My Heart Belongs to You (Medieval Romance Trilogy Book 3) (31 page)

“It appears we will have more rain. No doubt that will please you when it fills the English tunnels again.” Her tone sounded frosty.

“Ysabelle,” Nicholas’s voice was laden with warning.

She whirled on him. “Don’t threaten me, Nicholas Ramsay. How long have you known that Sir Malcolm lives? How long?”

“Since the day after our marriage.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

Raw emotion seethed beneath his icy control. She saw it in the way his lean jaw flexed and his eyes narrowed. “When I found out, I had already wed you and taken you to my bed. It made no difference. Did you think I would hand you over when you might be carrying my child?”

Clasping her hands to her face, she glanced about the room. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“You are mine,” he ground the words between clenched teeth.

“Yes, and how proud you must have been to flaunt your manly prowess in their faces.”

“I was pleased to show proof of our consummation.”

“But why didn’t you tell me the truth? It’s the same as if you had lied to me.”

“If it wasn’t true, I didn’t want you to worry. I had no evidence that Malcolm lived and I wished to wait for proof. Even now, I don’t know if it is true or a lie they have hatched.”

“Your consideration is more than kind,” she choked. “But if you didn’t believe it, why did you send Father Edward to the Pope?”

He was silent for several moments. His gaze stabbed her. “And why did you invite them into our home if not to betray me?”

“I only wanted to plead with them to leave us in peace. Then, Father Eustace threatened me with excommunication and my temper got the better of me,” she confessed. “I ordered them out of the castle. My father would never have tolerated such threats and neither will I.”

He snorted. “It was fortuitous that Alex went to get food and heard their voices in the hall. We were able to confront them before they caused any mischief.”

She lifted her head. “I prepared so they could do no harm. With our soldiers surrounding them, there was no real danger. I certainly dared not go out to meet them myself.”

He raked a hand through his long hair. “Praise the saints you had that much common sense.”

In silence, they stared at one another. Oh, how she loved the sight of him. She wished not to argue with him, but he had already been injured. What if he ended up dead? How much more must they lose in this battle of wills. Heaven help her, she loved him. “You should leave Sutcliffe, Nicholas. Tonight. Go away, while there is still time to save yourself.”

His face darkened. “I am no coward to run and hide. Do you really think I could ever live such a life? I would rather die.”

“You might be killed if you remain here. What have you gained if you die?”

He sucked in a harsh breath. A silent battle waged between them. He spoke softly, staring at the fire in the brazier. “I didn’t tell you about Malcolm because I didn’t want you to hate me more than you already do. I thought I could woo you if only I had more time. Until I knew if Malcolm was really alive, I feared such unhappy news would only frighten you more.”

Goosebumps prickled Ysabelle’s flesh and she wrapped her arms about herself. His confession left her speechless. It was the first time he had spoken of his deep emotions for her. But it changed nothing, except to pummel her heart even more. It would be best if he left. She would rather belong to Fat Malcolm than watch Nicholas die. They could not hold out against the English forever. It was only a matter of time.

Restless energy pulsed from him. A clap of thunder broke the night sky and a flash of light filled the room. The drumbeat of rain pounding the roof could be heard overhead.

Nicholas swallowed. His confession had left him shaking and he prayed Ysabelle would not spurn him now. He had laid his heart open to her as much as he dared. Would she hate him for not telling her the truth about Malcolm?

She stood so still, so small, her face ashen, her eyes wide and fearful. She closed her eyes and tears hovered beneath her lashes. When she opened her eyes again, a silvery tear slid down her cheek. His heart wrenched. How he hated to see her cry.

“And what of our child?” she asked quietly. “Will he be declared a bastard, like his father?”

Nicholas blinked. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. “What are you saying? Are you with child?”

She looked away, her countenance sad and forlorn. “Yes, I’m carrying your babe.”

A spear of light and happiness pierced his heart. A longing to see her smile, to hear her laughter, welled inside him with such intensity that he almost shouted. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “You have made me verra happy.”

“But what of our child’s future, Nicholas? Will he be treated as cruelly as you have been? Will he be shunned and grow up to be a harsh man like…?”

She did not finish, but she did not need to. Nicholas knew what she had been about to say. “You mean a harsh man like me?”

