“You have no reason to be anxious. My stepmother does not bite.”
James had obviously mistaken her silence as they rode toward Park Castle for nervousness at the impending meeting.
She made a face. The formidable Eleanor de Lovaine was an intimidating woman who could make the most stalwart of women shake in her slippers at the prospect of being presented to her.
Of course, Joanna had met Lady Douglas countless times before—including during the week or more she’d spent at Park Castle after her accident—but James had insisted on the formality, and as it seemed important to him, she’d agreed to join them for the midday meal.
“Are you sure about that? She’s never liked me, James, and I suspect she likes me even less now.”
Though he had not repeated his proposal, James had made it clear in everything he did that he meant to marry her.
He shook his head. “You are wrong. She might have been surprised at first, but she has come around to the idea. You’ll recall she and my father did not exactly have a typical courtship.” That was an understatement. It had been quite a scandal at the time when the lord of Douglas had abducted the wealthy widow and forced her into marriage. Given the reputed love between them, however, Joanna suspected that the “force” was mainly to appease a furious king. Speaking of furious kings, she wondered what the Bruce would have to say about James’s marital plans. “She’s quite a romantic at heart,” James added.
A sharp laugh escaped from between her lips. “Are we talking about the same woman? I suspect she would not be satisfied with a queen for you as a wife. Aye, the king could parade all of his sisters before you, and she would probably send them all back until he brought his wife.”
A mysterious smile curled one corner of his mouth. “It isn’t her choice to make. But as I said, she’s come around.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she would have asked him to explain the smile, but they’d arrived and one of the stable lads had come around to help her from her horse.
The moment they entered the hall, Joanna knew she’d been tricked. From the sounds of revelry inside, this was no intimate family meal. She arched a brow. “I didn’t realize you were planning a feast.”
He feigned innocence—and not very well. “Did I not mention that?”
“You did not. What’s the celebration?”
“Nothing.” He gave her a measured look. “Yet.”
Her heart started to pound. Fear and anxiety rushed over her in a cold sweat. James had made no secret of his intentions, and she’d maybe even gotten used to the idea, but that didn’t mean she was ready to make an announcement—or hear another public proposal. “James, I…” Her voice fell off helplessly.
He seemed to understand and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It will be all right, Jo. I want today to be special for you, that’s all.”
She looked up at him uncertainly, but seeing his sincerity, she nodded.
And it was special. More special than she could have ever dreamed. It seemed every person of consequence in the area had been invited, including her family, who’d somehow managed to keep the feast a secret from her.
There was dancing, pipe playing, and more food and drink than she’d seen since the beginning of the war. The French wine alone must have cost him a fortune. Although trade with other countries like France and Ireland had resumed, it wasn’t without difficulty, and foreign goods—whether French wines, exotic spices, weapons, or cloth—were still rare and expensive.
And at the center of all this celebration and largess was her. James hadn’t left her side since the moment they’d arrived, leading her first to the dais to sit next to him (and be formally presented to his stepmother), and then leading her around the room to greet the rest of the guests. He was making no secret of his intentions. He might have hung a sign around her neck that said
THIS IS THE WOMAN I INTEND TO MARRY.
She felt like a princess, and it would have taken a heart of stone not to be swept away by the romance of it all, at least a little. Maybe more than a little. The past few days of wooing had melted so much of the ice already.
She’d fallen in love with him all over again, if she’d ever stopped, and with every laugh, every spin on the dance floor, every proud “You remember Joanna Dicson, don’t you?” the truth was harder to deny.
But could she trust him enough to marry him?
The excitement of the day was marred only by her growing anxiety, and the sense of building anticipation around her. She couldn’t escape the feeling that something big was going to happen. The question was whether she was ready for it.