Heart of Stone

by Quinn, Paula

  Nicholas looked at her and smiled. “I feel the same way about her.”

  “Good. You have intelligence in your head. She deserves that.”

  Nicholas agreed and they proceeded to make her blush.

  They discussed Phillip briefly with the viscount promising to kill him if Nicholas did not.

  Finally, Nicholas thanked him again for everything he had done. Nicholas vowed that no one in the viscount’s family would find themselves at the end of his or his brothers’ swords. If Bamburgh ever needed men to fight at his side, the MacPhersons would be there.

  After that, they went to the great hall in the keep and all the men drank to Mr. Lawson’s success and Nicholas’ safety. They were mostly happy to be getting paid. Lord Rothbury had been safely delivered.

  They told Nicholas about holding Phillip below stairs in the dungeon. Nicholas remarked that he would like to see him. Mr. Lawson agreed to letting him whenever Nicholas wanted to go.

  Julianna tried not to have too much to drink. She wanted to be fully aware of how things were going with Nicholas when they were finally alone. There was so much to tell him, so much for her to hear.

  “Well,” Mr. Lawson said and lifted his cup one last time. “Your lady is most happy to have you back, my lord. I hope you both find a way.” They all lifted their cups and drank and no one questioned what way he was talking about.

  Julianna thought of Phillip somewhere below. Her skin crawled.

  After his toast was over and drink and food were consumed by all, Mr. Lawson rose from his seat, winked at her, and then left the table and took his men with him…along with young Simon under his arm.

  With no one left but a few stragglers, Julianna let out her breath in her seat beside Nicholas and turned to him. Oh, where to begin?

  “Nicholas. I did not know the viscount when he found Agnes, with Elias and me. The men who had arrived before him were aggressive toward Elias, complaining of his crying. I worried one of them would try to harm him. I had my bracelets and my rings and I managed to take down two of them. But I—what?”

  “What are you saying? What bracelets? What rings? What did you mean you took down two of their men?”

  She told him about her fang jewelry along with other various, poison-tipped things she carried.

  He smiled at her and touched a curl that was falling down her cheek. “You are an outstanding woman, Julianna Feathers. You are strong and courageous, charming the swords off noblemen and mercenaries alike. I trust that you did the best for Elias. Especially by praying for him—so Simon often tells me. Rauf probably found them.”

  He smiled and she was thankful that he didn’t hate her.

  “Still,” he said. “I will leave tomorrow for Lismoor. Rauf may be needing me.”

  “Of course,” she said, disappointed and doubtful she could let him go.

  “Tell me of Berengaria. What happened to her?”

  He told her all he knew and when she began to cry, he ushered her outside to the ice-covered garden. “I know ’tis heartbreaking what she went through at the hands of the DeAvoys.”

  Julianna nodded and sniffed. Then, “Nicholas?”

  “Aye, love?” He closed his arms around her, keeping her warm.

  Love, that’s what he’d called her several times now. It warmed her to her core and she nestled deeper into him. He didn’t hate her anymore. Perhaps he even loved her.

  “I know what Berengaria knew,” she said into his muscles. “The thing that put her in the pit.”

  “What was it?” he asked, withdrawing just enough to look at her. His dark brows were knitted over his eyes.

  “I do not want to tell you, my love. I do not know if I can!”

  “Now you must,” he said. “You know that, aye?” He crooked his mouth at her in a familiar half-smile that had always melted her heart, and still did.

  She wiped her eyes and took a breath then blew it out. “She and Claudia DeAvoy were—they were both—with child at the same time by Roger DeAvoy.” Oh, she hated having to be the one to tell him. She sniffed again. “They both had their babes, but Claudia’s babe died during its delivery. Berengaria had a healthy baby boy.” She continued speaking even as he let her go and backed away, the terrible truth dawning on him. “They took Berengaria’s son and gave him to Claudia and they sent Berengaria away.”

  He was quiet for so long that she began to fear he might never speak to her again for bringing him such terrible news.

