The Knight (Highland Guard #7.5)(39)
A sharp laugh escaped from between her lips. “Are we talking about the same woman? I suspect she would not be satisfied with a queen for you as a wife. Aye, the king could parade all of his sisters before you, and she would probably send them all back until he brought his wife.”
A mysterious smile curled one corner of his mouth. “It isn’t her choice to make. But as I said, she’s come around.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she would have asked him to explain the smile, but they’d arrived and one of the stable lads had come around to help her from her horse.
The moment they entered the hall, Joanna knew she’d been tricked. From the sounds of revelry inside, this was no intimate family meal. She arched a brow. “I didn’t realize you were planning a feast.”
He feigned innocence—and not very well. “Did I not mention that?”
“You did not. What’s the celebration?”
“Nothing.” He gave her a measured look. “Yet.”
Her heart started to pound. Fear and anxiety rushed over her in a cold sweat. James had made no secret of his intentions, and she’d maybe even gotten used to the idea, but that didn’t mean she was ready to make an announcement—or hear another public proposal. “James, I…” Her voice fell off helplessly.
He seemed to understand and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It will be all right, Jo. I want today to be special for you, that’s all.”
She looked up at him uncertainly, but seeing his sincerity, she nodded.
And it was special. More special than she could have ever dreamed. It seemed every person of consequence in the area had been invited, including her family, who’d somehow managed to keep the feast a secret from her.
There was dancing, pipe playing, and more food and drink than she’d seen since the beginning of the war. The French wine alone must have cost him a fortune. Although trade with other countries like France and Ireland had resumed, it wasn’t without difficulty, and foreign goods—whether French wines, exotic spices, weapons, or cloth—were still rare and expensive.
And at the center of all this celebration and largess was her. James hadn’t left her side since the moment they’d arrived, leading her first to the dais to sit next to him (and be formally presented to his stepmother), and then leading her around the room to greet the rest of the guests. He was making no secret of his intentions. He might have hung a sign around her neck that said
THIS IS THE WOMAN I INTEND TO MARRY.
She felt like a princess, and it would have taken a heart of stone not to be swept away by the romance of it all, at least a little. Maybe more than a little. The past few days of wooing had melted so much of the ice already.
She’d fallen in love with him all over again, if she’d ever stopped, and with every laugh, every spin on the dance floor, every proud “You remember Joanna Dicson, don’t you?” the truth was harder to deny.
But could she trust him enough to marry him?
The excitement of the day was marred only by her growing anxiety, and the sense of building anticipation around her. She couldn’t escape the feeling that something big was going to happen. The question was whether she was ready for it.
It wasn’t until the messenger arrived that she had her answer.
James had just finished leading her back to the dais, when the seneschal approached and whispered something in his ear.
“That’s all right, Roger,” James said. “Let him in. I’ve been expecting him.”
Though James didn’t seem overly worried, something about his words sent a shiver of trepidation whispering up her spine. “Is something wrong?” A horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. “Is it another message from the king?”
He smiled, covering her hand with his. “In a manner of speaking, aye. But don’t worry, there is someone I should like you to meet.”
A moment later, the crowd of revelers parted as a man dressed head to toe in the shiniest mail she’d ever seen—so shiny it seemed to sparkle—wearing a tabard of scarlet and gold strode down the center aisle with all the pomp and arrogance of a king. She’d seen the man before, she realized. It was the same man who James had spoken to that horrible day, the man whom he’d told she was no one.
It wasn’t the memory of those harsh words that chilled her heart, however, but the sight of the dozen soldiers marching in behind him.
She turned to James in horror. “They are coming to take you!”
She started to rise—to what purpose, she didn’t know. She could hardly drag him off. But he held her down. “It’s all right, Jo. Trust me.”
Their eyes met. Trust me. Desperately, she wanted to, but could she? She swallowed—or tried to swallow with her suddenly dry throat—and managed a short nod.
The man had removed his helm, and as he approached, Joanna could see that he was actually quite handsome. Probably close to James’s age, he was dark-haired, dark-eyed, with a short, neatly trimmed beard, and the fine, aquiline features of a prince to go along with the regalia. Though a few inches shorter than James, he was just as broad-shouldered and seemingly—although it was hard to tell beneath the mail—as well muscled.
He stopped before the dais and stared at James for a moment before speaking. With a meaningful glance down the long table still overflowing with food and drink, he said dryly, “This is quite a family emergency, Douglas.” He turned to the Douglas ladies who were seated on James’s other side and executed a formal bow. “Lady Eleanor,” he said to James’s stepmother, and then to his sister, “Lady Elizabeth.”