How long did she have? A month, maybe a few weeks more? Time for James to change his mind—
She stopped herself and a wave of hot tears pressed behind her eyes. Fool! He didn’t deserve her tears. Even if he changed his mind, she wouldn’t change hers. James Douglas could take his ambition and go straight to the Devil. He’d shown what he thought of her today, and she would never forget it. She also knew she would never be the noble wife to bring him the fame and fortune that drove him.
“I… I.” Her voice shook. “I have to go.”
Without waiting for the other woman to respond, Joanna pushed past her and raced toward the door.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she stumbled down the stairs into the yard. Only a handful of men remained. James and the gold-and-scarlet-clad men were gone.
The hopelessness of the situation hit her full force. She heard Elizabeth shouting her name, but she didn’t stop running. She just wanted to get away—far away from anything that reminded her of James Douglas.
She wished none of this had ever happened. She wished she’d never fallen in love with him, never let him make love to her, never gotten herself with his child. That she wished most of all. She didn’t want this baby.
She tore down the hill, trying to quiet the cacophony of disturbing emotions with the wind rushing over her ears.
It was dusk, the light already dim when she entered the forest.
She heard a scream of warning from behind her—Elizabeth’s, she realized—in the fraction of an instant before an enormous shadow sprang out of the trees ahead of her.
A man swore, and a horse squealed like a pig as it reared to avoid her.
A bludgeoning burst of pain kicked her chest, as she was sent reeling over the edge of the bank. Her head slammed against the ground, and dirt, rock, and brush assailed her from every direction as the ground slid past her in a rush. Tumbling down the hill, all she could think about was pain.
Then, blissfully, the world went black.
CHAPTER SEVEN
By the end of the week, Linlithgow Castle was theirs. A local farmer, a man named William Binnock, known as Binny, had indeed proved invaluable. They’d executed a Scottish version of a Trojan horse. While delivering hay to the garrison at Linlithgow, the farmer concealed eight of James’s men in his cart. Binny was familiar to the English and the portcullis was raised to allow him to enter. Once under the gate, the farmer cut the oxen free and blocked the gate with his cart while James and Randolph led the attack. This time the garrison did not surrender, and James was not troubled by promises—or his conscience.
He was, however, troubled by other things. As much as he hated to admit losing focus and being distracted by a woman, what had happened with Jo weighed on him. He tried to put it out of his mind, telling himself he’d had no choice. She had to understand the reality, and once she accepted the situation, they would continue with their lives together.
She’d given him an ultimatum, damn it. He’d done nothing more than call her bluff.
But his plan to make her see how it would be if they weren’t together wasn’t working the way he’d intended at all. She was the one who was supposed to be heartsick and tormented. She was the one who was supposed to fear the future without him.
What if she decided she could live without him? What if she decided she didn’t love him anymore? What if it hadn’t been a bluff and she actually took him at his word? And the thought that tormented him the most, and made his stomach feel as if acid were churning in his gut: What if she took it in her mind to accept one of the proposals her father had mentioned kept coming her way?
James took out his dark emotions on the English, fighting with a frenzy that raised Boyd’s eyebrows once or twice. But even as the English fell beneath his sword, James couldn’t stop seeing her face. The hurt. The disillusionment. And something else. Something that made him fear his words had struck in a way he hadn’t intended.
He had to tell her he hadn’t meant it. She loved him, and he knew she would forgive him. It was one of the things he loved most about her; he could always count on her.
But his thoughtless comment wasn’t the only problem. Jo was sweet and kind to a fault, always seeing the good in people, which they sometimes took advantage of. It wasn’t naïveté, he knew, but stubbornness. And that worried him. What if she was stubborn about marriage? What would he do then?
Damn it, he had to make her see reason. Men in his position didn’t marry for love. It was an alliance. A transaction. A contract between families to increase their wealth and prestige. But for him it was more than that. His family’s honor was at stake. He couldn’t let his father down.