  “Nicholas…”

  “Phillip,” he said quietly, staring at nothing. “Phillip is her son.”

  “You are her son!” Julianna insisted. She had to, for she could hear in his familiar voice utter disgust and horror. She could see in his smoldering, steel eyes the rage, coiled and so masterfully controlled for years, begin to unravel. “Nicholas, you listen to me,” she commanded and took a step toward him with such force her curls flipped over her shoulders and jostled around her face. “She chose you, not to lie at her breast—she had me for that—and ’tis why he hates us. But because you needed her, she went to you in the same way I felt when Elias needed me. It bonded me to him instantly. Berengaria kept you as her own, giving you a name, William. ’Twas you she raised, you she loved, you and me. An orphan and a might-as-well-have-been orphan. Two for the one she lost.” She smiled at him.

  He smiled back and pulled her into his arms. “I have missed you, my fire.”

  His eyes were closing as if he could scarcely wait to kiss her, taste her.

  She tilted her head and parted her lips, receiving him like water to a parched and dying soul. He tasted like need and truth. Love she could trust through anything, and though everything else had failed her, his love never had. It never would. She opened her mouth as his hands slipped over her curves, pulling her closer by the thigh and one buttock of her plump arse.

  She met his tongue in an eager, seductive dance that heated their blood. His kiss grew deeper, more urgent.

  Dragging both palms up her sides, he encircled her waist and lifted her off her feet.

  She instantly coiled her legs around him and locked her ankles. Her long hair fell around them like a curtain. She felt him pause and then grunt as he took her arse in his hands. She wanted him desperately. She wanted to hurry to her room with him, bolt the door, and kiss him like this until their clothes came off and their bodies came together.

  But what about Phillip?

  He was her husband.

  He was Berengaria’s son.

  “Nicholas,” she whispered against his mouth and uncoiled her legs.

  “Aye,” he sighed and closed his eyes as she slipped down his hard body.

  “You are her son, but so is Phillip. We cannot kill him. We cannot do such a loathsome thing against her.”

  He let her go. “Is this what you are thinking about while kissing me? Killing Phillip?”

  She hadn’t meant for it to seem that way but, aye, it was true. It was what she was thinking about. “I am trying to keep a level head. Also, isn’t it better that I think about killing him and not kissing him?”

  He stared at her as if she had just felled ten of his men. “Why would you say that?”

  “Well, is it not?” she demanded.

  “Aye, ’tis, but—”

  “Do you disagree with me concerning Phillip and Berengaria?”

  “No, but—”

  “’Tis important to me, Nicholas.”

  He pulled her close to him again and rested his chin on her forehead. “Mmhhnn…”

  For her, this was the worst part. “We cannot kill him…and…he is still my husband.”

  Nicholas shrugged his warm, wide shoulders. “We will go live in the Highlands, near my brother, Cain, and his wife, Aleysia.”

  “Just like that?” She snapped her fingers at him. “What about Lismoor? You would be giving up the castle and your title.”

  Her words drew a scowl from him.

  “I do not care about titles.”

  “What abo
ut the church?” she continued, not catching on to his deepening frown. “They will denounce us. King Edward will order our arrest.”

  “What is the alternative, Julianna?” he demanded. “Being apart? Would you go back to him? Would I ever stand for it? No. When this is all settled I will return to Invergarry. England is not my home. Scotland is my home. Are you with me?”

  She had always been with him. She told him.

  “Even without my title?”

  “I should slap you for that.”

  He smiled, and she noticed that he was doing it more.

  “I must get back to Lismoor for Elias.”

  “I do not want you to go,” she cried. “But I know you must. Can I not go with you?”

  He shook his head. “If I must fight, I do not want to think of you fighting also. ’Twill distract me.”

  “But I am afraid of losing you.”

  “You will not lose me,” he promised confidently. “There are many things I love about you. I plan on telling you all of them.”

