Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection Read online

  Did she dare put her trust in him? In truth, he was still very much a stranger. Speaking with him over the past few days barely made them acquaintances. She didn’t know him at all. But there was something about him that made her feel if she could trust anyone, it was this man.

  She was tired of balancing so many things. Each time she made an introduction, she had to decide not only who would benefit but who might be angered. What used to be a joy had become a burden. She was tired of carrying the weight of survival for herself and her family. She was tired of worrying about their future. How much longer could she continue like this?

  “Lady Sophia?” Garrick’s deep voice cascaded down her body like a warm bath on a cold day. “What are you thinking?”

  “I wish for peace as well.” And for so much more, she added silently.

  He reached out to take her hand, causing flutters in her middle. For a long moment, he simply twined his fingers with hers. Heat seeped into her palm, up her arm and into her chest.

  “I can see how worried you are.” He said the words so quietly, as though he didn’t want to frighten her. “Is there anything I can do to aid you?”

  As she watched, he traced the lines in her palm with his thumb, sending the oddest sensations spiraling through her. His stormy blue eyes seemed to see straight inside her to her secrets.

  “You are a good man.” She wasn’t certain if she was telling him or herself. But it was true. She’d bet her life on it.

  He obviously loved his family. The way he spoke of his mother and father as well as his brother and sister, not to mention his cousins, warmed her heart.

  “Thank you. I try to be.” He leaned closer, using his free hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  Shivers chased through her at his touch. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body. His scent reminded her of the place where the forest met the sea.

  “You are a lovely woman, inside and out,” he whispered.

  Her breath caught and she swallowed hard, surprised by how much she wanted him to kiss her. She admonished herself for the thought. He’d soon be gone, and she’d be foolish to allow herself to care for him. Yet she knew all too well that pleasurable moments in life were fleeting.

  “Sophia?” he said again. The sound of her name on his lips sent longing coursing through her.

  “Aye.”

  “I would very much like to kiss you.”

  Her heart melted at his request. He watched her patiently with a hint of heat in those eyes. How different he was from other men she’d met, who took without asking, demanded without offering anything in return. Men like her betrothed and Sir Gilbert.

  She closed her eyes for a brief moment, scared of the risk she took. “I would like that as well.”

  Before she had a moment to reconsider, his lips pressed to hers as though he’d been waiting for this moment for a long while. His mouth was firm as he kissed her then drew back. She nearly moaned in protest. Then he kissed her once more, longer this time, his head tilting to better fit with hers. His lips parted slightly, hungrily. What could she do but offer the same?

  Emotions swirled inside her, strange sensations she’d never before experienced. How different this kiss was from the terrible one that Sir Gilbert had stolen from her earlier. This was no power struggle. Only pleasure, pure and simple, flowed through her, running as quickly as the river below. It felt never ending, building as they continued to kiss.

  She eased back when her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She stared at this man, perplexed at the feelings he caused inside her. What was it about it him that did this to her?

  “You—” He frowned, seeming as confused as she. “I—” He shook his head ever so slightly.

  She wanted to nod and tell him she felt exactly the same. But she needed to protect herself. He was not for her. He was an English knight who’d soon be gone, and there was no purpose in allowing her feelings for him to grow. She didn’t dare rely on him in any way. After all, the only reason he’d sought her out was because he needed her for his wool. Once his request was filled, it was unlikely she’d see him again.

  “I’m sorry, but I must return home.” Without risking another glance at the handsome knight, she rose and hurried away. If only she could leave behind her growing feelings for the man as well.

  ~*~

  “Have you met Sir Gilbert?” Iagan asked, his voice quiet.

  They met near the stables after darkness had fallen in full that night. When Garrick received the cryptic message, he’d hesitated. After all, he had little to report. He’d discussed it with Chanse and Braden, and they confirmed what he thought—the more often they met, the better chance their association would be discovered. That would benefit no one.

  Yet surely Iagan would think poorly of him if he refused. In these early stages when they were still building trust, he’d decided it would be best to comply. From what he understood, Iagan had served in this position before. Garrick had to assume he knew what he was about.

  “Not yet. I caught sight of him earlier this morn when he was speaking with Lady Sophia,” Garrick said. “I understand he’s been gone for a considerable time.”

  “He’s said to have been visiting his other holdings, which are all in England. But his ties to England do not mean we can assume where his loyalties lie.” He glanced around a long moment before continuing, “Do you know why he spoke with Lady Sophia?”

  “Nay. I arrived too late to hear. But whatever he said upset her.”

  “’Tis no secret that he’s pressing her to marry him.”

  Garrick was surprised. “He’s significantly older than she, isn’t he? Surely he’s already married.”

  “Aye, he’s older and has buried three wives.”

  The casual statement gave Garrick pause. His protective instincts immediately rose. If marriage had been the topic of their conversation, no wonder Sophia had been upset. Obviously she didn’t want to marry Gilbert. Yet with her older brother gone for an unknown amount of time, she was vulnerable.

  “Is he still in need of an heir?” Garrick asked, trying to determine the man’s motivation.

