Borderland Betrayal

by Samantha Holt

  Pausing, Ellise dropped the herbs on the table and nodded slowly. “Aye, you are right.” She swept a shaky hand across her forehead. “Pray excuse me, I have come over too hot all of a sudden.”

  Without waiting for a response, she fumbled her way out of the kitchen and made for the tower leading to her chamber. Winnie could not know, but her words stung her regardless. A boy did need a mother. Her boy did need his mother. And, mio Dios, did she wish she could be there for him.

  ~***~

  A bundle of yellow silk caught James’ eye as he directed the horse down the embankment and he paused, heart jolting.

  Ellise.

  Arms wrapped about her legs, she sat halfway down the slope, away from the bustle of the castle. Staring absently into the distance, she didn’t even notice when James dismounted, chucked the reins of his horse into the hands of a passing watchman and strode over. He had barely seen her the past few days. He had been busy ensuring all was running smoothly while they had an important guest and Ellise’s duties kept her occupied. It was a blessing, really. He did not know how to behave around her. Around any woman, really, but especially Ellise. However, that did not stop him from wanting to speak with her. And from wanting more… With a scowl, he shoved that thought aside.

  She only glanced up as his shadow cast over her, lips turning upward gently. She peered behind him at his waiting mount. “Where do you travel to, Captain?”

  “I am to travel to Harrowsbridge.” Her brow creased. “My home,” he clarified. Had he not told her of his lands? But then he had told her little. The lass was too perceptive already. It didn’t stop him from wanting to tell her all. To unburden himself of every worry, no matter how small. What was it about Ellise that did that to him? Normally women were for pleasure, not talking. But while he knew well of the pleasure they could share, he found he wanted to speak with her too.

  “Is the journey dangerous?”

  “Nay.”

  Both brows rose as she gave him a disbelieving look.

  “A little. But Dominic put an end to our nearest reiver threat and the open landscape of the moors discourages outlaws. I’ll take only the safest of paths.” Why was he reassuring her? It mattered little to Ellise if anything happened to him. Her circumstances would not be affected. Though he hoped she might at least miss him.

  The concern remained in her eyes as she patted the grass next to her. “Will you not take a moment with me before you go?”

  He glanced back at the waiting soldier and then to Ellise. Those big brown eyes sucked at him until his knees fairly buckled beneath him. Ack, if he remembered rightly, the lad holding his horse had been scrapping the day before. The lad could wait.

  Easing to the ground, his chainmail rattled and he already felt the heat of the sun building underneath the heavy metal. But precautions had to be taken, though he’d made the journey home many times.

  “Should you not be staying whilst we have Lord Wighthurst as a guest?”

  James couldn’t resist a wry smile. Was she—the woman who told him he took them too seriously—lecturing him on his duties? “I will be gone but a few days. I am doubtful the Earl will care much if I am absent.

  She rested her chin on a knee and plucked absently at the grass. James studied her profile, her strong nose, and lush lips. The memory of that mouth touching his pierced through him and sent desire straight to his groin. Something about her seemed vulnerable today. Her wan smile or the way she curled up on herself made him want to wrap his arms around her and shield her from the world. When had he ever seen the vibrant, self-assured Ellise look vulnerable?

  Never. Even when she’d hurt herself, she had retained her stubborn strength. So what was it that caused such a change? The woman was a mystery. How he wished to unravel her secrets. He smirked. Much good it would do him.

  “Is all well, Ellise?”

  “Aye, of course.”

  “There is naught wrong?”

  She met his gaze, lips twisting as she considered him. “Will you be careful?”

  “Do you fear for me?”

  “A little,” she admitted and her honesty warmed his heart. “Lucy was telling me of her encounter with the reivers this morn.”

  “Aye, and did she also tell you how we defeated them?”

  “Aye, she did.”

  “So you see there is little to fear.”

