Page 11 of Ella’s Desire

“Not arranged marriages?” He’d meant it as a light jest.

Ella, however, did not laugh, nor did she offer a goading remark. She stared down at her food, her expression shuttered.

“When we are wed, I shall buy you hundreds of books,” Bronson promised.

Still, she did not look up.

“My marriage was arranged,” William said. They all regarded the steward. He ducked his head and a tender, affectionate expression softened his face. “We were happy. I c-couldn’t imagine my life without her.” He paused and ran a hand over his auburn hair to smooth what had not been out of place. “She d-died in the childbed, along with our newly b-born daughter.” He smiled regardless, in the way kind people often did, even when divulging sad news. “Arranged marriages can bring great happiness. Those years with my Annie were the best of my life.”

“Many marriages that start with strangers turn to love.” Lady Marin regarded her Scots husband with a quiet smile. “You simply need to get to know one another.”

At least it appeared the others were championing Bronson’s efforts. He glanced to Ella for her reaction and found her cheeks red. She pressed her lips together as though restraining words she’d rather say and reached for her wine.

The sound of rending fabric filled the solemn silence. She sat up straight and her eyes went wide.

At her back, a seam had split behind her right shoulder, revealing smooth fair skin beneath fraying green cloth. Ella’s mouth fell open while Lady Catriona and Lady Leila covered giggles behind their hands. Lady Marin touched her fingertips to her brow and slowly closed her eyes.

“Excuse me.” Ella shoved back in her chair.

Before Bronson could get to his feet, she was already out of her seat and partway across the hall. He leapt up and went after her. He’d half-expected someone to stop him, especially once he was in the corridor, where they might be alone, but no one did. He continued on in his pursuit.

“Lady Ella,” he called after her. She did not stop. Of course. What had he possibly expected? That she would stop, turn to him and race into his arms?

He shook his head at his own stupidity and quickened his pace until he was directly behind her. “Lady Ella.” He spoke with more authority this time.

It did the trick. She spun about, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Why are you following me?”

He offered a smooth smile that slid easily over his mouth. “I simply wish to walk you to your chamber,” he replied. “To learn more about you.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “That isn’t necessary but thank you.”

“I would enjoy it.” He offered her his arm. “Being at your side, knowing you are well-protected.” His courtier’s manners had always pleased women.

Ella, however, did not appear impressed.

Not that it mattered. He would win her over the same as he won everyone over.

Ella looked at his arm but did not take it. “I will hardly be abducted on my way to my room.”

He dropped his hand and contented himself to walk beside her. “How long ago did William’s wife and child pass on?” If she wouldn’t share anything about her own life with him, sharing things about others would still enable him to get to know her.

“About fifteen years ago.”

“And he’s not remarried?”

Ella slowed her brisk pace. “Nay.”

“He must have loved her very much.” Bronson could not stop his thoughts from trailing back to his own mother’s death, and how his father had married Brigid before the year was out. It had been impossible to resent his stepmother, though. She had been such a source of comfort to him as he made his slow, painful way through grieving.

“Mayhap marriage causes considerable stress.” Ella’s tone was nonchalant with the pragmatic assessment. “Papa never remarried either after my mother died.”

“You write stories of love, and you assume their lack of remarriage is due to stress?”

Ella didn’t answer but began walking more quickly. “Here is the door to my chamber, and no fiend has attempted to abscond with my person. Are you pleased?”

He stopped in front of her and took in her face. Sconces lit the corridor with small flames and cast a gilded hue to her lovely face. Her blue gaze flicked away and back up to his face, bits at a time, as though grudgingly studying him as well.

It was her mouth which most drew his attention, pink and lush, gently parted as though she wanted him to kiss her. He knew better.