Ella's Desire (Borderland Ladies Book 3)

by Madeline Martin

  Bronson had been the cause of the nest’s colorful hues. No doubt it was warm and without issue from the weather with such quality materials. She might not know Bronson fully, but there were parts of him that were certainly good. And that was what made this all the harder.

  “I understand you do not wish to go to court.” Bronson led her to the garden. “And I am required to attend.”

  She glanced up at him and found him watching her.

  He stopped and stroked his thumb over her jaw. “I do not like the idea of being there without you.”

  Her heart fluttered. Her stupid, hopeful, foolish heart.

  He gazed at her as though he were memorizing her face, the way she envisioned a man ought to stare down at a woman he cared for. “Ella, my dove, come with me to court and I promise you we will get away from time to time.”

  She exhaled her disappointment. “I am not meant for court, Bronson.” She indicated the large garden. “I am meant for this, for being outside, for climbing trees, for reading the day away.” She shook her head. “I cannot be the woman quietly standing at your side in uncomfortable clothing, and—”

  “There you are.” Ella’s father waved and strode from the castle toward them.

  Bronson stood further back from Ella, at a more respectful distance. Lord Werrick grinned at them. “I’m pleased to see the two of you getting on so well. Daughter, may I take your betrothed away before all the good game hides in the brush?”

  Indeed, her father did look pleased. But then, it had been his intention from the first for her to fall in love. “Aye, but only if I don’t have to hear of your victories later.” She shuddered.

  Her father chuckled and ruffled her hair.

  Bronson, however, cast a long, lingering look at her that made her breath lock in her chest. “Think on what I said.”

  Ella nodded, agreeing only to think on it. For how could she ever truly agree to go to court? How could such a life ever be happy?

  The day was good for hunting. The sky overhead was clear, the sun bright enough to warm them all despite a chilly wind. It was far different from the courtly hunts Bronson was used to: less people, less wine, less gossip.

  He drew in a deep breath of crisp air and had to admit there was a certain appeal to the wildness of the land, the freedom of not being perpetually surrounded by people. In a sense, he could understand Ella’s hesitation.

  Bear trotted alongside Bronson’s horse, his remaining hunting dog as Wolf was back at Werrick with a belly swollen with pups to be born in a sennight or so, and Hardy was at Leila and Lark’s sides. While Bronson ought to be upset at having lost his fastest hunting dog, Hardy was far happier with the girls than he’d ever been chasing game about.

  “Ella seems taken with you.” Lord Werrick scanned the nearby forest for any signs of movement.

  Bronson lowered his head in acknowledgment. “But she had not anticipated going to court.”

  The earl gave a hum of understanding. “There are many rules at court, and my Ella has never been one for rules. It’s my fault, I’m afraid.”

  They urged their horses on through the forest, but all around them remained still.

  “Ella did not take it well when Lady Werrick died, God rest her soul.” The earl released his reins with one hand to cross himself. “It was not a kind death, as those from childbirth seldom are. After Leila was born, Ella seemed to…” the earl glanced up at the sky as though searching for the right word before shrugging. “She seemed to fall into herself. As if she intended to replace the world around her with the one that she made up in her head. But it seemed to make her less distraught to do so and I did not stop her.”

  A conversation with Ella rose in Bronson’s mind, how she had mentioned her mother dying after delivering a babe. She’d never answered his question when he’d asked if the babe lived. He now understood that babe to be Leila. Suddenly the difference of the girl’s appearance made more sense, as did her need for a companion who was not one of her sisters.

  Movement rustled one of the bushes, but Lord Werrick did not bother looking in that direction. “I confess I was too consumed in my own grief to raise Ella as a girl ought to be raised. And now she is the lady you know today. One who balks at rules, does as she likes, and runs wild.” A gleam of affection showed in his eyes. “There is not another girl like my Ella.”

  “Do you think I can convince her to join me at court?” Bronson watched the bushes and reached a hand out to Rafe to grab his bow and arrow.

