Ena’s Surrender

by Madeline Martin

  Within minutes, they passed over the border and the hoofbeats disappeared behind them.

  “Stay with me, Ena,” Renault whispered against her hair. “Stay with me, my love.”

  She did not reply.

  Her silence clamped at his chest.

  He wanted to say more, but it was too difficult to speak when he had to concentrate on holding her, on traveling at a speed that would not cause further injury to her wounds. They were so close to the healer’s cottage. So damn close, but too far away for his liking.

  He increased his horse’s speed slightly, eager to get Ena to help. Bran and the Scot raced ahead, no doubt to wake the healer.

  By the time Renault arrived, a young woman with light blonde hair was waiting by the door. She waved him in and bade him settle Ena onto a pallet. Herbs hung from the rafters like sleeping bats and the scent of the drying plants filled the air with a clean spiciness.

  Renault stared down at Ena, unable to remove himself from her side. She lay still, blood staining her ruined gambeson. He couldn’t tell how much, but it was enough to leave her unmoving. Enough to leave her pale as death.

  That last realization caught at his throat, a forceful knot that ached so much, he could barely croak out the worst question in his life. “Is she still alive?”

  Another woman, older than the first, knelt down beside Ena and put her fingers to her throat. “Aye.”

  Heat tingled in his eyes and it became difficult to speak.

  She glanced up at Renault. “Ye need to leave us now.”

  He didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Instead, he slowly backed toward the door as the older woman pulled at the ties of the gambeson and issued orders for a pot to be set on the fire to boil.

  It was the younger woman who finally approached Renault where he stood rooted in the doorway, and lightly set a hand to his shoulder to guide him out. “Ye must let us work to save her life.”

  “I love her,” he choked out.

  She regarded Ena, studying her with thoughtful concentration as if listening to something no one else could hear. “She loves ye as well.” A soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Her heart is verra strong. I am certain she will be well.”

  The touch at his shoulder turned to pressure. “Please.”

  With that, he had no choice but to leave the cottage and allow the door to close between him and the woman he loved.

  Outside, Bran glared at him. “How did they let ye stay inside for so long, but no’ me?”

  “They had to make me leave,” Renault conceded.

  “Is she…” Bran searched the air, as if seeking the right word. “Is she…”

  “Nay.”

  Bran scrubbed a hand over his face, but it didn’t clear away the tears watering in his eyes.

  “That should be me in there,” Renault said, finally speaking the truth. “She saved me and now…”

  “And she’d do it again and again and again, the stubborn lass.” Bran swallowed. “I’d say I shouldna have let her go, but short of tying her up, I knew she wouldna be held back from ye.”

  “I didn’t want that.” Renault shook his head. “I didn’t want—” His voice broke.

  Bran nodded in understanding and clasped an arm over Renault’s shoulder, drawing him in as a brother. Even as his sister hovered at death’s door, Bran did not blame Renault. It was better than Renault deserved.

  Ena was better than he deserved. And he was helpless to do anything but wait while the healers fought to save her life.

  12

  It hurt to breathe. Ena shifted and a burning sensation sizzled over her torso.

  “Ye dinna need to move,” a woman said.

  Ena squinted her eyes open to find Efric, the old village healer, smiling down at her. “I fed ye a tea that will help with the discomfort. It will only take a few minutes before ye feel the effects.”

  “Why do I need a tea?” Ena tried to sit up and the pain increased.

  “Dinna try to sit up,” Efric cautioned. “Ye were injured. Were it no’ for the gambeson ye wore, ye’d be dead.”

  The gambeson? Ena’s concentrated on the women’s words. A memory flashed in her mind. A blade, coming down. Not on her, but on Renault. She’d jumped in front of him, in front of the sword as it connected with her body.

  She shuddered as she recalled how it had sliced through the gambeson and cut into her flesh, the injury reminiscent of the attack when she’d been a young girl. “Renault?” she asked.

  “I’m assuming ye mean the handsome Englishman that hasna left my doorstep since ye came here two days ago.” Efric chuckled. “Between him and Bran fussing about us like old women, I’m surprised we were able to get ye fully stitched.”

  Ena lifted her head to see her own body, clad in a simple, homespun kirtle. A neat row of tiny, careful stitches peeked from the neckline of the dress.

  Efric shook her head. “Dinna worry, lass. I tried to keep ye from scarring as best I could. Better than the injury ye sustained before, at least.”

  Ena’s face heated, but Efric rubbed her hand with the quiet comfort of a mother. “In a month or two, ye’ll be fine,” she said.

  All at once, a soothing warmth melted over her body and took away the worst of the pain. Tension Ena hadn’t realized she’d been holding relaxed.

  “Ach, the tea appears to be taking effect.” The healer nodded, as if confirming her observation to herself. “Ye can let them in, Afrid.”

  Efric’s granddaughter opened the door to the hut and waved in Renault and Bran. The men both rushed to Ena, faces lined with concern.

  Efric moved back with an exasperated shake of her head. “I told ye lads, she’s fine.”

  “Are ye?” Bran asked.

