My Heart Belongs to You (Medieval Romance Trilogy Book 3) (33 page)

Ysabelle shook her head. “He believes all is lost?”

“Yes, it’s only a matter of time.”

Nicholas would die just as he had lived. Alone.

She jutted her chin. “Was he going to tell me this or just send me away without an explanation? Without saying goodbye?”

“I think it’s too painful for him to say goodbye.”

It couldn’t be true. To never see Nicholas again, she couldn’t contemplate it. “I won’t leave Sutcliffe, even if my father isn’t…”

Realizing what she’d almost blurted, Ysabelle swallowed her words. Her hand went to her abdomen, where her babe rested. She must be careful and not speak her mind so freely. There was too much at stake. She must think of her unborn child.

“You know the truth?” Alex whispered, his face shadowed by the dark.

Ysabelle blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You know who Nicholas’s father is?”

Feeling the burn of fresh tears, Ysabelle nodded her head. She clutched her shawl tighter about her throat. “How did you find out the truth?”

Alex breathed a weary sigh. “Come with me. We must speak in private.” He reached to take her arm and guide her into the privacy of the stable.

Chapter Eighteen

Standing in the bailey, Nicholas stared at Sutcliffe keep. In the early morning shadows, the fortress rose overhead like a brutish fiend. The gray stones reminded him of the coldness of his life. Harsh and remote.

The pungent scent of wood smoke filled the air from the cooking fires. Each corner of the bailey had groups of his people sleeping together to keep warm. Inside the hall, more people slept on the benches or the floor, wherever they could find room. Piles of rocks lay about the yard, stacked neatly by his men after the catapults had fired missiles that had broken down part of the wall. Though the castle and walls had withstood all that the English had thrown at them, the repairs would be extensive. It would take years to repair the damage. The people of Sutcliffe had endured the brutality without complaint. Emotion clogged his throat when he considered what they all had gone through and he felt pride for their loyalty and valor.

His eyes felt gritty with fatigue and he clenched them shut. In his mind, he saw a vision of Sutcliffe’s walls buckling beneath a battering ram. The people fled in chaos only to be rounded up by English soldiers and beheaded or thrown into the dungeons. As Lord Marshal bound his hands, Ysabelle was dragged from the keep and brutalized. Her fearful cries clawed at his heart. While she watched, he was forced to the chopping block. The executioner raised the blade high and down came the ax. Nicholas’s head rolled on the ground, his body falling limp.

In the English king’s dungeon, Ysabelle screamed in agony as she lost their child. Blood was all around, filling the castle walls, mingling with the river until it covered all the land. Their people tried to fight, losing their lives one by one, until there was nothing left but desolation.

With a gasp, Nicholas opened his eyes. He coughed and wiped the sweat from his brow. His hands trembled. He could barely breathe from the heavy weight on his chest.

He had failed them all.

Alex must have taken Ysabelle away from the castle by now. Nicholas had wanted to go to her, to bid her farewell, to kiss her one last time. To explain why he must send her to safety.

He couldn’t do it. He didn’t trust himself. If he saw her again, he might weaken and beg her to stay with him until the end. Ah, he was a coward after all. It would be hard to face the English king’s executioner alone. Yet, he must. To shield Ysabelle from the horror of his death. To keep her and their child safe.

Almost begrudgingly, he made his way to the great hall. Without Ysabelle there to warm his heart, the castle would be a cold and empty place.

There was no fire burning inside. Hannah was kneeling beside the wide hearth, cleaning ashes from the fire pit and he drew near.

“How is Ada?” he asked.

Looking up, Hannah wiped her face with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of black across her chin. “She is quite ill, my lord. But Lady Ysabelle has tended her well and says she will recover.”

Though he didn’t like Ada, Nicholas was relieved to spare Ysabelle the grief of losing someone else she loved. His wife’s happiness meant everything to him.

Nodding his head, he moved away and climbed the stairs. He found his chambers empty but had expected no less. Ysabelle and Alex were gone.

The room felt dark and cold. The covers on the bed had been smoothed. Even as he thought of holding Ysabelle close, his body tensed with a deep and abiding desire to be near her once more. To hold her next to his heart and cherish her for all time.

