The Knight(17)

“Mother and father could talk of little else at the evening meal last night with the rumors of his return,” Constance prattled on excitedly.

Which was one of the reasons Joanna had pleaded a headache and retired early. Her mother would guess something was wrong, and Joanna didn’t know if she had the strength not to confide in her. Her parents loved James like a son and revered him as a demigod. This would break their hearts as much as it had hers.

How could she have been so wrong about his intentions? She’d assumed that “love” and “forever” meant marriage. She’d assumed that because she could think of no other future than marriage that James would think that way, too. But it was clear they didn’t think the same at all.

His leman? Dear God, she felt like a fool. A naive, blinded-by-love fool. A naive, blinded-by-love pregnant fool.

Joanna splashed cold water on her tired eyes, cleaned her teeth with a cloth and a paste of wine, salt, and mint, and dragged a beautiful horn comb encrusted with pearls through her hair. James had given it to her a few years ago when he’d become a knight.

Would the baby make a difference to him? She didn’t know, but she owed it to their child to give James a chance to do right by them both.

He’d been in a rush yesterday, and she’d caught him off guard. He’d caught her off guard as well. She shouldn’t have given him an ultimatum like that. She should have handled it with more finesse. For as long as she’d known him, James hated being backed into a corner, and she’d effectively drawn a line on the ground and dared him not to cross over. His pride would make him, even if he didn’t want to.

She bit her lip, winding a ribbon quickly through her long plait. When they spoke later today, she vowed not to threaten but to explain. Maybe she could make him understand? Maybe when his mind was clear and he had a chance to think about it, he would see that he could achieve his goals and still marry her. That she did not need to be the price of his ambition.

At just four and twenty, James was already one of King Robert’s most valued and important lieutenants. He was one of the handful of men the king relied upon. James had been given the important task of gaining control in the chaotic Borders. She knew that the king’s nephew, Sir Thomas Randolph, was making a name for himself as well—and that there was a silly rivalry between the two—but James’s ability to rally men to his banner gave him the edge.

As much as his reaction had hurt her yesterday, part of her still didn’t want to believe he would hurt her—them—like this. If he loved her—and she truly believed he did—he would honor that love with his name. She and their child deserved nothing less.

Though Thommy’s voice sounded strongly in her head that she was just making excuses for him again, she wasn’t ready to give up on him yet. The shine on his armor might have dulled a little, but James was a knight, honorable and noble to the core. His ambition wouldn’t prevent him from doing what was right.

Spirits lifted a little, Joanna quickly finished dressing and, leaving her sisters to their morning ablutions, hurried to the Hall.

Her father had been keeper of Douglas Castle under James’s father and, as befitting one of his most important vassals, their manor at Hazelside was one of the most impressive in the area. A fortified farmhouse, the rectangular two-storied building and the wooden outbuildings were situated on an old motte and were surrounded by a high wooden palisade. Although not as formidable as the stone wall of Douglas Castle, the wooden barrier had served its purpose for more than a hundred years.

The din of voices grew louder as Joanna hurried down the stairs. Something certainly was going on. Instead of a quiet morning, it sounded like a midday feast after the ale and whisky had been flowing for a few hours.

It looked that way as well. When Joanna entered the Hall, she could barely see her parents through the crowd of people gathered around the trestle tables that had been set up to break the fast. However, no one seemed interested in eating. The occupants were laughing and talking animatedly back and forth.

She saw her uncle first, with some of his men, and realized that a handful of her father’s nearby retainers were here as well.

“Bring the wine and ale,” her father called out. “This is cause for celebration.” Catching sight of her as she wound her way toward him, he beamed and opened his arms wide. “There you are, daughter! Come and hear the news.”

Seeing his happiness, Jo couldn’t help but return his smile. Thomas Dicson of Hazelside’s good-natured disposition was reflected in his appearance. Possessing the same fair coloring of Jo and her sisters, the years had grayed his hair and put a ruddy, weather-beaten stamp on his fair face, but he was still a handsome man. A thick barrel chest, sturdy build, and boisterous, larger-than-life personality made him seem taller than his handful of inches over five feet. When he enfolded her in his arms, Joanna’s head nearly aligned with his.