by Amy Mullen
Although she said it, she did not mean it. Everything in her was yearning for him to tell her to stay. She wanted him to tell her they would find a way to be at peace with one another and a way to stop blaming each other for something neither could control. Most of all, she yearned for his love.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Aye, I have," she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. "I am mad about you. I love you, Nicholas. The best thing I could do would be to leave as I said to give you peace. You will never know rest with me around."
He started to laugh. It began as a chuckle and morphed into a full belly laugh.
Gemma's eyes got big as she stood up and moved away from him. "You are laughing at me!"
"Nay, woman. I am not laughing at you. I am laughing at our predicament. You say you love me, but you want to leave. I love you and would do anything to keep you here, yet it appears you are so willful you do not care. I feel like I may be powerless to stop you from doing anything that pops into that pretty little head on your shoulders. How is that not funny?"
"You what?" Gemma said, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Do not tease me, Nicholas; 'tis cruel."
"Come here," he said and beckoned to her with one hand.
She studied him for a moment. She went to him and sat back down on the stool.
"You little fool," he whispered. He pulled her to him. His lips lightly touched hers for a moment and then he pulled back. "You do not know I love you?"
"I do not know what to say," she admitted.
"Do you think I married you because Henry said so? Do you think I came to Renoir to find you because I had nothing better to do today? Do you think I would have let you dress my wound if I did not love and trust you completely?" he asked.
"You no longer seek revenge?"
"Nay."
"But you cannot love me," she protested. "You hated me, remember? You went out of your way to prove that point."
"I think I have always loved you. I always knew, Gemma, there was nothing within you that would allow something like that to happen to my family. I knew."
"Then why were you so angry with me…" she started.
"I did not know what else to feel. I needed someone to blame. Anger was simple enough and suited my needs. The moment I saw you again I knew I was doomed. I kept up the pretense because it suited me. It made me feel in control. 'Twas all I knew for seven years. I see the folly of my thinking now."
"Why did you not tell me? You let me think I was a hindrance to your life."
"I knew the night of our wedding after you were attacked. When I thought of what Phillip meant to do to you, I nearly went mad with rage. I knew then I was done for. I could not tell you, little one, because if I had, I would have been lost in you for days on end. The castle would have been more vulnerable because I would not have left our bed. I also worried you still thought I was guilty of betraying you all those years ago. My pride was in my way, in our way, and I know now never to allow that again."
"Nay," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. She clenched his large hand between her two smaller ones. "I knew 'twas never you. I knew it, but like you, I think anger was easier to handle than to have a broken heart. It masked my pain because I did so love you then, and I love more now. I should have known better. You would never have let me down in that way."
"Then we are a pair of fools?"
"We are," she agreed. "And we have wasted a lot of time being angry."
"What are we to do about it then?"
"I think we should stop being so stubborn. If we love one another, what else do we need?"
"I need you," he said, pulling her up onto their bed. His strong arms held her close to him as he planted kisses all over her face.
"And I need you," she whispered in return. "I shall never leave you, even if you try to kick me out of your life."
"Never!" he declared after a long lingering kiss.
She was content, not caring about the past. He loved her! She snuggled close to him and promised herself she would never again allow a misunderstanding come between them.
"We have much to talk about. We must talk about what Gavin said to me. I need to tell Father what happened, and I do not look forward to it."
"Later, please," he said, smiling at her. "Can we talk about something else for a while? I am quite bored with Gavin already."
She nodded in agreement. "Do you still want to have children?"
"Aye, lots and lots of them."
"We already have one on the way, 'twould seem."
He stiffened beside her. "Why did you keep it from me? You meant to leave with my child?"
She paused, not sure if he was angry or not. "I do not think I would have actually left with your babe, at least not for long. I never dreamed you would return my love, and it was killing me inside. I could not live with you hating me but with a heart heavy with love. It hurt and I was so angry, I did not care. I could not bear it! I think I may have left, but I would have returned."
He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek. "Aye, I would have come for you babe or no babe. You would have returned whether you liked it or not. You must never keep these things from me. I was too harsh with you. Your declaration of love was overwhelming. If I could take back anything, it would be those harsh words I spoke to you that day."
"I know I should have told you, but I thought you wanted me to go away. Besides, 'tis early. The babe is wee yet."
"I forgive you, milady, but in the future, I am your husband, and I want to know everything going on with you."
"Even if I go on and on about how I cannot stop smiling and my heart pounds when you are near? Even when I must prattle on and on about how much I love and adore my handsome husband and cannot wait to be in his arms again? Even when I feel I will burst with pride because I am so lucky to have a brave knight at my side to protect all that is dear to me?" she said and then lowered her voice to a whisper. "Even when I must brag about how much I desire him?"
"Especially then." He pulled her closer and kissed her again.
About the Author
Amy Mullen is a freelance writer and romance author living in Corning, NY, with her husband, Patrick, two children, Rayna and Haylen, and an orange cat named Steve. Her first novel is a medieval romance titled “A Stormy Knight.”
