Ella's Desire (Borderland Ladies Book 3)

by Madeline Martin

  The tales were wild, fantastical and filled with many perfect ideas on how to win her heart. In reading her stories, she had unwittingly opened her heart to him and let him glimpse her secrets.

  Something scrabbled in the corner and drew his attention from the troubadour creeping up on a dragon in defense of the fair maiden he sought to protect. Moppet stood in the doorway, his eyes gleaming with menace. The little beast did not possess an acorn in his paw, but that did not mean he couldn’t find something else to throw. It also meant that Ella was most likely nearby, being that she was the only one in the castle who enjoyed the creature’s company.

  Bronson leapt to his feet, closing the book as he did so. Rushing so as not to get caught, he hastened to a shelf and shoved the book into an available gap.

  “Ah, Calville,” Ella’s sweet voice rang out. “There you are. I thought you might have gone on the ride without me.”

  He spun around to face her. “Good morrow, Lady Ella.” He offered a small, respectful bow.

  Ah, but he could do better than the simple bidding of a new day. The heroes in her books certainly did.

  She was dressed in a yellow kirtle that made her skin shine with youthful beauty. Her blonde hair had been plaited into a long single braid with a bit of ribbon threaded through her silky locks, and a gilt circlet adorned her fair brow. She was stunning, golden and gleaming like the sun.

  Aye, that was good. He ought to say as much. Except it did not come out of his mouth as smoothly as it’d been thought in his mind. “You look fresher than the sun,” he blurted.

  Her forehead crinkled, her expression echoing the wild confusion in his own mind. What had just happened? How had he thought something so eloquently, and yet it had fled his mouth in such an awkward jumble?

  He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful. And please, do call me Bronson. I was quite serious about that.”

  Her puzzlement smoothed away, and she smiled brilliantly at him. “Thank you.” Her gaze skimmed the wall of books behind him. “Were you reading?”

  “Nay.” He said it far too quickly. “I was simply looking at your collection of books to determine which you had in case I had more I could add, aside from Roman de la Rose.”

  “I thought that was the only book of your mother’s you’d kept.” She came to his side and took his arm. Her hand was warm, and she smelled like sunshine and flowers.

  “I meant if there were any more at Berkley Manor,” he corrected. “I believe my sister and stepmother may have some.”

  It was a lie, of course. When one could barely afford food and lacked sufficient clothing for the upcoming winter, one hardly bothered with costly books. But it was better than admitting he’d come into the library to read through her stories and sift through her dreams to find the key to making her fall in love with him.

  It was pathetic even to his own internal assessment and would certainly not be something he could voice aloud. She peered over his shoulder to the shelves and tilted her head. He followed her gaze and found he’d left the green book with its spine not pushed in completely, so it jutted out from the others.

  “What is that one doing there?” She reached out to retrieve it.

  Bronson’s heart stopped for a breath. She walked to the other side of the wall and put it onto another shelf. “That’s where you belong.” She said it in a soft, maternal tone before turning to Bronson. “The horses should be ready for our ride. Shall we go?”

  A scraping sound came from overhead. Before Bronson could look up, something hard slammed onto the crown of his head. A book clattered to the floor, followed by the giddy chattering of a small animal. No doubt a gift from the wretched-looking scrap of a squirrel.

  “Might we leave Moppet behind?” He smoothed a hand over his head to ensure his hair was in order, ignoring the new lump grazing his fingertips.

  “Aye, I’ll leave him with Leila.” She shook her finger at Moppet. “For being so poorly behaved.”

  Nonplussed, the little mongrel scampered down the shelf and perched on her shoulder. They were able to leave him in Leila’s care without issue, thanks be to God.

  Or at least with minimal issue. Hardy had returned to Leila’s side first thing that morning, his slender tail whooshing back and forth like a whip in his frenzied excitement to see her. And while she was all too pleased to add another animal to her retinue, Moppet was not as eager to be paired with a dog.

