The Knight (12 page)

But the look in her eyes stopped him cold. She looked so different. She’d lost so much weight, the lush curves he loved so much had all but disappeared. She looked achingly frail, like a strong wind might carry her away. Despite the sunny day, her cheeks were not rosy and tanned but pale and colorless. He could see the thin pink line of a scar on her brow, one on her temple, and another on her chin. The changes wrought by the accident were like a punch in the gut, and another stone set upon the pile of guilt crushing his chest.

I could have lost her.
And just how close he’d come to that was staring right back at him.

But it wasn’t the physical changes that chilled every bone in his body. It was the blank look in her eyes and the indifference of her reaction. For the first time in his life, Joanna was staring at him without feeling, and it froze him. Hell, it terrified him. It made him realize that maybe she wasn’t going to be as ready to forgive him as he’d thought.

“Joanna?” her cousin asked hesitantly.

“It’s fine, Maggie. You can leave us. Lord Douglas won’t be here long.”

Lord Douglas? Christ, she’d never called him that in her life.

Her cousin left, and Joanna met his gaze again. “How did you find me?”

Not “I missed you,” not “thank God you are here,” just the cold, flat emotionless tone of a woman who hadn’t wanted to be found.

She really hadn’t wanted him to find her. He hadn’t actually believed that until now.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t too difficult.”

She held his gaze, challenging the lie. “Who did you threaten?”

He frowned. Is that really what she thought of him? “I didn’t threaten anyone. If you must know, it was your sister who told me.”

Joanna muttered a curse he’d never heard from her lips before. “I don’t need to ask which one. Constance has so many stars in her eyes where you are concerned, it probably didn’t take much effort on your part to wile it out of her.”

In the past he would have teased her that Constance wasn’t the only one, but he sensed the jest would not be welcome. He also sensed that it was no longer true. Joanna had always looked at him as if he were some kind of hero out of a bard’s tale. As if he could slay dragons, hang the moon, and out-duel Lancelot all at the same time. But she wasn’t looking at him that way now. The clear blue eyes stared at him with not a hint of starriness.

He’d hurt her far more than he realized and the knowledge weighed on him like a stone on his chest.

Though her gaze was no more welcoming than before, he took a few strides toward her until they were standing only a few feet apart. “I’m sorry,
mo ghrá.
I’m sorry for everything. The baby. God, the baby.” His voice broke. “I didn’t know. I should have been there with you. I would have been, if you’d told me.”

His words had no effect. She stared up at him, unmoved and seemingly uninterested. “Why would I do that? It was over.”

“I didn’t mean that. I was angry. You were forcing me to choose between you and my duty, and I reacted. Badly, I admit. But damn it, Jo, you had to know I didn’t mean it. I love you.”

He’d taken her arm without realizing it and tried to bring her closer to him, but she was as rigid as a pole of steel.

She turned her head away. “It makes no difference now.”

His heart picked up the beat, speeding to a frantic race. She was acting like she hated him. But that wasn’t possible. This was Jo—
his
Jo—she loved him. “Of course it makes a difference,” he said softly. “We need to talk about this, if we are going to get past it.”

“Get past it?” She stared at him and then did something so unexpected it shook him to the core. She burst into laughter. “Dear God, do you actually think you can tell me it’s over, leave for three months while I mourn the child you would have had the world call a bastard, and then come back as if nothing has changed?
Everything
has changed, James. I do not blame you for what happened any more than I blame myself. It was an accident. But it is done, and nothing can be done to change it back. You are too late. Whatever chance we might have had died along with our unborn child.”

He heard the words, but he didn’t want to hear what she was saying. He couldn’t be too late.

Despite the warmth of the day, his skin felt like ice. A shiver ran down his spine. He had to make her see reason. “You are overwrought—angry—God knows, you have every right to be. But don’t say something you don’t mean. You love me, Jo, and I love you. We will get through this together.”

She shook her head. “There is no ‘together,’ James. You and I were never meant to be, I see that now. You will always be an important part of my past, but that is where you will remain.”

“But damn it, Jo, you love me.”

