“Perhaps. I wish to meet your brother.”
He chuckled. “Areyougoing to be the voice of restraint?”
“Probably not. You may beat each other senseless, if you wish.”
Annie came up to help them pack late into the night, and afterward, James fell into bed exhausted. Isabel watched him sleep for too long, wishing she knew what to do to help him.
She admitted to herself that she needed to meet this woman James had been betrothed to, who’d left him for his brother, even though she no longer believed the stories of him forcing himself on Katherine Berkeley.
There was an ache, a yearning deep inside her to acknowledge aloud what she felt for him. Why did she resist surrendering to this connection that bound her to him more than their wedding vows?
Because it would hurt if he didn’t feel the same.
26
The journey to Reynold’s manor took three long, cold, rainy days, and James thought it would never end. They had to cross the flat, grassy summits of the southern Pennines, climbing or going around gritstone cliffs, traversing sloping dales covered in purple heather. Each night the small troop made wooden shelters with branches, or raised the tent when the weather permitted.
Isabel was the hardiest of all, never complaining. But she fell asleep the moment she hit the blankets each night, and James was left awake to watch her, rubbing his aching hand. He kept wondering if her farewell to Wallace had been as easy as it seemed.
On the third day, they descended into a wide, sloping valley in Lancashire, and in the distance they could see Reynold’s manor. James had lived here for two years, just after his mother remarried, but before he was old enough to be fostered. He had been very young, and remembered little but feeling out of place, unwanted by the people who looked on the new baby, Reynold, as their future lord. His mother had tried to make up for it in her own way, but she had been overwhelmed with keeping the attention of her new husband, who, like her first, had scant time for her.
James tried to look on the manor objectively. It was nestled in the foothills of the Pennines, and was never intended as a fortress of war. It was surrounded by a wall more decorative than functional, with outbuildings and barns farther in the distance. The manor itself had dozens of glazed windows to let in the sun.
He glanced at Isabel, who studied the manor with a critical eye. Finally, she said, “It would not withstand a siege.”
He gave her a tired smile. “It was not meant to, Angel. Reynold’s castle is less than a day’s ride from here, should trouble come. Margery told me his wife prefers to live here.”
She glanced at him, and now he was the object of her study. He knew she was curious to meet the woman he’d been betrothed to. He wanted to let the past rest, to forget that he had put Katherine’s life in danger, and that she and his brother had betrayed him. He would only stay long enough to see what Margery thought so important, and then he would leave.
As they approached the manor, the gates were swung open by guards. The small courtyard was lined with bare trees and shrubs, with no tiltyard or garrison in sight. As James dismounted, the double doors to the manor opened and Margery stepped out. The wind caught her hair, and droplets of rain began to fall.
“We’ll be inside shortly,” James called.
She waved and withdrew. When the horses had been seen to, James and Isabel entered the manor. He had forgotten how small and intimate the hall was, with its white-washed walls and low, timbered ceiling. It had seemed so large when he was a child, somewhere a little boy could easily lose himself in.
Trestle tables were just being cleared of supper, but the servants and people of the manor had not yet left the hall. They milled around almost nervously, and James felt himself tense. What was wrong?
And then he saw Margery standing before the hearth in a heated conversation with Reynold. Once again, he wished he had the size to tower over his younger brother, but it had always been Reynold with the imposing presence, and from now on, the superior fighting skills that James had lost.
James stood his ground and waited for Reynold’s decision. Obviously, his brother hadn’t known they were to be reunited as a family. He told himself it was for the best, that too much had happened for them to ever be brothers again. It was another part of his life that he had lost.
Reynold suddenly faced James. “You must know that you have come at the worst possible time,” he said, his voice tense.
“I don’t know any such thing. Margery only told me it was urgent that I come, so I did.”
Reynold hesitated, and his gaze flickered to Isabel for but a moment. “She did not tell you of Katherine’s pregnancy? She is about to give birth to our child.”
James schooled his features into an impassive mask, trying to sort his emotions. “Then I’ll leave.”
Reynold shook his head. “No, this is not right. Stay until after the babe is born. There are things to be said.”
Before James could protest, Reynold turned and left the hall. There was an awkward silence, until Margery suddenly gasped, and James saw her horrified gaze fixed on his bandaged hand. He wanted to hide it. Instead, he lifted it up and said, “I thought I’d try a new challenge—sword fighting with three fingers.”
She gaped at him, tears in her eyes. “James, what happened?”
“I am fine, sweetheart. A horse got the better of me.”
“But—your sword hand,” she whispered, lifting up his arm.
