Ella's Desire (Borderland Ladies Book 3)

by Madeline Martin

  “What angers and frustrates you so within the castle?” Bronson asked Ella, more softly this time.

  For the first time, she looked guiltily away. “You.”

  “Me?”

  “You want to sell Lark off to someone at court, to make her appealing to the men who might take advantage of the vulnerability you force on her.” She widened her stance on the dirt floor and met his gaze. “You have never taken her to court for an introduction, nor has Brigid been at court since becoming a countess. The women are nearly starved, and neither can read. Is this what you want in a woman? Is this to be my future? And what of our daughters?”

  The vehemence of her words pummeled into him in sharp strikes. She had seen so much more than he had realized. Except she had assumed it had all been his fault.

  “Ella—”

  “You said I could marry you when I decided I was ready.” She lifted her chin. “How can I be ready any time soon when you have so little care for the women in your life? And I did not throw myself into Peter’s arms just now. I was truly upset, and he sought only to help allay my tears.”

  Bronson frowned. What the hell had he been thinking in allowing Ella to make the decision when to wed him? What had been meant as a romantic gesture might just have become his greatest obstacle.

  “Then I apologize, Peter.” He spoke slowly, carefully, knowing that every word would be weighed by this woman whose opinion of him would dictate his future, as well as that of Lark and Brigid.

  The Master of the Horse shrugged with indifference. “It’s not the first time it’s happened. It’s only been the first time I’ve been innocent.”

  “Lady Ella, will you join me in the solar?” Bronson dug deep into his courtier’s charms and bowed low to her. “I believe there is much to discuss.” He straightened and offered her his arm.

  Ella accepted his proffered arm. “Aye, there is.”

  Then, without a backward glance at Peter, she allowed Bronson to take her from the stables. The tension in his shoulders began to ebb. He need only talk to Ella, to explain how his father had been. Even as he thought of such a discussion, he cringed with self-disgust. For how could he confess that he had enjoyed life as Lark and Brigid had suffered? How could he offer such an ugly truth, to pull away his mask and let her see how he had once been? After a lifetime of keeping his secrets guarded, it was hard to imagine them so bared.

  “It is not as it appears,” Bronson said under his breath. It was all he could bring himself to say until they were alone, but it would have to be enough. For now.

  Rafe appeared in the castle entrance and raced in their direction.

  “My lord.” Rafe offered a sloppy bow in his haste. “You must come quickly.”

  Bronson opened his mouth to decline when Rafe spoke over him, “And Lady Ella as well.” The servant’s chest rose and fell with the frenzy of his breath. Clearly the lad had been running about in his search for them.

  “Surely this can wait,” Bronson began.

  “Forgive me, my lord, but it cannot.” Rafe clamped his hands in front of his waist as he often did when overly concerned with a bit of news he intended to share. “Lady Lark and Lady Leila have gone missing.”

  Ella got the ride she had been wanting, only under circumstances that left her bereft. She and Bronson rode alongside one another, alternating between calling for Lark and Leila.

  Everyone at the castle had scattered through the surrounding land, seeking out the girls. No soldiers had seen them depart, and yet they were not within the castle. It had been impossible to discern what had happened to them. At least until Ella’s father had thought to look at the box in Cat and Leila’s room, which held the key to the secret exit at the rear of the castle. He’d found it empty.

  Lark and Leila were somewhere outside of the castle. Alone. With only Hardy to protect them. Chills chased up Ella’s spine.

  When she had intended to ride earlier, the prospect of being alone outside the castle walls with marauders nearby had not seemed dangerous. But two young women on their own turned the idea into one of certain death.

  “Lark,” Ella cried into the wind. “Leila!” Her throat was raw, and her heart stung with each unanswered cry.

  “Why would they leave the castle?” Bronson growled in his frustration.

  “Do you truly have to ask?” Ella encouraged Kipper over a hill and toward a heavily wooded area that might provide the perfect shelter for two girls to hide within.

