The Chief's Maiden (Border Series Book 3)

by Cecelia Mecca

  “My lord—”

  “Is not here,” she said in her most authoritative voice. If Anna Comnena could write a fifteen-volume history in Greek, certainly she could inspect a building without permission.

  Holding her head high, she marched forward unencumbered and peered inside the window of the moderately-sized stone building. Apparently this was a popular destination for travelers, for male laughter and calls for more ale filtered through the small window. She could see a barmaid and at least twenty men, some of questionable origins.

  “Why must you disobey even the simplest of orders?”

  She spun around at the sound of her father's voice. The sun had just begun to set, and since her clothing had never quite dried after being drenched by a light morning rain, she truly hoped they had finished traveling for the day.

  “Are we staying here for the night?”

  Her father frowned. “Aye, unfortunately.”

  With no other dwellings on this part of the journey, Juliette knew it was a choice between the inn and staying outdoors. They’d taken a different route from Chauncy to Condren, but there were few options this far north. The inn was located at the crossing of two important and well-worn roads, her father had said. As such, it was nearly as lucrative, though not as well-reputed, as The Wild Boar, the only other inn where she’d lodged in her lifetime.

  “I’ve made arrangements for a room. Unfortunately, they’ve only one available. The men and I will sleep in the stables. The innkeeper and his wife have assured me you’ll be quite safe as long as you stay in your room.”

  Grateful for a bed, she agreed.

  “You will enter through a back door and supper will be brought to you. Do not venture into the great room. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, Father.”

  And she did. This was not the sort of place one wandered about.

  “Lock your door and do not open it for anyone save me or the innkeeper's wife.”

  She supposed she was meant to follow him, so Juliette did just that. Walking around the building to the back, where the stables were located, she spotted a plump but pretty woman not much older than herself.

  The woman wiped her hands on a dirty apron and waved to them.

  “Hurry then,” she called, her voice deep. She was holding the door open.

  With a final glance at her father, who nodded, Juliette entered the inn and nearly gagged at the smell.

  “Tallow,” the innkeeper’s wife said.

  Juliette was sorry she’d seen her face. “I meant no disrespect—”

  Leading her up a creaking set of stairs, she called back, “I thank you for sayin’ so. But I agree with mi’lady. Have been askin’ my husband for beeswax candles for years.”

  She stopped at the end of a hall and opened a door.

  “Yer father worries for your safety, but this is safe enough. The other rooms here are used for storage. Just lock yer door anyway. I’ll bring yer dinner myself.”

  The innkeeper’s wife stepped aside and allowed her to pass. Juliette hadn’t been expecting much, but the room was surprisingly well appointed. Clean though sparse, the bed was much larger than average. Likely it had been inherited. Beds were taken quite seriously, and this was obviously a well-established inn. Some innkeepers were very wealthy, and Juliette guessed the owner was either a merchant himself or a descendent of one who had made a good living despite the hard conditions here in the north. The door closed behind her, and she hurried to lock it.

  Hours later, after changing, washing, and eating, Juliette turned around and around in bed, ignoring the noise below. Most of all, she tried not to think of him. Because her every thought led back to the one man she refused to consider.

  There was one small window, but she had closed the wooden shutters for the evening. It was now completely dark outside, and the only light came from a single candle that cast a flickering glow. She was watching the candlelight, mesmerized, when the innkeeper’s wife knocked on her door once again. The woman had returned twice—once with porridge, bread, and cheese, and another with a washbowl which Juliette had relished after two long days on the road.

  Juliette discarded the outer bedding, its squirrel fur lining a further clue as to the owner’s wealth, and made her way to the door. Her hand on the lock, she waited for the woman to call her name. But there was only silence. Had she imagined the knock?

  “Jules, open the door.”

  Nay! It could not be.

  Her hand froze and began to tremble. How was it possible? What was Toren doing here?

  He knocked again, and she finally found her voice.

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Then say nothing, but please open the door before I’m caught out here.”

  What did she care if the traitor were caught outside her door? It would serve him right to be apprehended by her father’s men. Although she’d seen him in a swordfight. If someone ended up dead, chances were it would not be her chief.

  “Jules. . .”

  It was the voice of the man who had come to her at Condren. That seemed so long ago, but in truth it was not. It was simply that so much had happened since then. Juliette was no longer that naïve girl. She was no longer a maiden.

  She unlocked the door.

  He must have heard the click of the iron lock because the door flew open and Toren pushed his way inside, immediately closing the door behind him.

  “Jules—”

  “Nay, Toren, you will not speak first.” If she were to endure the presence of this man she’d hoped to never see again, she’d at least say all of the things she’d been thinking these past two days.

  He looked quite disheveled, which somehow made him look even more handsome. When he reached up to tame his tousled hair, Juliette became momentarily distracted.

