The Chief's Maiden (Border Series Book 3)

by Cecelia Mecca

  Juliette’s smile reached her eyes. “We must speak in private,” she whispered. Turning to face the crowd of onlookers, which now included more than one curious servant, she said, “My father and I will retire to the garden. I trust it’s been a long journey. Lady Catrina—”

  “I’m happy to look after your father’s men,” her hostess responded. Juliette smiled her gratitude.

  “Come, Father.”

  She began to lead him out of the hall, but not before catching the strange look Toren was giving her father. By anyone else’s standards, it would be judged as mere curiosity. But Juliette had begun to learn her Scotsman’s mood and expressions. There was something more there. . .

  And then the fool man stepped forward.

  Her father had just begun to follow her when Toren made it clear he intended to come with them.

  Afraid of what might happen if she didn’t first speak with her father alone, she shifted her gaze to Toren and said, “It appears as if we’ve taken you from your training. Please, do continue.”

  Without waiting for a response, she continued to lead her father down the stone corridor, its walls lit by iron lanterns. Before she stepped outside, Juliette turned to face her father and found that he alone was following her. She clenched and released her fists, not surprised her hands shook slightly.

  He didn’t wait long to address her.

  “You will explain what the hell you’re doing here, Juliette. Something tells me you planned this little excursion, and I’ll know immediately how you convinced Lord Hedford to leave the—”

  “Forgive me, Father—”

  As always, it felt as if she were confessing her sins to the priest. She’d asked for her father’s forgiveness more times than she could count, but he never quite seemed to give it. She was not the biddable daughter she knew he wished her to be.

  “—you are correct.” Denying the truth would not work. Her father always knew, well, everything.

  “When we learned about Rode’s involvement—”

  “We?”

  She’d become so accustomed to Toren’s willingness to discuss such matters with her—with one notable exception—that she forgot, for just a moment, that her father believed there was no place for a woman in discussions of a political nature.

  “I overheard a conversation I should not have.” She lowered her gaze. “But I’d met the Scottish chief and knew he was hoping for an audience with you. He’d been sent by his king to gauge the truth of the rumors. I suppose Hedford—”

  Her father raised his bushy brows.

  “Lord Hedford must have also heard of the man’s interest in you. He knew the Scottish chief had left the tourney and was only a few days’ ride away. We agreed it would be expedient to your cause to bring the message in person. You are innocent of any wrongdoing, Father! I knew it. And everyone else must know it as well. What if—”

  He raised his hand, and Juliette immediately fell silent. She hated that hand.

  “’Twas none of your concern, Juliette. These are dangerous times. Traveling this close to the border. . .”

  He shook his head, disappointed with her. As always.

  If he only knew.

  “I’ll speak to this chief myself. In the future, you’re not to involve yourself in such dealings. You need a husband to control you, as I’ve most certainly failed at doing so.”

  It was no wonder her father and Sister Heloise could not tolerate each other. He’d threatened many times to bring a tutor to Chauncy to “save” her from the sister’s corrupting influence, but the convenience of the abbey’s location and, she suspected, her mother’s interference, had always stopped him.

  Sister Heloise had made her believe and trust in her own judgment. Unfortunately, the sentiment that women lacked judgment was shared by most men. But not by her tutor.

  Or Toren.

  “Yes, Father.”

  She suddenly envisioned herself entangled in a conversation like this with Lord Wytham, continuing to offer false deference for the remainder of her days.

  She would not do it. Either she would wed Toren or join the sisters. She couldn’t continue to pretend to be this woman.

  To be her mother.

  Shaking his head, her father spun away and left, presumably to berate Hedford. Or Toren. Or perhaps both.

  Juliette sat on a nearby bench and attempted to calm her beating heart before she went back inside. At least her father’s unexpected appearance meant Toren would be forced to share the contents of his message. Forced to share his mysterious reason for leaving the tournament and for asking her to stay in Bristol.

  Forced to decide their future.

  So this was the man he’d been sent to kill.

  Toren had come back to the keep from an early morning ride, one that had cleared his head and firmed his resolve, only to find that Hallington and his retinue of English knights had beaten him to the hall.

  The man’s proud stance was the only quality he seemed to share with his daughter. Hallington’s face was scarred and battle-hardened behind his beard, and his stature was large and likely intimidating to most—exactly what Toren would expect of a man chosen to keep peace between borderers who cared little for the law and even less for each other.

  The shock of their visitor’s identity had quickly turned to fury. He abhorred the way the man spoke to Jules. That she clearly loved him, despite the shameful disregard he showed her, had only slightly tempered his anger. He did not like that his love became a different, more timid woman in her father’s presence.

  His brother-in-law had held him back from following Jules and her father, and Waryn pulled him down the hall and into the solar.

  “Did you intend to protect her? From her own father?”

  “Had that been Catrina—” he yelled, not caring who overheard them.

  Waryn closed the door of the solar.

  “Toren, I did not stand out there with you because Catrina asked me to, but because I’m trying.”

  Toren startled. His brother-in-law had never before called him by his given name.

