How should she react to seeing him? She wanted to run, but which way, from him or to him? “My lord,” she managed.
He didn’t reply but stood against the wall like a carved statue of a cold warrior king of old. Tall and lean, dressed in snug pants of deep brown-dyed wool over his long, muscular legs and a léine tucked beneath a belt hanging low on his hips.
Beautiful William. He was frightened for his son. She could see the worry in his eyes…and something else. When he looked at her, his gaze was sparked with lightning. He hated her.
She took a step back. She almost fainted right there in Molly’s arms at the force of his gaze, the strength of his emotion for her. But his son needed help. The earl of Rothbury could hate her later.
“Or tell me where the items are and allow me to fetch them myself.” She closed her eyes at the quaver in her voice, then opened them again and challenged him with a determined stare. She wouldn’t fall to pieces before him. “I would like him to have my mixture sooner rather than later if we can.”
He swallowed and cut his gaze away, then left the room without a word.
Julianna put away her thoughts of him for the rest of the afternoon and helped Molly attend to Elias. She soothed him while she cooled his soft, pale skin and fed him her tea. Thankfully, he managed to keep some down. She prayed for him also, with Molly, on her knees.
William never left the room after fetching what was needed. He sat alone at a nearby table by the hearth. He did not sit up straight, but hunched over the table, resting his arms on the surface and his head atop one bicep. He didn’t say a word. When he tore his stricken gaze from his son and looked at her, Julianna’s heart broke at the worry and fear and guilt she saw in him. But then it all faded and left silver shards ready to fly directly at her.
She wasn’t afraid of him. Though she’d never seen him so angry. She knew William. He would never put a hand to her. He was nothing like Phillip. But he could put her out of his mind, never think of or mention her again, and pretend she had never existed. As he had with Berengaria.
When everything they could do for Elias had been done, they waited. It gave Julianna a few moments to take in who this man was sitting alone by the hearth.
William.
She wanted to shout it at him, force him to say something, tell her what she had done. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and beg forgiveness for turning him away because of what he was. That was it, wasn’t it? That was why his perfectly sculpted, dimpled chin, now easily seen, was dead-set against her? She hadn’t recognized his eyes before because they were so filled with repugnance for her. William had never looked at her with anything but love in his gaze.
But this was no longer William. He was Nicholas MacPherson now, the Earl of Rothbury, a widower who had abandoned his son at birth.
It made her angry. The way he looked at her made her angry, too. She tried to settle the fire rising up inside, but she knew no one else was going to tell him so she turned to him and folded her arms across her chest. “You left him in the hands of others…” She had no idea why the sudden urge to weep struck her. She did her best to fight it. “…including a wet-nurse whom he came to love as his mother. Who then abandoned him. One would think you would have known better.”
She didn’t know what to expect from this new William, but it wasn’t a glowering, menacing tower rising from his chair. She almost regretted not wearing her jewelry. But would she poison Nicholas? She doubted it.
She held her position even as he advanced, even as her heart faltered in her chest. She wasn’t leaving this room no matter what tactics he used. She dug her heels in and gave herself a subtle shake—just enough to make her long loose hair sway in the hearth’s light. She had faced Phillip at his drunken worst, when he didn’t even recognize who she was. She’d learned to cower so as not to invoke his wrath. She’d promised herself that she would never let it happen again.
“I would have a word with you outside,” he said on a low snarl. “Walk or I shall carry you.”
She remained where she was. “I’m not leaving until he is well.”
His expression softened just the tiniest bit. “We will only be outside the door.”
She walked, managing a reassuring look she didn’t feel to Molly.
When they stepped outside, he shut the door behind them. “I will make this brief, Lady—”
“MissFeathers. Julianna,” she corrected in a softer tone. He was the love of her life. She couldn’t deny it. She’d dreamed of him so often. Sleep had become her escape from Phillip before she had truly run.
“I do not want to see you every day,” he said, putting his sword through her heart. “What are you even doing here, trying to be a governess? Do you have no title? No land?”
“None. William, I—”
“Never call me that again,” he warned. “My name is Nicholas. I’m a Scot.”
“I am overjoyed for you,” she told him sincerely. “I would love to hear about your brothers one day. But that does not give you the right to leave Elias.”
“What do you know of it, Julianna?” he charged, standing over her, his voice fathomlessly deep and his gaze as hard as diamonds. “Have you ever left someone you loved?”
“Aye, I have.” She met his gaze head on. She wanted to reach out her hand and touch him. Were her desires real or just the residue of memories of a better time in her life? A time of freedom and laughter, of stolen kisseswith himand only him. She was tempted to close her eyes and remember how his lips felt on hers that night. “But he left me first.”
His eyes pinned her to her spot. She tried to read them, but there was nothing to see. They were spellbinding in their chilling detachment. “You are not speaking of me.”
“I am!” She squared her shoulders and readied herself for a fight. “You left me after promising me you never would!”