“I did. Very much. Too much, as it turned out, for it did not allow me to see what was right in front of me. You and I wanted different things.”

James felt as if flames were roaring in his ears, in his chest, scorching like wildfire. “You don’t mean that.”

But she did. He could see it in her eyes. He’d killed the love she’d had for him as surely as if he’d stuck a dagger through her heart.

“You should go, James. You don’t belong here.”

“Neither do you. You belong with me back in Douglas.”

The sad smile on her face said otherwise. “I thought so, too. But we were both wrong. I belong where I will be happy, and right now that is here.”

His eyes narrowed, the suspicion he’d been trying to keep at bay pushing its way forward front and center. “Why are
you
here, Jo? Does it have something to do with Lindsay?” He took her by the arm, gazing at her with all the intensity burning inside him. “If he has touched you, I’ll kill him.”

She wrenched her arm out of his hold, the first spark of emotion blaring in her brilliant blue eyes. Too bad it was anger. “How dare you make threats and disparage a man who has been nothing but kind to me! Sir David is a friend—that is all. Not that it is any of your business. You lost any voice in the subject the day you told me it was over.”

“Damn it, Jo, I didn’t mean that.”

As suddenly as it had sparked, her anger was tamped out. In its place was sadness and resolve. Who the hell was this calm, self-possessed woman? What happened to the effervescent girl who only had to smile at him to make the day brighter? His heart tugged, and then grew too tight.

“Whether you meant it doesn’t matter. It was for the best. It forced me to see the truth. I loved you too much, and that wasn’t good for either one of us.”

“Stop talking in the past tense, damn it. It isn’t over.”

The look in her eyes told him differently. “Go, James. I do not want you here. I don’t want to see you again. If you ever cared for me, just leave me be.”

And with that, she turned and walked toward the cottage.

He let her go—for now. But he had no intention of letting her walk away from him forever. He loved her and damn it, he would do whatever he had to do to get her back.

“Is something wrong?” Sir David asked as he was leading her back to the bench at the dais. “Was the dance too much?”

Joanna glanced up into his concerned gaze and managed a small smile. “The dance was perfect. The reel is my favorite.”

Another song started up, and he had to raise his voice over the lively tunes of the musicians. “Then is it something else? Are your injuries hurting you, are you in pain—”

She stopped him with a touch on the arm. “I’m perfectly hale. Truly, there is nothing to worry about.”

Unconsciously, she scanned the room, relaxing only once she assured herself that he wasn’t here. Had he really gone so easily? She hoped so. Of course she did.

Sir David studied her with a pinched brow. “Do you know that’s about the tenth time since you arrived that you’ve looked around the Hall like the bogeyman is about to jump out?”

She was about to lift her thumb to her mouth, but bit her lip instead. “It is?”

He nodded, patiently waiting—not demanding—for her to continue. She heaved a deep sigh and told him. “James came to see me after you left.”

She could feel him tense at her side. Every muscle in his body seemed to flare. Apparently, in addition to the instinct to rescue, the urge to defend and protect ran just as strong in him. Knights! It must have something to do with the sword and armor.

But he bit back whatever threats had sprung to his lips and took her hand, pulling her toward a quieter corner in the Hall near the edge of the wooden screen behind the dais. “Are you all right?”

No, she wasn’t all right. The shaking inside that had started the moment she’d left James standing by the burn still threatened to shatter her carefully constructed resolve. It had taken everything she had to watch him ride away without a backward glance and not fall into a sobbing heap at her cousin’s feet. Seeing him again, hearing his words of love, and then seeing the shock and hurt when he realized she would not be swayed, had taken every ounce of her resolve. When it was over she felt spent, utterly drained, and weak.

She’d done the right thing, but never had she imagined how hard it would be to do it.

James had been everything to her for so long; seeing him again had brought it all back. The love she’d once had for him was gone, but vestiges of it remained in her memories—and in her body. Aye, her physical reaction to him was just as strong as it had been before. Her nerve endings didn’t know they shouldn’t flare, her skin didn’t know it shouldn’t tighten, her cheeks didn’t know they shouldn’t flush, and her nipples didn’t know they shouldn’t harden.