  “I’ve forgiven you for taking my home and for everything that happened on that fateful day. I’ve offered my counsel, and you refuse to accept it. What must I do to earn your trust, you stubborn Scottish bastard?”

  His words were measured, his tone even. As always. But Toren had begun to know him well enough to read his moods. The man was furious. And rightly so.

  “You’re right, Bryce.” It was the first time he had ever called him by his given name either.

  “Do you not—” Bryce stopped talking, his eyes wide.

  Toren didn’t deserve the man’s forgiveness, but he had been given it. Should he not offer him the same consideration? Had he not allowed bitterness to cloud his judgment for too long?

  He held out his hand and Bryce took it, shaking it firmly. It felt like his first step toward redemption.

  “I nearly completed my mission for Douglas then and there when Jules looked down at her feet so demurely. That bastard has no right to speak to her in such a. . .” Toren said.

  Letting go of his hand, Bryce disagreed. “He is her father and could treat her more harshly if he so pleased.”

  Toren vowed never to treat his daughters thus—if he were lucky enough for Juliette to forgive him and give him children one day.

  “He’ll be coming for you,” Bryce warned.

  “Aye, he will,” Toren agreed. “But I have a plan. . . I could use your help.”

  Bryce did not flinch.

  “Tell me.”

  And so he did. As he explained himself, his brother-in-law’s normally expressionless face turn from interest to curiosity and finally shock. They discussed the matter further, and Toren was surprised by how grateful he was to have an ally in this. These last days, he’d stewed by himself, trying to find a solution without help, and now he was no longer alone.

  Moments later, when the man in question burst through the solar door with Bristol’s steward n
ot far behind, waiting, presumably, for a fight, Toren was ready for him.

  “Men,” he said before Juliette’s father could utter a word. “We’re going hunting.”

  20

  They’d been gone all afternoon.

  Although a hunting trip was a common enough pursuit, the sky had begun to darken, and Juliette could tell even Catrina had begun to worry.

  Christina and her husband, along with two of her father’s men, had left earlier that day. Unneeded as a guardian, Hedford had been anxious to return home. While Juliette sorely missed her friend, she was thankful to have made another. She adored Lady Catrina, and even though she was a mite intimidated by her knowledge and beauty, the woman was simply too nice for someone to remain in awe of for long. She felt as if they’d been friends for years.

  They waited together in her chamber—Catrina in the chair, Juliette pacing back and forth restlessly. When she caught her hostess frowning, Juliette began to panic in earnest.

  “They should have returned,” she said, not for the first time.

  “Aye,” Catrina admitted. Again.

  Though hunting deer par force was a favorite pastime of her father’s, a fact she had mentioned to Toren, she still found it odd he’d agree to such a venture with a man who had so infuriated him. Juliette was more inclined to believe her father would challenge Toren than hunt with him.

  “Come to the kitchen. Cook can make you—”

  “Nay, thank you.” The evening meal was being served in the hall, but Juliette’s stomach turned and twisted. She couldn’t think about food. Something was seriously amiss.

  “I must check on your father’s retinue, but I will—”

  “Please tell me when they return,” she finished, impatient to know all was well.

  With a nod, her hostess left the room, now completely darkened save for the glow of the fireplace and the candles beside her bed.

  After having most of the day to dwell on recent events—namely the arrival of her father—Juliette had come to a decision and was impatient to speak with Toren.

  She would tell him the truth.

  The thought of saying, ‘I love you,’ to a man who’d offered her no promises was terrifying. But watching the interactions between the Lord and Lady of Bristol, Juliette had been convinced of something very important.

  Love was not bound in books. She’d seen it. It was unmistakable in the way Catrina looked at her husband, and he at her. Christina and Hedford looked at each other much the same way. They’d obviously grown closer, learned more about each other, and though she may not know it yet, her friend was surely in love.

  She did not need to know any more. It was how she felt for Toren, and she would tell him.

  As soon as she had the chance. If she had the chance.

  Where are they?

  She could wait no longer.

  Grabbing a nearby candle, Juliette made her way through the hall and down the stairs.

  Remnants of the evening meal sat on the tables. The servants had begun to clear the hall, but some guests still lingered over their ale.

  There was no sign of Toren or her father. Or Catrina, for that matter.

  As she walked toward the solar, a figure appeared around the corner, nearly slamming into her.

  “Pardon, my lady,” the small voice said.

  Alfred. He, or rather she, attempted to brush past her, but Juliette stayed her hand.

  “Tell me, Alfred, why do you disguise yourself so?”

  The look of utter terror on her smudged face made Juliette instantly regret she’d said anything.

  “How. . .”

  “Your movements. I thought, at first, you were just a small boy. But when you struggled to lift the lance. . . How you did so at all I will never know. And your eyes. The long lashes you show no one, out of fear?”

  She guessed correctly.

  “You never have to fear anything from me. I must tell Toren—”

  “Please, my lady. . .”

  She nearly did relent, but he should know. And though this girl did not, Juliette trusted him to keep her secret. He would never willingly harm her.

