Heart of Stone

by Quinn, Paula

  Nicholas knew that determination she possessed. He remembered how she’d told her parents straight to their faces that she loved him. She was eight.

  He smiled remembering how he’d felt when he’d heard about it later that night. Despite a whip across the back in the morn, and a warning to stay away from the governor’s daughter, it was one of the best feelings he’d ever felt.

  He couldn’t let her stay. He wasn’t sure he could withstand her.

  “Tomorrow, Rauf,” he said coolly and stepped around him.

  “Where are ye goin’, Nicky?”

  “Out.”

  “D’ye want me to come?”

  “No.”

  He went back inside the keep, hoping he didn’t see her and hurried down the stairs. He’d almost reached the second landing where the doors were.

  “My lord?”

  His shoulders bunched up around his ears. There were other women in the keep; the laundress, two maids who were Mattie’s friends whose voice it could have been. But it was Julianna.

  He closed his eyes and paused in his steps.

  “My lord,” she repeated.

  He turned to face her, not realizing his shoulders were still up. Hell, he didn’t want to look at her. She was already emblazoned on his soul. Everything about her was.

  “I was just informing my commander to show you to a room.”

  He looked at her just as her smile deepened, and seeing it again was like finding home after being lost.

  No. He had no home. “For the night.” He flared his nostrils to draw in strength as her familiar smile faded. She had left him so easily when he was a servant. “In the morning, you will leave and never return.”

  He was glad she had tamed her hair in a braid. Angry that it was soul-wrenchingly tempting to watch the way it fell down her left shoulder and over her humble bosom.

  But her gaze commanded his as if she still held power over him.

  He ground his jaw then loosened it to speak. “Why are you silent?”

  Her eyes glimmered in the torchlight like pools of Marañon blackwater. “Why do you hate me, William?” she asked on the softest breath, furthering his demise. She had moved closer to him. When? “I believed that you had run away and—”

  “That is where I stumble, Julianna.” He took a step away from her. “I do not understand how you could think so little of me.”

  He turned to leave, having nothing more to say to her.

  “William.” She stopped him with a slender hand to his sleeved arm.

  “Nicholas,” he corrected with a warning thread woven into his voice. “Make certain you do not speak that name again, especially around my son.”

  She would not forget again, remembering and understanding why he’d changed it. “What happened to you that night?” she asked, swiping the tears from her cheeks and then keeping them at bay by the sheer force of her will. “Did my father beat you?”

  “No, Julianna,” he told her woodenly, as if he’d practiced telling her a hundred times in his head until it lost its power. “I suspect he knew that if he put his hand to me again I would kill him. Instead, he had me beaten by a group of men. There may have been six or seven, I cannot recall exactly. He then had me thrown out of Berwick and tossed onto the road outside the town, saving my life from the Scots who attacked a short time later from behind. Because, though I am a Scot, I would have defended you to my death.”

  His tone did not change when her inward groan escaped through clenched teeth and tears flowed from her eyes.

  “My brother, Cain, chose not to join the king’s men in the massacre of Berwick and found me instead on the road leading out. That is why I did not come back to you. They told me you were most likely dead, but I did not believe it. I hoped and I prayed that you lived. And then I found you at the abbey, and you know the rest.”

  “I was a fool,” she said with resignation in the curve of her brow. “How long will you punish me for it?”

  “We were both fools,” he allowed. “Let us be cautious that it does not happen again, aye?”

  He moved to leave once more. He made it two steps and then stopped and turned to her. “You are silent again.”

  “I am not leaving, my lord Whateveryouwant­tobecalled.”

  He fought not to gape at her—while he throttled her. “’Tis my castle.”

  “I do not care if ’tis your country,” she countered, bracing herself. “You can punish me all you want, but I will not let you punish Elias. He needs me.”

  Hell, she was not going to back down. He should have never let her back inside. “You do not even know him,” he tossed at her.

  “Neither do you,” she tossed right back.

  Why was he standing here arguing with her? “I will have you thrown out.”

  “And I will never forgive you.”

  “Julianna, you are trying my patience.”

  “Because I want to care for your son?”

  “Because you are here now that I am no longer a servant but an earl.”

  Her dark eyes lit up first—she never could remember his lessons on keeping her eyes from giving her away. He caught her wrist a moment before she would have slapped his face.

  “I see what this is about, my lord.” She yanked her arm free and rubbed her wrist. “You have the power.”

  He laughed but it didn’t sound genuine to his ears. “What power do I have, Julianna?” He had to stop saying her name. It felt good and sounded good to his ears.

  “You think I am looking for another husband.”

  Another husband? Then her “man of means” had come.

  “I came looking for work and nothing more.”

  “Where…where is he now? Your husband?”

  “Dead.” There. Now she wouldn’t have to talk about him anymore. Especially not with William. “I shall remain in my room tonight and only come out when I’m needed, in which case I will instruct Rauf to come and get me. If you are there with your son and would like to try and calm him yourself, do not send Rauf. This way,” she turned her soulful, sable gaze away from him, “you will not have to see me.”