  “Nay. He has several sons. He claims a union between them would go far toward calming the differences in Berwick.”

  “I thought Sir William and Sir Gilbert were sworn enemies and had been for some time.”

  Iagan nodded. “You’ve done well to discover that already. ’Tis true. Sir William would be livid if Sir Gilbert managed to convince the lady to marry him. But her choices are limited.”

  “Is there a chance Sir William will be freed anytime soon?”

  “Impossible to say. His fate is in the hands of several English lords who grant favors as easily as they order killings.”

  That information did not sit well with Garrick, yet he could do very little.

  “Try to arrange a meeting with Sir Gilbert and see if you can gain his trust,” Iagan suggested. “Perhaps you can get him to confide in you.”

  Garrick doubted he’d be able to do so, especially since he hadn’t yet met the man and already didn’t care for him.

  “I would caution you again to take care with who you question and what you ask,” Iagan said. “I’m sure you’re already being watched. We’ll meet again in two days time. I’ll send you a message with the time and place.”

  “I’ll see what I can discover before then.”

  Iagan nodded. “Excellent. If I haven’t said it before, your efforts are much appreciated.”

  “As are yours,” Garrick whispered as the man faded into the shadows.

  Garrick remained where he was briefly before making his way down the dark street toward the inn. He paused now and again to get his bearings. The night sky was overcast and little light came from the shuttered windows he passed.

  He suddenly realized he was not alone. A shadow stepped forward, taking the form of a man.

  Garrick drew back only to sense someone behind him. Before he could take action, t
he man grabbed him by the arms as the one in front punched him in the stomach.

  The force of the blow stole his breath before anger helped him wrench free. He plowed his fist into his attacker’s face. The man yelped while the one behind him scrambled to grab hold of Garrick’s arms again.

  “Ye should mind yer own business,” one of the men ground out, the lilt of Scotland coloring his words.

  Garrick landed another blow but two against one were not good odds. “I’d suggest you do the same.” As he finished the sentence, the man behind him captured Garrick’s arms again, and the other punched him in his ribs.

  “Return to England,” he demanded.

  Bent over from the blow, Garrick rushed forward, plowing his head into the man’s middle, shoving him back into the wall of a building.

  Suddenly his arms were freed, and he straightened, fists at the ready.

  “This is hardly a fair fight.” Chanse’s voice cut through the darkness, lending Garrick strength to strike one of his attackers.

  “Three against two are much better odds, don’t you think?” Braden asked as he landed a blow as well.

  The two strangers fled, disappearing in different directions, leaving the dark street empty once again.

  Garrick rested his hands on his knees, bent over from the pain in his side.

  “What the hell was that about?” Braden asked.

  “Shall we give chase?”

  “Nay,” Garrick said, holding a hand to his ribs. The sharp pain there deepened with each breath. “They might have more friends than we do.”

  “Then let us return to the inn and see what the damage is,” Braden said. He gave Garrick’s side a squeeze, causing a strange warmth to flow through him, beginning where Braden touched him.

  The sensation was like nothing Garrick had ever experienced. Heat rolled slowly through him and took his aches and pains with it. He drew a deep breath, amazed he could, considering the pain he’d been in only a moment before.

  “Come along. No need to linger here,” Chanse urged as he hooked his arm through Garrick’s. “Can you walk?”

  Garrick took a step, still shocked at his quick recovery. “Aye.” He glanced to Braden but the darkness hid his cousin’s face. Though Garrick had once witnessed his Aunt Cristiana’s healing ability, he’d hadn’t ever been on the receiving end of it. “That was remarkable.”

  “Aye, but allow us to discuss it after we return to the inn,” Braden responded as he glanced about.

  “Quick now,” Chanse suggested. “Bad things lurk in the dark, as you just discovered.”

  “No argument from me,” Garrick agreed.

  At last the lights of the inn came into view, a welcome sight after the darkness of the streets. A torchlight burned in a holder near the door but would soon be extinguished for the night. The windowpanes made of flattened horn glowed warmly from the firelight inside.

  Garrick drew another deep breath as they entered, grateful for his cousin’s amazing ability.

  “I don’t know about you two, but I could use a drink. I’ll fetch us some ale,” Chanse offered.

  Braden gestured toward a table in the nearly deserted main room of the inn. Most guests had already sought their bed for the night.

  Chanse arrived with a pitcher and three cups and poured drinks.

  “What happened? Did your man show up?” Braden asked.

  “He did. The meeting went well. It wasn’t until I was on my way back here that those men attacked.”

  “The question is, were they just generally up to no good and hoped to rob you, or did they target you specifically?” Chanse took a long draught as he waited for Garrick’s response.

  “I believe it was the latter.” Garrick shook his head as he shared what they’d said. “I have to think they know something about me.”

  “Or it could’ve been something they’d do to any Englishman they came across at this time of night.”

  “True,” Garrick admitted. “They had Scottish accents. No doubt of that. But I couldn’t see their faces.”

  “Where does that leave us?” Chanse asked.