  “Aye, she’ll go, but you’ll need to make it her idea to do so.” Werrick’s gaze slid in the direction of Bronson’s attention.

  Bronson took the bow and arrow, nocked an arrow and drew the bow back. He gave a little hiss at Bear, who tore off into the foliage to make the inhabitant flee out into the open. A small brown bird darted into the air. Nothing worth bothering to shoot.

  Bronson lowered his weapon. “Might you offer a suggestion on how to make her want to go?”

  “My daughter has an impetuous heart. Tell her of the aspects of court you think she will enjoy and don’t make her change who she is.” The earl sat forward in his saddle and peered into a copse of nearby trees.

  Bronson remained quiet, for Ella could not remain who she was at court. There were no trees to climb, no quiet, warm rooms to slip away into for reading. Her fair hair, which she loved to wear unbound, would need to be braided and coiled about her head, secured with gilded nets and gauzy veils.

  “There’s another thing about Ella you should bear in mind.” Werrick motioned for his servant to hand him his own bow and arrow. “She’s different from other lasses. You know that already, I presume.”

  Bronson nodded, his gaze fixed on the trees.

  “Love her for who she is.” Werrick clicked his tongue and one of his dogs ran forward.

  A beast barreled from its hiding place, coarse black hair, yellowed tusks and snorting with rage. A boar.

  Bronson’s body fired with energy and together they raced forward. The hunt was on.

  19

  Market days were always crowded in the village. Vendors called out as Ella strode past with Brigid, William and the guard behind them. Ella had not liked market days as a child. After the attack, she found them overwhelming.

  There had been too many people she did not know and did not trust, and far too much noise. So, while her sisters had gone to market for honey pastries and woven ribbons, she had stayed in the quiet solar, curled up in the window seat with a book.

  Now that Marin and Anice were gone, the task of going to market day periodically had fallen upon Ella. Admittedly, she was not particularly good at it. Not like her elder sisters were.

  “How are the market days in London?” Ella asked Brigid. “Surely they must be quite large.”

  “Aye.” Brigid looked over a bin of parsnips with an assessing gaze. “London is so large that there are several market squares within the city.”

  Several market squares? Ella had not gone to shops while at court. At least not that she remembered.

  “You wouldn’t go.” Brigid rested a hand on Ella’s forearm with tender reassurance. “Servants attend market for you in a place such as London. You would need only to remain at court.”

  Ella’s shoulders relaxed with gratitude. She was fortunate to have Brigid’s counsel in matters such as court life. Mayhap knowing more would help her not dread it so much.

  They moved on to a small booth with various colors of thread. When the ladies approached, the shopkeeper drew out a small box of fine silk that gleamed in the sunlight.

  “Is there much work to organizing household affairs when one is at court?” Ella asked, hopeful for the response. She had never been one to enjoy running a castle as Marin and Anice had. Not having to manage a household would be a grand benefit.

  Brigid flushed. “I’m afraid I did not attend court as a wife.”

  Ella blinked in surprise. “Forgive me, I thought you had been at court with the late earl.”
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  “Nay.” Brigid flashed a smile at her, one that was too quick and too bright.

  Ella had evidently made her uncomfortable with such questioning. The idea of putting such a kind and gentle woman in a state of unease left Ella’s own cheeks growing warm.

  “I should like to see Berkley Manor,” Ella said to change the topic. “I imagine it is quite lovely.”

  Brigid bit her lip. “Aye.” Her reply was slow and filled with obvious hesitation.

  The conversation was not going well. Was there something amiss at Berkley Manor? Did Brigid think she would be losing her home?

  If Brigid did not wish her at Berkley Manor, then surely there was no place for Ella but at court.

  “You are always welcome, of course.” Brigid gave another unconvincing smile and selected a bit of blue thread. Before she could draw out her coin purse to pay, William placed a coin in the man’s hand.

  Brigid looked up, startled. “Thank you.”

  “‘Tis my job as steward t…to see you ladies well cared for.” He winked at her then. Winked!

