Ceirs studied them in contemplation. “The Armstrongs have yer sisters?”
An image flashed in Ella’s mind, one of Leila and Lark huddled together, frightened, waiting to be set free. Ella closed her eyes against the pain of it. “The ransom request will deplete the coin needed to get our people through the winter.”
Ceirs’s mouth turned down in a frown. “The Armstrongs are a rough lot. Cruel too.” She spoke softly, as though she hadn’t wanted to say as much aloud. “They’ve attacked our village often. If ye go to rescue yer sisters, ye may no’ come back alive.”
Ella clenched her fists against the sliver of fear that nudged into her heart.
“It’s worth the risk,” Bronson said with finality, speaking the words Ella had planned to.
Ceirs’s expression did not appear to be one of great confidence. “Ye’ll find them past the Liddes River in the valley. There are pele towers all about, heavily fortified with reivers from what I’m told. If an alarm is raised, ye could be facing countless men.” Ceirs fingered a small shell hanging from a string on her neck. “It will be verra dangerous.” The graveness of her tone told Ella exactly what she feared the most for them.
Death.
But if they could save Lark and Leila first…
“Thank you for your help.” Ella pulled several coins from her pocket and handed them to the woman. “If you could point us in the direction of the Liddes River.”
The woman accepted the payment, then nudged through a door that opened to the rear of the tavern. The rain had begun again, falling in a steady drizzle from a gray sky. She pointed in the distance. “Ye need only go that direction for some time, ye’ll find it. Ye should arrive before the sun goes down.”
Ella nodded and tried to still the thudding of her pulse. She’d known it would be dangerous, but the woman’s reaction had struck a new chord of terror within her. And yet, all she had to do was imagine sweet Leila and little Lark frightened and alone, hoping to be rescued or freed. Ella squared her shoulders, nodded her thanks to the woman and strode into the rain with Bronson to collect their horses.
“We ought to wait for the sun to go down so we can search for them,” Bronson said when they were out of earshot.
It was a good plan. Especially in a place so dangerous. “They will have men on guard throughout the valley regardless of the time.”
“Aye, but at least we’ll be under the cover of darkness.”
Ella hummed in agreement. Her mind spun with possibilities, ways they could try to outsmart the Armstrongs. The reivers had forces and the familiarity of the land, so Ella and Bronson would need to be cunning. But first, they would need to find somewhere to await the onset of night. Somewhere they could hide the horses, since they’d be stealthier on foot.
They definitely did not need Bronson’s protective side making him careless.
“I do not want you making any reckless attempts to save me, Bronson.” Ella stared pointedly at him, while he held the cloth to his cheek despite the steady rain. “Trying to look after me could get you killed, especially where we are going.”
He said nothing.
“I don’t need your protection.” She paid the boy minding their horses and swung into her saddle. “I’ll never be the helpless woman who requires saving that you find so attractive. And it would be pointless for you to get yourself killed in a needless attempt to save me.”
Bronson mounted his horse. He didn’t speak again until they left the small, dismal village. “I didn’t attack them because I thought you were defenseless or in need saving. I did it because they didn’t respect you.”
“They didn’t respect me?” Ella regarded him in confusion. “They’re reivers. They respect no one.”
“But it was you. And you deserve respect.” He removed the linen from his face finally, revealing the skin already darkening with a bruise. “They should step back as you pass, bow at your feet, be in awe of your beauty. Not hurl insults at you and leer at you like a beast in heat. I can’t stand for it.”
“So, you weren’t trying to protect me, you were defending my honor?”
Bronson nodded. His expression was sheepish, boyish, and far more endearing than she wanted to allow herself to acknowledge. A consummate courtier. And yet, it was more appealing than she cared to admit. Charming, even.
“When we are in the debatable lands, refrain from caring so for my honor.” She slid a glance in his direction. “It is not worth your life or the lives of Lark and Leila.”
Because as much as she hated to admit it, she needed Bronson here. She could not save Leila and Lark on her own—if such a feat could be done at all.
Bronson knew Ella was right. Trying to save her would put them all at risk. And yet, he could not tolerate the idea of her being injured. Or worse.
In truth, he didn’t want her there. No woman should face such danger. And yet Lark did. As did Leila. His chest squeezed around the thought of them held captive by rough men.
He glanced up at the sky where the sun had begun to sink at an interminable pace into the blanket of heavy storm clouds. It would feel like a lifetime until night fell, until all was quiet enough for them to sneak into the valley.
They didn’t converse as they made their way toward the debatable lands. Ella was no doubt as lost in her thoughts as he was. The only men they saw on their journey were from a distance, and none attempted to come closer.
The rain had finally ceased, and the colors of sunset were breaking through the barrier of dark clouds to turn the world to gold and red. Ella slowed her horse. “I think this might be it.”
Bronson scanned the grass-covered hills swelling before them that no doubt led to the valley the barmaid had spoken of. His pulse spiked. Lark and Leila were somewhere nearby. “I think you are correct,” he replied.
A stream bisected the grassland like a ragged wound. On the side opposite them was a stone structure, square in shape and lacking a door or shutters. He nodded in that direction. “That would be an ideal location to wait.”