  She didn’t wait for him to react or answer but turned and left the hall.

  Nicholas didn’t stop her. Not because he didn’t want to.

  Every part of him wanted to go to her, pull her back into his arms, and promise his heart, but he couldn’t, for his heart was in no condition to be given away. Though according to her, she was here for coin, not another husband. Who was it she had married? How did he die and if he was a man of means, where was his fortune?

  Julianna was a memory, folded away somewhere in the farthest pith of his being with others like her. The gone. His parents, Berengaria, Julianna, Mattie. Some he forgave because leaving him was no choice of their own. Others had left by choice. Those, he did not forgive.

  He did not go to her because she had rejected him, even after her father had died and she had been freed of her shackles. How could any reason conquer love? And if after their whole lives together, she would not give up certain ways of living for him, how much would anything change after another twenty years? He didn’t want that.

  He would rather have no one than have her.

  Julianna checked on Elias and found him still asleep. Rauf was not far from Elias’ door.

  “Is Nicholas always so angry?” she asked the commander while he showed her to her chamber door, close to the babe’s. Avice’s room.

  “Aye,” Rauf told her then thought about it. “I want to say it began after Mattie died, but…his decline started before that. It started…” his gaze settled back to her. “…after our return from St Peter’s.”

  Julianna wished she hadn’t asked. She didn’t know where to look, so she stared at her boots. Had Nicholas told him about her? Did the deadly-looking commander remember her? “Will…Nicholas and I grew up together.”

  “Aye, he was yer servant.”

  “He was more than that,” she corrected softly. “What did he tell you?�
��

  He shook his head. “Nothin’.”

  Her eyes opened wider. “Nothing? He did not mention me at all?”

  “Nae,” he told her, not realizing how his words pricked her like spikes. “He never spoke of his past. We all know who he is because of Cain. In truth,” he said after a moment to think of it, “I heard ’twas Father Timothy and Aleysia who first discovered who Nicholas was. They brought him to Cain. The reunited brothers stayed together fer a year. And then ’twas time fer Cain and Aleysia to leave fer Invergarry. M’self and a few others remained here with the lad to help him get on alone. Mattie stayed.”

  She nodded and held up her hand. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear anything more. In fact, if it involved William and Mattie, she was sure she didn’t.

  “I would love to hear the rest another time.”

  He tossed her a knowing, yet furtive smile. “Of course, lass.”

  He turned to go, leaving her at her door.

  “Rauf?” she called out softly.

  “Aye, lass?”

  “You have been with him all these years?”

  “Aye.”

  “And he has never spoken of me?”

  “Nae, lass,” he told her. Then, perhaps reading something in her face, he suddenly appeared regretful.

  “Thank you, Rauf,” she said before he offered her any pity and brought her closer to tears. “I shall remain in my room until I am needed.”

  “Are ye not goin’ to visit Elias?” he asked worriedly.

  “Not unless I am needed. His father should try attending to him first, since I am to be leaving.”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “Ye are correct, lass. ’Tis best.”

  “Aye,” she agreed and held her sleeve to her nose while she sniffled. “Goodnight.”

  She turned and hurried into her room before she burst into tears right there in the hall. God help her not to. Inside, she shut the door and leaned her back against it and closed her eyes. William had never spoken of her. How? How could he just put her out of his thoughts like that? She knew how because she knew him. He’d forgotten her the same way he had pushed Berengaria out of his memory after she had left them.

  He’d accused her of returning because he was an earl, and he had accused her more than once—and rightly so—of rejecting him when he was a servant. Now that he had power, would he begrudge her his love? Did he think she was no longer worth his time because she was poor?

  She looked over her room. It was spacious enough, with a large, lovely bed, two tables, one by her bed for her candles and whatever else she had, which was very little. She traveled most of the time so she had to pack light and sell most of her things. And another table was set just under the window. There were chests scattered about and there was a pillowed chair before the fiery hearth.

  She almost wished she could go get Elias and bring him here to sit with her before the fire.

  She sat in the chair alone and finally let herself weep for the girl and the boy she had lost. She wept for freedom in the innocence of just not knowing any better, and for the love of her youth.

  What was she doing here? She didn’t want another husband, but she wasn’t just here for Elias either. Only a fool would have believed her. And William was no fool. She shook her head at herself. Nicholas, not William. Would she ever get it right?

  Her crying seemed to go on forever, interrupted at some point by Elias waking up crying. Julianna’s instincts were going mad! She ached to leap from her chair and go to him. Every moment that she wasn’t at his bedside while he cried tore at her heart. She remembered Berengaria telling her how William had cried so pitifully the night she’d gone to him when he was but three—

  She tapped her boot on the wooden floor and tried to control her breath. Where in the blazes was Rauf? No. His absence was a good thing. It meant Nicholas was trying.

  The crying grew louder, the screaming higher. She buried her head in her hands and said a prayer for Nicholas.

  Someone rapped on the door.

  She sprang up. “Aye? Come.”

  The door opened and Rauf came in holding his head. “Ye are needed.”

