Page 89 of Ella’s Desire

Warmth filled her chest. “You wrote it for me.”

“You said there were no stories on arranged marriages.” He indicated the book. “Now there is one.”

“For me,” she repeated.

He grinned unabashedly. “Aye. For you.”

She turned the page to see where the lady fell from the tree. Then to another section where the man tried to woo her. “And how does it end?” she asked.

“Happily, my beautiful wife.” He closed the book and put his hand over hers. “Happily ever after.”

Ella’s cheeks hurt from smiling so broadly. Bronson, who had claimed to hate books when he met her, had taken the time to write one for her. To give her the very story she had deemed impossible. “Have you given it a title?”

He gave her a little smirk before answering. “Ella’s Desire.”

Epilogue

Palace of Westminster

March 1341

Court life was not as difficult as Ella had anticipated. In fact, she found she rather enjoyed it. While there were often complaints from others, that the food took so long to arrive at mealtimes, that it was cold, or that the apartments were cramped and fit little more than a bed. Ella and Bronson had experienced no such inconveniences.

William had done well in his management of Harlick Castle and its surrounding land and had trained the new steward at Berkley Manor to apply the same knowledge. As a result, both lands benefitted considerably. This had left William in the wonderful position to finally wed Brigid in a lovely ceremony Ella and Bronson had been fortunate enough to attend. The profitable lands also left Ella and Bronson exceptionally wealthy.

In a court where the king had run his coffers dry with war and conquering, being a wealthy noble put them in a high position. Their food arrived at the great hall plenty warm and their apartments were large enough to even offer a spare room for Catriona to visit.

Despite the constant strings of gossip that threatened to entangle those bold enough to incite it, there were many moments of peace. Like the one now in the garden. Some of the plants were beginning to show green once more after being dormant for winter, though there wasn’t a substantial tree in sight to climb. But it was an enchanting place one could bundle up warmly to enjoy, especially when one would rather spend time with their child than be indoors.

A shadow fell over Ella. “I thought I might find you out here.” Bronson sank down onto the blanket she had laid out.

Their daughter, Blanche, squealed in delight at his arrival and pulled from Ella’s grasp to race over to her father. He caught her and lifted her into the air. The sweetmeat she’d been eating fell onto his chin with a plop.

Ella pushed her hands to her mouth to suppress a laugh. One she was unable to contain as Bronson carefully lowered their daughter and turned his scrunched-up face in Ella’s direction. “I don’t suppose you have a bit of cloth handy?”

Of course, he knew she always had a bit of cloth handy. “Here.” She handed it to him as she quickly snatched up the sweetmeat to prevent Blanche from putting it back into her mouth.

Bronson gratefully swabbed his face. “It would appear I have been defeated yet again.” He winked at Ella and pulled Blanche back toward him, this time keeping her on the ground. He propped her on his legs and bounced her up and down, much to their little girl’s great delight.

“Again,” Blanche cried. “Again.”

And again and again Bronson complied with a laugh.

Blanche’s nurse, Bess, sat nearby, idly working on a bit of mending. They’d hired the kind older woman to look after Blanche while at court, where children were often unwelcome. Indeed, most did not bring their families to court at all. But Ella and Bronson could no sooner leave their child at Berkley Manor than they could their own hearts. It was in these moments in the garden, away from prying eyes and the gossip which abounded, mostly about their decision to bring Blanche, that Ella was most happy.

“Where is Cat?” Bronson stopped bouncing Blanche and surveyed the surrounding area.

Ella nodded in the direction of several courtiers gathered around a lutist who plucked out a slow, romantic tune. “With her new friends.”

There, Cat sat upon a stone bench by the young, handsome knight, Sir Gawain, a man who had only recently arrived. He was nearly a head taller than Cat, with shoulders as broad as Bronson’s and a face that had the eye of nearly every lady at court. Including Cat’s.

Bronson narrowed his gaze. “I don’t like how she looks at him.”

“Under our careful watch.” Ella waved her hand dismissively. “Next week, we return to Berkley Manor and she to Werrick Castle. Let the girl enjoy the appeal of courtly romance.”

“Oh, so courtly romance is something to be enjoyed then?” Bronson set Blanche on the blanket. The child immediately tried to dart away. He pinched the back of their daughter’s coat, holding her in place as her feet worked in a determined march. “I remember a young lady who was immune to my courtly charm.”

Ella sniffed. “Mayhap I was merely stubborn in my admission of its effectiveness.”