Chapter Eight #2
Isabeth waved him off. “I am coming to see that it is not your fault,” she said.
“You are correct when you said she has shown no restraint. Even in my own home, she tried to give me orders. That is what you saw earlier – she really did attack me. I have the wounds on my arm to prove it when she grabbed me and sank her nails into me. I hope you do not think I would have actually attacked a guest in my own home unless provoked.”
“I never thought that.”
“Good.”
“Is that what you wished to speak to me about?”
“Nay,” she said. “I… I hope it will not be too much of an imposition if I ask you a few questions.”
“What about?”
She sighed faintly, pulling her shawl more tightly around her shoulders as if to ward off what was to come.
“I have no father to speak to, you understand,” she said.
“The only male relative I have is my cousin, the same cousin who does not wish to have me at Briarfield, so I was hoping you could help me.”
“I would be delighted to.”
She looked at him, fear in her eyes though she was desperately trying not to show it.
“My future has changed drastically in just a few short days,” she said.
“In the grand scheme of things, your wife and her behavior does not matter. She is leaving tomorrow and I shall never see her again. But I suspect I will continue to see you, at least for a short time.”
Ronan nodded. “Until Dyce is buried, which is set for the morrow,” he said.
Then he sighed sharply and sat forward in his chair, adopting a more casual stance.
“But the truth is that I promised him I would take care of you. I hope you know that I simply cannot walk away forever. As you have come to see, my honor is important to me. I must ensure that you are safe and happy, so your future and that of Dyce’s son are my responsibility. ”
Isabeth was watching him carefully. “That is what I have been thinking on,” she said. “After we bury my husband tomorrow, what then? What should I do? What do I need to do? I do not know where to turn, so I must ask for your guidance.”
Ronan’s gaze drifted over her, looking so ethereal in the firelight.
If only I had a wife like this to retire with every evening, he thought.
It was odd how he felt such a sense of peace with Isabeth.
Something about her was calming and soothing, as if she settled something inside of him.
He wasn’t sure how or why, but she seemed to have that impact on him.
He struggled to focus.
“And you have it,” he said, pushing thoughts of her calming effect on him aside. “Are you sure you want to discuss this tonight? There is no great sense of urgency.”
But Isabeth nodded. “There is,” she said. “I must know what I should do next. What should I do next?”
Ronan could see that she’d been stewing about this, and for good reason. She was facing an unexpected and mysterious future, but all he could see was her vulnerability. She looked so lost and vulnerable and he very much wanted to help her.
Protect her.
Something was stirring in his chest, something he was trying very hard to ignore.
“Very well,” he said. “If you wish to discuss it, then we shall. I do not want you to be afraid of the future. Now, you’ve asked what you should do after we bury Dyce. The first thing we must do is make a notification to his liege. Who is his liege?”
“My cousin,” she said, a little fearfully.
“The one who does not wish to see you?”
“The same.”
Ronan stood up and moved his chair a little closer to the fire and a little closer to her before sitting back down and giving her his focus.
“Let us speak frankly about him,” he said. “Firstly, what is his name?”
“Oston,” she said. “Oston de Royans.”
“His wife?”
“Oston married Clemence de Fulke.”
His brow knitted thoughtfully. “De Fulke,” he repeated. “I’ve heard of the family near Kendal.”
“I believe that is where she is from.”
“And why does she not like you?” he said. “Did you have the same great friendship with her that you have with Lady de Wolfe?”
He was teasing her a little and she smiled weakly. “Nay,” she said. “I do not even know her. I met her only once, at their wedding. Afterwards, my cousin made it clear that neither Dyce nor I were welcome at Briarfield again.”
“Did you say anything to her that might have offended her?”
Isabeth shrugged. “I congratulated her on her marriage,” she said. “That is all I ever said to her. But I remember Dyce commenting on how plain the woman was. Very plain and with marred skin, but her family was rich. Dyce said my cousin married her for her money. Mayhap someone overheard that.”
Ronan fought off a grin. “That would be just like Dyce to offend everyone around him and not give a lick,” he said. “But it is of no matter, I suppose. Mayhap you can make amends when you write to your cousin to inform him of Dyce’s passing. Mayhap he will be in a forgiving mood.”
