“I could never think such a thing. I know you better, Julianna.”
“You know me best.” She offered him a radiant smile and reached out her hand to hold his. She wanted to stare at him in the cold, revel in the way his eyes matched the sky, going from charcoal to silver to blue. He looked happier than she’d ever seen him look before. Was she the cause for his smiles? Was it having his mother back? Both? She didn’t care. His shields were falling away around her feet and watching them was exhilarating.
When they got to the castle, Phillip was taken back to the dungeon with extra guards watching him. Julianna was swept away by Margaret and some of the female servants. They tended to her and fussed over her for hours. She tried to get away to see Nicholas. She missed him. She wanted to talk to him about their future, about Torin—but the gels were correct, she was filthy.
She had blood in her hair so they bathed her and washed her tresses with soothing lavender-scented soap, a gift from the viscount. She smiled thinking of Louis. He was not the dullard she’d expected.
She was too clean and she smelled too good to put on her old clothes. Thankfully, Lizbeth had a white kirtle and a colorful overcoat with hanging sleeves that fit her. Her friends tied up her unruly curls with many pins then finally gave up after many curls sprang free around her face.
Choosing to wear her boots under her skirts rather than slippery slippers, she and her friends made their way out of her rooms to the great hall.
Julianna searched the faces of the men for Nicholas, but she didn’t find him.
“Julianna.”
She turned to see Mr. Lawson and Viscount Bamburgh standing behind her, looking as fit as the day she first met him. His pale gold tresses were tied at the back of his neck. She was so glad to see him well. He’d been kind to her in this battle and she would always remember it.
His worshipful, verdant gaze danced over her. “’Tis nice to see you.”
Julianna was sure something in his face twinkled, his eyes, his smile, something.
“Louis, it pleases me to see you up and out of your sickbed, especially since you were there because of me.”
“I would not have recovered if not for your constant care.” His smile warmed on her then he glanced up at the ceiling and shook his head.
“What is it, my lord?” she asked, touching his arm. “Do I trouble you?”
“’Tis your beauty, Julianna,” Mr. Lawson replied. “It astounds us all.” He looked at her and his smile faded. “There, now I have made you blush and feel uncomfortable. ’Twas not my intention.”
“Come, sit with me at my table,” the viscount insisted.
“Thank you,” she answered graciously. “But I am waiting for Lord Rothbury.”
“You can wait for him with me,” he pushed gently.
She nodded and sat with him at his table, accepting a cup of wine from the server.
“He is a large man,” the viscount mumbled and then laughed when Julianna cast him a curious look. “We tried to find him clothes to wear but he is too big.”
Julianna laughed softly though, in truth, she wanted to get up and go search for him.
Soon though, the wine began to relax her. Nicholas would be coming to the great hall to look for her. She would see him. She needn’t worry that every time they were apart something would try to keep them that way.
“I must tell you,” the viscount said, turning to her. “I feel responsible for what happened today. My dungeon keeper was old. I am not here often and that is why he had not been replaced.”
“Phillip would have found a way to escape. He escaped a grave, remember.”
“Aye,” he agreed, and then shivered and shared a look with Mr. Lawson. “Having come so close to it, ’tis a difficult thing to imagine. Nevertheless, he will not escape this time.”
“Let us hope not, my lord.”
The three of them talked easily, like friends visiting each other. She knew the viscount cared for her. Mr. Lawson did as well, but it was more like a fatherly affection. She never kept the truth of her heart from the viscount. They spoke about Elias in Carlisle and about Nicholas’ brother, Torin.
“I understand why you are so angry with him,” the viscount told her. “But I have no advice on how to stop it. Sometimes, trying to muffle anger is worse than just letting it out.”
“I did let it out,” she told him. “’Tis dangerous, my lord. I would have killed him if not for Nicholas’ hand staying my blade.”
Both men laughed softly, admiring her. “You are feisty and fiery-tempered, my lady,” Mr. Lawson said.