She couldn’t see that tall, strong body and not remember how solid it felt on top of her—how he felt surging inside her. The memory of his skin sliding against hers, the heat of his body, the feel of the hard muscles under her hands…

Longing rose up sharply in her chest and pinched.

Every time he’d touched her earlier had been torture. She was so used to touching him back, she’d had to grabs fistfuls of her skirts to prevent herself from doing so.

But she’d done it. She’d confronted him and weathered the storm of emotions. She was battered perhaps, but still standing.

It was for the best. She’d meant what she said: James Douglas was her past. Today she’d taken the final step in making that a reality.

Sir David’s concern and care for her feelings touched her. “I will be fine,” she said, realizing it was the truth. “It was difficult, but it had to be done at some point.” She managed another smile. “Frankly, I’m glad to have it over with.”

Something hardened in Sir David’s expression. He was looking over her shoulder at the Hall behind them. “Maybe not as over with as you’d hoped.”

She turned and her heart caught. Staring at them with the black, deadly look on his face that had earned him his epithet was James.

He strode toward them—stormed, more accurately—practically shoving people out of his way as he wound through the celebrating crowd.

Her valiant protector Sir David courageously, if not wisely, took her hand and stood beside her to face the imposing warrior, who looked more like an avenging demon.

James had not missed the possessive gesture and she could see his eyes flare with rage.
Jealous
rage. Knowing she had to diffuse the situation, she carefully detached her hand from Sir David’s and squared to meet James who had stopped a few feet away. He looked like he wanted to slam his fist against Sir David’s jaw, but fortunately he’d managed to exercise some semblance of control, and his gauntleted fists remained in tight balls at this side.

“Touch her again, and I’ll kill you,” he said in a low voice.

Sir David didn’t react to the threat, though they all knew it was not an idle one. “Sod off, Douglas. If the lady does not want me to touch her, she’ll tell me. You have nothing to say about it.”

Joanna groaned inwardly. Dear God, Sir David was going to make this worse. She would not be responsible for these two men coming to blows. “What are you doing here, James? I said everything I had to say. I told you I didn’t wish to see you again.”

“You didn’t mean that.”

Joanna belied that claim with a silent stare.

James’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I should ask you what
you
are doing here? I thought there was nothing between you? It sure as hell doesn’t look that way to me.”

“Not everyone is as big a fool as you, Douglas. Don’t blame me for recognizing a treasure when I see one.”

James made a sound like a low growl in his throat and took a step toward the other man, but Joanna stepped between them. “What is it that you want, James? Say what you have to say and then leave.”

He looked at her so incredulously and so full of hurt, her spine shook from the effort to keep straight.

“Come on, Jo.” His voice had taken on a soft pleading tone she’d never heard before. “Don’t be like this. It isn’t you.”

Joanna turned to Sir David. “Will you give us a moment please?”

The younger knight looked back and forth between them. Though his expression said it was the last thing he wanted to do, he nodded. Joanna breathed a sigh of relief when he walked away.

But the tension remained.

James watched him disappear into the crowd with a narrowed gaze, and then turned to her. Before she could protest, he took her by the arm and dragged her behind the partition.

It was dark. The small space served as a storage area for the trestle tables when they were put away as they were now. There wasn’t much space, but he didn’t need any.

No sooner had they disappeared from view of the Hall than he spun her around, pushed her up against the stone wall behind her, and slammed his mouth on hers.

Her gasp of shock was swallowed in the initial onslaught of sensation. Hot, drenching, needy sensation. Surely, it was surprise that explained how her mouth instinctively opened and how her body melted into the strokes of his tongue. Of course it was. His big, hard body pressed against hers, hot and heavy, enveloping her in heat and virile male, leaving her nowhere to go.

Her senses were drowning in him. The warm, spicy taste of clove, the soapy scent of his always freshly bathed skin, the scent of heather that lingered on his surcoat. Passion rose up like a maelstrom inside her, threatening to drag her under. But she tamped it down before the urge—the need—to respond took over.