Page 23 of Ella’s Desire

“Ah, Calville,” Ella’s sweet voice rang out. “There you are. I thought you might have gone on the ride without me.”

He spun around to face her. “Good morrow, Lady Ella.” He offered a small, respectful bow.

Ah, but he could do better than the simple bidding of a new day. The heroes in her books certainly did.

She was dressed in a yellow kirtle that made her skin shine with youthful beauty. Her blonde hair had been plaited into a long single braid with a bit of ribbon threaded through her silky locks, and a gilt circlet adorned her fair brow. She was stunning, golden and gleaming like the sun.

Aye, that was good. He ought to say as much. Except it did not come out of his mouth as smoothly as it’d been thought in his mind. “You look fresher than the sun,” he blurted.

Her forehead crinkled, her expression echoing the wild confusion in his own mind. What had just happened? How had he thought something so eloquently, and yet it had fled his mouth in such an awkward jumble?

He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful. And please, do call me Bronson. I was quite serious about that.”

Her puzzlement smoothed away, and she smiled brilliantly at him. “Thank you.” Her gaze skimmed the wall of books behind him. “Were you reading?”

“Nay.” He said it far too quickly. “I was simply looking at your collection of books to determine which you had in case I had more I could add, aside from Roman de la Rose.”

“I thought that was the only book of your mother’s you’d kept.” She came to his side and took his arm. Her hand was warm, and she smelled like sunshine and flowers.

“I meant if there were any more at Berkley Manor,” he corrected. “I believe my sister and stepmother may have some.”

It was a lie, of course. When one could barely afford food and lacked sufficient clothing for the upcoming winter, one hardly bothered with costly books. But it was better than admitting he’d come into the library to read through her stories and sift through her dreams to find the key to making her fall in love with him.

It was pathetic even to his own internal assessment and would certainly not be something he could voice aloud. She peered over his shoulder to the shelves and tilted her head. He followed her gaze and found he’d left the green book with its spine not pushed in completely, so it jutted out from the others.

“What is that one doing there?” She reached out to retrieve it.

Bronson’s heart stopped for a breath. She walked to the other side of the wall and put it onto another shelf. “That’s where you belong.” She said it in a soft, maternal tone before turning to Bronson. “The horses should be ready for our ride. Shall we go?”

A scraping sound came from overhead. Before Bronson could look up, something hard slammed onto the crown of his head. A book clattered to the floor, followed by the giddy chattering of a small animal. No doubt a gift from the wretched-looking scrap of a squirrel.

“Might we leave Moppet behind?” He smoothed a hand over his head to ensure his hair was in order, ignoring the new lump grazing his fingertips.

“Aye, I’ll leave him with Leila.” She shook her finger at Moppet. “For being so poorly behaved.”

Nonplussed, the little mongrel scampered down the shelf and perched on her shoulder. They were able to leave him in Leila’s care without issue, thanks be to God.

Or at least with minimal issue. Hardy had returned to Leila’s side first thing that morning, his slender tail whooshing back and forth like a whip in his frenzied excitement to see her. And while she was all too pleased to add another animal to her retinue, Moppet was not as eager to be paired with a dog.

After much chasing and whimpering and chattering, the two calmed under Leila’s gentle voice and the soothing, clean scents of drying herbs, falling into a truce of sorts.

The horses were indeed ready and waiting for them when they arrived at the stable. Bronson followed Ella to her horse, prepared to aid her onto her saddle, when she leapt up on her own with considerable ease.

Bronson straightened his doublet. It mattered not that he was unable to aid her onto her steed. It was simply one missed opportunity. There would be plenty more ways for him to implement his newfound knowledge of being the perfect hero.

Ella intended to spend the entire day with Bronson, of her own volition this time. And not to dissuade him from marrying her, but to actually give the idea of their union an earnest effort.

Marin had left early that morning with Bran, needing to return to Kendal Castle to see to their own matters. Of course, Marin had given Ella advice on love and marriage and making it work. Ella only hoped it was enough information to allow her the opportunity to fall in love. The rest could work itself out at a later date.

She nudged her horse, Kipper, up a hill with Bronson at her side. “Do you enjoy life in London?”

“I enjoyed it for a time.” His gaze skimmed the endless sea of velvety grass stretching before them. There was something shuttered in his expression, but he did not elaborate on it. “The border is significantly more different than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“I remember court, though it’s been a long time since I attended.” Her mother had still been alive then. They’d all donned their finest silks to be paraded about with ceremony. It had felt ridiculous.

“Did you like it?” He led the way down a steep hill and continued to glance back at her to ensure her safety. A kind gesture, but an unnecessary one. After years of owning Kipper, and how often she went riding, she could do it with her eyes closed. Truly. She’d tried once.

“I remember only being laced into a constricting gown and having to be on my very best behavior. Everything was luxurious, but there were a lot of rules.” She navigated the uneven terrain with ease in an effort to prove her ability to him.