  After much chasing and whimpering and chattering, the two calmed under Leila’s gentle voice and the soothing, clean scents of drying herbs, falling into a truce of sorts.

  The horses were indeed ready and waiting for them when they arrived at the stable. Bronson followed Ella to her horse, prepared to aid her onto her saddle, when she leapt up on her own with considerable ease.

  Bronson straightened his doublet. It mattered not that he was unable to aid her onto her steed. It was simply one missed opportunity. There would be plenty more ways for him to implement his newfound knowledge of being the perfect hero.

  Ella intended to spend the entire day with Bronson, of her own volition this time. And not to dissuade him from marrying her, but to actually give the idea of their union an earnest effort.

  Marin had left early that morning with Bran, needing to return to Kendal Castle to see to their own matters. Of course, Marin had given Ella advice on love and marriage and making it work. Ella only hoped it was enough information to allow her the opportunity to fall in love. The rest could work itself out at a later date.

  She nudged her horse, Kipper, up a hill with Bronson at her side. “Do you enjoy life in London?”

  “I enjoyed it for a time.” His gaze skimmed the endless sea of velvety grass stretching before them. There was something shuttered in his expression, but he did not elaborate on it. “The border is significantly more different than anything I’ve ever seen.”

  “I remember court, though it’s been a long time since I attended.” Her mother had still been alive then. They’d all donned their finest silks to be paraded about with ceremony. It had felt ridiculous.

  “Did you like it?” He led the way down a steep hill and continued to glance back at her to ensure her safety. A kind gesture, but an unnecessary one. After years of owning Kipper, and how often she went riding, she could do it with her eyes closed. Truly. She’d tried once.

  “I remember only being laced into a constricting gown and having to be on my very best behavior. Everything was luxurious, but there were a lot of rules.” She navigated the uneven terrain with ease in an effort to prove her ability to him.

  He chuckled. “Aye, there are a considerable number of rules. Were we in London, for example, we would not be able to be alone together without an escort.”

  She knew well of this rule. Here at Werrick Castle, escorts were seldom required between an unwed woman and a man, unless Papa was entertaining important guests.

  The time Ella had spent alone with Calville thus far had not felt improper. However, the reminder that in a different place this would be inappropriate made the quiet around them feel suddenly heavy with intimacy.

  “The sky is enchanting today, is it not?” She tilted her head back to better view the wide stretch of blue overhead. Bits of clouds hung suspended in the great expanse, like tufts of wool spread apart until they were little more than nearly transparent threads and fibers.

  “Your eyes rival the beauty of that blue sky, Lady Ella.”

  The softness of Calville’s voice drew her attention back to her companion.

  Heat touched Ella’s cheeks. “Thank you.”

  Truth be told, she liked this part of him, the part that made her go warm and squirmy with attraction. It made her recall that kiss in the solar, when his lips tenderly caressed her mouth and skin.

  He reached out a hand and skimmed his fingertips down her cheek. “I want to see your favorite place here.”

  Her heart stuttered. “How did you know I have a favorite place?”

  “Mayhap I know you bett
er than you assumed I did.” His eyes were as green as the grass they rode over, his smile as warm as the sun.

  Had he really learned her so quickly, after such a short a period of time? Was she so easy to read? And if she was, had he been able to tell how she recalled their kiss with such vividness?

  He leaned toward her, his eyes closing. Heavens! He was going to kiss her while they were both on horses. How very romantic! Like something from a troubadour’s tale.

  Ella closed her eyes and stretched in his direction. Their lips had only but grazed one another’s when Kipper gave an irritated huff and leapt forward, pulling Ella from Bronson’s kiss.

  She couldn’t help but laugh as Kipper jealously trotted away with her on his back. Calville flashed a charming grin, snapped his own reins and trotted ahead of her. “Point me in the direction and I will lead the way.”