  Ella had always known William to be a happy man despite the sorrow he had suffered. But never had she seen this flirtatious side of him. There was something endearing about it, especially when Brigid lowered her eyes with the demure shyness of a maiden.

  A little boy with dark hair stopped in front of them and gazed up at William. “Are ye Lord Werrick’s steward?”

  “Aye, lad. I am he.” William crouched down to the boy’s level and smiled.

  The boy shook the hair from his eyes. “My da is Edmund. If ye have the time, might ye come to his shop?”

  “Aye, I’ll be by in a moment.” William fished out a small coin and set it in the boy’s hand to pay him for the message. The boy scampered off and William straightened. “You ladies enjoy the rest of the market while I see to the butcher.”

  “Nay, we can join you,” Ella said. Her blunders at conversation with Brigid left her uncertain what to say. The distraction would be welcome. She turned left and began to walk. “After all, I have yet to meet him.” Marin had always said it was important to know every supplier to Werrick Castle personally. Yet another thing Ella hadn’t done.

  William strode quickly to Ella’s side. “Forgive me, my lady, b…but you must be thinking of the prior butcher.” He turned and indicated a shop several doors down in the opposite direction. A wooden sign hung down from iron scrollwork with what appeared to be a pig etched on it.

  Ella cringed at her own oversight. William was being polite as the shop was in the same place.

  The former butcher, Old Betsy, had put up all her wares for sale to move to southern England to be near her daughter. Edmund the Strong had come from a village on the Scotland border when his house was burned down in a raid. He’d offered Old Betsy a good sum and there he’d been for the last several months.

  William led the way, holding the door open as they entered the shop to find a large man in a leather apron. His long, dark hair was thick and lined through with strands of silver. The breadth of his shoulders and the gray blue of his eyes gave him the appearance of a smith rather than a butcher.

  “Good morrow, sir.” The butcher lowered his head respectfully to each of them in turn. “My lady. My lady.”

  “Good morrow, Edmund.” William grinned at the man in the congenial manner he always bore. “This is Lady Ella. She wished to meet you.”

  Edmund bowed. “Thank ye, my lady. Ye give me great honor with yer presence.”

  Ella nodded, unsure of what to say. Nan had groused about the man ever since Old Betsy left. But then, Nan wasn’t one for change and Ella suspected her dislike of the man had more to do with that than his meat. “Well met, Edmund.”

  “Your lad said you wished to see me,” William said.

  “Aye.” The large man glanced to Ella and Brigid. “I dinna mean to interrupt the ladies from their perusal of the market day goods.”

  “‘Tis fine,” Brigid offered. “We were preparing to leave soon.”

  “Then I dinna want to delay ye any further.” He procured a wrapped parcel from the shelf. “Would ye mind delivering this to Nan for me?”

  Ella reached for the parcel, but the man looked to William, clearly having meant to give it to him.

  “I’m going to the kitchen when I get back.” Ella kept her hand out. “I do not mind delivering it.”

  “Thank ye, my lady.” Edmund placed the wrapped meat in Ella’s palm with obvious hesitation. “Please tell her it’s a gift for her.”

  “I will.” And with that they made their way back to the keep.

  Ella was silent as they rode back, her thoughts on court, her future, Bronson, everything but the pleasant conversation going on between William and Brigid. As kind as Brigid was, and as open and honest, it was clear she did not want Ella and Bronson to go to Berkley Manor. That thought was in the forefront of Ella’s mind.

  She had not even wed yet and already she felt as though she did not belong anywhere.

  The hunt had been a good one. They had successfully taken down the boar and three stags, a meager amount by court standards, but a great accomplishment for two men with bow and arrows and a handful of hunting dogs.

  There had been something natural and honest about how it had been done that appealed to Bronson. Far better to have nature everywhere rather than an army of horses, a mass of drunken courtiers and more dogs than there were beasts in the brush.