  She smiled ever so slightly and hurried out of the chamber and to Elias’ room just down the hall. She went inside, prepared, but the earl was not there. Elias had crawled under the bed. “Elias, ’tis Julianna. I am here, sweeting, but I cannot stay if you keep crying.”

  “Lyahs want Avice!” he cried out.

  She shook her head. “Avice had to go away to her home, Elias.”

  “She coming back?”

  “We shall hope so, aye?” She offered him a bright smile.

  He nodded and slid out to her. She caught him up in her hands and brought him in close to kiss his cheeks. He laughed, so she did it again.

  “Come now, dear heart,” she whispered, picking him up and carrying him back to bed. “Sleep awaits.”

  She didn’t want to sleep. If she slept, the morning would come sooner and she would have to leave Lismoor. She didn’t want to go she thought while she wiped Elias’ tears from his eyes and kissed the top of his head. How could she care for a child so quickly? Because he was William’s child and she couldn’t pour her love out on his father. Whether she wanted to sleep or not, the babe needed his. She put him down and sat in the bed next to him. She didn’t remember lying down or falling asleep, or even taking off her boots when she opened her eyes the next morning.

  Chapter Six

  Nicholas stood in front of her door, cursing himself and his weak resolve. It was his fault for listening while she wept. Oh, how she wept. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to kick the door in and rush to her.

  Always her. Only her. Julianna.

  Here she was in his keep! Crying her heart out over something. It didn’t matter what it was. Whether it was over him, or Elias, or status and title. She was crying and he wanted to comfort her. Growing up together, it had been his responsibility to be there for her when or if she needed him. It was the same for Julianna when it came to him. It was Berengaria’s rule.

  Gah! He tugged at the hair over his brow. He didn’t want this in his life again. He tore himself away from her door and went to his son’s.

  Memories of the woman who had saved his life and then broke his heart invaded his thoughts as he pushed open Elias’ door. His mother, Berengaria, sat under a tree smiling at him and Julianna while they ran around in the grass.

  No. No more! Berengaria didn’t deserve a place in his memories. She’d been a part of Berwick…of him one day and gone the next. At first he’d feared the governor had had her killed, for he never, no never would have believed she’d chosen not to be a part of their lives anymore. If she’d been forced to go, she would have found a way to contact him. But a handful of people claimed to have seen her a month after her disappearance.

  He’d been twelve. Julianna, nine. They had found comfort in each other’s strength—as Berengaria had taught them. Nicholas had promised to love Julianna always, and she promised the same about him.

  He’d waited for a word from his mother, but none ever came. Over nine years of love and affection meant nothing to her. So they meant nothing to him.

  Julianna was bringing everything back.

  When his son saw him, he began to cry. At least he didn’t scream in terror. Mayhap, it had, in fact, been his hair.

  Nicholas knew it would have been better if Elias had had his father here from the beginning. Seeing the little lad crying alone in his big bed after he could have died broke away the hardest pieces of Nicholas’ heart. He understood it on some deeper, more familiar level. His son needed to be comforted. He should have been here to prevent this fear from growing. Poor lad.

  For the first time in his life—at least the parts he could remember—Nicholas felt a well of burning, stinging tears filling his eyes.

  He would make things right with his son. If the babe needed Julianna, until he grew less afraid of his father, then Julianna he would have.

  Tryi
ng to sit on the bed wasn’t a good idea. When Elias scurried under the bed, Nicholas stood up and held up one end in his hand. The maneuver didn’t impress the two year old and screaming ensued.

  After a dozen more attempts to speak to and finally try to catch the babe, Nicholas finally gave in and sent Rauf for Julianna.

  He didn’t want to see her again, so he stayed hidden in the shadows in the hall and only watched like the coward she had called him as she went inside his son’s room and shut the door.

  Nicholas didn’t move from the door except to pace before it for the next six hours.

  The sun found him sitting against the wall to the right of his son’s room, cursing and wondering why he’d allowed this to happen.

  She hadn’t left the room all night. Elias hadn’t cried. Neither had Julianna.

  He wanted to go inside, but he wasn’t sure if he should knock or just go in. What would he say? Good morning. You have not forgotten you are leaving, have you? He almost groaned out loud. His belly ached and he rubbed it.

  He’d decided she must leave this morn. She must. Having her here brought too much back, too much anger and emotion. The first, his companion. The second, his enemy.

  He got up and leaned against the opposite wall and watched the door until it opened.

  When he saw her, his gaze took in the sight of her carrying his son. Her long hair was braided over her shoulder, where his son played with it. Her large, beautiful eyes were puffy from crying the night before. His heart moved at the blessed sight of her.

  She had to leave.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, seeing him. “Elias, you say, good morn, Papa.”

  “Dood morn, Papa,” his son bid him and rubbed his eyes with a chubby fist.

  All at once, the pieces of Nicholas’ life fit together again. He felt more cheerful than he had in years because of a simple greeting from a two year old. His two year old. “Good morn, Elias.” He smiled and caught her watching. “You may stay for a few more days.”