Ella's Desire (Borderland Ladies Book 3)

by Madeline Martin

  He grinned down at her. “My gift to you. For later.”

  Because as much as he was looking forward to giving her the present, now was for celebrating her gift.

  Ella had never been happier than she was the day of her wedding. Her story had taken such a wonderful turn: an unwanted union with the most incredible man, their unexpected love, and the beauty of life growing within her even as they said their vows. For all the times she had worried over how wrong it all was, it was now so perfectly right.

  And it would continue to be so.

  They made their way into the great hall where the silver had been polished and Nan had laid out a feast worthy of a king. Bronson led her to the dais. Though he tried to hide it, the day had exhausted him. His steps were slower, more measured. Despite the joy lighting his handsome green eyes, his face was still an unhealthy pallor.

  She had been hesitant to accept his idea to wed before he was fully recovered, but he had been insistent, and she had been so eager. It had been all too easy for him to convince her. They would not leave Werrick Castle until his health was restored and would see to Berkley Manor being prepared in the meantime.

  Ella sank into her chair beside Bronson and linked her fingers through his. A small plate of various nuts caught her eye. She would have to save several of them to give to Moppet and his newfound lady squirrel later. Ella’s darling pet had taken to a smaller squirrel in a tree in the gardens—his own happy ending.

  While she missed having Moppet’s comforting weight at her side in the bag she used to wear, she was grateful for him finding his own way. It was, after all, why she worked so hard to heal animals. To give them the life they had before once more.

  Bronson’s gaze on her stomach pulled her attention from the plate of nuts. “Are you pleased?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  He stretched his fingers to gently brush over her stomach. “I couldn’t be more so.”

  It was all the conversation they were able to have for the moment, as their family and friends came forward to offer their felicitations. Marin and Bran were the first, wishing them the same bliss that they had found in their union, followed by Anice and James with their small son and Piquette. It was good to see her sisters so content in their marriages.

  Next came Cat who made Ella promise to allow her to visit, followed by Leila who had recovered from the guilt of Bronson having taken the dagger meant for her. After all, he had saved her life in doing so, but she had saved his by tightly binding his wound. After her sisters came Brigid with Lark, followed closely by William and Hardy. The dog had not left Lark’s side since her rescue, as though sensing her need for protection.

  William had agreed to oversee the running of Harlick Castle, the property included in Ella’s dowry, in addition to his duties at Werrick Castle. But Werrick Castle would have to find a new steward eventually to allow William the opportunity to have a new life. That Brigid and Lark had eagerly agreed to reside at Harlick Castle might have had some impact on his decision.

  Last of all came Ella’s father. He regarded them both with a wistful smile. “Your mother was a romantic like you, Ella. I can feel her here in this room, beaming with pride for you.” He reached over the table and squeezed Ella’s hand. “I will always love you, daughter.”

  He nodded to Bronson. “I know you’ll take good care of her.”

  Bronson inclined his head in agreement. And with that, the feast began. The food was cooked to perfection, the wine ran without limit, and on and on the musicians played, filling the great hall with merriment.

  The food and drink restored some of the color in Bronson’s face. He looked at her now, his expression tender. “I have yet to give you your wedding present,” he said.

  She lifted her brow. “Oh?”

  He made a show of pulling open the breast of his doublet, concealing what was within as he slowly drew it out. She craned her neck with curiosity and saw the edge of a book between his fingers.

  “Is it Roman de la Rose?” she asked excitedly.

  He shook his head as that lazy smile tugged at his mouth. “You’ll not have heard of this book.” Before she could ask any more questions, he held it out for her.

  The cover was smooth, worn leather, the kind that appeared to have been well handled. It did not appear like other books with their ornate impressions and gilding. Nay, it looked like one she might write herself.

  Her interest piqued further, she drew it from his hand and opened it. A slanted script filled the page. But not of her own writing.

  She lifted her head in question. “Is this a story?”

  “Aye.” He took a sip of wine. His knee bounced under the table. Was he nervous?

  “Who wrote it?” she asked.

  He set his goblet on the table and fingered the stem. “Someone who most likely has no business attempting to write.”

  She glanced down at the pages and read the first line.

  The betrothal was unwelcome, both for the arrogant courtier who had spent his life only worrying about himself, and for the golden-haired beauty in a faraway land.

  She gasped and snapped her head up. “Did you write this?”

  He shrugged, his unease making him reticent. It was endearing, this shy side of her husband.

  Warmth filled her chest. “You wrote it for me.”

  “You said there were no stories on arranged marriages.” He indicated the book. “Now there is one.”

  “For me,” she repeated.

  He grinned unabashedly. “Aye. For you.”

  She turned the page to see where the lady fell from the tree. Then to another section where the man tried to woo her. “And how does it end?” she asked.

  “Happily, my beautiful wife.” He closed the book and put his hand over hers. “Happily ever after.”

  Ella’s cheeks hurt from smiling so broadly. Bronson, who had claimed to hate books when he met her, had taken the time to write one for her. To give her the very story she had deemed impossible. “Have you given it a title?”