  Ena nodded. “Ye saved me again.”

  “No’ this time.” Bran looked to Renault. “He carried ye the whole way back to Scotland. We dinna think…” He swallowed and shifted his gaze to the floor.

  Renault. Her heart flipped inside her battered body.

  “Ye should know better than that. I wouldna go down so easy.” Ena grinned at her brother. “I’m too damn stubborn.”

  “And I thank the good Lord for it.” Bran ruffled her hair with a lighter hand than usual, as if he feared breaking her. “I promise to no’ ever let anything happen to ye again, Ena. I’ll always protect ye.”

  “As will I.” Renault stepped forward and took her hand.

  Bran shifted back, smiled at Ena once more and muttered something about checking on Maribel and Moggy before slipping out of the hut. The healers made themselves scarce as well, leaving Ena alone with Renault.

  “Ye saved my life,” Ena said.

  Renault shook his head. “I endangered it. You saved mine. Ena, you risked yourself. I’m not…” He took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not worth the cost of your life. You could have been killed. You nearly were.”

  “But ye made sure I was taken to the healer to be cared for.” She reached for him. “I would do it again for ye, Renault. I love ye.”

  “I love you too, Ena.” His eyes filled with tears and he looked away. “I don’t deserve your love, but I can’t help wanting it. I spied on Scotland for months before we met. I can scarcely allow myself to think what that must have resulted in. I never want to do it again.”

  “Ye spied on Scotland when ye dinna know better.” Ena ran her finger over the bumps of the knuckles on his hand. “And ye stopped as soon as ye realized we werena all that bad.” She winked. “Renault, ye’ve done things in yer past ye’re ashamed of. We all have. But ye learned who we were, ye kept our secrets, and ye’ve saved us. That is honorable.”

  “Honorable?” Renault scoffed.

  “Aye.” Ena squeezed his hand with emphasis. “Ye are a man of honor.”

  He looked away. “Your home had to be burned down. My boyhood friend is helping us and took my bloody gambeson and a ruined sark of yours to the English Middle March Warden, claiming to have killed us. Bran has sought permission to reloca
te us all near Hermitage Castle to ensure our safety. But we’re free, Ena. They won’t look for us there, especially since they think we’re dead.”

  “Then we’ll be safe,” Ena said with relief. Doubt, however, nibbled at the back of her mind as she recalled why Bran stayed away from the Scottish Middle March Warden. She only hoped he hadn’t had to make a deal with Kerr to save them.

  She closed her eyes, clearing her thoughts. Bran would never work with that man. He’d already vowed not to. Her fears were unfounded.

  With the dismissal of such bleak musings, a new realization dawned on her—a future, her future. Marriage, a home with Renault. Mayhap even children.

  “You’re crying.” Renault gently stroked her cheek, swiping at a tear.

  She opened her eyes. “Ye gave me a future to look forward to.” Her cheeks went hot as she realized how foolish her words must have sounded. “I was too afraid to even hope for one for so long,” she stammered by way of explanation.

  Renault gave a sound between a laugh and a sob and returned his attention to her. “I felt the same way, Ena. Before you.”

  “I want to marry ye, Renault,” she replied. “I want to have a life with ye.”

  He stroked a hand down her cheek. The sensation of his callused fingers tenderly stroking her once more soothed the ache in her soul. She sighed wistfully and reveled in the feel of him.

  “I will be here to help you through your recovery, and when you’re fully healed, then we can be wed.” His mouth closed over hers briefly in an affectionate kiss that touched her soul. “I love you, Ena.”

  She only hoped her recovery would go faster than Efric had suggested. Two months to wait to wed seemed far, far too long. Still, she gave in to the kiss and whispered against Renault’s lips, “And I love ye.”

  Indeed, her recovery did take two months. But Renault kept them from feeling endless. He was by her side, helping her heal from the first time she sat up to her initial steps after bedrest.

  More than that, he and Bran worked together to build new waddle and daub homes near the protection of Hermitage Castle. Additionally, Bran reassured her that no deal with Kerr was struck to allow their relocation. He’d also informed her that the costly door had been removed from their cottage before it was burned and was already being built into the new home.

  And while the men built the new homes, Efric and Afrid helped Ena make plans for a small, intimate wedding.

  The morning of Renault’s marriage to Ena dawned with a stunning sunrise that streaked the sky with shades of pink and violet and orange—a promise for the happiness that stretched ahead of them. Renault had taken his time dressing with care before making his way to the small kirk at the center of the village.

  People nodded to him in greeting as he passed. They had loathed him when he’d first arrived, but Bran and Drake’s support had helped people come to accept his presence. Apparently, his care of Ena had encouraged even more trust. At least per Efric.

  Not that he’d done it for them. It had all been for Ena, who had shown unflinching bravery and fortitude every day of her recovery.

  He stopped in front of the kirk’s doors and pushed them inward. They swung closed behind him as he took in the sweet decorations of spring flowers dotting the pews as golden light streamed in from the open windows. The members of the congregation turned in his direction. He recognized the healers, Drake and his mother and three sisters, as well as several other villagers who knew Ena and Renault well.