  “Taking more care,” Garrick said. He emptied his cup then held Braden’s gaze. “My thanks. I know helping me caused you pain, and I’m sorry for that.” Though he didn’t understand how the healing ability worked, his mother had explained that his aunt could absorb the pain of others into herself, drawing it out of the injured person and healing them. He assumed Braden’s gift must work in a similar way.

  “The pain is only temporary.” Braden smiled as he refilled their cups from the pitcher then raised his. “To family. To unique skills. To quests.”

  They clinked their cups and drank.

  “It would’ve been more helpful if you’d seen this night coming,” Chanse suggested. “What good is the sight if it doesn’t aid you when you need it most?”

  “An excellent question I’ve asked many times. I wish I had the answer,” Garrick said. Apparently he needed to improve his instincts if he wanted to survive his stay in Berwick. He tried to push aside his worry as to whether that was possible.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sophia arrived early the next morn at the nunnery. She followed one of the sisters to the small chamber in the chapter house where Prioress Matilda could be found working most days. Sophia hoped to speak with the woman who had become both a mentor and friend in the past few years. The older woman often provided sound advice on issues of which Sophia was uncertain.

  Though the church bells had rung to signal the beginning of the day only a short time ago, the prioress was already writing at her desk.

  “Greetings, Lady Sophia,” she said as she rose to take Sophia’s hands and hold them for a long moment, her blue eyes searching Sophia’s. “How are you this fine day?”

  “I am well,” Sophia said with a genuine smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “Not at all. Please join me.” She gestured toward a chair near her desk as she dismissed the nun who had shown in Sophia.

  As prioress of the nunnery and its twenty-one sisters, Matilda had many responsibilities. But the people of Berwick remained her priority. Her unflagging support after the siege had helped not only Sophia, but the other residents as well. Her faith despite the horrific murders was something Sophia admired. She might not understand how the prioress had such a firm belief in God or the ability to forgive, but she admired it all the same.

  Sophia knew Matilda was a noblewoman who had taken her vows soon after her husband had died. She’d told Sophia she’d longed for children of her own but never had them. Still she appeared content with her life. Sophia thought her time in the world outside the convent walls gave her an empathy not often found in the clergy. She and Sophia had discussed all manner of things over the years. The prioress was one of the reasons Sophia’s sister, Ilisa, enjoyed spending so much time at the nunnery.

  “What brings you here so early in the day?” the prioress asked.

  Sophia hesitated, uncertain where to start. “I would appreciate some advice.”

  “I’m always happy to share my opinion.” Her calm smile eased Sophia’s nerves.

  “Sir Gilbert is once again pressing me to marry him.”

  “I’d hoped he’d taken your response last time as a final answer.”

  “As did I.”

  “Have his reasons changed?”

  “He insists it will calm the unrest in Berwick.” Sophia bit her bottom lip, hoping the older woman didn’t agree.

  “That is an important reason.” Matilda’s expression revealed little of her thoughts.

  Sophia supposed that meant she needed to come to her own conclusion rather than seek the prioress’s.

  “Indeed, but I’m not convinced ’tis true.” She sighed and decided she may as well admit the truth. “I don’t think I can bring myself to marry him. I don’t care for the man, and I fear that is coloring my logic. But if it truly would aid Berwick—”

  “Sophia.” Prioress Matilda reache
d across the narrow desk to touch Sophia’s hand. “If you believed his statement, you would’ve already agreed to marry him.”

  Sophia released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Is that why I refused once again? I’m no longer certain of anything, let alone what I should do. I don’t know how to best help my family or the residents of the city. I am well aware that discontent remains within the walls of Berwick.”

  “That discontent is not your fault, Sophia. Nor is it your responsibility to calm it.” She leaned back in her chair. “I would tend to agree with you. I think Sir Gilbert might be manipulating your feelings and your strong sense of duty to convince you to agree.”

  “I don’t wish to marry him.” The worry of doing so had kept her tossing and turning all night. The image of him in bed beside her was enough to set her stomach to churning. Though her sense of duty ran deep, she couldn’t quite bring herself to agree to the match.

  “Then don’t.” The simple words didn’t completely ease Sophia’s guilt.

  “Eleanor is disgusted with my decision and insists I’m being selfish.” She’d unfortunately overheard Sir Gilbert during his visit and had confronted Sophia as soon as she’d returned home the previous day.

  “Eleanor will only be happy when she once again lives in a fine keep. Whether that is a result of her husband’s return or you marrying Sir Gilbert so your family might reside in Berwick Castle again doesn’t matter to her.”

  “You’re right. But what of Ilisa and Alec? Wouldn’t they be better off returning to the keep?”

  “Do they care for Sir Gilbert?”

  “Nay.”

  “Then I don’t see how having a different roof over their heads will aid them in any way.”

  Sophia rose to pace, unable to sit still when her thoughts spun in so many directions. “At least then we’d know where our next meal is coming from.”

  “Have you spoken with them about this?”

  Sophia shook her head. “I don’t want them to worry more than they already do.”

  “They are both intelligent people who happen to be your brother and sister. Their opinions are valid. Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you have to bear this burden alone.”