  They stayed up late, talking in the garden and then in the viscount’s private solar. They agreed about what to do about Berengaria, and what to do with Phillip—for now. She, Berengaria, Simon and Margaret, would wait for him here.

  She directed him to her chambers and let him kiss her goodnight.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nicholas waited outside Julianna’s door. He didn’t know what he was waiting for exactly. The nerve to go inside? To finally be with her? He’d kissed her goodnight. How much of a fool would he look like if he—?

  The door opened and Julianna stood on the other side, looking as uncertain and anxious as he.

  “I was just about to knock,” he told her, feeling inept and ill at ease with her for the first time in his life.

  “Oh!” She feigned a short laugh and a look of surprise. “I was…coming…out…to…” Nicholas took her in his arms and pulled her back inside, shutting and bolting the door behind them.

  He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head to kiss her from a different angle. Each was intoxicating, a flame setting the rest of him on fire. He scooped her hair away from her nape so that he could press his lips to her skin and smell her, taste her. He wanted nothing more than this. Her. For the remainder of his days…or of hers. No more wasting them.

  “Julianna,” he groaned against her throat, curling one arm around her waist. A memory dashed across his mind of his voice crying out her name while he dreamed of her. “I have loved you my whole life, but ’tis not enough. Come with me to the Highlands.”

  He opened his eyes to gaze at the face he knew and loved so much. He kissed her parted lips and felt a pull of his heart that bent him over her.

  Suspending her in his embrace, he slipped his tongue into her mouth and deepened their kiss. He loved touching her and let his hands explore all her soft curves. He pulled her up and then tugged at her léine. She tugged at his in return. Her chemise still covered her when he pulled her léine over her head. He was bare beneath his. He liked how her gaze took in the breadth of his shoulders, his lean muscles produced by hard practice and not having an abundance of food for the past two years.

  He kissed her smile and then took the deepest recesses of her mouth. He felt hard, tight in his restraints. He wanted to be free of them. He unbuckled his belt and dropped it to the floor. He tugged at the laces of his breeches and kicked off his boots.

  She held her hands to her mouth and smiled, blushing and doing a poor job trying to hide it. “It does not feel real, but rather like a dream, that I should be here with you.”

  “Or I with you,” he agreed with a low chuckle.

  She untied the laces of her breeches with more hesitancy than he. She undressed with grace and offered herself up to his suddenly deft fingers, letting him peel away at her clothes. When he was done with her, he yanked his pants down around his ankles and straightened.

  She looked down at him jutting up to the heavens, hard as steel, long and heavy, threatening to break her in half. “Nicholas—”

  “Aye, love, I know,” he whispered and lifted her in his arms. He carried her to her bed and set her down on it. Then he backed away just a bit and set his ravenous gaze on her. Her long, red curls fanned out around her body. He let his gaze devour her. When taking in the sight of her led to wanting more, he returned to her and climbed into the bed. “You are a feast for my eyes.”

  “And you are for mine,” she said boldly, seducing him.

  He took her nipple between his lips and pulled softly, dragging a moan from deep within her throat. He flicked his tongue over the tightening bud and relished the way her body responded to his. His body responded no differently. He ran his hand over his steel shaft and moved over her. She immediately spread her thighs. The thought of taking her brought him close to eruption. Here she was now, naked and spread out before him, ready to give all to him.

  His blood felt charged with lightning as he hovered over her. He would take his time with—her eyes were closed, as if sealed shut. Nicholas noticed the rest of her, taut as a harp string. He spoke her name.

  She opened her eyes, petrified. When he reached out to touch her, she leaped and tried to laugh but Nicholas was almost certain he could hear her heartbeat.

  Maybe it was his own. It didn’t matter. “Julianna,” he said in a comforting whisper. He moved off her and lay on his side beside her. He took her hands in his. He’d never seen her like this. She was struck with pure terror for at least twenty-five breaths.

  “My love.” He spoke gently, kindly. “Julianna, my fire. You are safe.” He touched his fingers to her and she bolted into his arms.