  They entered the bailey to find Ella, Brigid and William having only just arrived from the village. Ella allowed Peter to assist her from the horse and smiled her thanks before looking up and seeing him. Her cheeks flushed in a way Bronson found immensely appealing. He missed the way he could make her cheeks go pink when they were alone together, fumbling in alcoves or loving the night away.

  “What did you get in the village?” He indicated the parcel in her hand.

  “Something for Nan from the butcher.” She lifted the wrapped item and tilted her head coyly. “He means to sweeten her toward him.”

  He led her from the stables and into the castle. “Will it work?”

  “You’re welcome to join me to find out.”

  He held out his hand for the gift. “It would be my honor, my lady.”

  She passed it in his direction, letting him heft the slight weight of it. The clean scent of outdoors and sunshine wafted from Ella’s hair and made Bronson’s blood go hot with longing.

  A quick glance confirmed they were alone. “I’ve missed spending time together.”

  Ella drew a soft intake of breath. Evidently, she had missed it too. He could practically hear her heartbeat quickening.

  “When we are at court, we will be with one another every night.” He brushed his hand against hers.

  “You were right about Brigid,” Ella said abruptly. “She does not want us to join her at Berkley Manor.”

  They made their way down the hall and shifted slightly to allow a servant to pass. The savory scents of the kitchen grew stronger as they got closer.

  Bronson frowned. He didn’t want Ella at Berkley Manor. At least, not until he was able to get it repaired and in good order. As it was, the place was nearly ready to collapse in on itself. “You asked her?”

  “Nay, I implied I wished to visit with them there.” Ella hesitated in front of the kitchen door. “I do not think she wishes me to go. She became very quiet. I believe I may have caused offense.” Ella swallowed and looked at her feet.

  “You did not offend.” Bronson lifted her chin with his fingertips. “Berkley Manor is ancient. I am sure she expects you would prefer something more comfortable.”

  He ran his thumb over her sensual lower lip and Ella’s gaze softened in a way he knew all too well.

  “More comfortable?” The corner of her mouth lifted. “Like court?”

  “Exactly.” He leaned closer and nudged his chin against hers. “I will not force you to wed me, Ella. Tell me when you are ready and that is when we will wed.”

>   She drew in a soft breath. “Truly?” she asked against his lips.

  “I want you to be happy with this union,” he murmured. “The king did not tell us when we must be wed, only that it had to be done.”

  Their lips brushed lightly, just enough to set his heart pounding. He wanted to cup the back of her head and capture her mouth in a searing kiss. But, nay.

  It was better to let her desire burn. To make her want him enough to do anything—even attend court of her own volition. To make the choice to marry him.

  He eased back. “Shall we deliver this parcel?”

  Ella blinked in surprise. She gave a knowing smile. “Trying to tease me to win my favor?”

  “Is it so evident?” He pushed the door open for her.

  She went through while giving him a long, slow stare that sizzled through him. The lady knew exactly what she was doing.

  Ella’s demeanor immediately shifted from one of a sensual temptress to that of a good friend as she smiled at Nan. For as much as Ella had said she was not a court lady, Bronson anticipated she would do exceptionally well.

  “And what are the two of you doing down here, aside from crowding my kitchen?” The twinkle in Nan’s eye took the admonishment from her question.

  “I’ve just come from the village.” Ella indicated the package Bronson carried. “Edmund the Strong said to give this to you.”

  Nan gave an exasperated sigh. “The man is impossible.” She wiped her hands on her apron and accepted the gift from Bronson. “I don’t know why Old Betsy couldn’t have stayed on.”

  Ella raised her brows at Bronson while Nan unwrapped her present.

  “Mutton,” Nan pronounced. “And not nearly enough to feed more than one person. Mayhap two if eaten sparingly.”

  Bronson nodded his approval. Mutton was the finest bit of meat to be found in England and Scotland. The butcher was working hard for Nan’s approval.

  “I think he means for you to eat it, as it was a gift.” Ella peered at the raw meat. “It was a very kind gesture.”