  Though she knew this hallway was deserted save for this sole room, Juliette nevertheless scolded him in a hushed tone

  “You lied to me. From the first time you admitted to being at Condren to ‘speak’ with my father to the day you took the most precious gift I had to offer. I risked everything to bring you word of the arrest. My father’s knowledge of our relationship, my reputation. . . everything. Aye, you told me we couldn’t be together, but I gave myself to you willingly. Do you know why, you despicable man? Because I loved you. Well, if this is love, I want no part of it. No part of you.”

  She turned, unable to look at him. Luckily, she could not see his face. They were too far away from the solitary candle, something for which Juliette was grateful. She had only to breathe in the scent that was uniquely Toren’s to be reminded that this man was her greatest weakness. Even though she wanted to rail at him some more, hate him even, part of her also wished for him to take her in his arms.

  She hated that part of her.

  He didn’t respond. Good! There was nothing more to say.

  She could sense his presence behind her. For a moment she thought he’d reach out for her, but he did not.

  “You have every reason to hate me, lass,” he started. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but the part of her that still wanted him demanded that she listen.

  “I was wrong. I should have trusted you with the truth sooner. When I learned your identity—you’ll remember your family’s ‘aversion’ to using titles—it was too late.”

  She had forgotten about that. Juliette forced herself not to smile at the memory of her ridiculous statement.

  “I was already drawn to you. When I learned you were Hallington’s daughter, I did try to stay away. But I couldn’t. You are the strongest, kindest, and most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And it was as if there was a higher power that kept forcing us together. I was too weak to fight it. But my mission, the reason I was at that tournament. . .”

  She didn’t want to hear this.

  “The king knew of my reputation. No suspicions would be raised by sending his ‘champion’ to fight. The Scottish warden was an ally of my father’s, one of a very small num
ber, and he trusted me. They believed that peace was no longer possible with your father in power. Men were killed because English reivers believed they could bribe their way out of justice.”

  “And they were right. You saw what happened at Bristol—”

  She did turn then.

  “My father did not accept bribes.”

  “It didn’t matter whether he accepted them or not.”

  She attempted to calm her breathing, but Toren stood so close. She could feel him even though they were not touching. The pull toward him was just as he described—it was as if something larger than them were pushing them together.

  “Do you not remember the conversation we had on the dance floor after I learned you were at Condren to speak with my father?" she asked.

  “I do,” he said. “But please hear me out. I’ve spent every day since my father died trying to protect my family and my clan. To shield them from pain and keep them safe. I trusted no one. Until I met you. I’d never met someone so willing to be themselves in a world that cares more for political alliance than courtly love. You were open and honest, even if it put you at risk of being hurt.”

  He took her hand, and she let him.

  “I realized how much I loved you the night you gave yourself to me, wanting to experience something beautiful even if it would cause you pain. I love you, Jules, and if you can find it in yourself to forgive me, I promise never to utter another lie to you again.”

  I love you. The words she had wanted to hear more than any other for as long as she could remember. She pulled her hand from his.

  “Love is not enough, Toren. I thought it was so important, but ’tis nothing without trust.”

  He would not be dissuaded, and this time he took both of her hands.

  “You’re right. Which is why I informed every clan that has ever attempted to ally with Kerr about the situation and asked for their assistance. Begging them to support your father, a man I know to be innocent, in exchange for our help when it’s needed.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you, Toren.” Indeed, she could hardly believe he’d do such a thing.

  “I thought being strong meant not needing help, but I was wrong. You showed me that strength comes from allowing others to see you for who you truly are. Trusting others isn’t a sign of weakness, but of strength.”

  “Trusting others sometimes leads to pain, Toren.”

  “Oh God, Juliette, I never wanted to hurt you. I promised Christina I’d never do so, but perhaps it was uttered too hastily. I should have said I’d never deliberately hurt you, and I make that same promise now.”

  She wanted so badly to believe him.

  “How did you convince my father that we should wed?” She couldn’t help but ask that question.

  “I did nothing save tell him the truth. Well, most of the truth. I shared my plan to rally the border clans, making it nigh impossible for the order of his execution to be carried out. I told him that I’d developed an ‘affinity’ for you, and I believed you felt the same way. It was his idea to align our families. The man really does want to bring peace to the border region.”

  That, she had already known well enough. “He suggested it?” He’d chosen a Scottish clan chief over the son of one of the most influential English barons in the region? Could he have learned about their relationship? Would he care? But her father had no use for love between a husband and wife, something he’d shown on many occasions.

  “And is that why you agreed?” she pressed.

  She could feel herself softening. She’d known the moment his hand touched hers that it would be impossible to stay angry at this man she loved with all her heart. But she really needed to know that he meant what he said. That he trusted her.

  “What do you think?”

  Nay, Toren may have been forced to dabble in border politics by those around him, but that was not what drove him. Love for his family, and for his clan, was what drove this man. And he wanted to make her a part of that family.

  Or did he?

