His lips curled at the edges, just enough to prove he was pleased with her decision. He moved aside to let her and Elias pass and then took his place on the other side of his son.
“This is the gathering hall,” he said then turned to push open the heavy double doors leading to it. About a score of his men were drinking in their seats and sat up straighter when they saw her.
No one said a word as they continued walking through the gathering hall then to the coiling stairs.
“They seem afraid of you now,” Julianna whispered, moving beside him and pushing up on her toes to get closer to his ear.
“They should be,” he replied on a low rumble that sent a chill down her spine.
Who was this? Not her quiet William. Her humble groom who used to let other, less noble boys treat him poorly for her sake. Was this the man who had been brewing all those years while he watched the more fortunate laugh and act like haughty fools?
“What would you do?” Did she truly want to know?
“If one of them touched you,” he said deeply then gazed at his son. “Or him. I would beat him to within an inch of his life, and then I would kill him.”
She covered only one of Elias’ ears, since she was carrying him in her other arm. “A bit too much, Nicholas?”
His eyes rounded on his son then slid guiltily to hers. “He should not be squeamish about such things,” he defended.
“He is two,” she reminded him with an edge to her tone. “He will have his whole life to learn not to be squeamish. Let us keep such talk from his ears for a little while longer, aye?”
He nodded and smiled at his son as they ascended the stairs on the ground floor. Elias let his father carry him up the next three stories. Each consisted of two small, stone-vaulted chambers and a garderobe. The fourth landing was a large guardroom, empty of any guards. Bows and arrows stacked against the walls, beneath the narrow embrasures.
Nicholas walked toward one of the embrasures and let Elias look out at the white world below.
“About what happened,” he said slowly. “…between us…”
Julianna’s heart stalled. Was he going to tell her their kiss was a mistake? That it should not have happened and will not happen again? Or that he’d been dreaming of kissing her for four long years—as she had dreamed of kissing him?
“Julianna,” he said, and her name became a groan on his lips.
She wanted to cover her ears and turn away from the guilt of running away from the most treasured thing in her life.
“Horsey!” Elias shouted merrily and pointed downward.
Nicholas switched positions with his son to look out. He remained quiet for a moment and then let out a breath that made his shoulders sag. “Our guests have arrived.”
She wanted to ask him what he’d wanted to say. She wanted to shout it. Demand that he hurry and tell her. But she said nothing. The moment was gone. The guests were here and she was wearing breeches!
She followed him down the stairs, took Elias from his arms, and hurried off to Margaret’s chamber.
Nicholas waited atthe bottom of the outside steps while the bishop was helped out of his ornate carriage by two aides. It was good to see him but why did he have to come now? What was so damned urgent?
“Rothbury!” the bishop called out, reaching him. “How was Italy?”
They’d met four years ago, when King Robert publicly granted Lismoor to Nicholas. Bishop FitzGerald had remained for a month, getting to know him and Father Timothy. They found that they could both finish a jug of whisky without effect. And when everyone else around them had passed out drunk, they spent hours discussing God, the church, and the king. When the bishop left Lismoor, he considered Nicholas his good friend. Nicholas never told him about Julianna, but the bishop knew he’d been a servant in Berwick Castle before the siege.
“I do not know, Your Excellency,” Nicholas replied with an easy smile. Unlike many in the bishop’s vocation, he truly wanted peace. “I visited France and Spain, not Italy.”
“Ah, even better. You will tell me all about both places at supper tonight. Right now, I wish to refresh myself and rest a bit.”
“Of course, Your Excellency. Here is Simon. He is training to be a brother. I will let him tell you of which order as he shows you to your chambers and sees to your needs.”
The bishop left him alone on the stairs. The others would be arriving in a few hours. It was going to be a long night. He’d already been awake most of the night in the village tavern trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do. Should he risk all for Julianna? Everything he’d worked so hard at finding again in his travels. He didn’t know what it was. Still. To this day.
The desire to live, mayhap? Because, he felt it now and he hadn’t felt it before. Julianna stirred him back to life. Should he risk it all by letting himself want her, need her? Could he even stop himself from feeling those things? He’d tried not to love her, but it had never done any good. It was as if he had no control over his emotions at all when it came to her. Letting go terrified him, so he didn’t. Not completely. He thought that if he could keep hold of a little, it might help him gain something back if he lost her.
A breeze, warmer than expected for this time of year, blew his curls off his forehead while he blew out a deep breath from his nostrils and set his diamond-faceted gaze on the tower.