In the shadows, he moved to the table where one of her blue hair ribbons lay. Picking it up, he pressed a kiss to the silken twine. As he did so, he caught the faint scent of heather.

Ysabelle’s scent.

A tear slid down the back of his throat and he brushed the sleeve of his chainse against his nose. He swore softly beneath his breath. He was acting like a lovesick boy. Alex and his men would laugh if they saw him now. The fierce Scots Ram brought low by his deep love for a woman.

If he stayed here much longer, he would be consumed by self-pity. Better to die a warrior’s death than stay here and mewl like a forgotten child.

Tucking the ribbon inside his chainse, he left the room, stumbling down the narrow stairs as he made his way to the bailey. He was done with waiting. If Lord Marshal wanted his head, he would have to take it by force. He wouldn’t die easily.

Outside, lighted torches sat along the high battlements, their flames flickering in the wind. As Nicholas crossed the yard, the muted voices of his men as they spoke to each other reached his ears. Looking up, he saw them walking the parapet with their spears and arrows, peering down at the English campfires.

Nicholas crossed to the stable. He peered through the dark, looking for his stallion, but couldn’t see the beast.

A movement caught his eye and he snapped his head in that direction. In the shadows, he could make out Alex standing beside his warhorse, holding a saddle. A single tallow candle rested atop the railing, its faint flame flickering. Shadows flashed across the timbered walls. It appeared to Nicholas that Alex was removing the saddle rather than preparing his mount for riding.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had gone already,” Nicholas growled, his voice rough with emotion.

“I did leave. Of course, I had to bind Lady Ysabelle hand and foot to get her to go with me,” Alex said.

“Where is she? Is she safe?” Nicholas asked anxiously.

“Yes, she is safe. But half way to Dalhousie, something occurred to me.”

“What?” Nicholas ground out the word. His patience was at an end. Alex shouldn’t have left Ysabelle alone.

“I realized you didn’t really want us to go. That you were only testing us, to see if we would desert you like everyone else has deserted you throughout your life. But this time, you have never had so much at stake. Yet, even now, you would face the English and your death alone. That’s when we decided you need us, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it yourself. We won’t leave you, Nick. You cannot make us go.”

“Us? We? Of whom do you speak?” Nicholas’s brows quirked in confusion.

Ysabelle came out from behind one of the stalls, brushing straw from the front of her dress. Her pale hair glowed in the candlelight, her emerald eyes sparkled like gems, and her porcelain skin gleamed like alabaster. The sight of her beauty sent a throb of yearning through Nicholas’s chest.

“Ysabelle! You shouldn’t be here. I want you to go. Now,” he choked.

Her lips trembled. Surely his rejection cut deep into her heart. How he longed to take her into his arms and hold her close. Losing her would be unbearable, but there were worse things than death.

“And what of us? What of our marriage?” she asked him. “Do you care only for the child I will give you? Am I merely a pawn in your game to take what rightfully belongs to you?”

“You know you mean more to me than that,” he answered.

“I know nothing. I’m surprised that you don’t hate me,” she whispered. “Knowing your father claimed me as his own child while you were forced to submit to Lord McDonald’s cruelties must have been a terrible burden to bear.”

He froze, unable to move. Unable to breathe deeply. “You know the truth?” He cast an accusing glare at Alex. “You ass! Why did you tell her?”

“It wasn’t me, brother. I didn’t tell her any of your secrets.”

“It was Ada that told me the truth,” Ysabelle supplied.

Nicholas’s brooding gaze swung back to hers and he growled. “I never did like that old witch.”

Ysabelle shook her head and smiled sadly. “Don’t you think it’s time I finally knew? How long did you plan to keep it from me? Did you never intend to tell me?”

“I swore an oath of secrecy. So did Ada, though it appears she hasn’t kept her vow.” He spoke in an aching whisper. Shifting his feet, he crushed straw beneath his heel.

Ysabelle took a step closer. “You’re so loyal to your word, but my father should never have asked you to promise such a thing.”

He released a pent up sigh. “By the time I was a man, there was no other choice. You were a grown woman and I didn’t want to hurt you. I could never hate you, Ysabelle. Your father, my father, none of it mattered anymore. It still doesn’t matter.”

