Page 27 of Ella’s Desire

Calville was waiting for her when she emerged from the thick foliage. “How did you learn to fight? When have you killed men before?”

Ella sauntered over to the tree stump and sank the axe deep into the wood. Blood ran down the blade and stained the pale grain beneath with death. “We fight with the Werrick soldiers.”

She knelt in the grass and wiped her dagger against the damp earth to clean the blade as best she could. “Many years ago, we were attacked, and my father learned exactly how vulnerable we all were. We would have all died, were it not for my mother.”

She stopped herself from sharing the story. Its pain had always been there in her heart, lodged like a stubborn burr. She could dodge its spines, but never could she be fully free of its insistent presence.

“What happened?” He held out his hand to help her to her feet.

She accepted and rose, but he did not pull his hand away.

“I’ve never told anyone before,” Ella said softly.

Calville met her gaze, his green eyes tender and honest. “You can tell me.”

She nodded and swallowed, as though it might help to dislodge the words. “My father was injured trying to save us and so my mother came to our aid. She was beaten, and…ill-used.” She clenched her jaw. “She died several months later after delivering a babe, but she was dead before then. In spirit, at least. I remember seeing her walking the halls like a wraith.”

“Did the babe die as well?” Calville asked.

Ella’s heart gave a fresh twinge of pain. That was when Leila had been born, but it felt almost like a betrayal to her youngest sister to mention it. All the sisters, and Papa too, refrained from ever bringing up that Leila was not like them, that her paternity was so different than their own.

Nay, they loved her like the sister she was, and it was never mentioned. Not even among them.

For this reason, Ella did not answer the question. Instead, she pressed on. “Papa wanted us to leave, saying it was too dangerous. And it was.” She shrugged as though it didn’t matter, when it so very much did. “We begged to stay with him, and he finally conceded as long as we learned to fight. Our skills in battle have saved our lives countless times.”

“Ella…” he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

It was the first time he’d used her Christian name without her title, but she didn’t correct him. Surely a man who knew the depth of her secrets was close enough to refer to her so intimately. A man who would soon be her husband.

“We should clean up,” Ella suggested.

He hesitated, his gaze filled with concern before he released her hand. “Aye, but mayhap away from here.”

Together, they led their horses some distance from the cottage to the nearby stream, which was where Ella had originally intended on taking Calville in the first place. Sunlight streamed through the copse of trees and speckled the forest floor with dots of light. Clear water rushed over smooth stones and the sound of bubbling filled the air around them.

The scene was so drastically different from what they’d left at the cottage, it might as well have been another world. And that was exactly how Ella thought of it. A different world. Her world.

And she’d never brought anyone before to be part of it.

A sense of peace washed over Bronson as soon as he entered the small clearing by the stream. The glint of sunlight, the brilliance of the blue sky overhead, the green grass underfoot and the myriad of colors in the surrounding forest, it was almost unreal.

“This is where I meant to take you.” Ella closed her eyes and breathed in slowly.

Bronson did the same, inhaling the scents of wet earth and crisp, cool air, as well as the delicate perfume of flowers. Ella’s scent.

He opened his eyes and was struck again with the beauty of the area. It was all too easy to see why Ella went there often. All around him was splendor with calming forest sounds, as though one might exist in such a place without ever being bothered. He looked to Ella and found a soft smile touching her lips, her face relaxed and alluring.

A bit of blood showed on one of her cheeks. He wiped at it with his thumb and she started.

“Mayhap we should clean up a bit,” he suggested.

“Aye, of course.” She led the way to the stream and crouched by the water, heedless of her leather boots or her fine kirtle. Not that it mattered as both were stained from battle, the blood bright red on the yellow silk.

He knelt by the stream and submerged his hands in the icy water and rubbed them together. Gore lifted from them in a cloud of orange-red. Immediately it made him feel better, as though the removal of the stains also helped to cleanse his mind.

He cupped his hands and splashed water on his face, massaging his skin to rid it of blood, before dragging his fingers through his hair. His doublet clung heavy and wet to his body, impeding his movement. Without thought, he slipped free the buttons and pulled it off, leaving only his linen shirt beneath.

What was once white before was now dotted red and pink with the blood of his fallen enemies. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ella turn her face toward him. It was then he recalled a scene in one of the books she’d written, with the knight and the nymph, when the knight had stripped off his shirt. Mayhap it was a heroic thing to do. In the past, women had marveled at his physique. He hoped Ella would now as well.