  Bronson stared into the distance, his expression hard. “Mayhap I was too hard on her.”

  Ella said nothing as she peered through the dense foliage.

  “Mayhap my expectations were too harsh,” he continued.

  Something moved in the depth of the brush. Ella’s heart stopped. She put up a hand to silence Bronson.

  He sighed. “Aye, I know you already knew as much, but—”

  Ella put her finger to her lips to shush him. She slid from Kipper’s back and pulled her battle axe free of its holster on the saddle. Bronson joined at her side with his sword drawn.

  A twig snapped, followed by a distinctive rustling in the bushes. Ella jerked her head in the direction and Bronson nodded. Together they made their way to the sound, weapons drawn and ready.

  Ella’s heart thundered in her chest even as her feet were silent. Step by careful, quiet step they made their way to the bushes. A soft whimper sounded within.

  A gray whip of a tail poked from the leaves and lashed back and forth.

  “Hardy.” Bronson dropped to the ground and shoved aside the branches. “He’s been tied up here.” His fingers worked at a loop of blue ribbon attached from the dog’s collar to the strong base of the bush. “These are the ribbons Lark wore in her hair.”

  No sooner had the knot slipped free, Hardy bounded out of captivity in a single leap that nearly dropped Ella to the wet forest floor.

  “Why would they have tied him up?” Bronson straightened to his feet.

  Ella reached a hand down to stroke Hardy’s fur to calm the poor, frantic dog. Her fingers caught something cold and hard. She shushed him quietly and reached for the collar once more. Carefully, she dislodged the item, on yet another blue ribbon.

  A key.

  And not just any key—the one to the secret entrance.

  Her heart stopped. “I think I know exactly why they would do this.” She held out the key. “They knew Hardy would die to protect them.”

  Bronson studied the key and uttered a low, uncourtier-like curse. “Hardy, do you know where the girls are?”

  The gray dog whimpered and curled his skinny body forward, his tail flickering in a nervous wag. Bronson held the blue ribbon to the dog. “Go to Leila and Lark!”

  Hardy sniffed it and then took off to the right. Ella and Bronson raced through the forest until Hardy stopped abruptly on the outskirts where he grumbled and snuffled at the ground. He took several steps in one direction, then the other and sniffed again. Another pitched whimper told Ella and Bronson all they needed to know: Hardy could not find their trail.

  The girls were gone.

  “We need to return to the castle to inform Papa,” Ella said. “They may have been taken for ransom.” Even as she spoke, Bronson was already making his way to the horses.

  Hardy led the way back home, keeping so many paces ahead of the horses Ella worried he might become lost and lose his way. But each time they crested a hill, a visible gray streak showed across the landscape. At last they arrived at the keep and left their horses with Peter. Any suspicion or animosity on Bronson’s part toward the Master of the Horse had completely disappeared in light of his concern for his sister.

  “There has been a missive.” Peter took their horse’s reins. “The earl awaits you in the great hall.”

  Ella’s heart sank as her suspicions were proven correct, for a missive could only mean one thing: Ransom.

  Bronson’s hand found Ella’s and together they hastened to the great hall. Papa looked up as soon as they en
tered and quickly approached. In the distance, Brigid wept softly into a square of linen with her servant, Jane, at her side.

  “Have they asked for a ransom?” Ella asked her father.

  He nodded, his face ashen. “It’s the Armstrongs. They’ve requested an exorbitant sum.”

  Ella looked to Bronson, expecting him to lift his chin and claim it would be paid, no matter the cost. Except he did not speak up. In fact, his face had gone as gray as her father’s.

  “What is the demand?” She pressed. “We must pay it.” She dug in her pocket for the key to the secret entrance and displayed it for her father. “We found this on Hardy’s collar. He’d been tied to a bush by a blue ribbon, one Lark had been wearing earlier.”

  Her father took the key from Ella and slowly curled it into his fist. He closed his eyes as one did when they bore a great pain. “Then it is true. They knew they were being pursued.”

