He wasn’t prepared for her question. He didn’t know exactly when. He couldn’t pinpoint a certain event or day when he stopped loving her.
He gave his shoulders a shrug and shook his head as if he didn’t care. “Why does it matter?”
“Was it at St. Peter’s abbey?” she asked, visibly shaken.
Did she care so much then if he loved her or not? He thought about it then shook his head. No. He had still loved her after that.
“Julianna, why does it matter so much? ’Twas the past. I will not let it interfere with how I feel now.”
“And how do you feel now, Nicholas?” she demanded. “Do you hate me for a choice I made after everyone I knew was butchered by the Scots? Scots you were traveling with?”
“No. I do not hate you for that,” he told her in a low rumbling voice. “I do not hate you at all. And as I already told you, Cain was not involved in the massacre of Berwick. I would not have stayed with him if he had been. The villagers of Lismoor returned when Cain was here and not one hair on their heads was lost because of him.”
“I did not know that at the time. Did I?” she argued, swiping tears from her eyes. “And even if I had known, it would not have made a difference. I had recently seen crazed men running through my father’s castle with their knees exposed and their long hair swinging out around them while they killed everyone in their path. I hid in my room while they slaughtered my parents and our maids and all who lived with us. I did not go with you that day because I was afraid of the Scots, Nicholas.”
Hell. What was she saying? Was he that big of a fool? Was it truly just fear that had kept her away from him? No! he thought, raking his fingers through his hair while it all dawned on him like a sunrise on a long, tormenting night. No, he groaned inwardly over all the time he’d wasted, all the years she had suffered with, or because of Phillip. And what of Mattie and the years he’d put her through while he walked around Lismoor like a pitiful, prideful fool? Mattie knew he loved Julianna but she’d fought a ghost and won the battle—and it had cost her her life, giving him a son he did not know.
“I did not refuse to go with you because I did not love you,” Julianna confessed, looking scared senseless while she did. “I have always loved you.”
He felt too weak to stand. He couldn’t draw in a breath. Was everything for nothing? “Julianna,” he managed and leaned in, resting his hand on the wall behind her head. “I did not know you loved me. I had no confidence to imagine such a thing.”
She reached up to touch his jaw with her fingertips. He closed his eyes then turned away.
“Nicholas, what is it? Why are you ready to run still?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Do you not understand? Now ’tis so much worse. Knowing you have always loved me—”
“That I love you still,” she corrected in a soft voice against his chin.
Before he could think to stop himself, he let go of the wall and cupped the nape of her neck. He tilted her face to meet his and kissed her. It was as if no time had passed from that night four years ago in the stables when he’d kissed her so intimately for the first time. Every sensation, every desire awakened from its slumber and came flooding back to him.
He couldn’t remember when he’d stopped loving her because he never had. The truth terrified him and thrilled him beyond his senses.
He curled his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him, deepening their embrace, their kiss. She coiled her arms around his neck and answered his desperate call, filling him up, making things right again. His tongue stole softly around her mouth and his heart thundered wildly against her chest. Hers beat just as fast against him. Her lips were soft, made of clouds and honey. What made them most irresistible though was that they were eager for him—just as he remembered. Her hair fell all around him, like fingers dancing over his skin, or a gossamer web, taking hold of him—
Someone was approaching.
Nicholas withdrew from their kiss, their embrace. His breath came hard as he stepped back. His languid gaze met hers for a moment, and it was all the time he needed to remember his dreams and how she was always his wife in them. His heart thrashed within. What if she left again…or died as Mattie had? He turned away and looked down the corridor.
Rauf was coming toward them, smiling. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Are you?” Nicholas asked succinctly, lifting a doubtful brow at him.
“Sincerely,” his commander promised. “A missive has just arrived from Douglas FitzGerald, Bishop of Whickham.”
Nicholas’ frown turned genuine and he held out his hand. He hadn’t heard from the bishop in three years. He thought of the stack of letters on the table in his solar. Perhaps it wasn’t as long as three years. He was almost certain he’d seen something recent in the pile from the bishop. He’d been back for a sennight and he couldn’t take on what Rauf, who was once his steward, used to see to.
While he was away, Sir Richard, an old knight under the d’Argentan family, had agreed to stay on at Lismoor and see to all matters of state in Nicholas’ absence. The older knight had become Nicholas’ close friend—more like a father figure. He died six months before Nicholas’ return.
Nicholas broke the seal and opened the parchment. “The bishop reminds me that he is coming to Lismoor—what is today?”
“’Tis Monday,” Julianna told him.
“—tomorrow. Son of a—”
She pushed two of her fingers against his lips to stop him from swearing, and then realized where her fingers had settled and pulled them away to cover her own lips instead then pulled them away from her mouth, too.
“What fer?” Raufasked, ignoring them both to complain. “And what d’ye mean by sayin’ he reminds ye? When did ye first hear aboot him comin’, Nicky, and how am I to remind ye of yer duties if ye dinna tell them to me?”