Looking away, she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Even you deserve to be loved,” she whispered.

Standing, he stepped to her side and reached his hand out to cup her chin and raise her gaze to his. “I don’t plan to die any time soon, Ysabelle. Our child will have no doubt who his parents are. He will be nurtured by our care.”

The pain in his shoulder seemed vague when he considered the great joy in his heart. Ysabelle carried his child. Finally, he had a family of his own and people who needed him. He would never abandon them, even if it meant his death.

He kissed her, trying to communicate the feelings in his heart even though he didn’t understand them fully. He knew only that he longed to pull Ysabelle close to his chest and hold her against his heart for all time.

Her trembling gave him pause and he withdrew. “Would you rather be wed to Sir Malcolm?”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Of course not.”

“Yet, you willna trust me.”

“It’s not a matter of trust. Nicholas, you should flee while there is still time.”

Why would she not leave it alone? If only he could make her understand how important being at Sutcliffe was to him.

“I won’t go, don’t ask it of me again.” He stepped back and, with a muttered oath, he quit the room.

Chapter Seventeen

“We are dangerously low on provisions. Soon, we will be desperate for supplies,” Alex advised Nicholas as they stood alone in the great hall.

“I’m aware of that,” Nicholas agreed, staring at the fire as he leaned against the giant stone hearth.

To conserve their fuel, no wall sconces had been lit. The fire was the only source of light and he watched the flames licking over the precious wood. They had been forced to tear apart the dovecoat. “Tonight, I want you to leave under cover of darkness and take Ysabelle to Castle Ramsay, where she will be safe.”

Alex arched one brow as he sipped his warm ale. “Do you think that wise?”

“Without her, the English cannot claim Sutcliffe, even if they take possession and kill me. I would hold these lands for my heir. As long as Ysabelle and my son live, there is hope.”

Amazement glimmered in Alex’s eyes. “Ysabelle is expecting your child?”

Nicholas nodded.

A wide grin spread its way across Alex’s face and he clapped Nicholas on the back. “That is marvelous news, brother. Congratulations.”

“I don’t want any harm to come to either of them.” Nicholas turned and looked intently at his brother. “I entrust them to your care. If I should die, I ask only that you see they are taken care of. I want my babe to know I am his father and that I never regretted his birth. He must know he was no bastard and that I wed Ysabelle legally. Don’t…” he swallowed, “don’t let him be raised as harshly as I was. Help him have a joyous life, Alex. I can’t bear the thought of him or Ysabelle being miserable.”

Alex rubbed his chin, glancing away. “I understand and will do it. You have my word. But Ysabelle won’t go with me.”

“I willna give her a choice.”

“I also would rather not leave you,” Alex told him. “It would require a garrison of men to accompany us safely to Scotland. You’ll need every available man to stay here and fight.”

Nicholas frowned. “Don’t you think I can fight without you by my side?”

Alex stiffened. “I’m very aware of your skills, brother. Yet, you are only one man. If I leave, my father willna rally to help you.”

With an impatient scoff, Nicholas shook his head and finished the last of his ale in two gulps. “Your father has not rallied to assist me even with your presence here at Sutcliffe. And I’m not surprised. The man detests me.”

Alex shifted restlessly, a frown of consternation on his brow. “Late last night, I sent another runner to again seek his aid. No doubt it has taken time for him to gather his allies together so he can fight the English on your behalf.”

“It shouldn’t take this long,” Nicholas spoke low as he tugged a slim reed from the brush by the fire. “Archibald doesn’t care about my cause, nor my skin. I doubt he wants to endanger his own hide by doing battle for me.”

From the scowl on his face, it was obvious Alex took offense at this comment. He took a step back, his hands clutching the edge of the table with whitened knuckles. “You know my father has never fled from battle, Nicholas. He would come to your defense and have Sutcliffe declared for Scotland.”

Nicholas hated to insult his brother. But it would be best to send him and Ysabelle away, so they might both be safe. He did not want Ysabelle to witness his death. In order to get Alex to take her and leave Sutcliffe, he decided to be harsh.

“No, Archibald hates me,” Nicholas cracked the reed in two and tossed one piece into the fire. “My death would please him. You know what I say is true. But it is a pity he would sacrifice you merely to punish me.”

An expression of angry hurt crossed Alex’s face. “That’s not true. My father is no coward, Nicholas.”