Amy has been writing about love both lost and regained since she was old enough to have her first broken heart. Her love of history and her intermittent jaunts into amateur genealogy led her to a love affair with writing historical fiction. When not writing, she snaps pictures, enjoys the company of her children, and when time allows, loves to bury her nose in a good book.
Also from Astraea Press
Prologue
Wilt Hotham stood behind the chair, fingers drumming upon the wood. “Do you have news to report?”
“I’m afraid so, my lord,” answered the messenger, eyes shifting.
“What is this news?”
“Remember, I am but the messenger.”
“Of course, I understand. Now get on with it. Give me the news of my brother. Was he successful?”
The messenger trembled as he answered, “Nay.”
“Nay?” Wilt widened his eyes. Anger caused sweat to bead upon his brow. Hands clenched by his sides, he waited for more.
“Nay, sir. Unsuccessful, I’m afraid. The mistress of Greenbriar wasn’t to his… liking.”
Wilt flung his arms into the air, stomping his feet. His hands flipped the table, sending decanters full of whiskey against the wall. Amber-colored ink trailed downward, pooling silently on the white rug. Wilt’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits as he saw the servant shy away.
Good. At least someone recognized his power.
After the tirade passed, Wilt jerked his waistcoat down, placed thumbs against his ribcage and asked the servant to continue with the news.
Straightening from a cowering position, the servant began again with a trembling voice. “Your brother returned home and, well, he…”
&n
bsp; “Aye? What happened? Let me guess. Spent the whole week in the bedroom weeping like a child! Our family is in ruins. Our wealth completely disappeared because of his ‘habits.’ Our one chance to rectify the situation and he finds the bride unsatisfactory.” Taking a deep breath to calm his wildly beating heart, Wilt stared at the servant. “You will travel to see my brother. You will tell him he must go back and marry the mistress, claim the land for his own, and sell it. I don’t care whether the woman is to his liking or not! I will not lose everything because my brother is unwilling to experience the least amount of discomfort!”
The servant shuffled his feet.
“Do stop your fidgeting, and do as I say!”
“But, my lord—”
“What is it now?”
“I am afraid—”
“Aye? What is it? Come out with it then?”
“I’m afraid your brother is dead.”
Chapter One
England 1551
Cedric knelt awaiting the announcement of the English king. Some would say this was an unusual position for a Scot, but others would take the opportunity to remind the uninformed that the man wasn’t truly a Scot. In his experience, educating those people on his heritage and explaining the situation did little good. It was best to stay focused on the here and now, like the shininess of the floor, not the sounds of a crowd snickering at his back. These wayward thoughts ended when the sound of the young King Edward’s voice boomed.
“Cedric MacNeil of Scotland, it is an honor to have you in my court.”
Cedric’s head raised a fraction. His eyes shifted, looking around and noticing how the King’s minions were nodding their heads in agreement.
“You came to this court and offered your sword as a service to the English crown. In the beginning, it was our opinion perhaps you should be denied this privilege. But, after much thought and consideration the opportunity was extended to you. Not because of you, of course, but because of your mother, Elinor. Father was fond of her. She was a member of his court and held a prominent position in our English society.”
Heads around the room nodded once again, as the King gleefully added, “I can also say, agreeing to send you to compete in the tourney on behalf of my crown has brought me much reward.”
Here, the King paused and beckoned a man forward. He whispered unintelligible words, causing the servant to nod. The King continued his speech. “In order to reward you, as you have rewarded this court with your service, I wish to offer you not only the gold you’ve earned, but also a worthy piece of land.”
At the word “land,” Cedric’s head popped up. The faces around the room were wide with peculiar smiles.
The King motioned his secretary forward. In a businesslike fashion, the man spoke. The information concerned the location and the dimensions of the land. At the end, the king’s assistant added one more detail. “In order to secure the property as your own, there is one stipulation.”
Cedric stared at the shiny floor, which reflected back to him his expressions of honest interest. With renewed focus, Cedric listened to the attendant’s continuing speech. “In order to acquire this piece of property permanently, you must marry the previous land owner’s daughter.”
At the pronouncement, the whole court burst out in riotous laughter. In a flourish, the King dismissed everyone in the room, leaving in a flurry of robes himself. On bended knee, Cedric was left alone in the vast room wondering about his future. What could have been so amusing to the crowd?
****
A month after his experiences in the King’s court,
Cedric stood atop a rock-covered hill with the wind sweeping behind him, staring with longing at the castle nestled in the valley below. This was to be home? It was not the Scottish highlands with purple fields of heather, which he envisioned at night. But it was close enough.
So close, in fact, nearby Scottish clans had been known to kidnap local village wenches, as well as plunder the sheep from the surrounding hillsides. This was no doubt one of the reasons the King had graced a Scot with a chance at claiming this particular parcel.