“Aye.” Ella nudged her horse toward it. “Though we’ll need to ensure it’s uninhabited first.”
They crossed the stream and Bronson slipped from his horse the same time Ella did. Their gazes met. He anticipated she would try to wave him away, but he would be damned if he let her take on the risk all by herself. If anything, she ought to wait with the horses while he went in.
Instead, they crept forward together and swept into the darkness within, weapons at the ready.
The room was empty and silent, save for the echoing huff of their breathing in the intense quiet. The roof overhead appeared to be in relatively good repair and kept out most of the rain that continued to fall steadily upon them. Quickly, they brought the horses inside to ensure their location remained discreet, and set about making the building as comfortable as possible without a fire.
They opted to leave their gambesons and gear on in the event they were attacked, though the sodden clothing against their skin left an uncomfortable chill. Ella sat in the driest corner of the structure, but Bronson found he could not sit. An image continued to rise in his mind of Lark and Leila, bound and scared, waiting to see if they would be rescued. His heart crumpled.
Seeing his sister at Berkley Manor in rags had been difficult enough, but at least there, she had been safe.
He had hated his father for having abandoned Brigid and Lark, and yet he had done something far worse by putting them in immediate danger. The desolation of the structure pressed in on him and crushed the wall he’d built up to avoid thinking of Lark. It helped him remain focused on the journey and had held his worries at bay. The wetness in the air sank a chill deep into the marrow of his bones. He shivered.
Were Lark and Leila cold? The invisible belt around his chest drew tight.
Had they been beaten? Would they be tortured? Were they scared?
That was a foolish question. Of course, they’d be scared.
He drew in a slow breath to ease the ten
sion. There was nothing for them to do now but suffer the passing of time and the unknown.
“This waiting feels as though it will last an eternity,” Ella said, as if she was reading his mind. “I’ve been able to push them from my mind while we were traveling. But now that we must endure the drag of time…”
“You can’t stop thinking,” he finished for her. “I can’t either.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I worry that they are hungry, terrified.” He stopped himself before adding hurt, as he did not wish to shove his own nightmarish thoughts to her. Though in truth, she was probably thinking them as well.
“They’re fine at the moment.” Ella slid him a side glance. “Or so I believe.”
He strode to where she sat in the rear corner and lowered himself to the ground beside her. “How do you know?”
She looked down at her feet where the toes of her leather shoes were clumped with rich black soil. “I believe,” she repeated, her words slow with unease.
“How?” he pressed.
When she still did not answer, he gently turned her face toward him. “Please, tell me.”
“Leila.” Her eyes finally met his. “She is an extraordinary girl. Not only because of her ability with herbs and with daggers, but she also has a gift. She can see things that will come to be and can sometimes even dream of the past.”
Bronson utilized every drop of his courtier’s experience to control his expression. He understood Ella’s hesitation for speaking now. Leila was a witch.
“I can feel her,” Ella whispered. “I’ve never been able to connect with her like this before. But now I can feel her on the air the way I can sense rain coming. It is difficult to explain.”
Hope flickered in Bronson at this. “Mayhap it will help lead us to them.” If they didn’t have to comb over the whole valley, they might actually stand a chance of saving the girls and having them all come out alive.
“We can hope.” The furrow of Ella’s brow kept her from looking confident at the suggestion. She shivered.
Bronson put his arm around her and drew her closer. “We can keep one another warm.”
She leaned away from his embrace. “I believe I had a character in one of my books who offered something similar.”
“You should stop modeling men in your books after me.” He grinned at her.
She did not return the gesture. He had hoped the intimacy in the cave as they waited for her father’s soldiers to leave would have been enough to mend what had broken between them. But her coolness toward him indicated it had not. What they had shared had been lust. The same as what they had shared in the beginning when she thought herself in love with him.
Except through all of this, he had fallen in love with her. Truly in love. Not lust, or baseless desire, but love. In trying to unearth her heart to win it over, she had won him over. And he had lost her.
She was angry at him for having read her books, for having peered into her soul to use what he gleaned to manipulate her into loving him. He had been at fault. Egregiously so.
“I’m not one of the men in your books,” he said. “If I were, I would pull a lightning sword from the depths of the earth, or befriend a dragon, or tear off my tunic and defeat them all with the virility of my powerful masculinity.”
Her lips quirked at that.
He set his jaw. “I am only a man, Ella. One who learned early on at court that I had to be liked to survive. I have never had the luxury to be myself without fear my head might end up on a pike if I said the wrong thing to the wrong person. I become who I need to be.” He indicated the battle axe she had on the ground on her opposite side. “The same as you.”
Ella’s lashes swept over her cheeks as she glanced down at her weapon.
“I confess, I do not want you to be here,” Bronson continued. “There is danger at every turn, and it is torture for me knowing you could be killed. Or that I could be killed, and you would be entirely on your own, especially after I have taken your maidenhead. But I know you need to be here, just as I need to, to see our sisters saved.”
Ella’s gaze flicked up at him. “I wouldn’t leave if you asked.”
