But strangely, as he lay in bed later than night, staring up at the thick coated wool walls of the tent, it wasn’t his hurt pride that kept him awake. It was the feeling of loss so painful that it felt as if it were tearing open a big, gaping wound across his chest.
The next morning he was ordered to the king’s tent to explain his actions. As James had anticipated, the king wasn’t pleased by his sudden disappearance.
Robert the Bruce sat behind the table that served as his desk while on campaign, studying him with far more scrutiny than was comfortable. “Aye, well next time you have an emergency, I would prefer that you advise me before leaving.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “Unless you intend to challenge me for this chair, I’m still king.”
James usually enjoyed the jests about his ambition as much as the king did, but today he had to force a smile to his lips. Was he that bad? Had his quest to achieve his family’s greatness become too focused?
James or Douglas? Joanna’s words echoed in his head. Was she right? Was his ambition for himself or for his family? How high did he have to climb before he would be satisfied?
“I have no wish to sit in that particular chair, my lord.” He meant it. God knew, he had no wish to be king. Practically every member of Bruce’s family and every person he’d ever loved had been killed or imprisoned. He met the king’s gaze, all signs of jesting gone. “I will be proud to sit by your side, at your feet, or anywhere else you have need of me for as long as we both live. Hell, I’ll follow you into the grave if you ask it of me.”
Bruce smiled wryly. “I do not think it will come to that, at least not—I hope—for many years to come. But I am glad to hear it, especially with what I’m about to offer you.”
James frowned. “Sire?”
“You are almost five and twenty.” He was right; James’s Saint’s Day was next month. “High time, do you not think, that you took a wife?”
James stilled. His heart seemed to stop beating. This was it, what he’d been waiting for. But now that it was here, he felt the unmistakable weight of dread sinking in his gut. “I have had some thoughts on the matter recently, sire.”
As recently as yesterday, though God, what a disaster that had turned out to be.
“I’m glad to hear it. If you do not have a bride in mind, I should like to propose one. My youngest sister Margery is just three and ten, but old enough to wed. How would you like to call a king brother?”
“I…”
A cold sweat gathered on his brow. James stared at the king and felt the tent walls start to spin around him, as if he were being sucked into a vortex of darkness.
He didn’t understand his reaction. It was everything he wanted. He should be ecstatic. He should be falling on his knees and thanking the king for the honor he was giving him. He should be shouting his joy from the parapets. He’d achieved what his father had asked, raising the name Douglas to the highest levels. James’s children would have royal blood and be the nieces and nephews of a king.
But those were not the children—the child—he thought of. His stomach turned. For the first time, the extent of just what he’d lost hit him.
It was only at the moment when he’d achieved everything he’d thought he wanted that James realized what he wanted most of all.
Not one week after the horrible confrontation with James at the May Day celebration, Joanna was back at Hazelside with her family.
Her cousin no longer needed her, and there was no longer a reason for Joanna to hide. There was nothing she could have done that would better guarantee a definitive end to her relationship with James than to humiliate him like that, although God knew that hadn’t been her intention. The word had slipped out before she’d realized what she’d said.
Garderobe. She cringed, her stomach still turning with horror and guilt. She could still see the look of betrayal in his eyes, still see the shock and the hideous flush of shame on the cheeks of his proud, handsome face like the handprints of a slap. Her slap. It had taken everything she had to not go after him and try to apologize. To let him walk out of that Hall hating her. But she told herself it was for the best.
It was over—really over. It was hard to believe let alone accept. For as long as she could remember, James Douglas had been the most important thing in her life. Now that he was gone, she felt a vast emptiness inside her, as if something vital was missing. One of her father’s men had lost a leg in the war, and when he was recovering, he said he would often feel pain in the place his leg used to be. She’d never understood it until now.