Nessa’s Seduction by Jayne Castel

Epilogue

I MAKE YOU A PROMISE

Grosmont Castle

The Welsh Borders

Two months later …

“YOU NEED TO keep the bandage dry,” Nessa instructed, as she finished binding the lad’s lower leg. “Or the wound risks souring.”

“Fret not, Lady de Burgh,” the lad’s mother replied. “I’ll make sure Will looks after it.”

Nessa met the woman’s eye and smiled. She was a farmer’s wife, a careworn woman from Grosmont village—this six-year-old boy was one of her huge brood of bairns. Will had tripped while out in the fields with his father, catching his leg on the blade of the plow.

Lady de Burgh.

Even now, two moons since she’d become Hugh’s wife, the title sounded strange.

Who would have thought she—Nessa the healer, Nessa the bandruì—a woman with not even a clan name to cling to, would become the wife of Hugh de Burgh, lord of Grosmont Castle.

Not only that, but the folk of this place—Hugh’s kin and servants alike—had welcomed this strange Scotswoman into their midst.

Hugh had given her this space, a chamber in the northern block next to the chapel, as her infirmary. It wasn’t a big room, yet Nessa had made it her own. Bunches of drying herbs hung from the rafters, and the shelving Hugh had made for her groaned under the weight of bottles and vials she’d already accumulated. True to form, she was having trouble keeping the space tidy.

Neatness wasn’t really part of Nessa’s nature.

“I’m glad to hear it, Alice,” she replied. “Here … I’ve made up some extra salve. Be sure to rub it on the cut every morning before applying a clean bandage.”

Alice nodded, tucking away the small clay pot Nessa had just handed her into her apron. “Thank you, Lady de Burgh.”

Watching the pair leave her infirmary, Nessa leaned back against the edge of the small table—which was laden with linen bandages, her pestle and mortar, and baskets of dried herbs—and wiped her hands upon a clean cloth.

A smile curved her lips.

Hugh had promised her a space of her own, and he’d kept his word.

She’d used witching rarely since establishing herself as Grosmont’s healer—only occasionally employing it when absolutely necessary. She wouldn’t forget her craft, or the witch-will that hummed around her during a full moon, yet it didn’t guide her life as it once had.

Nessa’s smile widened, contentment settling deep into her bones.

She’d never known happiness like this. Sometimes she felt she could burst from it.

And then, as if the greatest source of her joy had been drawn to her by her thoughts, a tall figure entered the infirmary, ducking under the low doorway to prevent cracking his skull on the lintel.

Hugh de Burgh straightened to his full height, casting a look around the space.

“God’s teeth,” he murmured. “This place could do with a tidy-up.”

Nessa snorted. “Everything is in its place, dear husband. I know exactly where to find what I need.”

Hugh quirked a brow, approaching her. “Glad to hear it.” He stopped before Nessa then, his expression sobering. “I didn’t wish to interrupt you in here … but I’ve just received a missive from the north … from Scotland.” He paused, watching her face. “Stirling has fallen.”

Tension coiled under Nessa’s ribcage. She’d whispered to The Three nightly, asking for their assistance so that Stirling might resist their besiegers. The defenders had done an admirable job—for it was now nearing the end of July—yet they had not outlasted the English as she’d hoped.

“Do ye know the details?” she asked, frowning.

“Edward used a new weapon,” Hugh replied. He moved close and took her hands. “A massive trebuchet … bigger than any built before … it tore a hole in Stirling Castle’s walls.”

“And what of those defending it?” Nessa was afraid to ask, her heart now racing. Yet she had to know of Fyfa’s fate.

“I don’t know,” Hugh replied, his gaze meeting hers. “The missive didn’t say … I’m sorry, Ness.”

Nessa drew in a deep, steadying breath. She was glad she was leaning against the table, for her legs suddenly felt weak.

Hugh’s gaze shadowed. “I know you have a friend at Stirling … hopefully, she was spared.”

Nessa swallowed. “I hope that too.”

They looked at each other, the moment drawing out. Over the past weeks, Nessa had told Hugh more about the life she’d led before meeting him—and about her bond with her sisters, Fyfa and Breanna. The two women might not have shared the same blood as her, but she would always look upon them as kin. And despite her happiness with Hugh, the joy that waking up every day next to him brought, she missed them both.

“One day,” Hugh said, squeezing her fingers tightly, “when the fighting is over, and things quieten down, you will be reunited with them.”

