James’s smile returned, although this time he looked a bit pained. “Are you certain she wants to see me? I’d understand if not.”
“She would like me to bring up both of you.”
Isabel saw James glance at her. “Very well. My wife will only hold me at sword point if I refuse.”
Reynold turned his bright eyes on her. “I understand you are quite skilled with a sword.”
Isabel deliberately kept her gaze away from James. “I am good, yes, but not invincible.”
“Thank God,” James added. “Otherwise I’d not be here.”
Reynold laughed. “It sounds like a tale worth hearing.”
James rose to his feet. “Another time, brother. I wish to meet your son.”
On the second floor, Reynold led them all to a spacious suite of apartments, where sun streamed through glazed windows. Isabel expected to find a bedridden woman, but instead Reynold’s wife was bent over a cradle beside the hearth. She straightened slowly as the door opened. She was blond, well-curved and beautiful. Obviously James’s ideal woman, Isabel thought.
“Katherine,” Reynold said, “this is James’s wife, Isabel.”
Isabel felt like a clumsy giant as Katherine came forward. She noticed that the woman didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Isabel, I am pleased to meet you,” she said. “Margery speaks of you with admiration.”
Isabel was speechless. Surely they couldn’t be talking about the same woman, the one who was worried Isabel’s presence would hurt her chance at a good marriage. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Congratulations on the birth of your son.”
“Thank you.”
Then Katherine’s gaze turned to James, and Isabel held her breath. She didn’t believe James had ever physically harmed the woman, yet Katherine’s smile disappeared and her cheeks reddened.
“James,” she said simply.
He bowed, his expression sober. “My congratulations, Katherine.”
She accepted with a nod and continued to study him. Isabel wasn’t quite sure what she read in Katherine’s face, but she thought it might be guilt. Was she actually embarrassed that she’d left one brother for another?
Reynold helped Katherine to a chair, then went to the cradle and lifted their son. The boy was wrapped snugly in blankets against the cold, and he looked like a bunch of rags against his burly father’s chest. But the man held the baby with knowledgeable tenderness that Isabel found herself envying. Even a man knew more about babies than she did. He settled the boy into Katherine’s waiting arms.
After they all awkwardly admired the baby, Katherine suddenly handed it to Isabel. Thank the saints she had practiced once with Annie’s child, and didn’t drop this one. But she felt they were all staring at her, comparing the two women, and she knew she would lose.
Yet the little boy Nicholas suddenly yawned, his tiny mouth opening wide. He arched his back, and with a howl, turned to root for his mother’s milk. Isabel gasped and raised her head, feeling utterly foolish. And found everyone wearing smiles that were not quite so awkward. She quickly handed the baby back.
~oOo~
That afternoon, Isabel felt the need to escape the manor for a brief respite. While James was talking to Margery, she left the hall and wandered the courtyard. It was a cold October day, gray and damp. She had met James’s family now. There were no more surprises. Yet Isabel felt confined, alone, confused.
She absently stared at the gate, guarded by two soldiers who nodded respectfully toward her. These men didn’t know her, knew nothing about her history—or James’s orders that she not leave alone. She found the stables, saddled her horse, then smiled as the guards opened the gates to freedom.
27
Isabel was free. She should be happy, at peace, with the world spread out before her. She could go anywhere she wanted. But instead she rode miles of the viscount’s lands and wondered why peace eluded her.
She was galloping back to the manor when she saw James racing towards her. She knew he’d had a difficult few days confronting his past—but by the saints, so had she. She’d met his family and his first betrothed.
James was nearing her, leaning low over the stallion’s neck, his dark hair swept away from his proud, intent face. A wry smile tilted the corner of her mouth. He was certainly magnificent on a horse, regardless of his hand.
Without thinking, she spurred her horse across the grassy uplands, away from her husband. She heard his shout, and she raised a hand in salute, but the thrill of the chase was upon her. They raced against each other and the wind. For the first time that day, she felt truly free, with a good horse beneath her, her sword at her hip—and James trying to capture her, trying to outwit her.
She pulled up in a valley lined with gritstone walls and sliding rocks. A waterfall from the moors above them pounded over boulders into a stream, sealing one end of the valley. She wheeled her horse about and faced James, who came to a halt behind her.