  Ella’s heart squeezed. “They saved Hardy and kept us all safe.”

  “But at what cost?” Bronson asked quietly. “We cannot allow anything to happen to them.”

  William rushed into the room. His gaze found Brigid and his steps faltered for only a moment before continuing his path to Ella’s father.

  “My lord, we can give the funds requested, but it would take a good portion from the amount set aside to cover the grain for this winter.” William held out a ledger. “I do not even know how we could transport so much coin safely.”

  Ella’s father scrubbed a hand over his face. “And so, I must choose between my daughter, or my people?”

  Shock and fear rocked through Ella. Her father was a wealthy man, more so than most nobles. If they were requesting a sum that would cut into the means for their winter store, surely the request was indeed staggering. And yet, how could they sacrifice Lark and Leila, girls who were only just beginning to become women, barely starting to live their lives?

  How could this be happening?

  Ella turned to Bronson. “Can you not do something?”

  He swallowed and shook his head.

  “You have great wealth,” she whispered. “You speak of it often. Can you not spare some to aid our sisters? To keep them safe?” She clutched at his sleeves. “Bronson, please. They will be tortured. Killed. Or God knows what.”

  Her words choked off. For God knew exactly what. And so did Ella.

  He lowered his head. “I cannot help, Ella.”

  “But—”

  He stared down at his toes. “I do not have the means.”

  Ella blinked. “I…I don’t understand.” She took his face in her hands and turned him toward her. “What are you saying?”

  “I have no fortune.” He lifted his gaze to hers as if his eyes weighed more than stone. “I have nothing.”

  22

  Ella nearly staggered beneath Bronson’s confession.

  I have no fortune.

  She took his arm and pulled him away from where her father and William spoke in muttered whispers.

  “I don’t understand,” she said again, her voice low to protect the discretion of their conversation. “You always speak of great wealth, of purchasing fine items and having enough coin to toss about freely.”

  “I did have coin,” he agreed. “Or I thought I did. Until my father died, and I realized he had spent it all. Berkley Manor owes more taxes than I can possibly afford, and creditors have begun to hunt me down. I have no wealth. Only debt.”

  “Your garments,” she argued. “The fine silk, the quality leather, the jewels…”

  “All remaining from when my father controlled the purse strings without prudence.” His jaw clenched. “There is nothing left.”

  Sudden understanding dawned on her. “Why did you agree to wed me?”

  “Our king requested it of me.” His answer was quick, simple. Too ready and obedient. A courtier’s reply.

  “The king is questioning my father’s loyalty due to Marin and Anice both wedding Scotsmen,” Ella said. “My marriage to you, an Englishman, is meant to prove my father’s fealty to the English crown. What do you get from your union with me?”

  Bronson’s gaze slid from hers and lowered.

  “What do you get from your union with me?” she asked again, her voice louder, sharper.

  William and her father stopped speaking for only a moment to regard them before resuming their quiet conversation.

  “The taxes I owe will be dismissed,” Bronson said finally. “I’ll be given a stipend for a year to aid me in getting the lands in order to generate income once more, and I also will get your considerable dowry.”

  “You came here because you were desperate for this marriage.” Her mind was racing, and her heart was keeping pace.

  “You required a little winning over.” He winked in that charming way he did when he wanted something. No doubt what he wanted was for their discussion to be over, to refocus his efforts on what to do for Lark and Leila.

  Ever the courtier. The man used charm to smooth over all aspects of his life that became rough.

  A sudden thought slammed into her like a war hammer.

  “I imagine you would do anything to get me to wed you.” Something deep and painful constricted in her chest as she unveiled her fears. “Even read a lady’s books to understand her heart. To know how you ought to behave to win her over. You didn’t do that to be romantic— you did it to be who you thought I wanted long enough to win my favor.”

  Bronson did not deny her claim. He did not rail against the absurdity of it or declare his eternal love for her in protest. In fact, he said nothing at all.

