Chapter Nine #3
She took Solway’s arm when he offered it, mostly because she liked holding on to him. There was something quietly assuring about his muscled strength.
But this also troubled her. Solway was thawing her heart. Could she trust what her heart felt for him?
She was contemplating this very problem when they entered the inn. For this reason, she did not immediately notice the two smartly dressed ladies walking out of the dining room.
Then she heard one of them laugh.
Recognizing that haughty laugh, she looked over.
How can it be?
Her entire world crumbled.
Solway instantly had both arms around her, for she must have been reeling. “Miranda, what’s wrong?”
“Get her to our room,” Gwenys whispered with urgency. “Quickly, Your Grace.”
Solway swept her down the corridor and got Miranda into her bedchamber with all speed. He refused to release her until she was safely seated on her bed. “What in blazes just happened? I’m sending for a doctor.”
“No!” Miranda was crying too hard to say more.
“That’s twice today ye’ve turned ashen and needed my support. Ye need to be honest with me. I’m worried about ye. Why did ye falter as we walked into the inn?”
Gwenys arrived just as he asked the question, and promptly answered for her. “Did you happen to notice Lady Lawson and the woman beside her?”
“No,” he admitted. “Yer family is here? Blast, I thought they had traveled farther ahead of us by now.”
“They ought to have done,” Gwenys said. “But my stepmother just told me they ran into friends and decided to stay in York an additional few nights. Worst of all, they are staying right here. How can we avoid them, Your Grace?”
“I’ll order our supper brought to my suite and we’ll dine in private tonight,” he suggested. “What’s so important about the woman who was beside yer stepmother?”
Gwenys sank onto the bed beside Miranda. “Shall I tell him?”
Miranda wiped the tears from her eyes, but she could not stop her sniffles or erratic breaths. “No, it is my tale to tell.”
Solway raked a hand through his hair as Gwenys began to cry, too. “Och, the pair of ye. What am I missing?”
“That woman,” Miranda said, her voice shaking, “is Lady Trowbridge…my late husband’s mistress.
She was the one he escorted around Town and took to all the ton balls and dinner parties while leaving me at home.
Once he’d gained his inheritance, he rarely came home.
In fact, he was preparing to ship me off to who knows where and bring her into our home when he met his untimely demise. He was in her bed when he died.”
“Yer husband’s… Och, I’m so sorry. What is she doing with Lady Lawson?”
Miranda cast him a pained look, for this was what she felt. So much pain.
She shook her head and struggled to hold herself together. “They became close friends after he died, no doubt united in their efforts to disgrace me.”
“The witches,” he muttered. “I’ll no’ let them humiliate ye, Miranda. I give ye my word of honor. Ye’re under my protection now, and nobody touches what’s mine.”
A delightful warmth coiled within her, for his growling voice was deep and powerful, and he was behaving like a possessive ape.
In truth, she needed a big ape just now.
It felt nice to have him by her side with his dark scowl and menacing brawn, which ought to have the odious Lady Lawson and even more odious Lady Trowbridge quaking in their elegant slippers.
She was not really his, and under ordinary circumstances she might have insisted that she was capable of handling matters on her own. But she was not capable of dealing with these ladies, and this was obvious to all of them.
No wonder she had felt so odd as they approached the inn. Somehow, she had caught scent of malevolence in the air.
It made sense now, for these ladies were cruel and relentless, and they loathed her beyond reason. Dealing with one of them was hard enough, but to now be confronted by both of these vile creatures?
She stared down at her hands, which were shaking. Solway took hold of them, his touch warm and reassuring.
“I don’t understand why I am falling apart like this.
” The mere sight of them had her quaking and reverting to her scared, twenty-year-old self.
She had been so alone and inexperienced back then.
Even in the ensuing years, her body trembled and she felt ill whenever she encountered them, especially Lady Trowbridge, who was shameless and evil.
Miranda was a woman full grown now, yet still turning into a watering pot at the mere sight of these fiends.
“Ye were all by yerself on a battlefield, albeit a ton battlefield, fighting with all yer might to survive. It must have taken so much out of ye,” Solway said gently, and ran his finger lovingly along her cheek, tracing the trail of her tears.
“These are yer battle scars, Miranda. Sometimes, they dinna go away.”
She nodded.
“But ye are no’ alone now,” he said, his voice a deep, reassuring rumble. “I’m with ye, lass. I’ll no’ let anyone hurt ye.”
Yes, she had the best weapon with which to defend herself…Solway.
She did not know what to say to thank him, so she threw her arms around him as he knelt beside her, and hugged him fiercely.
More tears came then. They fell upon his neck…his lovely, strong neck.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a voice that quavered.
He wrapped his arms around her. “Och, ye break my heart into pieces. Never ye worry about a little dampness on my shirt. Nor should ye worry about those miserable crones. I’ll bring a rain of fire down on them if they dare utter a cross word to ye or about ye.”
She laughed as she held on to him. He smelled nice, too. Male heat, sandalwood soap, and apricot tarts.
“Thank you, Bram,” she whispered. “Is it sinful of me to be cheering you on?”
Oh, she was falling so deeply in love with him. Completely adoring everything about him and more scared to death than ever that her heart was lying to her.
Did she dare surrender her heart to this man?
Did she dare to love?