“I stand against everything Edward stands for,” Lancaster called out to them.
He was a man of small stature, with a wiry physique built more for running than for standing firm on a battlefield.
“He is a tyrant who does not only terrorize the Scots, but his own countrymen, as well. There are many of us who will stand with you and your king in battle.”
“We would prefer peace,” the bishop spoke up.
“Your Excellency,” Lancaster turned to him. “Edward does not want peace. He will never agree to a treaty with you. I have seventy-two witnesses who have heard him say it.”
Whether Nicholas liked or respected Thomas of Lancaster was unimportant. None of them were surprised that Edward didn’t want peace. He was a fool. He also never fought in any of the battles he caused.
“Who are the others that stand with you?” Nicholas asked. “We will require names before we can trust you. You understand.”
The bishop and the other Scots agreed.
“Of course,” Lancaster agreed. “Edward will need to be defeated. He willneversupport Robert as King of the Scots. After you defeat him, there will be peace. I can guarantee it.”
“How?” Bellington asked.
“Because I will rule,” Lancaster claimed.
“As you ruled after Bannockburn?” Nicholas called out. “Your attempt to govern then failed and after four years and much of the northern territories reclaimed by the Scots, you were asked to relinquish power. So,” Nicholas said and let his son climb back into Julianna’s lap, “how can we take your word that your barons will allow you to rule again. And if you do, that you will support Robert?”
“You will have to trust me.”
Nicholas smiled. “We will need more than that.”
He waited while the earl thought about it. He was thankful the bishop trusted his judgment. Douglas FitzGerald trusted Cain and Torin for the king’s sake. But he knew Nicholas. Nicholas had sat with him at meetings like this one and had proven himself loyal and worthy.
“I will arrange for the other barons who stand with me to come to our next meeting.”
“That will do,” the bishop announced, putting an end to the talks.
The rest of the evening passed at a snail’s pace, especially when Elias fell asleep in Julianna’s arms and quit being a source of entertainment for everyone sitting close to him. It turned into a blessing in disguise when Julianna asked for his help carrying his son to bed.
“I owe you something wonderful for getting me out of there,” he vowed to her as they walked to Elias’ room.
“After you put him to bed,” Julianna said with that same alluring blush to her cheeks, “you may kiss me goodnight.”
Chapter Thirteen
Julianna watched Nicholasbend to lay his son down. Her breath came in short little gasps that made her feel lightheaded and giddy. He looked so handsome in his military coat that she could scarcely breathe. She’d asked him for a kiss. How could she have been so bold? She didn’t care how bold she was. She liked it. Nicholas liked it. He didn’t have to say it. The fire in his eyes spoke volumes. He desired her. It excited her and frightened her at the same time. She was afraid of being intimate with him. She knew he would be nothing like Phillip,ifthey married…in the spring. She closed her eyes remembering his playful replies that had suddenly become serious. Had he been? Her heart sped and her belly flipped and burned. She wrung her hands together while she waited for him to bid Elias goodnight.
Why had she asked him to kiss her? Why did she feel like an inexperienced virgin when she was not? She had been married, and forgetting Phillip, she had kissed Nicholas before. Yet it was as if she had just met him, as if he had never touched her before that moment.
He straightened from seeing to his son and turned to her.
Her heart leaped in her chest. She wanted this intimacy with him, no matter how it frightened her. This was the man she trusted, the man she’d known her whole life, but could never have. Now, she could have him.
“Come,” he said in his low, bewitching voice, taking her hand. “I will escort you to your chambers.”
She wondered while they walked how the simple act of holding his hand could almost be the thing to bring her to her knees. For Julianna, there was nothing more intimate than taking her hand and walking with her. She loved how big he felt beside her, the way his gait felt against her, making his arm brush her shoulder or his hand touch her hip. She loved how possessive his taking hold of her hand felt. Her nerve endings sizzled with desire for more with him, of him.
When they came to her door, he took her hands in his. He kissed her knuckles and let his lips linger on her while he looked up from beneath his dark brows and whispered against her skin. “I miss kissing you, Julianna.” He turned her wrist over, exposing the inside to his teasing lips.
She closed her eyes, though watching him in the golden glow of the torchlit walls was almost just as pleasing as his mouth.
He stopped and lifted her wrist around his neck. She opened her eyes to gaze into his and tried not to groan out loud, but failed. She was tempted to call him William because that’s who she remembered loving. But he wasn’t William anymore. He was Nicholas, the brooding father, a broken, angry, detached man with a shield around his heart. A man who ran from her when things felt serious. A man whose words now carried weight with others. A man she was falling in love with all over again.