“That’s the other reason I wouldn’t bother trying.” He smiled. “You’d just as soon go on your own rather than abandon this fight.”
She pursed her lips in silent agreement.
“This is my fault.” The admission tore from Bronson’s soul. “I brought her here, I became angry with her for not being a proper lady. It’s why she ran away. She is in this position because of me. As is Leila.” He locked eyes with Ella. “I apologize for putting your sister in danger as well.”
But the apology did not make him feel better any more than his confession did. Nothing would soothe his ragged soul until the girls were safe.
26
Ella could practically feel the guilt flowing from Bronson. His eyes shone with the wild hurt of it, his forehead furrowed with intensity.
But he was most likely right about Lark running off because of his outburst. And yet she didn’t say as much. Not when he already knew, not when it was so heavy a burden to lay on someone’s mind.
Leila’s presence was all around Ella, the quiet reassurance she was safe at the moment. Ella embraced it, let it curl around her like a cloak. It eased the tension of the wait, as did Bronson’s conversation.
“I only ever saw Brigid when I was a boy, soon after my father wed her,” Bronson said, his voice still low to keep anyone who might pass by outside from hearing. “I did not see her again until his death. The reason for her hesitation when you mentioned going to Berkley Manor is due to its state of disrepair, as it is practically falling in on itself.”
At that exact moment, a small patch of the ceiling fell and nearly landed on Kipper. The horse flicked its tail in irritation.
“Not this bad.” Bronson tilted his head in consideration. “But it requires a considerable amount of work. Although it wasn’t the house that truly concerned me—it was Brigid and Lark. They were so thin. Starving. Their clothes were rags and Lark…” He drew in a pained breath. “She did not even have shoes.”
Ella pressed her lips together. It explained so much now, why she could see the bones in their hands and arms, why Brigid clung to her purse so at the market.
“It is why I want a good match for Lark, a profitable one,” he continued. “I can’t stand the idea of her living in such conditions again.”
Ella sighed at her foolishness. She had leapt to her own conclusions, expecting him to have the same reasoning as most men. And mayhap it was a safe assumption, but she had not asked for him to explain himself. Instead she had hurled insults at him and rejected him.
He had not even had a chance to defend himself. They’d been notified of Leila and Lark’s disappearance soon after.
But he did not throw accusation at Ella, as she so deserved, his expression absent malice or judgment. “It was not my place to bring Brigid to court. My father questioned her loyalty to him and that is why she did not join us. I was never consulted on any of these matters and was allayed with excuses when I would ask after her. Because I did ask after her through the years. Her and Lark both. I had no idea they hadn’t learned to read, that they were starving and without funds to live on.”
He reached for her hand and this time she did not pull away. “It was why I worked so hard to get you to want to marry me. I needed the money, not for life at court for me, but for Brigid and for Lark. To repair their home and ensure they never went without again. Forgive me for the deception, Ella.”
“It is I who should be seeking forgiveness.” Guilt burned in Ella’s stomach. “I have been so wrong about you.”
The sky had darkened outside the open windows and she could only make out the shadow of his profile set against the dusk.
“You weren’t entirely wrong about me.” Bronson lowered his head. “I was selfish too. I enjoyed court, my freedom, all the luxuries such a life affords a young man. Certainly not heroic at all. Nothing worthy of
a troubadour’s tale, or the ink of a lovely young woman writing a story.”
But he was wrong. This was exactly the thing a hero would do in her story. He would not lay the blame of his failures at another’s feet. He would admit to his wrongs and move heaven and earth to see his mistakes made right. Like trying to woo his betrothed into marriage, or even commit himself to a valley of demons to rescue two young women.
“Bronson.” Her voice caught. He was not the shallow courtier who shed his skin each time there was something more to be gained. This man had depth, conviction.
He held his arm out in offering once more, almost imperceptible in the darkness now. This time, she scooted closer to him and his arm fell around her shoulders. Immediately, his body heat seeped into her chilled skin. She pressed closer, grateful to feel something other than the wet cold.
“I was so wrong about you,” she whispered. “Will you ever—”
Leila’s presence tugged at her mind like a nagging thought. The force of it was gentle yet unmistakable. She hadn’t known Leila capable of doing such a thing.
Bronson drew back. “Is something amiss?”
Ella shook her head. “I think Leila is telling us we must go.”
“It is only just growing dark. Are you certain?”
Before she could answer, the tug came once more, insistent. “Aye. We must go now.”
The certainty of it gave Ella confidence. If Leila could reach her like this, perhaps she could direct them where to go once they were inside the valley.
Bronson got to his feet and helped Ella to hers. They required no additional preparation, as they had done it all when they had first arrived, remaining ready to go at a moment’s notice. Both had agreed it was best to leave off their chainmail in the interest of stealth silence. Better to sneak about than to be well-armored and face an army.
“Now?” He asked.
“Aye.”
Before he could turn away, she rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Quick and full of as much emotion as she could muster in only that scant fraction of a second. “God keep us all safe.”
Ella's Desire (Borderland Ladies Book 3) Page 20