“I’ve prepared a feast in honor of your return, James. I’ve had Gell make all your favorites,” Bree said, and sat next to Grey.
“My thanks, milady.” James grinned and inclined his head. “Come, sit next to me, Emlyn.” He lowered his leg and pulled the chair out beside his for her. “You look lovely,” he said next to her ear so only she could hear.
She took the seat offered and leaned close. “She is a force to be reckoned with. I had no choice but to wear the gown.”
“Well, you do look bonny. Aye,” James said, and leaned closer to her. He slid his fingers along her neck and wished to put his lips there. “And we shall remove it at the soonest.”
Emlyn giggled and slapped his hand away lightly. “Lest you forget that I am angry with you.”
“Can we not call a truce for this night? It has been too long since I had you naked and willing in my arms.”
“Mayhap, I’ll consider it.”
When James looked up, he found all within the hall watching them. He cleared his throat and firmed his jaw. They had nothing better to do than eavesdrop. He could’ve laughed at their expressions too, for they appeared dumbfounded.
Four maids thankfully distracted his clansmen, when they entered and brought trays of foodstuffs and set them on the table.
“You’re in for a grand feast, Emlyn, for no one cooks akin to milady and Gell.” He reached for a trencher and set it in front her.
“It smells heavenly. I should offer my thanks to God, for I’m famished.”
James raised his brow. He thought she’d worshiped the gods of her father. When his gazed lingered and questioned, she leaned close again.
“My mother is Catholic and we, my brothers and sisters and I, were raised in that faith. Is that not why you looked at me curiously?”
He nodded. “I thought you were of your father’s religion. I saw evidence of it at your father’s keep and heard you speak the name of his gods a few times.”
Emlyn smiled and reached for the nearest trencher. “I learned both religions. My father does as he wants but allows my mother her ways.”
“Your father does not appear to be the kind of man to be so tolerant. Even of a wife.”
She laughed. “When he wishes for peace in his household he does. My mother has a way of gaining his agreement.”
James had to give her words more thought. For if the great Llywelyn conceded to his wife’s will, mayhap he could do the same with Emlyn.
The feast continued and revelry ensued when stories abounded of their lives, how they met and became Gunn guardsmen. James found himself enjoying the conversation. Bree outdid herself with the goose, puddings, and sweet cakes. He ate his fill and couldn’t eat another bite. He hadn’t eaten so much in many a month, not since Saint Swithin Day, when they’d feasted after his return home from Sean’s holding.
Grey tapped the table with the butt of his supper dagger. “All cease talk. James, we’re glad to have you home and in one piece. Emlyn, a toast to you for keeping our James safe and for aiding him. This night is at an end. I’m sure James wishes to be on his way. Do you need help?”
Such a question would usually insult him, but James knew Grey was being kind.
“Nay, Laird, I can make it on my own.” He rose and took the wood his father had given him and supported his stance. “Come, Emlyn. We’ll be leaving.”
“Where are we going?” She rose and stood next to him, taking his arm.
He didn’t answer, but pulled her along after taking her hand with his free one. Outside, the chilly night blew a brisk wind at their backs. The walk to the cottage was a ways from the keep and James almost groaned at the thought of trekking it. It would be difficult for him, but he’d bear it.
The solitude after a night’s comradery soothed him. Many had sought their beds and there was very little light, fire, or candles in any of the cottages they passed. He remained quiet on their walk because he wasn’t sure what to say to her, and because it took all his focus to make sure he didn’t fall.
“Will you not tell me where we are going?”
“To a cottage.”
She kept her thoughts to herself the remainder of the walk. His leg began to burn with pain the farther he got from the keep. James ignored it as much as he could. When they finally reached the cottage, he was relieved. He wouldn’t want to incur Emlyn’s harping about his leg so he refrained from mentioning how taxing the effort was.
He opened the door and allowed her to enter before him. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against, knowing he’d have trouble making it to the chair or bed.
The cottage looked the same as he remembered it. Not many had ever entered it because Grey kept it solely for his use when he wanted to be alone with Bree. The large bed was covered with their clan’s tartan. In the center sat a small table sat just before an inset of the hearth. A fire had been prepared and its glow added to the ambiance of the cottage. Several candles had been lit and were set about the small domain.
James approached the hearth and set two thick pieces of wood in it, which would take hours to burn. It would afford warmth throughout the night.
Emlyn found one of her trunks sitting near the bed. “Oh, my satchel is here.” She pulled it out and held her short sword as if it were her most prized possession. Her eyes affectionately grazed the object.
Were that she looked at him with such affection. James didn’t know how to compete with such love. He watched her with interest for he’d never been ruled by his possessions.
“Ah, the dagger Griffen gave me. I’m glad I didn’t lose it. My brother would have been disappointed.” She unsheathed it and held the blade before her face, looking at the shine and lure of it.
He said nothing to that because doing so would only reveal his deceit in sending her satchel along with Grey. James was doomed for he realized there was no way he could make her as happy as her weapons did.
“Emlyn, you set my soul on fire.”
She turned and sheathed the dagger, and set her sword and it on the trunk. “What say you, James? Come, get off your feet. I know you must be hurting.”
He kept his hands at his side even though he wanted to pull her against him and kiss the life out of her. She stepped toward him, but James held out his hand for he knew if she got too close, he’d take her in his arms.
“Come, let us to bed. I want to be with you.”
Emlyn’s words stiffened him, and the tenseness reached his heart. “Nay.”
“Nay? Do you not want to be with me?” She’d spoken low and moved forward.
She was inches from him and all he had to do was reach out, but he swore by all that was holy, he would not. “I do want to be with you, Emlyn, more than you know. Och I want all of you. I want your heart to desire only me.”
“My heart can share desire for more than one thing at a time. I don’t understand, James. Why are you saying this?”
Her beautiful brows furrowed with her confusion, and James wasn’t about to elaborate, for he’d said enough. Then he contradicted himself when he pulled the cottage door open. Before he walked out, he gazed upon her lovely face. “I won’t stand in the way of you doing what makes you happy. Take my heart with you when you go for it will always be yours.”
“Are you saying I can leave?” Emlyn took a step toward him.
He held a hand out again, stopping her from proceeding. “Aye, protect yourself well when you join the battle and your father’s army. Farewell, my lovely lass.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The cottage felt spacious with only her in it. Emlyn spent the last two days cooped up and stewed in guilt. She kept thinking of her last moment with James and how he’d said farewell and walked out. In the seconds following, she was sure he would return, but he didn’t. Then she spent the next several hours considering going after him, but she daren’t. She wasn’t sure where to find him and even if she did, she knew not what to say.