Ysabelle bit her bottom lip, thinking this over. From the first, she’d been wrong about this man. He wasn’t cold or heartless. He was kind and giving.

And lonely.

She didn’t understand the miracle that had changed both of their hearts. She only knew that Nicholas needed her, just as she needed him. They had grown together, forged in the fires of conflict. Their roots were so entwined that it would destroy them both to uproot one or the other. They would live, or die, together.

“I won’t leave you, Nicholas,” she said.

“The truth changes nothing. You must go,” he told her.

“It changes everything,” she cried. “My father deserved a son like you. Strong and brave, I doubt not that he was more than proud to call you his own. Yet, I think he feared hurting me, whom he also loved. You should have grown up here at Sutcliffe, where you would have always known who you were. Where you would have been loved. It’s me that doesn’t belong here.”

Tears wet her cheeks but she continued to gaze at Nicholas. He took a step toward her, one of his hands held out in supplication. He opened his mouth as though he wished to say something, yet he remained silent.

“Is it so hard to speak the words aloud?” she asked miserably.

His brows rose in question. “What words?”

Alex flashed a sarcastic smile at Ysabelle. “I told you he is an ass. He cannot even say it.”

“There is no time for this nonsense,” Nicholas said. “Take her inside and prepare for departure. You must leave tonight. This very moment.”

“I won’t leave you,” she insisted.

“You will do as you are told.”

Her gaze locked with his in silent combat. “Your mighty glower won’t work on me. It takes more to scare me than a big, frowning man.”

“What do you think to accomplish by staying?” he asked.

“I will remain by your side forever. You need me,” she insisted.

Nicholas gave a caustic laugh. “Other than healing, there is no help you can offer me. Go, now. You must think of our child’s welfare.”

Something hardened inside of her. Something she didn’t understand. She only knew how she felt. And she refused to back down. “Is it comfortable to be alone, Nicholas? You isolate yourself on purpose. No one to care about, no one to fret over. How very safe. How very sad.”

He swallowed. “It is sad. When you’re alone, there is no one to love. If it had been a choice of living here at Sutcliffe, with privilege and comfort, while you were cast out, I would willingly face any brutality, any pain, as long as I knew you were loved and safe.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “But do you love me? That’s all I want to know.”

Her question left Nicholas speechless. Yes! He longed to yell. But the words caught in his throat, refusing to come. He would do anything to protect her, even if it meant losing her.

He loved her. It was so simple. Yet the truth almost brought him to his knees. He longed to speak the words to her, but for so long, he’d suppressed his emotions. Now, he stood upon the brink. But how could he get her to leave if he spoke the feelings in his heart. Above all else, he wanted her safe.

Alex shifted restlessly. Nicholas was conscious of soldiers outside, scurrying along the ramparts, preparing for battle. Before morning, he planned to take the enemy by surprise while they still slept. He would fight to the death. They would have to kill him on the battlefield, for he would never walk quietly to their chopping block.

“Alex, take her inside,” he said again.

“No! You don’t really want us to leave you. Ah, don’t look so angry, my love. It’ll take more than your horrible glowers to drive us away. So, your efforts have been wasted. I am here to stay. And Alex won’t leave until all is put to right.”

“Are you prepared to die, then?”

Her eyes closed. Tears hovered beneath her lashes. “If it is my fate, I will die beside you. But I won’t leave you.”

Nicholas watched her carefully. What could he say? His heart was near to bursting. He couldn’t speak around the knot in his throat.

Ysabelle showed a wobbly smile. “Don’t look so surprised, Nicholas. If I were big and strong enough, I would take you over my knee and give you a good thrashing for your abominable behavior. There have been times when you have nigh scared me to death. But now, I know you would never do me harm. I trust you completely.”

His brows quirked with amusement and he gave a croaking laugh. “You would thrash me?”

“Yes,” she nodded her head and her eyes sparkled with determination. “Don’t push me too far, or I’ll call upon Alex and our guards to lend me aid. No doubt your men are chafing from your bad humor and would readily lend their strength to subdue you.”

Nicholas laughed. His small and feisty Ysabelle would beat him? The thought was ludicrous! “You dare to threaten me?”