Julianna stared in confusion at Charles as he continued to pace back and forth across her grandfather’s bedchamber, still clearly wound up from the evening’s battle.
His mail shirt bloodied and his black hair dampened with sweat after removing his conical helmet, also spattered with blood.
“A delegation?” she murmured, only to be greeted by Charles’s full-throated laugh of triumph.
“That impostor king wants his wife back and he sent some of his lairds to try and secure her freedom. A pity Robert the Bruce wasn’t among them himself and we were well rid of him! I’ve already sent a messenger to London to apprise King Edward of the news—”
“But won’t he become angry?” Julianna interrupted him, a flicker of unease gripping her when Charles rounded upon her with a look of indignant surprise on his swarthy face. He was neither handsome nor ugly, but somewhere in between; his muscular build, neither tall nor short, found him often looking upward at other men.
“Angry,my lady?”
Julianna nodded and swallowed hard for she had clearly offended him with her query. “If there was an official delegation, mayhap it was arranged by the king himself—or at least some of his representatives in York. Yet now as you say, they’re all dead—”
“Yes, and good riddance to them!” spat Charles as he dismissed her words with an impatient wave of his arm and renewed his pacing. “Of course King Edward will not fault me once he knows I believed an attack was imminent. So I sent those Highlanders straight to hell! That’s all the less we will fight one day on the battlefield. Robert the Bruce will meet his end long before his wife is released from her imprisonment—if she even survives him. I won’t be content until everyone associated with that bastard is rotting in the ground and all of Scotland bowing again to our king’s banner.”
“Our king’s banner,” echoed Hubert, who reached out to squeeze Julianna’s hand. “Enough talk of these Highlanders, child. We have happier news for Lord de Montfort that I’m sure he’s most eager to hear, yes?”
She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer as she sat frozen upon the stool beside her grandfather’s chair, Charles turning from the fireplace to face them.
“News?”
Silence fell as still she couldn’t speak while her grandfather urged her with a gesture to stand up. “Tell him, Juli…he’s waiting.”
Somehow she obliged him, though she trembled as a knowing look lit Charles’s face and he swept his gaze over her from head to foot.
A dark-eyed, hungry gaze that left her feeling as if she wasn’t fully clothed before him and he was already imagining taking her for his wife and possessing her—dear God!
“F-forgive me, all this talk of men slain…men dying…” Without another word, Julianna fled from the bedchamber with Hubert sputtering an apology and Charles cursing behind her.
She needed to get away from the unsettling lust in her future husband’s eyes and her grandfather’s insistent urging and any talk of that ill-fated delegation and—and all of it!
She didn’t stop until she had run down the hallway and into her own bedchamber, where she shut the door and threw the bolt.
Her forehead pressed against the doorjamb, she stood there for long moments with her heart pounding and futile tears filling her eyes for she had already agreed to the marriage, there was no going back.
She knew she would have to face Charles and tell him that she would become his wife, but not tonight.Not tonight!
For now, she simply needed to weep that her future was decided and she would become Lady de Montfort in a loveless marriage with a man who would dominate her, silence her, yes, maybe even mistreat her—she sensed that so clearly now.
Was that why his late wife had always appeared so pale and wan? Sitting mute as a lamb at any gatherings while Charles always spoke for both of them? The poor woman jumping like a frightened mouse whenever he slammed his empty cup upon the table and called for more ale? Julianna so wanted to please her grandfather and allay his fears for her, but how could she agree to such a match when she sensed so clearly the misery their union would bring her?
Pushing away from the door at the heavy sound of footfalls moving down the hall—thankfully not in the direction of her bedchamber!—that told her Charles was leaving them for the night, Julianna retreated to her bed and sank down upon the edge of the mattress.
Tears still slipping down her flushed cheeks, she lowered her head as another wave of despair struck her.
She was grateful to Charles for sending his men to protect them this night, but she abhorred killing. Mayhap that was why she had immersed herself in the healing arts so passionately after her family had been slain. Some good had to come out of that terrible night and she had become known among her grandfather’s retainers for her gentle care of those sick and afflicted…men and women and children and animals alike.
Would Charles allow her to continue on as a healer? She knew the answer without speaking it, for how could that be suitable for a lady of so sizeable an estate as the De Montforts’ and De Vescys’ joined together? For years, trusted servants had attended to overseeing the household while she followed her own path, thanks to her grandfather…yet soon that would be wrested from her.
He would be gone, and she would be left with no family to speak up for her. She, too, would become pale and wan and as mute as a lamb and as frightened as a mouse—dear God, please spare her from such a fate!
Julianna jumped up and ran across the room to press her ear to the door.
She heard no footsteps, only quiet, and imagined Chester and one of the maidservants had already gone to assist her grandfather into bed for the night.
Tomorrow she would speak to him again and share her fears about marrying Charles, but for now, she would let him sleep.
Whenever she was troubled, nothing served as a better cure than tending to God’s creatures, and she longed to be with them, no matter the late hour. She took only a moment to rush to the armoire and don a plain brown cloak, and then she opened the door and peered out into the hallway.
