“Who says I’m jesting?” Nicholas asked, feigning mild interest while he looked around.
“I do,” she let him know haughtily. “You barely like me. You tolerate me being here for Elias’ sake.”
What? He shook his head. Hell. They were jesting, were they not? When had it taken this serious turn? She should know the truth, that he loved her. He didn’t want her to go for his sake as well as his son’s. Would she marry him if he asked? Would she marry him if he had nothing?
When had he started thinking of marriage? He had gone pitifully mad. It was the only explanation. Hadn’t he been telling himself since she arrived that he didn’t want this? But he did want it. He’d always wanted it.
“Julianna, what you say might have been true in the beginning, but—”
Her expression collapsed into one of despair.
He closed his eyes. They weren’t jesting.
“Itmighthave been true?” she lamented. “The beginning? Nicholas, we have been reunited for three days! You have not gone from hating me to wanting to marry me in three days!”
“I could,” he disagreed, and then confessed, “I do not want to lose you again.”
She smiled at him over his son’s crown of chestnut curls, and moved in a bit closer. She leaned in and he inclined his ear to her lips. “You do not have to marry me to ensure that I will not leave you. As long as you want me to stay, Nicholas, I will stay.”
The bishop was announced and everyone stood up. Nicholas turned to her. He wanted to say something to her. To tell her that he loved her still. That he had never stopped.
They all waited in silence while the bishop made his way to his seat to the right of Nicholas, who expelled a great, silent breath before greeting him.
He introduced Elias and Julianna, but the bishop stopped him before he could explain who Julianna was.
“Miss Julianna Feathers. Your father was the Viscount of March and the Governor of Berwick, was he not?”
“That is correct, Your Excellency,” Julianna told him. She appeared a bit taken aback at being recognized and looked at Nicholas as if she needed help.
“Miss Feathers is my guest,” Nicholas told him.
“Your guest?” The bishop gaped for a moment and then composed himself and took Julianna’s hand. “First, let me express my sincerest condolences, my dear. I knew your father through various meetings attended by King Edward’s closest advisors for peace.”
“Peace through the Scottish nobles’ surrender,” Nicholas pointed out soberly.
“I know those days are over, Son, but we must find another way to secure it. Peace still needs to reign,” the bishop said and returned his attention to Julianna. “Tell me, Miss Feathers, what are you doing here in a castle full of Scots when they are the ones who sacked Berwick and killed your father?”
“I seek peace as you do, Your Excellency,” she replied. “The Lord of Rothbury and I have been friends for many years.”
“This is wonderful!” the bishop exclaimed. “When the English see that you are both friends, ’twill be a nice example that we can get along.”
Nicholas agreed—if that’s what the bishop wanted. What Nicholas wanted was to do what was expected of him and get everyone out. He wanted to get back to life with his son…and Julianna. Could they be happy? Would they be miserable?
“I see your face in the boy,” the bishop remarked while his attendant pushed his chair closer to the table. “I was sorry to learn of your wife’s death.”
“Aye, ’twas a difficult time,” Nicholas said quietly.
“But the time has passed, eh, whelp?” the bishop smiled at him and then at Julianna. “Let us speak of this—” he motioned with his finger back and forth between them, “—friendshiplater.”
Nicholas looked heavenward and let out a short laugh. “Aye, later, when I will be listening to you rather than to the sweet melody of myEnglishlady’s voice.”
“Um, hmm.” The bishop narrowed his eyes on Nicholas and nodded. “You are correct. I have invited an important guest here tonight. I would like him to see the two of you together. Do everything you must to give us reason to celebrate, eh?”
Nicholas passed her a sickened glance. He was sorry he’d gotten her into this. She should not have come to his table. He didn’t like that the bishop knew who she was. It meant that he knew Nicholas had been her servant. What would it say about it to the English? The Scots?
The bishop’s guest turned out to be Thomas, Earl of Lancaster. The Scots in attendance were surprised and troubled to learn he was cousin to England’s King Edward. The earl was quick to reassure all that he was here as Edward’s enemy.
“Ye mean, a traitor!” someone called out.