Cedric surveyed all before him. The desire of his heart was coming to pass. Soon this would be home. Land to call his own. Land to grow crops. Land to raise sheep. Land to raise a family.
After the King’s pronouncement, Cedric discovered he’d not been the first choice for Lord of Greenbriar. In truth, he’d not been the second or third choice either. From rumors passed in the King’s court, Cedric learned many individuals of noble quality and birth had been chosen as potential lords of this fair land.
Many had traveled far and wide to claim their prize, but none had succeeded. It was said some had taken one look at the main hall falling in on itself, and spoken with the mistress of the keep, who would become his wife, and high-tailed it back to the city without elaborating on an excuse for their return. Others returned posthaste, refusing the land offered. Some came with legitimate reasons. They claimed the repairs needed required funds beyond their means. Others returned with peculiar reasons such as mythical maladies that denied them the ability to maintain this specific parcel and its inhabitants. Rumors abounded as to the “real” reason these nobles had departed the grounds. But no facts seemed to be had.
Cedric assumed some of the English Lords who had come north to the border castle were no doubt terrified of the local Scots living nearby. As he investigated the rumors further, Cedric heard such tidbits of information like, “the castle was in complete disarray,” with mention of everything from sagging walls to crumbing village homes. He’d also heard spirits frequented the castle even in the daylight hours, and anyone who stayed longer than a fortnight was struck with a disease of the bowels. One of the most interesting rumors overheard was about the mistress of the keep. She was said to be an ugly, witchy character who wielded a tongue of fire.
In his opinion, the nearby Scots would be easy enough to control once they learned of the new Lord’s lineage. As soon as Cedric took control, the rowdy neighboring Scots would step back. At least that was his theory. The castle walls and sagging village huts could easily be repaired with hard work and time. The ghosts were not a concern, since they didn’t exist. And he would prepare his own food or keep a close eye on what was to be consumed to keep his bowels in check. Which left only one concern—the mistress. A nagging wife was worse than constant dripping, or so he’d heard.
Although Cedric worried about his future spouse, nothing would deter his goal. After his mother’s passing, Father only lived a short time. His father’s death had caused the MacNeil clan to erupt. They refused to have a half-breed and an Englishman rule. Rather than fight to hold only a tenuous grasp on his land, and perhaps destroy his own family from within, Cedric voluntarily handed control to his uncle and headed to court to serve the English King. This was his chance at redemption. There was no way he would give up an opportunity to have land; and no ugly, witchy woman would stand in the way.
Scanning the road, Cedric thought he saw what he was looking for. Indeed, he had. Warmth filled his heart as Cedric approached the castle. Stopping in the nearby woods, he noticed the drawbridge was down. This allowed villagers to come and go freely.
With just his sporran, claymore, and the sparse clothing in his sack, he felt exposed. The few gold pieces sewn into his kilt were the only other items carried. All else had been left behind. He preferred to live off the land. What else did one need?
Cedric had not purchased a horse for the journey because there was no reason to hasten his arrival, nor did he wish to feed the beast. Besides, Cedric needed the extra time foot travel provided to consider a strategy for conquering this foe.
Without knowing her name or what she looked like, how was Cedric to find the woman he sought? The King’s court said the mistress was young but old. Beautiful, yet wrinkled and witchy. No two descriptions ever matched.
On the long walk from court to Greenbriar land, Cedric rolled many options about in his mind. Of course he’d considered
the direct approach. Introduce himself as a suitor and attempt to gain the lady of Greenbriar’s favor in a forthright manner.
The idea of taking the castle by force had also crossed Cedric’s mind. The act of doing this would make him no better off than if he’d stayed on MacNeil land.
No, he needed a plan. Something sneaky and well thought out. The idea of asking the villagers where to find the mistress was another option. Perhaps he would see this lady of Greenbriar without revealing himself and then decide whether pursuing her favor was worth the effort.
As Cedric waited, there was a sound of movement behind him. Within seconds Cedric held the intruder against the tree, a dagger to his throat.
“Calm yeself me Lord, it is I.”
Cedric released the servant and backed away. They grasped hands in greeting and Cedric said, “Thank ye, Barney, for coming.”
Barney nodded. “I left Duncan and the others in town just like ye said and I’m here to do yer bidding.”
“Good. Now let’s discuss what I need ye to do.”
As much as he tried to convince himself this would be an easy task, he knew otherwise. Others had attempted to conquer this rival and failed. Failure was not an option.
****
Sarra woke early and took time to languidly stretch in bed. Looking around the unadorned room, she felt happy and content. The huge four-poster bed filled most of the room. Up against the wall sat a prized possession, a writing desk which once belonged to her mother. Its wood shone bright as the sunshine peeped through the wooden shutter. Sadness threatened to engulf her. Mother’s passing when Sarra was a wee child had been a major factor in who she’d become. She should be grateful. Indeed, there was a lot to be thankful for.
