Nessa’s Seduction by Jayne Castel

30

A WOMAN WITH SECRETS

NESSA SPRINKLED SALT over the threshold before digging her fingers into the leather pouch she held. Empty. Her mouth thinned, tension coiling within her. Salt was essential; she’d have to ask Thomas to fetch her some more.

After her run-in with Lamia, she’d taken to warding the pavilion every morning.

She hadn’t seen Lamia since that night, although she’d been cautious whenever she left the tent, making sure that either Thomas or Hugh stayed with her, and that she never strayed out of view of others.

Even so, she could feel Lamia’s presence nearby, a faint hum in the air—like an angry hive readying itself to attack.

Nessa frowned then. It vexed her that the witch might think she feared her. Aye, Lamia’s witch-will was stronger than her own, but Nessa could defend herself, and inflict serious harm, if necessary.

However, her goal now was to stay out of trouble.

Restlessness churned within her. Of course, she wasn’t much good to Scotland or Robert Bruce stuck in this tent. Her usefulness as a spy here had ended. It was time for her to return to the Wailing Widow Falls and accept her next mission.

Heaviness settled upon Nessa at the thought, yet she shrugged the sensation off. Enough. She had to focus on what really mattered: Scottish freedom.

Nessa glanced over then, at where her saddlebags sat in the corner of the pavilion—packed and ready to go.

Hugh hadn’t actually said he’d release her—and the siege of Stirling Castle continued—yet she sensed he would let her go if she asked.

A sigh escaped her. She should have been relieved about the eventuality, but she also felt conflicted. These past days would remain with her forever. She and Hugh were no longer lovers, yet the time she’d spent with him, nursing him back to health, had felt the closest to a ‘normal’ life that she’d ever had. They were a family of sorts—she, Hugh, and Thomas—in the midst of a busy camp while the boom and rumble of the siege surrounded them day after day.

But just like those nights in Dunfermline, this too was a stolen moment in time. One that was drawing to an end.

Hugh would let her go, and she’d never see him again.

Goose. Nessa’s mouth thinned. Harden yer heart! The cause is more important than yer pining for this man.

And it was. Robert Bruce had to be protected.

The reminder made Nessa strengthen her resolve—just as Hugh entered the tent.

He was limping heavily, his face taut with discomfort.

“Ye left yer stick behind,” she greeted him, motioning to the cane one of the carpenters had made him.

“I wasn’t going before the king looking like a cripple,” he grumbled, his brow furrowing. Hugh halted before her, his gaze meeting Nessa’s. “Not that it made any difference … he’s discharged me from duty.”

Nessa stiffened. “So soon?”

Hugh made a face. “You knew how this meeting would go then?”

“Aye,” she admitted softly. “Ye are healing well, Hugh … but those injuries will stay with ye forever. Ye can’t go into battle with them.”

Tension rippled across his face, as silence fell between them.

“Nessa, you are free to go,” he murmured. “You have been for a while, but I think you know that anyway.”

Nessa swallowed. “Aye, thank ye, Hugh.”

Another moment of awkward silence stretched between them before, unexpectedly, he stepped close to Nessa, reached out, and took her hands. “I’ll admit it felt like a kick in the teeth,” he said gruffly, “to be sent away after so many years at my king’s side.” He paused then, his hazel eyes gleaming in the dimly lit interior of the tent. “But when I left him and really thought about what I was giving up … and the future that lies before me … something became clear.”

Nessa’s breathing hitched. It was as if a curtain had just been lifted from his face. He suddenly looked years younger—and hopeful.

Hugh’s fingers tightened around hers. “You don’t have to return to your outlaws, Nessa. Come back to Grosmont with me instead. I wish to make you my wife, to have a family with you … grow old with you.” He released one of her hands, lifting his own to her cheek and caressing it gently. “You might have drugged my wine back in Dunfermline, and I wish I could remember telling you how I felt … yet even though I didn’t realize it then, I do now … I am in love with you.” He broke off then as his voice turned husky. He stared down at her, his eyes dark and expectant.

“Hugh,” she whispered. Her chest started to ache. “I lied to ye about that … ye never told me that ye loved me back in Dunfermline.”

His gaze shadowed. “I didn’t?”

She shook her head, guilt crushing her chest.

“And the things you said that night … after you’d healed me.” His features tightened. “Were they also lies?”

“No,” she gasped. “I meant every word.”

His expression softened, and he cupped her chin. “Then come back to Grosmont with me … start again.” He paused then. “I’m not asking you to change who you are. You can continue your healing … your craft … I will have a space made for you in the castle.”

Nessa’s heart fluttered against her ribs. Mother’s milk, how she was tempted. She’d never wanted anything more than to ride off into the sunset with Hugh de Burgh. He gave her something—a feeling of completeness she hadn’t even realized was missing in her life. Aye, she’d been lonely at times over the years, yet she hadn’t realized that it was love her heart had been yearning for.

But she couldn’t leave the order, couldn’t turn her back on her people. It would be the ultimate betrayal to Colina, Fyfa, Breanna, and the others. They’d all sacrificed their lives for the Guardians. What right did she have to abandon them all, especially now when Scotland needed them so much? The order was her life—she knew no other one.

But deep down, there was another reason she resisted him. Fear. Nessa was terrified of stepping away from the role that had always defined her. Who was she, if she wasn’t a Guardian of Alba?