  “Oh, Nicholas!” She came out of it just as quickly. “I cannot forget what he—’tis difficult to focus completely on you.” She turned over on the bed and let him see her back. When he saw the scars, he wept for her and vowed to kill Phillip with his bare hands.

  He held her in his arms and did not try to make love to her again. He didn’t think he could take hearing it but he asked her if she wanted to talk about it with him.

  “No.” She shook her head, facing him. “I have not waited my whole life for you to let him ruin it.”

  He looked into her eyes and smiled. “We have the rest of our lives to be intimate. I want you to feel at ease and happy and safe.”

  She kissed his dimpled chin. “You are making it easy for me to feel that way.”

  They talked and kissed and laughed a little, entwined in each other’s arms. She told him about her dreams and wanting to find him to show him she had changed from a cowardly, selfish girl, to a thoughtful woman. He told her he’d noticed and admired her for who she was. After a while, Julianna fell asleep.

  Restless, Nicholas rose from bed. He sat in a chair that was uncomfortably small and watched Julianna sleep. What kind of torture had she suffered at DeAvoy’s hand? He didn’t care that she had chosen Phillip as her husband. She hadn’t deserved the life he’d given her as his wife.

  He wasn’t sure he could ever forget the fear on her face tonight or the sight of her back. She wasn’t seeing him. She was seeing Phillip. Nicholas was going to destroy him in Julianna’s life and in her mind. He was going to see to it that Phillip never hurt her again. He was going to show her every day that his love could be trusted and that she was safe. He never wanted to see that kind of fear in her again.

  He didn’t only want Phillip dead, he wanted to be the one who killed him.

  He dressed and left the chambers. He grabbed a torch from the wall and headed down the stairs—and down some more.

  Quietly, thoughtfully, he made his way to Edlingham’s dungeon to speak to a man he’d hated all his life. A man whose family was responsible for taking his mother. A man who used his strength and force against the woman of Nicholas’ heart. A man responsible for killing Molly and the others at Lismoor and the villagers.

  If Nicholas killed him in secret, could he keep it from his mother?

  He had two more st
airways down to ponder it.

  The first thing to hit Nicholas was the smell then the heat. There were no windows down here, no fresh air. The light was low. He almost didn’t see the old dungeon keeper rising from his chair, and almost hit him in the face with his torch.

  “What do you want?” the old man asked.

  “I want to see Phillip DeAvoy. I am the Earl of Rothbury.”

  Nicholas took a step back when the old man drew a long spear and blocked his way.

  “I do not care who you are, Pup. ’Twill be ten shillings to pass.”

  “Do you care who the Viscount of Bamburgh is? He is your master, is he not? Does he know you are taking money from people wanting to speak to his prisoners?”

  The old man stared at him with cloudy eyes. His skin was sallow and dry enough to look like dust. It was also covered in brown spots and shadows.

  Coming to some conclusion he didn’t like, the dungeon keeper lifted his rod and muttered, “Pass.”

  Nicholas scowled at him and stepped into another short corridor. There were two cells at the end set into the wide wall.

  The doors were made of solid metal.

  The dungeon keeper appeared at his side and placed a key in the door. He pushed the door open then moved aside. “You have five minutes.”

  When Nicholas saw Phillip bolting to his bare feet, his ankles cuffed to chains hammered into the stone ground, he knew he was going to need more than five minutes. “I will pay you a shilling a minute.”

  “Very well,” the old man said, looking and sounding as if he could care less either way. Nicholas knew better.

  “Do you have that many shillings, servant?” DeAvoy asked with a snarl as Nicholas stepped closer.

  “That is far enough,” the dungeon keeper called out. “Another step or two and he can reach you.”

  Nicholas wanted to say something back but he remained silent. Phillip laughed and then cursed him. “You have always been afraid of me, Stone, admit it!

  Nicholas smiled. But he said nothing.

  “How did you get away from those incompetent imbeciles?” he demanded to know, then laughed at himself. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”