He wondered what Mattie would have thought of Julianna. She would have disliked her four years ago. But Julianna was different now.
“Your bed is very soft,” she whispered over Elias’ little head. “You may have trouble getting him out of it, and me, as well.” She said the last with a soft laugh that sent warmth down Nicholas’ spine.
“He is asleep, my lord.”
Nicholas could see that. He didn’t want to get up, to leave the bed and her. He wanted to reach over his son and trace her features with his fingers. But he had never been free to touch her, until he’d kissed her in the stables—and he had been beaten and banished from Berwick for it. There was no one to stop him now. Her father was dead and so was her husband.
Still, he withdrew and left the bed. As much as he wanted to touch her, he didn’t want to feel anything again. He was finally healing from the loss of his wife…the loss of her. His gaze settled on her for a moment while she carefully left the bed. He looked away when she straightened.
What if Rauf was correct? What if everything had always been because of her?
“Let me at least get one letter written for you,” she offered awkwardly, hurrying to the table.
“No,” he stopped her and unclenched his jaw so that his offer was believable. “Go to bed. Or go explore the castle.” He forced himself to smile. “Rauf will escort you.”
“But I am not sleepy and I do not want to go anywhere,” she argued in a hushed voice. “I am Elias’ governess. My duty is to stay here and see to him.”
He might have to carry her out. She was digging in her heels. Why? Why would she want to stay with him when he didn’t want her there? Then again, if he truly didn’t want her there, she’d be gone by now. He was allowing all this for her.
“I am his father. I will see to him,” he muttered, sounding more like the low rumble of a large predatory cat.
“I grow weary of you sending me away, my lord,” she said and yanked her arm away when he tried to take hold of it. “Iwillgo to Rauf then.”
She wheeled around on her heel and stormed out of the room without making a sound.
Good. He was glad. Why had he told her to go with Rauf? Did he want something to develop between them? What if something did? Hadn’t Rauf mentioned liking one of the maids? Agnes, perhaps?
But who was any woman compared to Julianna?
He looked at the bed and his son sleeping soundly, and ran from the room.
His larger steps overtook her much smaller ones and he caught up to her quickly, barely two doors down.
“Julianna,” he said, pulling on her elbow. “Wait! Do not go.”
She stopped immediately and turned to him. “Did you forget something, my lord?”
“Stop calling me that,” he warned her. “I do not care if I am your lord or not, you will not call me that again.”
“Very well, but ’tis not as if I’m calling you Zeus, for goodness’ sake. What is this that comes over you?” she demanded. “Why is it you are so afraid of me?”
He laughed softly, ready to refute her words. “There is no part of me that is afraid of you, Julianna.”
“Then what is it, Nicholas? Why do you always try to chase me away the instant there is any spark between us?”
“I do not—”
She stomped her foot into the ground and balled her hands into fists. “You do! And unlike you, I do not want to fight with you! So what are you afraid of? Tell me!”
“I am not—”
She walked away.
Damn it, he couldn’t let her walk away angry. He rarely could and she knew it.
“I do not want to love you again.”
She stopped and turned. Her eyes opened wider and shone like coals in a furnace, about to blaze. “When did you stop?”