Isabeth’s gaze was fraught with worry. “The only reason he kept Dyce at Ravenscar was because he was a good commander with a solid army,” she said.
“But with Dyce gone, there is a hole the must be filled with… someone. I am certain my cousin will want to have another garrison commander here, so what will happen to me? I have nowhere to go if I am told to leave.”
She was beginning to tear up, frightened at the mere thought of leaving.
Ronan’s heart went out to her because he could only imagine the anxiety she must be feeling with a future so uncertain.
Therefore, he scooted his chair closer to her and reached out, taking her hand gently.
It was meant to be a touch of comfort, but the moment his flesh touched hers, that stirring in his chest began to burn.
“You need not worry about that,” he said softly but firmly. “I will not let you be turned out in the cold. I will always look out for your welfare, whether it is here or somewhere else, but there is no world in which you would be left to fend for yourself. Do you understand?”
His touch had done something to her, too.
It had calmed her, comforted her, flesh against flesh that assured her all was not doom in her world.
Her champion was gone, but Ronan would take up the mantle in Dyce’s stead.
She could see that now. She’d spent so much time trying to chase him away that she never realized how much she really did need him, if only to give her some comfort that all wasn’t lost.
Gazing into his eyes made her feel better.
“I do,” she said. “But I do fear that Dyce’s death will give my cousin an excuse to remove me from Ravenscar.”
“Possibly,” Ronan said. “But if that is the case, we will turn to my father for help and advice. There are a dozen or more de Wolfe properties. Mayhap one of them is looking for a lady just like you.”
That sounded most comforting, but also a little confusing. “To do what?”
“Well,” he said thoughtfully. “What can you do? What talents do you possess?”
She sighed. “Virtually none,” she said. “Dyce did everything. But I can sew and I can sing. And I am very good with children.”
“You see?” he said, squeezing her hand. “You can be a nurse. God knows the de Wolfes have herds of children. In fact, my Uncle Thomas, who is the Earl of Northumbria, has several children. Plus, his wife is the patroness of a foundling home. I am certain they would welcome your help and it would be a roof over your head, a place to raise your son. Would that be of interest to you?”
For the first time since he’d known her, Ronan watched Isabeth’s eyes light up. “Very much,” she said. “Will you ask the countess if she would accept my help?”
Ronan nodded. “I will do it immediately,” he said. “Now, no more worrying about your future. I will help you find a good one, I promise.”
She smiled faintly, looking into his exquisite face, feeling his enormous, warm mitt around her hand as something sparked in her chest. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was a tingle, making her feel the slightest bit giddy.
At least, she thought it was giddiness but the truth was that she’d never felt that way in her life.
All she knew was that it made her feel strangely alive and strangely happy during a time she’d not felt any happiness at all.
It was a curious sensation, indeed.
“I appreciate it,” she said after a moment. “Dyce trusted you and so shall I. You were a very good friend to him, my lord. I know he loved you dearly.”
His mouth twisted wryly. “And that’s another thing,” he said. “You keep addressing me as ‘my lord’. I’ve let it go until now, but I shall tolerate it no longer. My name is Ronan and you said I was like a brother to you. Start acting like it.”
She broke down into a grin. “You are right, of course,” she said. “Considering what went on with Lady de Wolfe, however, I thought it best to…”
He cut her off, though not rudely. “I do not wish to speak on her any longer,” he said. “Our dealings with her are through. You shall never see her again.”
“But you will,” she said quietly. “Won’t she be angry with you for sending her away at my request? Truly, I am sorry if I cause any discord between you two.”
He looked at her for a moment, the warmth in his eyes fading.
“Madam,” he said slowly. “Surely it has not escaped your notice that discord is all Lady de Wolfe and I have between us. There is no love lost there, not like you and Dyce. You and Dyce had a perfect marriage with mutual love and adoration. May I tell you a secret?”
Isabeth nodded seriously. “Of course.”
He looked at her and she swore she saw a faint blush come to his cheeks before he looked away. “I should not be telling you this, but I will,” he said. “The day Dyce was killed and you sat in the tent with him, all day, praying over him, I found that I was… jealous.”
Isabeth frowned. “Jealous?” she repeated. “Why?”