Their gazes clashed. “And when has Archibald lifted a finger on my behalf? He would prefer me dead.”

Alex blinked and Nicholas could see the pain his words caused. Nicholas’s throat constricted, but he could not relent. He was about to lose everything, Ysabelle, Sutcliffe, his own life. Yet, he had won all. His child would live and carry on his line. To remind the world that the Scots Ram would not be defeated, even in death.

Nicholas had never spoken of Archibald Ramsay’s indifference so bluntly. Because Alex was filled with so much goodness and justice, Nicholas suspected Archibald’s callous disregard hurt Alex deeply. But Alex would not leave with Ysabelle unless Nicholas angered him so much that he could not stay. It was for the best. To keep Alex and Ysabelle safe.

“I don’t need you here. I don’t want you to stay,” Nicholas lied.

The two men glared at one another. Nicholas grit his teeth and Alex tightened his jaw.

“You are an ass, brother,” Alex said before he turned and stormed out of the hall.

Nicholas stared after him. The room felt hot and oppressive. He longed to call Alex back, to apologize. When Archibald had deserted him, Alex had always stayed. This might be the last time they ever saw each other and Nicholas hated to part ways with bad feelings. Alex was the one man who had always stood by him, no matter how bad it got. No matter how ugly Nicholas became. Alex, whom he loved dearly. His one, true friend.

Nicholas remained silent, praying Alex would leave with Ysabelle soon. Knowing they were safe, he would be able to face his death alone.

*

Ysabelle sat before the brazier in the lord’s chamber. Mesmerized by the flickering fire, she stared at the flames. Their undulating talons consumed the birch logs, just as the English would soon consume Sutcliffe. Restless energy pulsed in her veins. If only there was a way for her to prevent the demise of her people. She must find a way to protect Nicholas.

“My dearest, what has happened? Surely it cannot be so bad.”

Looking up, Ysabelle saw Ada standing before the door. The woman had entered silently.

“It is, Ada,” Ysabelle croaked.

Coming to stand beside Ysabelle, Ada folded her arms and looked at her mistress, her eyes crinkled with concern. “Tell me what has happened.”

“Malcolm de Litz is still alive,” Ysabelle whispered hoarsely. “Nicholas knew and didn’t tell me. Now, I’m a bigamist and may be excommunicated for adultery. My soul may be condemned.”

Ada gasped and took a step back. “What? This cannot be. Have you seen Sir Malcolm?”

“No, but his son, Lambert, and Father Eustace, brought me the news.”

“Perhaps they lied. I would expect no less,” Ada pointed out.

“Nicholas believed they spoke the truth and so do I.”

Ysabelle stood and began to pace the room. Her fingers twined together in nervous energy. “How dare he? How dare Nicholas lie to me? Why didn’t he tell me Malcolm still lived?”

Ada followed her, standing with her back to the open window. Sunlight streamed through the room, along with the constant rumble of yelling and siege weapons. “Did he lie or did he just not tell you?”

“They are one and the same, are they not?”

Ada pursed her lips. “Perhaps your husband didn’t want to worry you with such bad news.”

Ysabelle whirled and stared at the handmaiden. “Which of my husbands are you referring to? Sir Malcolm or Nicholas Ramsay?”

Ada’s lips pursed tight, her eyes lowered as she studied the stone floor for several moments. Then, she seemed to arrive at a decision. “Lord Nicholas, of course. He is your only husband.”

Ysabelle raised a brow. “You think so? I thought you didn’t like him.”

With a sigh of resignation, Ada’s expression softened. “At one time, that was true. I thought he might abuse you. I could not stand to watch you go through what your mother suffered. But now, I’ve had time to see that Lord Nicholas cares for you. He has been kind when he need not be. Perhaps he is like Lord Maston after all. He is your husband.”

An abrasive laugh slipped from Ysabelle’s throat. “I only hope the Pope agrees with you.”

As she moved about the room, Ysabelle gazed past Ada out the window. She stared blindly at the plumes of smoke billowing up from the siege fires started by the English. Fury pulsed hot in her veins. Men were conniving creatures, one and all. She could trust none of them. “My soul may be condemned but I will not see Sutcliffe destroyed. Nor will I have my babe declared a bastard.”