The Knight Read online

  “I have to find her. Christ, Beth, I love her.”

  He had to explain—to apologize. He hadn’t been there for her when she needed him, and he would never forgive himself for that. But Jo would. She was the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful woman he’d ever met, and her heart was as big as the sun.

  His young sister looked at him with wisdom far beyond her years. “She is trying to make a new start for herself, Jamie. If you truly love her, you will leave her in peace.”

  He did love her, but he couldn’t do that. For he knew that without her, he would never have a moment‘s happiness. They belonged together. Never did he doubt that for a minute.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jo felt her mouth twitch. The twitch became impossible to control and all at once she burst into laughter. Real, honest-to-goodness laughter. It had been so long, she had begun to wonder whether she’d ever feel the urge to laugh again.

  But it seemed she would and maybe that was all right.

  The loss of her baby would be with her always, but Joanna had survived. Although at the time she hadn’t understood why. She’d blamed herself. All she could remember was wishing that James hadn’t gotten her with child right before falling, and the horrible fear that God had listened to her prayer.

  But she hadn’t meant it, and God would know that. It had been an accident. A horrible, painful accident. But it had made her stronger—and it had chased the last few stars from her eyes. Tragedy had a way of forcing reality upon you, and she could see now all the mistakes she’d made and vowed to never make again.

  It was with a far clearer vision of the harsh realities of the world that Joanna glanced up at the man beside her. It was hard to picture him chasing after a tiny piglet only to be knocked in the backside into the mud by the irritated sow, but his telling of yesterday’s misadventure had pulled the laughter from her chest and put a little joy back in her heart. She thanked him for it. She had much to thank him for.

  “Ah, it is good to hear you laugh like that, lass.” His dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “Though I do wish it hadn’t been at my expense.”

  He was an easy man to like, Sir David Lindsay. Handsome, kind, and with the kind of solid strength that made her feel safe.

  She smiled back at him. “I would apologize, but as I suspect the story had exactly the result you intended, I won’t.” His deepening grin told her she was right. Her expression changed as gratitude swelled in her chest. “You have been a good friend to me these past few months, David, and I thank you for it.”

  He took her hand in his. It was warm and firm, as pleasant and solid as the man himself. The mischief was gone from his eyes, replaced by a deep earnestness. “I won’t press you, but when you are ready, I hope that I can be more than your friend. If I could, I would change everything about that day except for the fact that I met you. You deserve to be happy, Joanna, and I want to be the one to make it so.”

  His declaration wasn’t a surprise. When he’d learned of her intention to leave Douglas, the invitation for her to stay at her cousin’s home—the cousin who just happened to be married to one of Sir David’s vassals—to help her with the care of her children and home while her husband recovered from the broken leg he’d suffered after he fell off the roof of their cottage while trying to make repairs, it had been too convenient to be coincidental. But at the time, Joanna had been so desperate for a place to go where James would not easily find her, she’d jumped at the opportunity.

  Sir David Lindsay was a good man, and in time perhaps she could grow to love him. Not the passionate, all-encompassing girlish love she’d had for James, but the solid, mature love of a woman. But it wouldn’t be fair to encourage him—even if she didn’t suspect his feelings for her were more a result of that strong streak of rescuer he had running through his blood. “There are things you don’t know. Things that would make it impossible for there to be anything more than friendship between us.”

  His expression hardened, and she saw vestiges of the formidable warrior he was reputed to be. Like James, Sir David was a close companion of the king and a member of his personal retinue. “If you mean Douglas, he doesn’t scare me.”

  He should, she almost said. Sir David was tall, strong, and surely skilled, but few men could best James Douglas in size, sheer physical strength, and fierceness.

  She shook her head. “It’s not James.” At least not entirely. She chewed on her thumb absently, heat crawling up her cheeks. How could she explain without telling him about the baby? She wasn’t chaste. She’d carried another man’s child. Hardly the proper wife for a young lord. Though they were the same age at two and twenty, she felt far older by experience.

  He must have guessed at the reason for her hesitation. He tipped her chin with the back of his finger to look into his eyes. “I am not a priest, Joanna. I will not require a confession of sins before I ask a woman to be my wife. I will listen, if you feel you must tell me, but remember that I was the first person to reach you when you fell, and it was me who carried you up the hill to the castle. I may not be a healer, but I do understand why a woman might be bleeding after a fall like that. I also saw the way you cried and cradled your stomach when you woke. When I learned of your connection—your former connection—to Douglas, it wasn’t difficult to figure out what had happened.”

  Joanna was stunned. “And you still…?” She couldn’t get the words out. The fact that this man so easily offered what James had refused—even after what she’d just said—made her want to burst into tears.

  He nodded. “Aye, I still. I won’t lie to you and say that I don’t wish it had happened differently. But I gave it some thought, and your former relationship with Douglas isn’t what worries me. What worries me is whether that relationship really is in the past.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he stopped her. “I’m not asking for assurances. Not now, at least. But I thought you should know how I felt.”

  Joanna didn’t understand. “Why me?” she blurted. Then embarrassed, she tried to explain, “I mean, I’m sure you have your pick of the ladies at court.”

  He smiled again. “Because you are sweet, kind, and beautiful, and none of the ladies at court have ever made me this happy. You are special, Joanna, and I thank God every day that Douglas was too much of a fool to realize what a treasure he had.”

  No one… only the marshal’s daughter. The cruel words still had the power to sting, but Sir David had helped lessen the hurt. Not all men saw her worth as simply a rung on the ladder of social positioning.

  For a moment she thought he might kiss her. She would have let him, curious to see whether he could rouse the same passion in her as James. But he must have remembered his vow not to press her.

  Dropping his hand from her face, he stepped back. “I should return to the castle. Some of the guests will be arriving soon, and I should be there to greet them. I only stopped by to make sure you saved me the first dance.” He smiled. “And the last dance and every one in between.”

  Despite her lighter spirits today, Joanna didn’t feel much like feasting. But after all Sir David had done for her, she could not refuse to attend the May Day celebration that seemed to have the entire village in a state of barely contained excitement. With the war, there had been little time or opportunity for feasting, and everyone knew with King Edward threatening to invade again in the summer, it might be some time before there was another.

  “I should like that very much,” she answered honestly. “Although I think your duties as host will require the partnering of more than just one woman.”

  He made a face and sighed. “I suppose you are right. But the first will be yours and I shan’t enjoy the rest.”

  She laughed and her smile lingered long after he’d gone.

  Though she supposed she should go inside and start helping the children—and herself—get ready, Joanna strolled to the edge of the burn that wound along the edge of the cottage. The hill sloped along the bank, and she was careful as she sat on the damp gras