  Ella couldn’t help the smug smile. He did not know her so very well after all. She urged her horse to canter faster. “I can show you where it is.”

  He navigated his stead in front of hers. “That is not necessary, my lady. I can lead us both. You need only point me in the proper direction.”

  Ella tightened her grip on the reigns and pushed Kipper to the beginning of a gallop. “Lord Calville—”

  “Bronson.”

  Ella swallowed down her exasperated sigh at this stubborn courtier determined to be the protective man. “Bronson.” She tested his name on her tongue. It felt masculine and intimate, and she decided she liked it very much. “I am perfectly capable of leading you. I venture this way all the time and am often alone.”

  “You are not alone today, my dove.” He drew up alongside her, practically shouting to be heard over the thundering of their horse’s hooves. “Please indicate where we will go.”

  Their horses were both moving swiftly now.

  A grin curled her lips. If he wanted the direction, she would give it to him. “There is a cottage,” she spoke loudly to ensure he heard her. “Go in the direction of the sun over several hills and you will find it.”

  Bronson’s face lit up at the opportunity to lead her. He was so overjoyed, in fact, she nearly felt bad for what she was about to do.

  “I’ll meet you there.” She flashed him a smile and allowed Kipper to fly. The horse had been her father’s, a wild foal meant to be broken to become a prize mount. However, the wilderness could never be tamed from the beast. He attempted to throw every rider but her. She’d spent the better part of a month talking to him, soothing him, never once attempting to ride him. Until her father planned to sell him.

  She’d begged Peter to let her try. He’d refused, of course. So, when they had all gone to bed, she’d snuck out of her room and took Kipper out to the field. With no saddle, and nothing but the moon to witness what her father liked to call foolish bravery, Ella climbed onto Kipper’s back.

  She’d expected him to throw her, but he had not. To this day, she was the only rider Kipper would allow on his back. He was the finest horse in the stable, with his black sleek coat, fearless and powerful.

  And so, it was no surprise at all to her that she won the impromptu race. Though to his credit, Bronson’s horse had put forth a strong effort and he was only several moments behind her.

  The cabin was small, a single room that had been abandoned some time ago. Her gaze caught on an axe with part of its head sunk deep in a stump used for splitting wood. She froze.

  Mayhap it was no longer abandoned. A heavy thump of horse hooves brought her attention back to Calville, who rode toward her at an impressive speed.

  Ella slid from her horse and put her hand on her hip as he approached, acting as though she’d been waiting quite a while for his arrival, rather than having just gotten down from her horse herself.

  “You had a head start.” He leapt from his steed with an athleticism that appealed to her. “And don’t act as though you’ve been waiting for me when I was right behind you.” He chuckled. “You cannot fool me.”

  A stick cracked in the woods surrounding them. The charge of warning prickling over her skin told her it was not the cabin’s new occupant returning home. Or if it was, his intentions were not good.

  Bronson stepped closer to Ella, his proximity brazen, and lifted his mouth in a sensual half smile. He was oblivious to the threat nearby. “My sweet Ella, I commend you on your speed that won you the race.” He cupped her face in his hands and gazed down at her as though he meant to kiss her.

  Before she could protest, he spoke as his mouth brushed against hers. “Get behind me.”

  “There is someone in the woods,” she surmised.

  “Nay.” He nibbled the area just below her neck, close to her ear. “There are several someones in the woods.”

  9

  Ella peered over Calville’s shoulder to the forest behind him where several figures moved in the shadows.

  “Several someones…behind you?” She tilted her head slightly, as though in pleasure. In actuality, she was looking for how far the axe was from where they stood. Only several feet. It would require a short leap to grab it.

  Calville’s mouth grazed along her neck. A small sound came from the back of her throat unbidden. “Stay behind me, my dove. Run for the cottage and bolt the door while I hold them off. I’ll keep you safe.”

  The shadows in the forest began to move, creeping closer.