  He gave her a little smirk before answering. “Ella’s Desire.”

  Epilogue

  Palace of Westminster

  March 1341

  Court life was not as difficult as Ella had anticipated. In fact, she found she rather enjoyed it. While there were often complaints from others, that the food took so long to arrive at mealtimes, that it was cold, or that the apartments were cramped and fit little more than a bed. Ella and Bronson had experienced no such inconveniences.

  William had done well in his management of Harlick Castle and its surrounding land and had trained the new steward at Berkley Manor to apply the same knowledge. As a result, both lands benefitted considerably. This had left William in the wonderful position to finally wed Brigid in a lovely ceremony Ella and Bronson had been fortunate enough to attend. The profitable lands also left Ella and Bronson exceptionally wealthy.

  In a court where the king had run his coffers dry with war and conquering, being a wealthy noble put them in a high position. Their food arrived at the great hall plenty warm and their apartments were large enough to even offer a spare room for Catriona to visit.

  Despite the constant strings of gossip that threatened to entangle those bold enough to incite it, there were many moments of peace. Like the one now in the garden. Some of the plants were beginning to show green once more after being dormant for winter, though there wasn’t a substantial tree in sight to climb. But it was an enchanting place one could bundle up warmly to enjoy, especially when one would rather spend time with their child than be indoors.

  A shadow fell over Ella. “I thought I might find you out here.” Bronson sank down onto the blanket she had laid out.

  Their daughter, Blanche, squealed in delight at his arrival and pulled from Ella’s grasp to race over to her father. He caught her and lifted her into the air. The sweetmeat she’d been eating fell onto his chin with a plop.

  Ella pushed her hands to her mouth to suppress a laugh. One she was unable
to contain as Bronson carefully lowered their daughter and turned his scrunched-up face in Ella’s direction. “I don’t suppose you have a bit of cloth handy?”

  Of course, he knew she always had a bit of cloth handy. “Here.” She handed it to him as she quickly snatched up the sweetmeat to prevent Blanche from putting it back into her mouth.

  Bronson gratefully swabbed his face. “It would appear I have been defeated yet again.” He winked at Ella and pulled Blanche back toward him, this time keeping her on the ground. He propped her on his legs and bounced her up and down, much to their little girl’s great delight.

  “Again,” Blanche cried. “Again.”

  And again and again Bronson complied with a laugh.

  Blanche’s nurse, Bess, sat nearby, idly working on a bit of mending. They’d hired the kind older woman to look after Blanche while at court, where children were often unwelcome. Indeed, most did not bring their families to court at all. But Ella and Bronson could no sooner leave their child at Berkley Manor than they could their own hearts. It was in these moments in the garden, away from prying eyes and the gossip which abounded, mostly about their decision to bring Blanche, that Ella was most happy.

  “Where is Cat?” Bronson stopped bouncing Blanche and surveyed the surrounding area.

  Ella nodded in the direction of several courtiers gathered around a lutist who plucked out a slow, romantic tune. “With her new friends.”

  There, Cat sat upon a stone bench by the young, handsome knight, Sir Gawain, a man who had only recently arrived. He was nearly a head taller than Cat, with shoulders as broad as Bronson’s and a face that had the eye of nearly every lady at court. Including Cat’s.

  Bronson narrowed his gaze. “I don’t like how she looks at him.”

  “Under our careful watch.” Ella waved her hand dismissively. “Next week, we return to Berkley Manor and she to Werrick Castle. Let the girl enjoy the appeal of courtly romance.”

  “Oh, so courtly romance is something to be enjoyed then?” Bronson set Blanche on the blanket. The child immediately tried to dart away. He pinched the back of their daughter’s coat, holding her in place as her feet worked in a determined march. “I remember a young lady who was immune to my courtly charm.”

  Ella sniffed. “Mayhap I was merely stubborn in my admission of its effectiveness.”

  Bronson shifted closer, bringing Blanche a step back with him. She found it to be a great game and began leaping forward with bursts of laughter.

  Bronson held fast to little Blanche. “So, you like the courtly love?”

  “Sometimes,” Ella replied coyly. “Depends on the man.”

  He smirked. “And which man might that be?”

  “A true hero, someone wonderful enough to inspire stories of love.”

  He nodded in consideration. Blanche threw her arms and legs up as though flying, and indeed she was as Bronson kept her lifted by the back of her coat. “He sounds like a noble and chivalrous man. Is he handsome as well?” Even as he spoke, he lifted his chin to the side to display his sharp-jawed profile.

  “Oh, aye. Except he knows it all too well.” With a laugh, she turned his face toward her and met his gaze. She wanted to kiss him, to have a moment alone with him to show how very much she loved him.

  Soon they would be at Berkley Manor once more with its fine furnishings and the repairs that had taken it from ruin to luxury. There, they would have their privacy to truly show their affection without having prying eyes.

  With the state of turmoil court was in over the king’s return from campaign several months prior, the entire court seemed on edge. He’d let go many ministers and judges on account of how affairs had been run in his absence. It had made for an unhappy king and a lackluster court.

