deer?” he asked with a smirk.
She nearly choked on the mouthful she was swallowing. “Do you have any siblings?”
“A sister.” His reply was amicable enough, and he did not seem to mind the shift in conversation. “She’s several years younger than me.”
“What does she enjoy?” Ella picked around the meat and plucked a bit of cabbage.
“I confess, I do not know.” He cut off a piece of meat for himself. “I haven’t been able to spend much time with her.”
Ah, a perfect topic to prod. Ella tilted her chin in the haughty way she’d seen the ladies at court do, the one time that she’d been there when she was a girl. “Men often do not take the time to learn of a lady’s interests or pursuits as they are often too busy engaged in their own amusements.”
He placed a bite of food in his mouth and chewed, his expression one of consideration. Something nudged Ella’s foot. Most likely Hardy. She ignored it. The second nudge was more of a jab. Surprised, she looked up and found Marin’s hard gaze fixed on her, sharp with warning.
“I don’t disagree,” the earl said at last. “I’ve seen deplorable examples of exactly such things.”
“Have you not taken an interest in your sister’s life, then?” A full-on kick this time from Marin, directly to the shin. Pain bloomed just below Ella’s knee and she discreetly put her hand over the injury under the table. No sooner had she done so than a warm tongue lapped greedily over her fingers. Now that was definitely Hardy.
“Alas, my inability to visit her was due to circumstances outside of my control.” Calville appeared genuinely regretful. “I’d like to hear more about the books you and your sisters wrote.”
Ella took a big gulp of wine, but it did little to help her swallow her disappointment. He hadn’t appeared to be at all perturbed by her goading, and he hadn’t once even bothered to let his gaze settle on her ears or the straining waistline of Cat’s dress. Now she was simply being a deplorable person, eating food she now felt guilty for consuming and wearing a kirtle she could scarcely move in.
Her plan was not working.
4
Bronson hid a smile at Ella’s antics. It was quite obvious she was attempting to lure him into a heated discussion of some sort. In truth, he was enjoying it, this sparring of words, like verbal chess.
She’d worn her hair up that evening, the glossy mass of wavy hair bound up with a bit of ribbon. While he’d enjoyed seeing her hair unbound and falling softly around her face, he equally enjoyed being able to see the sensual curve where her long, graceful neck met her shoulders. He wanted to brush his lips over that spot and feel her shiver with pleasure.
Her dress, however—that was a curious thing indeed. It was obvious the green kirtle was ill-fitted and left her movements hindered. Her firm bosom strained at the front where the neckline cut into the soft flesh and pressed tempting mounds of creamy skin. It looked terribly uncomfortable. His hands itched to unlace her dress, to free her poor breasts and ease their discomfort with caresses.
“We have been writing them for some time,” Lady Catriona piped up.
He dragged his gaze from his intended wife and focused on the younger, blonde sister.
“The books,” she said. “It was Ella’s idea to write our own stories. First from what we’d heard from trou
badours that came through, but then we started our own. We all like those better, as much as we enjoy the French books Papa brings us sometimes. Ella is the best at coming up with ideas.”
“Aye,” Ella replied. “Stories of love.”
“Not arranged marriages?” He’d meant it as a light jest.
Ella, however, did not laugh, nor did she offer a goading remark. She stared down at her food, her expression shuttered.
“When we are wed, I shall buy you hundreds of books,” Bronson promised.
Still, she did not look up.
“My marriage was arranged,” William said. They all regarded the steward. He ducked his head and a tender, affectionate expression softened his face. “We were happy. I c-couldn’t imagine my life without her.” He paused and ran a hand over his auburn hair to smooth what had not been out of place. “She d-died in the childbed, along with our newly b-born daughter.” He smiled regardless, in the way kind people often did, even when divulging sad news. “Arranged marriages can bring great happiness. Those years with my Annie were the best of my life.”
“Many marriages that start with strangers turn to love.” Lady Marin regarded her Scots husband with a quiet smile. “You simply need to get to know one another.”
At least it appeared the others were championing Bronson’s efforts. He glanced to Ella for her reaction and found her cheeks red. She pressed her lips together as though restraining words she’d rather say and reached for her wine.
The sound of rending fabric filled the solemn silence. She sat up straight and her eyes went wide.
At her back, a seam had split behind her right shoulder, revealing smooth fair skin beneath fraying green cloth. Ella’s mouth fell open while Lady Catriona and Lady Leila covered giggles behind their hands. Lady Marin touched her fingertips to her brow and slowly closed her eyes.
“Excuse me.” Ella shoved back in her chair.
Before Bronson could get to his feet, she was already out of her seat and partway across the hall. He leapt up and went after her. He’d half-expected someone to stop him, especially once he was in the corridor, where they might be alone, but no one did. He continued on in his pursuit.