Page 76 of Ella’s Desire

Leila’s presence was all around Ella, the quiet reassurance she was safe at the moment. Ella embraced it, let it curl around her like a cloak. It eased the tension of the wait, as did Bronson’s conversation.

“I only ever saw Brigid when I was a boy, soon after my father wed her,” Bronson said, his voice still low to keep anyone who might pass by outside from hearing. “I did not see her again until his death. The reason for her hesitation when you mentioned going to Berkley Manor is due to its state of disrepair, as it is practically falling in on itself.”

At that exact moment, a small patch of the ceiling fell and nearly landed on Kipper. The horse flicked its tail in irritation.

“Not this bad.” Bronson tilted his head in consideration. “But it requires a considerable amount of work. Although it wasn’t the house that truly concerned me—it was Brigid and Lark. They were so thin. Starving. Their clothes were rags and Lark…” He drew in a pained breath. “She did not even have shoes.”

Ella pressed her lips together. It explained so much now, why she could see the bones in their hands and arms, why Brigid clung to her purse so at the market.

“It is why I want a good match for Lark, a profitable one,” he continued. “I can’t stand the idea of her living in such conditions again.”

Ella sighed at her foolishness. She had leapt to her own conclusions, expecting him to have the same reasoning as most men. And mayhap it was a safe assumption, but she had not asked for him to explain himself. Instead she had hurled insults at him and rejected him.

He had not even had a chance to defend himself. They’d been notified of Leila and Lark’s disappearance soon after.

But he did not throw accusation at Ella, as she so deserved, his expression absent malice or judgment. “It was not my place to bring Brigid to court. My father questioned her loyalty to him and that is why she did not join us. I was never consulted on any of these matters and was allayed with excuses when I would ask after her. Because I did ask after her through the years. Her and Lark both. I had no idea they hadn’t learned to read, that they were starving and without funds to live on.”

He reached for her hand and this time she did not pull away. “It was why I worked so hard to get you to want to marry me. I needed the money, not for life at court for me, but for Brigid and for Lark. To repair their home and ensure they never went without again. Forgive me for the deception, Ella.”

“It is I who should be seeking forgiveness.” Guilt burned in Ella’s stomach. “I have been so wrong about you.”

The sky had darkened outside the open windows and she could only make out the shadow of his profile set against the dusk.

“You weren’t entirely wrong about me.” Bronson lowered his head. “I was selfish too. I enjoyed court, my freedom, all the luxuries such a life affords a young man. Certainly not heroic at all. Nothing worthy of a troubadour’s tale, or the ink of a lovely young woman writing a story.”

But he was wrong. This was exactly the thing a hero would do in her story. He would not lay the blame of his failures at another’s feet. He would admit to his wrongs and move heaven and earth to see his mistakes made right. Like trying to woo his betrothed into marriage, or even commit himself to a valley of demons to rescue two young women.

“Bronson.” Her voice caught. He was not the shallow courtier who shed his skin each time there was something more to be gained. This man had depth, conviction.

He held his arm out in offering once more, almost imperceptible in the darkness now. This time, she scooted closer to him and his arm fell around her shoulders. Immediately, his body heat seeped into her chilled skin. She pressed closer, grateful to feel something other than the wet cold.

“I was so wrong about you,” she whispered. “Will you ever—”

Leila’s presence tugged at her mind like a nagging thought. The force of it was gentle yet unmistakable. She hadn’t known Leila capable of doing such a thing.

Bronson drew back. “Is something amiss?”

Ella shook her head. “I think Leila is telling us we must go.”

“It is only just growing dark. Are you certain?”

Before she could answer, the tug came once more, insistent. “Aye. We must go now.”

The certainty of it gave Ella confidence. If Leila could reach her like this, perhaps she could direct them where to go once they were inside the valley.

Bronson got to his feet and helped Ella to hers. They required no additional preparation, as they had done it all when they had first arrived, remaining ready to go at a moment’s notice. Both had agreed it was best to leave off their chainmail in the interest of stealth silence. Better to sneak about than to be well-armored and face an army.

“Now?” He asked.

“Aye.”

Before he could turn away, she rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Quick and full of as much emotion as she could muster in only that scant fraction of a second. “God keep us all safe.”

Then she rushed out of the structure ahead of him. There was no more time for additional conversation; no time to receive his return affection. Once more she shoved aside her fears to focus on the task at hand. Although this time, it was not only the fear for Leila and Lark, but also for Bronson and even herself.

They were going into dangerous territory, a place where they could easily be killed.

Bronson’s footsteps swishing in the brush told her he had joined her. It was time to go rescue their sisters.