  And that silence said more than any protest he might ever try to offer.

  She was correct in her brutal assessment. He had become the man she had wanted in an effort to win her over. For her wealth.

  Her stomach roiled with acid. “Who are you, Bronson Berkley?”

  The proud lift of his shoulders sagged. “I am a courtier, Ella. I am the man I am required to be when the need calls for it.”

  “And your offer for me to decide when to allow the marriage.” She scoffed. “You thought you had already won me.”

  The skin around his eyes tightened. She knew not what to make of the expression but was beyond caring. “You do not know me anymore than I know you.”

  There was no time to deal with any of this. They needed to get the girls free.

  Before he could offer some paltry excuse, or attempt some charming facade, she strode toward her father. “What can we do to save Leila and Lark?”

  Papa did not appear surprised by her interruption. “We will send out several parties of soldiers to see if any Armstrongs might be found that we can use to counter their demands. Mayhap they might be on the English side. If we can locate them beforehand, we can use them to barter and save the girls. Otherwise, we will have to conceive a plan to manage our winter grain stores.” His blue eyes went watery with a father’s sorrow. “We cannot allow them to remain with the Armstrongs.”

  “I wish to join the search,” Ella insisted.

  “Nay,” her father said. “’Tis too dangerous. I will not have two daughters placed in harm’s way.”

  “I will keep her safe.” Bronson appeared at her side. “We will go together.”

  The earl regarded Bronson and chewed the inside of his lip. “You may join the search party with my soldiers, Ella, but you are not to go on your own.”

  Ella nodded.

  “I would l…like to g…go as well,” William said.

  Papa shook his head. “Nay, you’ll need to see about gathering the funds. You are right, the amount is considerable and will require a good amount of effort to get in order.”

  William looked over his shoulder to where Brigid cried against her servant’s shoulder. “Aye, my lord.”

  “Go to her,” the earl said. “Let me speak with my daughter.”

  William did not hesitate and strode quickly to Brigid, opening his arms for her to fall into as she sobbed with a pain William no
doubt understood far too well.

  The earl regarded her once more. “You will wear your armor and you will not make any foolish decisions that will put you in harm’s way.”

  Ella nodded. “Aye, Papa.”

  “Calville, I task you with her safety.” Her father narrowed his eyes. “If anything should happen to her, I will put the blame at your feet.”

  “She will not be harmed,” Bronson swore.

  The earl’s face relaxed and he nodded. “Very well, then I will allow you to help with the search. In the meantime, I will send missives to the other wardens for their assistance in discovering Lark and Leila’s whereabouts. We will see them rescued.”

  There was steel in his voice, the kind that told Ella he would not stop until Leila and Lark were found.

  After a final nod of her father’s head, Ella and Bronson were dismissed to prepare for departure.

  “I will not let you down,” Bronson said to her.

  “I do not need you to join me.” She slid him a hard look, this man who had read her stories to become someone she would want. The gesture of reading her books had been romantic when she’d thought he’d wanted a glimpse inside her heart. It was entirely another thing when he used it as a guide to change who he was.

  “Regardless, I am by your side.” He touched his hand to his sword.

  She did not reply. There were more important things to focus on now.

  Instead, she marched on to her chamber to ready for the search and tried to block out the hurt radiating from her chest. For as much as she tried to ignore the stark pain, his betrayal had cut her deep.

  Things could not be going any worse for Bronson. Lark, whom he had brought to Werrick Castle to protect, was at the mercy of reivers. He only hoped they could get her and Leila back quickly.

  Then there was Ella, and the impending marriage he had ruined. Her cool demeanor told him enough even if he hadn’t seen the tightening of her jaw, or the flush of her face. But he had seen them. Hell, he’d felt them, like daggers digging into raw wounds. And could he blame her? He had presented a fake part of himself to her. After he’d been so long at court, he scarcely knew who he was at his core anymore.