  Ellise nodded but worry still lingered in her expression. He shouldn’t like it but he did. Was this what it was like, having a wife to worry about you? No one had ever been anxious for his wellbeing before. Even his father had shown no concern when he’d sent him off to fight. All that concerned him was that he do him proud and come back a man.

  She continued to twine long strands of grass between her fingers and he watched for a moment, aware he needed to begin his journey very soon so he would not have to travel after dusk. Uncurling his fingers, he reached over gingerly and enfolded her hand in his. She gasped and a sensation of budding heat seared up his arm.

  “Do you doubt my sword arm?” he teased, desperate to take her out of melancholy.

  This elicited a tentative smile and she reached over with her other hand and gave the arm in question a little squeeze. “This one? Nay, I could never doubt it. Is your business very urgent?” she asked as he glanced over his shoulder at the waiting lad.

  “Nay, not that urgent. I have some accounts to see to and I must speak with my steward. I likely have naught more than a few neighbourly disputes to attend to. I have not been home for a while, so I must do my duty and ensure all is well.”

  “You do not seem happy to return home.”

  He shrugged. “I do what has to be done, but I take little pleasure in being there.”

  “Why?”

  Teeth grinding, he studied Ellise and speculated yet again what it was about her than gave him such a loose tongue. Her forthrightness certainly drew words from his lips that no others had ever heard. Should he tell of his father? Of a man who pushed him to be the soldier he was today? Even now he strove to be the best captain and warrior a man could be, but sometimes he wondered if his father would have ever taken pride in him. Probably not. James was never strong enough, bold enough, powerful enough for him. If his father had been alive on his return from war, he likely would have been met with disapproval.

  “I dislike leaving Thornewall,” he answered simply.

  “And your duties?”

  “Aye.” He frowned.

  “The walls will not crumble without you. And I am sure you have duties that need seeing to at Harrowsbridge.”

  “I have a good steward.” In truth, the thought of the empty manor house, of shadowing his father’s footsteps made him shudder. He intended to spend as little time there as possible and return to where he felt most at home. Anxious to cease the conversation before she probed further, he squeezed her fingers. “What of you, Ellise? Will you not tell me what saddens you? Is it that you have no lands to call your own?”

  “You cannot shoulder everyone’s troubles, James. There are some things that cannot be solved with the swing of a sword or stern words.”

  “I have yet to come across such a problem.” Heaving a sigh, he nodded. Whatever the trouble was, she would not share it. Too used to relying on herself probably. He gave her fingers one last squeeze before releasing them and coming to his feet. “Good day, Ellise.”

  “And you. Travel well and Godspeed.”

  With a sharp dip of head, he turned.

  James paused briefly, debating whether to confront her again or not. With a shake of his head, he strode over to the horse and took the reins. Swiftly mounting, he stole one last look at her before starting his journey. What was the lass about? Never had he seen her so melancholy. Hopefully when he returned she would be back to her vivacious self. Seeing her downhearted twisted at his gut, and he knew it would plague him for the few days he was to be away. That sensation of unease was back upon him and he prayed his duties would not take him long.

&nbs
p; ~***~

  Handing the reins to his stable hand, James took a moment to cast his gaze over the manor house. It had been several months since he had visited Harrowsbridge but all looked in order. He found little need to return home, being less than a day’s ride away. His steward kept him apprised of any problems by messenger and his men-at-arms were loyal and well trained.

  The two storey building sat at one end of the small settlement, its white walls in good condition. He nodded with satisfaction, noting it would not need a whitewash for a while yet. He adjusted his armour and took the outer steps two at a time.

  John, his steward, greeted him with a warm smile. The man had been with their family since James was a lad and was one of the few men he looked up to. With a steady manner and a sharp mind, he balanced his responsibilities with ease, leaving James free to worry about his duties at Thornewall.

  “Good day to you, sir. How goes it?”