  “I think you never asked my opinion on the matter,” she said.

  He pulled her into his arms, tilted her head up, and kissed her softly on the lips. A benediction.

  “Lady Juliette Hallington, the only woman I’ve ever loved, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Will you answer one question first?”

  “Of course.”

  “Would you have killed my father had he been at the tournament?”

  She could feel his muscles tighten under her fingertips.

  “I don’t know. I’ve lain awake many nights since we met trying to answer that very question. With each meeting between us, the answer was less clear. I knew disobeying the king’s order would put my clan at risk. But destroying the family of the Englishwoman I’d come to love and adore above all others. Juliette. . . I don’t know.”

  “Thank you for being honest.”

  She breathed in the scent of him, hardly able to believe he was here. But how had he even found her? Or reached her so quickly?

  “Toren, how—”

  “I believe you owe me an answer, lass.”

  She smiled to herself, excited to wield her newfound power and satisfied to be in the arms of the man she loved.

  And I plan to give you one.

  Toren couldn’t believe it.

  She pulled him down to her, touching her tongue to his without hesitation, and pressed against him in a manner that could only suggest one thing.

  This was her answer.

  She had forgiven him! Not only that, his future wife was seducing him.

  He didn’t stop her from removing every piece of his clothing, and indeed, he divested her of hers just as quickly. Shifting her closer to the candlelight, he looked down at the luscious curves that would be his forever and ran his hands from her shoulders, down her arms, and rested them on her hips.

  Toren was fully primed, but he somehow held himself back. He wanted to look at her more, enjoy the sight that was his very own English maiden.

  “You’re incredible,” he said honestly.

  Jules smiled, her soft features angelic in the candlelight.

  “You aren’t difficult to look at yourself,” she teased.

  He took a step closer, though not so close that they were touching. She sighed when he cupped both breasts in his hands.

  “I planned to join the convent.”

  He laughed, more loudly than he should have. But the thought was absurd.

  “If ever a woman were not made for such a calling, it’s you.” Running his thumbs over the tips that quickly hardened under his touch, he smirked. “As you can see.”

  He dropped one of his hands to her core, entering her easily, and his smile stretched even wider. “You’re wet and ready for me with just that simple touch.” He pressed and she swallowed. “You’d not have lasted long under such a vow, Jules.”

  He moved his fingers in and out, pressing his palm against her as he worked.

  “It was the vow of obedience I was most worried about,” she said on a gasp.

  Toren moved his hand even faster, vastly amused at the idea.

  “Then you feared the wrong one.”

  Quicker still, he moved, willing her to come apart under his fingers.

  “I didn’t think to see you again.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  That thought, along with the need that had been building since they’d last lain together, drove him to pull his hand away and nudge Jules toward the bed. He moved over her and poised himself to claim the woman he loved.

  Until he realized she still had not answered him with words.

  “Will you have me, Jules?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

  He did slip inside her then. She was tight and wet. Her hips circled, and he understood her need. He couldn’t get close enough, deep enough. By the sounds she made, Toren knew she felt only pleasure, so he let himself go completely. They moved as one, the bed creaking unde
r them.

  He lifted himself up and covered her breasts with both hands. Tipping her head back, Jules gave herself to him completely. The sight of her sprawled beneath him, her hips moving in perfect harmony with his own, filled him with peace and joy.

  Finally, she was his. And he belonged to her, now and forever.

  He thrust into her, his buttocks clenching as she cried out.

  With that, he let himself go completely and spilled his seed deep within her. Shuddering, he collapsed, shaken by the intensity of their lovemaking.

  “A maiden no more,” he said, lifting himself from her.

  “Nay,” she pulled him back down. He rolled to the side and took her with him, smoothing her hair into place behind her.

  “Nay? So you are a virgin still?”

  He ran his finger along her smooth white cheek, the candlelight dancing on her perfect face.

  “Of course not! I meant nay, don’t get up.”

  “Ahhh. . .”

  “But I was not a maiden before this night, as you well know.”

  “And if you carried my child? How would your Sister Heloise have felt about that, I wonder?”

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me! It was my decision, and a good one.”

  He tried not to smile.

  “Or it seemed like a good one. Would you have had me marry Wytham instead?”

  He shuddered. “I’d have you marry me and none other. For maiden or no, you are mine.”

  And he was a better man for it.

  23

  “I still can’t believe how incredibly foolish you were,” Christina whispered.

  Juliette squinted. The sun beamed down on them in the wooden galleries. As the warden’s daughter, she had been invited to sit with the earl’s family, but she’d wanted to stay with Christina. It was a decision she was questioning at the moment.

  “I suppose you—”

  “Suppose?” her friend shrieked.

  Christina’s husband sat on her other side, and he glanced over in surprise. Juliette ignored them both, pretending to listen to the proceedings below as heralds shouted rules that everyone knew, and few followed, to the two hundred knights and many spectators.