  The doors were pushed open behind him a minute later and Ena entered. All at once, everything faded from his view as his bride-to-be made her way down the aisle toward him.

  Her hair was unbound and fell in soft waves down her back. The blue gown she wore accentuated the healthy rosy hue of her cheeks and lips. She kept her brown eyes locked on him as she made her way toward him without so much as a limp.

  She had worked with tireless resolve to walk normally again, practicing again and again despite the painful stretch at her healing wound. It took days of fortitude, but she was driven and after a sennight, all the discomfort had subsided, and she was able to walk once more without aid.

  His chest puffed with pride. She was fierce and determined and strong beyond measure. And she was to be his wife.

  Together, they stood before the priest and swore vows that tied them together forever. When it was done and the priest had declared them united in marriage, Renault cupped Ena’s face in his hands and kissed her chastely, sealing their love for all to see. The celebration afterward was held at the village center and all were invited to join in the revelry.

  The best part to Renault, however, was when it was all over and he and Ena made their way to the hut Bran had helped him build during Ena’s recovery.

  “Are you nervous?” Renault asked.

  “To see the house?” She lifted a brow. “Did ye no’ build it correctly?”

  He chuckled. “You know Bran would never let that happen.”

  He withdrew a key from his pocket and opened the expensive lock. Luckily, he’d been able to reclaim without issue the chest of coins he’d buried on the outskirts of Kershopefoot. The lifetime of coin he’d been saving up had afforded enough to provide materials for both their cottage and Bran’s.

  Ena stroked the sturdy wooden door and smiled gratefully up at him. “Thank ye.” She bit her lip and glanced discreetly at Bran’s house several cottages over.

  Renault immediately knew her fears and addressed them. “Bran took the door from your own home at my insistence.”

  Her eyes widened. “Ye mean, this…”

  “Aye.” Renault smiled at his beautiful wife. “This is a new one for us. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, Ena,” he said earnestly.

  “I know.” She went on tiptoe and kissed him.

  Arousal heated through his body at the touch of her lips. He’d wanted to show her everything in their new home—the cupboards he’d built, the small stable off to the side where Maribel had a posy of spring flowers tucked at her collar. But he found his mouth on Ena’s, unable to stop kissing her.

  They’d refrained from any intimacy until this moment to ensure Ena would be fully recovered. And to quell Ena’s concern that Bran would find out and kill Renault before they could be wed.

  Renault pulled Ena inside their cottage. “Welcome home, my love.”

  She looked around with pleasure shining bright in her eyes. She exclaimed over the furnishings, the kitchen stocked with bread and beans and even a side of smoked venison.

  “’Tis perfect.” She beamed at him. “Thank ye.”

  “You’re perfect, my love.” He pulled her toward him and kissed her soundly.

  “I love ye, Renault,” she whispered. Beautiful words from a beautiful woman that he would savor every day of his life.

  “And I love you,” he replied with every bit of his heart and soul.

  She leaned back from him. “This is more than I ever could have imagined.”

  “Aye, it is for me as well,” he agreed. Because despite the strife between the English and Scottish, regardless of having once been enemies and how risky a marriage was between citizens of the two countries, they had surpassed such trials together.

  At each other’s sides, they were starting a future neither had ever dared to hope for. One filled with anticipation for each new day and happiness that soothed their past hurts. For together, the broken pieces of themselves became whole, the world lay at their feet and love truly would conquer all.

  Thank you for reading ENA’S SURRENDER! Know that I read all of my reviews and love hearing from my readers. Please consider leaving a review for this book.

  * * *

  Did you love Bran in this story? I confess, I did! He gets his own story in the first of my Borderland Ladies series in MARIN’S PROMISE where Ena’s decision to marry an Englishman land Bran right where Kerr wanted him…

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  MARIN’S PROMISE

  * * *

 
Bran Davidson’s sister will die if he refuses to take Werrick Castle by force.

  Lady Marin Barrington will defend her castle at any cost, even if it means killing the man who took it.

  In a world where desperation and love dictate the lives of many, a simple promise can change the tide of favor and open the door to pleasure and danger alike.

  Get MARIN’S PROMISE now

  Continue reading for a preview read of the first chapter of MARIN’S PROMISE, Book 1 of my Borderland Ladies series!

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  MARIN’S PROMISE

  Chapter 1

  July 1333

  Brackenhill, England

  Lady Marin Barrington was used to attacks from the reivers. As the eldest daughter to the third Earl of Werrick, the English West March Warden, she was even used to acting as his unofficial constable in his absence.

  Threat of an impending battle in Berwick had resulted in the earl bringing a majority of his forces with him to go to King Edward’s side. The remaining soldiers looked to her for guidance, to ensure the people within the castle remained properly defended and safe.

  The castle had not been breached, not in the last eleven years when the last raid forced them to erect fortified curtain walls so great no marauders could get penetrate them to reach the castle within. Not until this moment.

  Marin kept her arrow nocked and pointed toward the dark-haired man below. The blonde girl in his arms did not move. It was that last fact which made Marin's heart chill.