  “Mayhap it’s a lady who lets the man know it so well,” Bronson said.

  Ella scooted closer to him with a smile. “What a lucky lady.”

  “Indeed.” And with that, he lifted Blanche into his arms and used their daughter to block their faces for a quick moment, long enough to press his lips quickly to Ella’s lips.

  Blanche clapped her hands as he set her down then distributed her own kisses to her parents and charged after something unseen. This time, it was Ella who caught their daughter and pressed a kiss to the girl’s silky blonde hair.

  “And lucky for the man as well.” Bronson settled back and gave Ella a smug little smile.

  She raised her brows in silent question.

  “Lucky him for being everything his lady desires.”

  * * *

  Thank you for reading ELLA’S DESIRE! I read all of my reviews and would love to know how you enjoyed the story, so please do leave a review.

  Check out Cat’s story in CATRIONA’S SECRET next!

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  CATRIONA’S SECRET

  Geordie has always been in love with Catriona, and after finally securing his knighthood, he's nearly ready to do what he's always dreamed of: propose marriage to Cat.

  Are these two destined to be star-crossed lovers? Or will their love be stronger than the treachery of court and the secrets that threaten to tear them apart?

  ***Keep reading for a first chapter preview of CATRIONA’S SECRET***

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  CATRIONA’S SECRET

  Chapter 1 Preview

  May 1341

  Brampton, England

  Lady Catriona Barrington awoke to a familiar clenching of her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut against the discomfort in the hopes it would pass. It did sometimes.

  She hated this queasiness. It reminded her of the sensation of being drunk, of having too much wine. Of that regrettable night with too many bad decisions. She hadn’t had a sip of wine since.

  That had been nearly two months ago, and still the memory was so strong in her mind. The wine, the poor decisions, Sir Gawain, that resonating hollowness within her.

  She shuddered under a fresh wave of nausea. Sweat prickled at her brow. She was losing her battle with the strange illness that had plagued her since her return to Werrick Castle.

  Isla thought it might be the switch from English fare to the more rustic food of the border. Cat had accepted the explanation and hadn’t bothered to seek further counsel, even though she continued to be ill. Eventually, she would readjust to the food at home. Wouldn’t she?

  Cat’s mouth filled with a flood of saliva. She clenched her hands into the sheets, inundated by thoughts of Sir Gawain’s whispered promises and flattery.

  All of court had been thus: promises and flattery. Resplendent with costly fabric and sparkling gems that lay like a fine veneer over all the cultured courtiers.

  Her older sister, Ella, had always been the one to sway toward romance, but even Cat had fallen prey to the seduction of court. There she was not merely a younger sister, but a woman in the prime of her life, ripe for wooing. She had felt beautiful, special.

  She did not feel either such thing on the last night of her time at court, when she’d accompanied Sir Gawain into the rose-laden alcove. What had followed had been over quickly enough to send her reeling, leaving her with a sticky mess and regret.

  He had not mentioned marriage, but she could not help but think of it. She ought to marry him after what they had done.

  Cat lurched upright, yanked crudely from her unpleasant thoughts. Her attempt to put off her illness had left her with scarcely enough time to reach the ewer before her stomach divested itself of any remaining food in her stomach from the night before.

  When she’d first returned to Werrick Castle and found her effects moved to her mother’s former room, Cat’s reaction had been a blend of emotions. Disappointment to no longer share a room with her youngest sister, Leila, after eighteen years of having done so. But there was also an appreciation for her own maturity in now oc
cupying her mother’s room, as all her older sisters had before her. Now, Cat was simply grateful.

  She was able to keep everyone from worrying unnecessarily over her while she readjusted to food on the border.

  After she’d cleaned herself, she made her way down to the great hall. A familiar voice among the conversations floated toward her.

  Marin.

  The realization that Cat’s eldest sister was visiting sent her speeding through the stone archway and into the wide expanse of the great hall. She’d always loved this room best in all the castle. It was where life happened, dances and weddings and feasts. Troubadours’ voices echoed in the great space as they spun their tales and added their own spice of magic to the room already filled with colorful tapestries.

  And now this room brought her a reunion with Marin, whom she had not seen in more than a year. Marin got to her feet as soon as her gaze landed on Catriona.

  Women as tall as Marin often wore their height like an ill-fitting mantle. But not Marin. Nay, she rose like a queen, her slender frame regal and beautiful.

  “My precious Cat.” She opened her arms and drew Cat into her embrace.

  Cat remained cradled against Marin for a long moment. Perhaps too long, but Cat didn’t care. She could stay forever hugged against Marin, breathing in the comforting scent of lavender that always surrounded her sister. Cat had been only six when their mother had died, thus Marin had been more mother to her than their own.

  “I hear you’ve been unwell.” Marin released Cat and examined her with a concerned eye.

  Cat waved her off and smiled brightly. “’Tis naught to concern yourself with. I simply need to get accustomed to border food again after all the rich fare at court.”