He lifted his head. No tears spilled forth from his eyes, but she could well see the pain in them. Della trembled.
“Oh, Stuart, don’t carry on so. I don’t blame you for any of it and I’m proud of you. It’s done and there is naught we can do to change it. I wish it could have been different, truly. But I’m married, and I will have to live with Brant.” Della rubbed her hand soothingly over his back. “We are not children anymore. As an adult, you realize that life doesn’t turn out the way one plans.”
“You call him Brant? So familiar.” Stuart groaned. “Nay, it’s not fair, Della. I have given up many proposals of marriage, to many beautiful women over the years in waiting for you. And now you call him Brant and do not love me anymore, when I have done naught but stay faithfully attached to you.”
“Nay, don’t say such things.” Della hugged him to her. “I do love you. I always have, and I will always love you. You, my dear faithful Stuart, are the brother I never had. But I am married now. I’m sorry you gave up happiness to be with me. I’m sorry if your plans were ruined out of faithfulness to me. I wish I could take the pain of childhood from your heart. I wish you could find true love. I should never have made you promise to wait for me. I should have never said we would be married. It was selfish of me to trap you from love. Given the right woman, your heart will heal. It’s my fault you are alone and so hurt. I am a selfish woman and a bad friend. Stuart, could you ever forgive me?”
“Della.” Stuart hugged her to his chest. “Nay, it’s not your fault. I wanted to be married to you, too. You know how cruel my mother was to my father. She tormented him. I wish to be away from the pain a woman can inflict. And I realize this must be a sign I am to always be alone.”
Tears spilled from her eyes as she cried against his shoulder. Guilt at what she had done to him choked her. He felt so familiar, was her oldest friend, and was in so much pain. And she was so confused. Had Brant cast a spell over her? Did she love her husband? Or did she truly love Stuart?
But when she held Stuart, she felt none of the turbulent emotions she had with her husband. There was none of the pain or joy that came from loving Brant. All she felt was kinship and the well-versed pain they’d both clung to in childhood.
Pulling back, she searched his eyes. Before she had time to react, Stuart’s lips came up against hers in a kiss. His lips parted, obviously expecting more of a response from her. Della gasped and pushed against his chest.
“Nay, Stuart!” Della struggled out of his embrace. Frightened, she stumbled to her feet. His warm lips created none of the feelings Brant’s gave her.
“Oh, Della, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” He turned his face from her. Quietly he stood, his shoulders hunched. “I am so humiliated.”
“Nay, it’s not your fault.” Della was discomforted by his actions, but believed to understand them. “You are upset with the news of my father and my nuptials. With all the work you have been doing for King Guthrum, it’s no wonder you are under much strain.”
“Now you will tell him and he will surely kill me.” Stuart stared coldly at her. “He has taken you away from me.”
Della wondered if Stuart had always been so possessive of her. She didn’t remember him being so emotional when they were children. Guiltily, she suppressed her revulsion his dramatic display caused. “Nay, I will not tell him.”
Stuart watched her, tilting his chin proudly in the air. His expression hardened as her eyes slid from his face.
Nay, how could I tell him? He would likely blame me, Della thought as she pressed her lips together. Walking slowly toward the yard, she knew Stuart would not follow too closely behind.
* * * * *
Brant glanced at his countess. She sat quietly next to him during the eve meal. In fact, the entire high table was unusually devoid of conversation. Della’s face was pale, her eyes swollen as if she’d been crying. He wanted to pull her into his arms and wipe away the pain he saw etched in her expression. Her cheek was still red and bruised—a reminder of his harsh treatment. It wouldn’t leave a scar on her flesh, but her heart was another matter, and that muscle had been ill-treated as it was.
Sir Stuart sat on Della’s other side, eating quietly. The man met his stare dead on and a small smile formed on the corner of his smug mouth. Brant clutched his fist, resisting the urge to reach across the table and hit him.
Did Della cry for her cousin? Or did she cry because of some other inane female reason? Brant was afraid there could only be one answer and he didn’t like it.