Page 61 of Ella’s Desire

“I’m sorry,” Ella said.

He gave a lazy little half-smile. “Don’t be. I just wanted you to know why I couldn’t be your lover.”

A soft thump came from outside the stables and before Ella and Peter could pull away from one another, the door flew open.

21

Bronson shoved his way into the stables, hoping he had heard wrong. After all, it had been difficult to listen from his vantage point and he’d only just made out the words “your lover.”

He stopped short, halted by the slap of the image before him with Ella held in Peter’s arms, the same way Bronson had so often embraced her. She jerked away, but it was too late. Bronson had seen enough.

With a roar, he launched at Peter and slammed his fist into the servant’s face. Pain shot up Bronson’s arm at the force of his hit and Peter staggered back, his hands going to his cheek.

“Stop this.” Ella put herself between the two men, even as Bronson was drawing back his arm once more.

“You do not wish me to beat your lover?” Bronson asked bitterly, his muscles flexed to strike again.

“He is not my lover.” Ella stared at him as she spoke with conviction. Her nose was pink and her eyes red-rimmed. As though she had been crying.

Why would she be crying?

Bronson glared at the man behind Ella. Though Bronson’s fist still ached, he longed to drive it into the Master of the Horse several more times. “I heard him say something about being ‘your lover.’”

Ella sidestepped slightly to put herself in front of Bronson’s gaze once more. “Then if you were listening to the entire conversation, I wager you heard why he had turned down my offer to seduce him.”

Bronson narrowed his eyes. “Your offer to seduce him?”

“Aye.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “When I first found out I would have to marry an Englishman I had never met. I decided to enjoy my own life before having to accept what was being forced upon me. I went to Peter to give myself to him, and he rejected me.”

Bronson flexed and clenched his sore hand. “Then why were you in his arms now?”

“Because I wanted to go for a ride, and he wouldn’t let me without a guard.” Ella’s eyes flashed. “Because I cannot stand the idea of remaining in this castle one more moment with all the anger and frustration building within these walls. It was more than I could bear. Peter was comforting me. Nothing more.”

Bronson shifted his glance toward Peter once more.

The man nodded and dropped his hand from his cheek. “I have far too much respect for my lord’s daughters to ever sully any of their reputations. And I enjoy my employment far too much to do anything to jeopardize it.”

The Master of the Horse spoke without hesitation, his back straight and his expression earnest. Either the pair were exceptional liars, or they were indeed telling the truth. Then there was Ella’s face, red and puffy, the way it happened when ladies cried. Bronson had seen her face in passion many times, and never once had it resulted in a reddened nose or eyes.

“What angers and frustrates you so within the castle?” Bronson asked Ella, more softly this time.

For the first time, she looked guiltily away. “You.”

“Me?”

“You want to sell Lark off to someone at court, to make her appealing to the men who might take advantage of the vulnerability you force on her.” She widened her stance on the dirt floor and met his gaze. “You have never taken her to court for an introduction, nor has Brigid been at court since becoming a countess. The women are nearly starved, and neither can read. Is this what you want in a woman? Is this to be my future? And what of our daughters?”

The vehemence of her words pummeled into him in sharp strikes. She had seen so much more than he had realized. Except she had assumed it had all been his fault.

“Ella—”

“You said I could marry you when I decided I was ready.” She lifted her chin. “How can I be ready any time soon when you have so little care for the women in your life? And I did not throw myself into Peter’s arms just now. I was truly upset, and he sought only to help allay my tears.”

Bronson frowned. What the hell had he been thinking in allowing Ella to make the decision when to wed him? What had been meant as a romantic gesture might just have become his greatest obstacle.

“Then I apologize, Peter.” He spoke slowly, carefully, knowing that every word would be weighed by this woman whose opinion of him would dictate his future, as well as that of Lark and Brigid.

The Master of the Horse shrugged with indifference. “It’s not the first time it’s happened. It’s only been the first time I’ve been innocent.”