Page 84 of Ella’s Desire

Catriona.

Ella snapped her gaze to the army, only yards in front of them now. The moon glowed down, illuminating tunics with the fierce black hawk standing out against the green tincture field, and a stripe of yellow running down its center. She cried out.

The Werrick livery.

These were her soldiers.

Cat rode at the head of them in full armor, another arrow nocked, then flying, then nocked again. The wave of soldiers rushed forward and fell around them in a curtain of protection.

“Lady Ella.” Drake leapt from his horse and ran to her.

“Bronson,” Ella said raggedly. “Lord Calville. He’s been struck. I fear I cannot hold him much longer.”

Drake was at her side in a moment, helping to pull Bronson from Kipper’s back. She relinquished her hold on him, allowing Drake to take his weight from where she’d clutched him to her. Immediately, the heat from his body against her skin cooled, and her arms ached with heavy stiffness.

Drake set to work, summoning soldiers with the fastest horses to see Bronson to the castle, while Ella, Lark and Leila were escorted back with the protection of an army. Werrick Castle came into view just as the sky began to lighten with the promise of a new day.

Cat pulled her horse alongside Ella’s. “You had us all worried.”

“Do you think Papa will forgive me?” Ella asked.

Cat glanced to Bronson’s horse with Leila and Lark on the back, and her mouth curled up into the optimistic smile Ella knew so well. “Aye. But I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive you for going without me. I’m glad we were scouring the lands through the night trying to find you. We were about to return to the keep when we caught sight of you.”

Ella would ordinarily have had a quick reply for her sister, but this time any quip she might have uttered was rendered silent by the weight of her concern. They’d made it to England, to Werrick Castle and Lark and Leila were now safe.

But what of Bronson? He hadn’t even grunted as he was hefted into the saddle in front of Drake. She glanced up and found Leila watching her with a solemn expression.

Ella’s youngest sister dropped her head in apology, as though it had been her fault. It was not. Ella knew this.

Ella’s throat grew tight.

Bronson was a hero of the truest kind.

He’d saved Leila’s life by throwing himself in front of that reiver’s blade.

They stopped at the castle as the portcullis rose. Her father waited on the other side in a hastily donned tunic and trews. Once the gate opening was waist-high, he ducked beneath and ran toward them. It was a sprint of desperation, one born of fear and love brought together in a powerful tangle.

Leila jumped down from her horse as their father arrived. He pulled her into his arms, and she tucked her dark head to his chest while he murmured the reassurances of a father who cared immeasurably for his daughter. A moment behind him was Brigid, racing toward Lark with her night rail billowing out from beneath a cloak. They fell into one another, weeping, while William regarded the reunion from a distance with a relieved smile.

The earl released Leila and turned his attention to Ella. His eyes were still glassy with tears, his weathered face lined with tension. She cringed and met his gaze. The sun was just beginning to stain the sky with red and turned the blue of his eyes to an ethereal purple.

“Ella.” His voice was firm and low with warning. The way he’d spoken when she was a girl and disobeyed him.

She lowered her head at the gentle chastisement. The toes of her shoes were still dark with the dirt from the hut floor where she and Bronson had waited to rescue Lark and Leila. That had been a lifetime ago. Or so it felt. Certainly, it did not seem to have been mere hours. “Forgive me, Papa.”

“You could have been taken as well,” he said sternly.

She nodded and continued to stare at the black dirt embedded in the creases of leather.

“I could have lost two daughters at once.” Her father’s voice broke off, causing her to lift her gaze.

His eyes were red-rimmed and glossy. “It was so risky, Ella. Too risky.”

Several months back, Ella would have run into his arms, as much to allay his tears as her own. She’d blinked them back, unwilling to allow emotion to carry her away.

“Bronson,” she choked. “I may have lost him.”

The hard clench of her father’s jaw told her exactly what his assessment of Bronson’s injuries were. “He is with Isla.”