“Why did you run from me?” he demanded, sliding from the horse and tossing his reins over a bush.
Isabel’s horse pranced beneath her, and she patted its heaving sides. “I most certainly did not run from you. I raced you—and I won.”
James grabbed her by the waist and pulled her from the horse. It must have hurt his hand, for he quickly hid it in his cloak. But now that she thought about it, he kept his bandages out of sight most of the time. Why was he so defensive about an injury that could have happened to anyone? She went to get a drink at the stream.
“I always understood that races start fairly,” he said, coming up behind her. “Or are you claiming a woman’s need to be treated gently?”
Isabel squatted beside the water and cupped a handful to her mouth. Glancing over her shoulder, she answered, “I don’t need you to treat me like a woman. You’ve never done so before.”
As she stood up, she heard him inhale sharply. He turned her around and she felt a thrill of excitement and longing for his bantering. He hadn’t been himself since his injury.
“You’ve never behaved like a woman,” he said, blue eyes narrowed, “nor have you asked me to treat you like one. Are you asking now?”
She stood silent, watching his gaze search her face, then drop to her lips. What would he do if she suddenly kissed him hard as he’d done to her?
“The only thing I’m asking of you, James, is to tell me the whole story about why Katherine married your brother.”
He took a step backward. “What did you call me?”
“Did that horse step on your ears, too?”
He studied her. “You’ve never called me by my Christian name before.”
“Of course I have,” she said, feeling heat flush her face. “Are you going to tell me about Katherine? Or should I ask her?”
“I shall answer your questions,” he said, leaning back against a boulder. “I owe you that much.”
But then he remained silent for a long time, staring at his boot where it scuffed the dirt. Isabel waited as patiently as she could.
“I am not proud of some of the things I had to do in the war,” he finally said.
She stepped closer, her curiosity winning out.
“I chose to follow Henry Tudor because I knew he would win. I wanted to protect my family, my people, and our lands. I never told anyone but a few men who shared my beliefs. Katherine overheard these men plotting, and I was worried she would be killed for her knowledge. I had her kidnapped, and sent to Reynold’s monastery.”
“Monastery?” she asked.
“He was a novice monk. I thought if anything went wrong, he could protect her. Something went wrong. The man I chose to kidnap her took his job more literally than I had intended. When Reynold helped her escape, this man chased them across the countryside, and in his anger at being foiled, nearly killed both of them.”
His voice dropped lower, and he met her gaze almost defiantly.
“That’s all?” she finally asked. The last heaviness of secrets between them was lifted—and it was nothing like she had imagined and dreaded.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“You but tried to keep her out of harm’s way, and for this she broke the betrothal?”
“In fleeing from my mistakes, Katherine and Reynold fell in love. And I had betrayed them. Aren’t those enough reasons?”
“I don’t think it was a betrayal to try to protect your family, even if your plan did not work.”
“Isabel, you amaze me.”
With a shock, she realized his gaze was admiring. And he wasn’t even looking at her naked body. They stared at one another, until she began to lose track of where they were, what they had been arguing about. All she saw was the brilliance of his eyes, all she wanted was his touch. My God, when had that become so important?
James was the first look away. “Since we’re talking about my past, it’s only fair that we talk about yours. I have a question about the feud between our families,” he said.
She tried to hide her shock at being thrust so abruptly from the sensual trance of his gaze. She turned her back on him and it all flooded back, her family vengeance, the vow she’d sworn to humiliate him.
