Page 53 of Ella’s Desire

Ella turned away from him, putting her attention back to the birds. “I can handle myself.”

“Aye, I’ve seen that. Which is what gives me cause to worry.”

Suddenly the openness of the garden felt too small. She did not want to be out here with him, breathing in his warm, expensively spiced scent that reminded her of stolen moments of passion.

Her nipples tingled at the memory. Those days had been so simple, so perfect. So lacking in reality that she ought to have known better. She looked down upon him with a ready excuse on her tongue, eager to flee, but paused at his expression.

He stared at the bird’s nest with a frown creasing his brow.

“What is it?” She glanced anxiously at the birds once more to confirm that they were still safe.

His confident grin faltered to something sheepish. “You’ll think it’s foolish.”

If he’d meant to rouse her genuine interest, he had succeeded. She motioned for him to continue.

“There are only three.” His voice was low with solemnity.

Her heart gave a little skip. Had he truly noticed? “And yesterday there were five,” she said.

He started at this, as though he was surprised to learn of her awareness. “Aye.”

“Mayhap we should stop counting.”

“Is such a thing possible?” he asked.

Ella stared up at him, seeing a different side of him. “I think not.”

“Come, let us go back to the castle.” He offered her his arm.

She hesitated.

He lifted his elbow higher in offering. “I wish to speak with you before I go out hunting with your father. About attending court.”

She slipped her arm into the crook of Bronson’s elbow, which was warm and more comforting than she wanted to admit. He angled himself so his body blocked the cool wind for her.

Before they strode off, his other hand moved discreetly, drawing something from the pocket of his doublet. As they walked forward, his arm shifted backward. It took only a furtive glance for Ella to realize he carried an unspooled bit of blue thread. His fingers brushed against one another, depositing the lone bit of woven wool into the nest.

Bronson had been the cause of the nest’s colorful hues. No doubt it was warm and without issue from the weather with such quality materials. She might not know Bronson fully, but there were parts of him that were certainly good. And that was what made this all the harder.

“I understand you do not wish to go to court.” Bronson led her to the garden. “And I am required to attend.”

She glanced up at him and found him watching her.

He stopped and stroked his thumb over her jaw. “I do not like the idea of being there without you.”

Her heart fluttered. Her stupid, hopeful, foolish heart.

He gazed at her as though he were memorizing her face, the way she envisioned a man ought to stare down at a woman he cared for. “Ella, my dove, come with me to court and I promise you we will get away from time to time.”

She exhaled her disappointment. “I am not meant for court, Bronson.” She indicated the large garden. “I am meant for this, for being outside, for climbing trees, for reading the day away.” She shook her head. “I cannot be the woman quietly standing at your side in uncomfortable clothing, and—”

“There you are.” Ella’s father waved and strode from the castle toward them.

Bronson stood further back from Ella, at a more respectful distance. Lord Werrick grinned at them. “I’m pleased to see the two of you getting on so well. Daughter, may I take your betrothed away before all the good game hides in the brush?”

Indeed, her father did look pleased. But then, it had been his intention from the first for her to fall in love. “Aye, but only if I don’t have to hear of your victories later.” She shuddered.

Her father chuckled and ruffled her hair.