  “You prefer your sword then?” Ella fingers itched to curl around the solid wooden handle jutting up from the chopping stump.

  “Aye.” He put his fist on the hilt of his sword. “Ready?”

  Before she could answer, a battle cry shrilled from the woods. Calville pulled his sword free with a metallic hiss and gently pushed her in the direction of the cottage, which was also in the direction of the axe. She gripped the handle in both hands and swung upward, freeing it. The weapon was no battle axe, the weight being more top heavy than balanced, and the head far too small. But it was better than trying to protect herself with the small dagger tucked in her belt.

  The first man fell upon Calville. The earl parried, taking his time as he feinted right, then left. Finally, he drove the sword beneath the armpit where the gambeson was less armored.

  Calville stood as the man fell in front of him and watched him. Was he waiting to ensure the man had died?

  Footsteps sounded behind Ella. She turned on her heel as she lifted her axe. A reiver gave her a leering smile and made a lunge for her. She swung her weapon and caught the man in the side. He cried out and grabbed for her. Ella jerked at the handle to free the blade. It pulled away from the man’s body with a sucking sound and blood gushed from his wound. Behind her came the ringing clash of blades and the grunt of someone being struck.

  An arrow shot from the trees and hit the ground where Calville’s foot had been braced moments before. Ella trained her eyes on the forest, waiting for movement.

  A branch shifted. There. Exactly what she’d been anticipating. In one smooth motion, she drew her dagger from her belt and threw the blade at the archer. A solid thud told her she’d hit her mark.

  She glanced back to Calville and found him with three men upon him. He parried and blocked, his movements precise, but slow. If he continued thus, he’d be dead in minutes. She hefted her axe into her hands and ran to his side.

  “Lady Ella.” He started at her appearance. A reiver took advantage of his distraction and sliced his left forearm. Crimson blood blossomed against his white sleeve. Regardless of the injury, Calville put himself between her and the men. “Please. Get in the cottage.”

  Three more men rushed from the forest and joined the fight, fresh and ready to kill.

  She ignored Calville’s request and focused instead on the reiver trying to get a rope around her. He hadn’t seen the axe until it was too late, until it was slamming down on his shoulder. He howled in agony and the rope slipped from his fingers.

  Another took his place, but Ella wrenched her axe from one man and planted it into the gut of another.
<
br />   “Flee,” the reiver with the rope cried, clearly the leader. “They’re no’ worth it”

  “Take your dead and injured,” Ella called after them. “We don’t want them here. You’ll stay unharmed as you get them.”

  Several of the braver reivers grabbed their fallen brethren, three of whom groaned with pain while another four remained silent.

  Calville watched them leave before turning to Ella, his green eyes wide in his pale face.

  Alarm took hold of Ella. “Are you injured?” Her gaze frantically scoured his body, but aside from the nick on his forearm, she saw nothing else.

  “Are…are you…” His mouth worked without words for a moment. “Are you injured?”

  Ella regarded him curiously. “I wasn’t struck. Are you well?”

  “Of course.” He looked down at his hands where brilliant red blood smeared across his palms and fingers.

  Silence followed, stretched out as Calville continued to stare at his hands in bewilderment and horror. And it all made sense: Bronson had never killed a man before.

  So much blood. Bronson couldn’t tear his gaze from the smear of it across his hands, the way it settled like dark wine in the creases of his palm.

  “Lord Calville?”

  The men’s eyes had gone wide when he plunged his blade into them. Wide and then dull as they ceased to live. What if they had wives at home waiting for them? Children who relied on them?

  He had taken the lives of four men.

  “Bronson?”

  There was a softness to the voice, and it pulled him from his macabre thoughts. Ella watched him with concern pulling at her brows.

  “They would have killed us,” she said. “Or at the very least taken us as prisoners and held us for ransom. We would be beaten, and I would most likely…” She shook her head, her face crinkling in disgust, but she didn’t need to fill in the rest for him to understand.