  “He will help you. Tell him. . . what is your name?”

  The squire blinked, her light brown eyes troubled.

  “Never mind. Just please, tell him. Trust him. He does not see women the way many men do. He values my opinion, even in important matters. You can trust him. Will you do that?”

  Though she nodded, Juliette was not convinced she’d do so. She would have to consider whether or not to tell Toren herself.

  As the squire ran past her, Juliette heard a raised voice coming from the solar, the private room adjacent to the hall. She was sure it was Catrina. She made her way to the solar door, which was opened just a crack, and the raised voices inside drew her closer. That was when she heard another familiar voice.

  Toren.

  “How could you?” Catrina wailed.

  “Lower your voice,” Toren said.

  Juliette knew she should not be listening to a private conversation between brother and sister—nevertheless, she could not pull herself away.

  “I never thought you’d do such a thing. I understand your motives, but I thought you loved her. Why?”

  Her hostess was clearly infuriated.

  “What exactly do you think I’ve done?”

  Juliette heard two voices approach from farther down the hallway. Not wishing to be observed eavesdropping, she began to walk away. The passersby went in another direction, though, and she slowly made her way back toward the door.

  Toren laughed, which seemed strange given how angry Catrina sounded.

  “You think I killed Hallington.”

  Juliette didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.

  “But the blood. And you’ve been gone all day. You were expected hours ago. Where is he?”

  “He and his men went straight to the kitchen. The blood is from our prey, a spectacular hart of ten that—”

  “I don’t want to hear about the hunt! Tell me of Juliette’s father.”

  “As I said, the man is fine. They’re likely filling their stomachs as I stand here arguing with you. I came straightaway to speak with Jules.”

  What was happening? Toren? Kill her father?

  “So you didn’t kill him.” Her voice calmer now, Catrina said something Juliette could not hear. Though she suspected it was a sentiment of which Sister Heloise would not approve. “When you didn’t return. . . I just thought. Your mission. . . You never told me—”

  “Can we speak of this later? I want to find Jules.”

  That nickname had seemed endearing before. Intimate. Now it sounded cruel and hollow to her ears.

  Toren had not been sent to England to speak to her father. He had been sent to kill him.

  She ran, not caring where she went. Juliette raced out of the hall and into the courtyard and hid herself in a small crevice in the wall of the manor. The candle she’d grabbed from one of the tables gave off hardly any light, but she didn’t care. Juliette knelt onto the ground and clenched her stomach. Tears had begun to form even before she left the manor, and they spilled freely down her cheeks. Her chest hurt. Her hands shook.

  She stayed that way for so long, it was a wonder no one came to look for her. Eventually, once her tears began to dry, Juliette allowed herself to more fully consider the conversation she’d overheard.

  The Scots bastard. That devil’s offspring had been sent to kill her father, and Catrina had worried he’d done so during the hunt. Which meant he’d considered carrying out the mission up until this morning. He had held her, kissed her, and made love to her, all while planning to murder her father.

  Who else knows?

  Catrina clearly did, which meant Waryn did too. Did Lord Hedford know? Christina? Nay, her friend would never betray her so. Unlike that swine who had pretended to love her while refusing to answer any of her questions. And she’d allowed it. Her father’s would-be murderer.

  She wa
nted to kill him.

  But unlike him, she was more civilized than that.

  She would simply leave. And never return. For she wanted nothing to do with that man. And to think she had nearly told him she loved him.

  Ha!

  Love was a fantasy, and she was finished with fantasies. And dreams. And books.

  And most especially finished with Toren.

  Juliette stood, wiped the dried tears from her cheeks, and smoothed the front of her ruined gown.

  She had to find her father. It was time to go home.

  She was gone.

  After leaving his sister, Toren had searched the whole manor for Jules. He was happier than he’d been in a long time. The day had gone much better than expected. Hallington was as curt and hardened as he had expected, but Toren had learned from Jules that hunting, especially this kind of hunt, was one of the man’s most treasured activities. Toren had used the skills his father had taught him to ensure they felled two handsome harts. This particular type of deer was hallowed as a more prestigious kill, and he’d correctly guessed a successful hunt would put Hallington in a more agreeable mood.

  That had seemed incredibly unlikely at the outset of the hunt. Indeed, he had started to think he might have to kill the man after all. But slowly, throughout the day, he’d explained his role and the plan he’d formulated for them both.

  Toren was elated that Hallington had finally agreed.

  And now the woman whose troth he’d just secured from her father had disappeared into the night.

  He hadn’t managed to find her anywhere in or around the manor, so he’d looked instead for her father. He’d quickly learned from the groom that both Jules and her father had left, accompanied by the small retinue of men from Chauncy.

  In her haste, she hadn’t even taken her trunk of belongings.

  Now he and Catrina sat in the chamber she’d occupied, Toren holding a discarded garment she’d left behind.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  As they sat in silence, Toren’s chest tightened. He couldn’t help but remember his search for another woman he had loved.

  “Do you remember the morning our mother left?” he asked softly, still looking down at the cloth in his hands. He couldn’t quite make himself release it.