And yet the temptation to agree rose like a springtide within her. It would be so easy to say ‘aye’, to melt into his embrace.

Dragging in a deep breath, she stepped back from him, releasing his hand. “We Scots have a saying,” she whispered. “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

He frowned. “And it means?”

“My life is here, Hugh. I cannot go to England with ye … I cannot be yer wife.”

Hugh’s eyes guttered.

It was an awful thing, to see hope die, and a sickly sensation washed over her. Nessa swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that had now risen in her throat. “Some things are just not meant to be, Hugh,” she whispered.

“I don’t understand.” A nerve flickered in his cheek as he continued. “Is it that I’m English?” When she didn’t answer, his brow furrowed. “The Scottish cause will go on without you, Nessa … just as this siege will continue without me at the helm. Maybe it’s time to step away from your old life. Things won’t fall apart without us.”

Ye are wrong, Hugh … they might … I might ...

How she wished she could tell him who she really was—of the oaths she’d sworn to her sisters and the High Bandruì when she’d entered womanhood. Perhaps then, he’d understand.

But she couldn’t reveal the truth to him, for that would break the greatest oath of all—one of secrecy.

“It’s not just that we are on different sides,” she admitted then. “I made promises … and I must keep them.”

Their gazes remained fused, silence stretching out between them. The disappointment on Hugh’s face pained her, yet she sought to wall herself off from it. This had to be done.

“You are a woman with so many secrets,” he said finally, bitterness lacing his voice. “I don’t really know you at all, do I, Nessa?”

Her pulse quickened. “Aye, ye do,” she whispered. She drew in another deep, shuddering breath. “In amongst all the lies I told ye … there were also many truths.”

Hugh stared at her before shaking his head. Long moments passed, and then his gaze veiled. His shields were going back up.

“I was a fool,” he said, his voice roughening, “to fall for a woman who shrouds herself in mystery like you do … but it can’t be undone. The offer still stands though. If you wish it, you will always have a place by my side.”

Hugh stepped back, widening the gulf between them, and raked a hand through his short hair. The gesture left it in spiky disarray. Nessa ached with the need to reach out and smooth it.

But she couldn’t, she wouldn’t. Not now.

“Well … since our fates have been decided, there’s no point in prolonging this,” he muttered. “I’m leaving at dawn tomorrow … and I suggest you do the same.” He paused then, his gaze shadowing. “Go back to your outlaws, Nessa, and continue your cause … I’ll pretend I know nothing about it.”

It was a strange, silent evening.

Thomas reacted badly to the news that the king had released Hugh from service, but after a few stern words from the knight, the lad slunk off to make sure the horses would be ready for the morning’s departure.

Supper was tough, boiled mutton with coarse bread. Food supplies were running low in the camp; the king had called for provisions from across the border, yet they would need to make their dwindling reserves last until then. A good time to leave, Nessa thought dryly.

Thomas returned from ensuring that all the tack was ready. His usually cheerful face was drawn, and his blue eyes red-rimmed. Nessa realized the lad had been weeping.

The knight himself said little. Hugh’s expression was inscrutable over supper, and he ate in silence, preferring to keep his own counsel rather than talk to Nessa or Thomas.

Nessa wasn’t offended; he was trying to prepare himself for the morning in the only way he knew how. Even so, she felt wretched and was barely able to force down more than two mouthfuls. A boulder now sat on her chest.

After the meal, they readied their bags for departure. Thomas tried to insist that Hugh let him do all the packing, yet the knight barked at him to stop fussing like a mother hen.

Nessa understood. He wanted to keep busy this evening. They all did.

They retired to their beds early, a tense silence settling over the interior of the pavilion. Unable to sleep, Nessa lay upon her sheepskin, staring at the poles that held up the roof of the canopied tent.

Her churning mind drove sleep away.

Hugh lay just a few feet distant, and she could tell by the shallowness of his breathing that he too couldn’t rest. Only Thomas—who could sleep through anything—slumbered, his gentle snores filling the tent and shattering the ponderous quiet.

Finally, Nessa could bear it no longer.

This was her last evening in the presence of the man she loved. Aye, even though she hadn’t actually said the words, she did love him. She couldn’t undo her decision, and she couldn’t change who she was. But she also couldn’t lie there, letting them both pass the night alone.

And so, she cast off her blankets and padded over to Hugh’s bed.

Hearing her approach, he turned, his handsome face caressed by the ruddy glow of the brazier a few feet away.

Their gazes met, understanding passing between them. And then he shifted sideways, lifting the covers so that she could slide into the bed next to him. Nessa climbed in, relaxing as the warmth of his body enveloped her.

Wordlessly, Hugh put his arm around Nessa, allowing her to snuggle against the hollow of his left shoulder. His healing wounds were to the right thigh and back, so she didn’t risk hurting him if they lay together like this.

Nessa wrapped her arm around his chest, squeezing her eyes shut. Tears burned against her eyelids, and she tensed her jaw as she fought them.

Of course, holding him like this made their upcoming separation even harder to bear. She could feel the strong and steady beat of his heart, and every time she inhaled, the masculine spice of his skin filled her lungs. His arm around her could have fooled her into believing that everything would be all right.

But it wouldn’t.

Unspeaking, they lay together, held fast in each other arms.