  “Aye, well, well.” James pressed past him, keen to be rid of his armour. The hall smelled pleasant, scented with herbs, and sunlight lit the small room, streaming in through the rear windows, but a heavy sense of dread sat in his chest. He detested coming home. “Is all well, John?”

  “Aye, very well. Only a few disputes of late and we are making quick work of the haymaking. Our harvest will prove to be fruitful this year, I think.”

  James nodded with satisfaction and eyed the short, bald-headed man for a moment. He always struck him as owlish in appearance with a round face and slightly sunken eyes. The complete opposite of himself and certainly not a warrior, yet John had always garnered his father’s respect. How was it John commanded such respect but in spite of all his efforts to be everything his father had wished of him, he had never received so much as the smallest of acknowledgements?

  With a grateful sigh, he undid his padded armour and discarded it over the back of the chair at the end of the long hall table. Then he unclasped the hood of his hauberk and abandoned that on the chair too, the heavy mail landing with a clunk.

  “‘Tis too hot for chainmail,” he muttered as he removed his chainmail and studied his sodden shirt.

  “Shall I have a bath brought up for you?”

  “Aye, if you will. A cool one.”

  “Is all well at Thornewall?”

  James’ lips quirked at John’s eager expression. “Aye.”

  “And the Lady?”

  “She is very well.”

  John’s smile expanded. “That is good news indeed. Let us pray Thornewall has healthy sons before long.”

  Despondency washed over him as he cast his gaze around the room. Aside from two servants and John, the large manor house remained empty, unlived in. Since the death of his mother and father, the place had become an empty shell. While they were thankful their lord was to have babes, James knew well that his villeins hoped the same for him. And as yet, he saw little chance of that happening.

  “Well, I shall have your bath sent up, sir. There are some missives in your office that arrived but a few days ago. I saw no sense in sending them on to you, knowing of your impending arrival.”

  “My thanks, John. I will see to them shortly and take a tour of the village after my ablutions.”

  With a dip of his head, John closed the door. James listened as his footsteps descended the outer steps toward the kitchen. Plucking at his sticky shirt, he grimaced and walked around the large fireplace to the second door. As he stepped into the office, he tamped down the icy shiver that assailed him. His father’s likeness sat on one wall in a gilded frame, ever observant. The man’s cold, but handsome features stared at him as he picked up the missives John had mentioned.

  The seal on the first caught his eye. Lord Robert. Ack, the man had been pestering him for months to meet with him. Something about an alliance between them. The Lord was not an overly wealthy man and his daughter’s dowry was paltry compared to some, but was enough for a man like James. However he had no wish to marry a woman he’d never met. He had little wish to marry anyone. How could he, when women baffled him? Besides which, his father had expected better things of him. To pursue a woman of huge wealth.

  But he was nearing thirty summers. He could only put off marriage for so long. Ripping open the missive, he cast his gaze over the carefully penned letter and bit back a groan. The Lord had grown more assertive with each missive and it seemed he was already putting about word of a marriage between James and his young daughter. He glanced up at his father’s portrait and shook his head.

  Time to put the Lord in his place.

  He sat behind the carved desk and pulled out some parchment and a quill. As much as he had a duty to find a wife, he would not be forced into marriage with some young lass he’d never met. If he was to marry, it would be to someone worldly, who could cope with his absences as he tended to Thornewall. Someone like… Ellise.

  Aye, strong woman that she was, she was perfect marriage material. If only she was not so elusive. If only her circumstances were better. He laughed aloud as he imagined bringing her home when his father was still alive. He would be furious, though Ellise’s sharp tongue would surely put him in his place. If only he had the ability to put his father in his place those years ago. Mayhap he would not have gone to war and witnessed more bloodshed than he ever needed to see. Mayhap he would take more pleasure in his duties at Harrowsbridge had they not been forced upon him and met with criticism as he tried to learn the ropes as a young lad.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he considered his missive. Was he making a mistake turning down a decent marriage offer? Nay, he’d had enough of his life being dictated to him. If he was to marry, it would be with a woman of his choosing.