Nessa lowered her gaze. “Will I?”

Hugh released her hands before hooking a finger under Nessa’s chin and lifting her face so that she met his eye once more. “I make you a promise, my love, that one day I will take you back to Scotland to see your sisters again.”

Nessa stared back at him, her gaze misting with tears. The resolute tone of his voice, the determination in his eyes, was impossible to argue with. Hugh wasn’t a man who made oaths lightly. He was a knight; his word was his bond. Her heart lightened in the knowledge that he would do his utmost to keep it.

She raised a hand, her fingers entwining with his. “Fortune was indeed smiling upon me, Hugh de Burgh, the day it ensured our paths would cross.”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “Fortune … or that wily woman who leads your order.”

Nessa laughed, the sound carrying through the infirmary. She told Hugh many tales of Colina, and he’d been fascinated by every one of them. “She’s a seer after all … I think she knew that ye and I were meant for each other,” Nessa mused, lifting his hand to her mouth and kissing each of his fingers.

Hugh smiled back, and was about to answer, when a small figure burst into the infirmary.

Richard de Burgh had joined them.

Warmth filtered through Nessa as she took in the lad’s animated face, easing her worry for Fyfa. He looked so much like his father. “Da … look at what Kit made me.” The lad waved about the wooden sword. “A proper longsword, like yours!”

Hugh grinned, ruffling his son’s hair. “And a fine sword it is … shall we go out into the inner ward and have a duel?”

“Aye, Thomas says he’s too busy to fight me.”

“Well, I will accept the challenge.”

Nessa snorted. “Hugh … don’t encourage him.”

Hugh cast her a look of mock innocence. “What? A lad needs to know how to defend himself.” Reaching out, he took her by one hand and Richard by the other. The lad was beaming now, overjoyed to have his father with him.

Watching them together warmed Nessa’s heart. Who knew if she and Hugh would ever have bairns of their own—even though she’d stopped taking that herbal draft, her womb hadn’t yet quickened—but she was already deeply fond of Hugh’s son.

She had a new family now. It was a different one to the Guardians, an order of women bonded together for a single purpose. She missed them—her mother and sisters—and she worried for Fyfa. She hoped her sister had evaded The Hammer’s wrath.

Nessa swallowed in an attempt to ease the sudden tightness in her throat. Like her, Fyfa was a survivor. Not only that, but the other guardians would be watching and waiting, ready to aid her.

Nessa’s tension eased at this thought. Aye, she had to remember that.

Hugh had spoken true when he described life as a series of chapters. Indeed, the first chapter of her life—one that she had embraced—had ended, and now another had begun. She intended to dedicate herself to it with the same fierceness she once had to her order.

“Come on.” Hugh led them both to the doorway and outside to where the morning sun basked the inner-ward. Then, releasing his wife’s hand, he headed with his son toward the armory to collect his practice sword. “Let the battle begin!”

Nessa watched them go, smiling.

Aye, this was where she was meant to be.

Preorder Book 2 in the Guardians of Alba series!

FYFA’S SACRIFICE (Book Two) is available on preordernow—release date: September 23, 2021.

Few secrets can be kept forever. She married him for her cause—but her real identity puts them both at risk. Sacrifices and second chances in Medieval Scotland.

Fyfa is tired of keeping secrets from her husband. However, her marriage to the steward of Stirling Castle is based on a lie. Belonging to an order of druidesses sworn to protect Scotland from invaders, Fyfa’s dedicated her life to preserving Scottish freedom. She wed him in order to gain access to those who rule Scotland—and now, five years later, she’s locked in a marriage to a man who distrusts her.

Hume Comyn thought he knew his wife—but with each passing year, he realizes he does not. Fyfa’s mysterious ways lead him to believe she has taken a lover. He has no idea who she really is.

Estranged and distrustful of each other, Fyfa and Hume are locked together in Stirling Castle as the English lay siege. But after Edward of England unleashes a new weapon that spells Scottish defeat, husband and wife must work together to help protect the man who will save Scotland.

But can they also rescue the ruins of their marriage?

Book Two of the Guardians of Alba series, FYFA’S SACRIFICE takes you back to 14th Century Scotland amidst the Wars of Scottish Independence. Immerse yourself in political intrigue, Celtic mysticism, betrayal, high-adventure, and steamy romance.

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