Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(72)

The knights nodded and left to do as they were told.

Brant took a lungful of evening air. He hadn’t seen Della since she’d disappeared earlier, but it was just as well. The less time she spent near Stuart, the better he’d feel about it.

Was the nagging suspicion mostly due to his jealousy? Brant shook his head at the thought. Nay, there was more to it than that. Brant was jealous, but that didn’t affect his gut instinct. Lord Strathfeld had sensed it too and had warned against letting Stuart into the manor and near Della. Sadly, his wife had no clue as to her cousin’s true nature. He saw the way Della looked at the man, the way she didn’t cringe from Stuart’s touch. But he also saw how Stuart looked at her.

Brant wasn’t fooled by Stuart’s easy smile. The man had been well aware of Lord Strathfeld’s death. Could it be he had also known of the marriage? Did he already seek to outdo Brant in his wife’s eyes? Was this his game? The man thought to take what was rightfully his?

Brant scowled, moving toward Edwyn’s chamber, intent on finding his wife. He would keep her by his side until he could persuade Stuart there was nothing for him at Strathfeld—nothing but the end of a sword if the man tried to take what didn’t belong to him.





Chapter Twelve




“There you are, cousin. I was worried when you didn’t join us at the high table.”

Della glanced up from her hiding place and slipped the ring back onto her finger. The sun had almost disappeared along the edge of the earth, yet there was enough light for her to see Stuart clearly. “Yea, here I am.”

Stuart smiled as he joined her in hiding. “I had a feeling this is where I would find you. See how well we still know each other?”

Della chuckled, but the laugh was halfhearted. “It is a wonder you remember after so long. But I’m always here when avoiding something, so it’s not too hard to figure out.”

“Has your husband figured it out yet?” His eyes probed her for her answer.

Della shook her head. Nay, Brant could not know.

Stuart sat beside her and leaned his back against the wall. “I hope it’s not me you wish to avoid. I will leave immediately, if you so command it.”

“Oh, nay, not you. It’s the battle between you and my husband I seek to avoid. As far as I am concerned, you will always be welcome here.” Della laid her hand gently on his forearm. She’d been trying to compose herself and was glad she’d stopped crying long before Stuart found her. She wasn’t sure what her cousin would do if he discovered she was unhappy.

“Ah, sweet Della.” Stuart held her hand to his arm. “Then it’s your husband causing you discomfort. There is no battle on my side, lest you commanded it of me or if I had reason to believe you were in danger.”

“Why are you here? Why now after so long?” Della wondered, though not upset by his visit. She missed their friendship and, even though she now understood it was only friendship, she still felt the familiar connection she’d always had with him. They knew each other and had shared so much. Time could not diminish her affection for him.

“You will laugh at me if I tell you.” He refused to let go of her hand, choosing instead to rub gently at her fingers.

“Nay, I have never laughed at you.”

“All right, I will tell you, but remember what you just said.” Finally letting go, he turned to face her, his head leaning against the stone wall. “I had a feeling you needed me. I was in southern Mercia, fulfilling my political obligations to King Guthrum, when one night, right out of a deep sleep, I shot up in bed and saw your face. I swear I saw you crying, calling to me as if in a dream that was real. ‘Nay!’ you screamed to me. The next morn I completed my obligations early. It took me a fortnight to get here.”

“That is when my father died,” Della said in awe. Stuart had always claimed to have a strange connection to her. In childhood he often sensed things about her that she’d told no one else. He would even know things about her mother’s death. Just one look at her and somehow he knew some little detail she’d never told anyone. He’d been a child when he came to her home, only ten years to her tender age of five. It was amazing he still felt so connected to her after all the time that had passed.

“Was it not also the day of your wedding?” Stuart prodded. His lashes dipped low to hide the expression in his eyes as he lifted her hand to finger her wedding band. He twisted it thoughtfully around on her finger. “It would’ve been your wedding night, I believe.”

“Yea, it was,” Della acknowledged. His attention to the band only reminded her of its message. Her heart beat dully and she pulled it from his grasp. “But that’s not what you felt.”