  With a shake of his head, he swiped aside the image of the one woman who plagued him most when he thought on such matters. He barely knew the woman. And he knew her circumstances. Ellise could never be his wife. A woman of his choosing, aye, but one with plentiful wealth and no secrets.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Blowing a strand of hair from her face, Ellise scowled as it fell back over her forehead and stuck to her skin. The warmth from the large fireplace mingled with the summer heat and the air in the kitchen stifled. She dropped the willow bark into a steaming pot and gave it a quick stir before turning back to the big table and gathering up the mint leaves. The cook glowered at her. He hated her taking up cooking space with her ‘useless bits o’ tree’.

  A trickle of sweat dribbled down her forehead and she swiped at it angrily before snatching the knife and chopping the mint roughly. The clean scent mingled with the smell of fresh pastries as she worked the knife across the leaves and chopped them into fine pieces.

  Mio Dios, but she was still angry. Foolish woman. Even an afternoon of preparing remedies for Lucy would not calm her. Usually it brought her such peace but turmoil still raged.

  But it could not be jealousy surely? The conversation she’d had with Winnie earlier had unsettled her though as they spoke of James’ absence. Winnie’s words echoed in her mind. He will likely be making arrangements for his marriage. What did it matter to her if James married? However the idea of him marrying some insipid southern lady made her stomach twist. James deserved so much more than an arranged marriage to a young, inexperienced lass.

  A jolt of sensation dripped over her and she straightened, sensing him before she spotted him. He approached from behind, as if she had somehow summoned him but he didn’t speak. Merely stood and observed as she reached for another clump of mint leaves and started work on them.

  The thud, thud, thud of the knife on the wood mirrored her thumping heart as James waited silently. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him, arms folded as he rested back against one of the table tops. The servants and cook paid him little attention aside from greeting him with a dip of their heads as they scurried about preparing the evening meal.

  It seemed the only one disturbed by his presence was her.

  “What do you make there?” he finally asked.

  “A tonic. Fo
r stomach ailments,” she answered without looking round.

  He didn’t respond and Ellise noted his stiff posture, even as he tried to affect an air of nonchalance. What plagued the man? Something clearly bothered him.

  She kept her gaze on the herbs, unable to look at him yet. Her heart still hurt when she thought about what she’d heard. “Is all well?”

  “Aye.”

  “Lucy is not ailing?”

  “Nay.”

  “Your journey went well?”

  “Indeed.”

  “And all is well at Harrowsbridge?”

  “Well enough.”

  She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Can I aid you with something?”

  “Nay.”

  Slowly inhaling, she brushed the stray mint leaves from her hands and swivelled to face him. “Then pray tell why you are stood there like an ominous shadow? ‘Tis most disconcerting.”

  The muscles in his jaw ticked and he straightened, a hand coming to his sword. Did the man always have to look like he was readying himself for battle? If she didn’t know better, she would suspect he was preparing to run her through with that scowl upon his brow.

  But, Santa Maria, he still managed to be so beautiful. Her golden ángel. Except he was not hers, and never would be. Soon he would belong to another. That stab of raw jealousy struck her again and she tried to brush it aside. The fickle emotion angered her. James had every right to marry someone else.

  His gaze clashed with hers and held, making her chest constrict before he turned abruptly away. As if unsure of what to do, he paused and faced her once more.

  “I hear tell—” He coughed. “I hear the Earl of Wighthurst is seeking your hand.”

  Ellise blinked. How unexpected. Dare she hope it was jealously that made him so tense? While it would serve neither of them any good, she childishly hoped she was not the only one suffering so. She should have realised the attention Edmund paid her had been noticed by the servants. But they did not know that all his attention was unwelcome. They probably believed his whispered words were like that of a lover and not just taunts and threats.