“But I knew he possessed a lion heart, for it took more strength to remain silent while he fought himself rather than everyone else. He was not boisterous or loud at all, never bringing the attention of his master and his whip to him. One day, God smiled upon him and brought him some friends, even brothers. And then do you know what happened?”
Elias shook his head.
“He had a son of his own, a small part of himself with the same courageous heart. And his son will defeat any dragon just like his papa.”
“Papa?”
“Aye,” Julianna told him. ’Tis a story about your papa, Elias. You have the same lion heart as he.”
She was a master at whatever it was she was doing to him. She was so good, he didn’t care what kind of spell she was weaving.
She had once told him that she thought he was the bravest boy she’d ever known, and all because he hadn’t fought back when three of Sir Roger DeAvoy of Alnwick’s sons hurled pig manure at him—among the many other things they had done to him when they visited Berwick. He’d told Julianna that he’d wanted to hurt them. And he could have. He was twice their size. But she begged him not to. She was afraid he would have been whipped and perhaps sent away. She had told him she would rather die than not have him in her life. So he’d let them taunt him.
He had wondered if she’d meant it—about him being the bravest boy. Now, he believed she had.
“Will you help your papa fight the noisy dragon by not shouting and screaming so loud,” she asked his son.
“Or at all,” Rauf added and then gave Nicholas a sheepish smile when he cast him a dark scowl.
“Your papa or I will still come if you call.”
“Aye, Lyahs help,” the babe promised in a loud voice.
They ate, enjoying the tales of Elias from Molly and Walter, who had cared most often for the boy.
He watched Julianna feed his son with razor-sharp focus and patience. She fed him stew that she mashed more thoroughly and let him feed bread to himself.
According to her and Molly, Avice had barely weaned Elias, which earned him more admiration from his father when he chomped his bread.
For the most part, the morning meal was peaceful. Quiet. Nice. Elias even let Nicholas take his hand when they left the great hall. Now, if only Nicholas knew where to take him.
“Well, my lord,” Julianna said, taking his son’s tiny hand from his and brushing her fingers across his at the same time, “we will not keep you from your duties.”
He had the insane urge to grin at her.
So then, she could still read his thoughts? He wondered if he could still read hers.
No. It was too easy to fall into this familiarity with her again.
He stepped away from the boy and looked down at him. His son. A product of his love with Mattie—someone else—and still Julianna seemed to genuinely care for the boy.
Unless—no. He had never known her to be deliberately cruel to anyone or anything. Except him.
He laid his hand on Elias’ head all the same.
“I must remember that I do not know you, Julianna.”
“You do know me!” she insisted.
“No, I thought I did, but I was incorrect.” He held up his hand to stop her from speaking and moved a step closer to her. “I used to make excuses for you that you were afraid of your father’s punishment and that was why you were as cold as ice to me in the sight ofanyone.”
Almost instantly, tears pooled in her eyes and tugged at his heart. “Iwasafraid of that. But I am sorry for treating you poorly because of your status. I had not lived in anything like your world. And when I did, I—”
His scowl darkened. “What do you mean when you did?”
“What?” Her eyes shone on him and her lips remained parted.
“You just said when you did. You lived in my world? What does that mean?”
