My Heart Belongs to You (Medieval Romance Trilogy Book 3) by Leigh Bale Page A

of wine. “So, she has the temperament of an angel, soft and biddable. A gloriously beautiful maiden who has never caused a moment’s trouble. I believe that is what Maston said.”
    Nicholas threw a glare at his brother. “No doubt Maston loved her and overlooked her rebellions. I’m sure she feels threatened and seeks to assert herself. Perhaps I must teach her differently.”
    “It should prove amusing to see what she teaches you.”
    Nicholas grit his teeth. “I have no tolerance for your jokes.”
    Alex still smiled, but his eyes crinkled with concern. “Tell her the truth, Nicholas. She willna fight you if she knows. It would make everything so much easier.”
    Nicholas’s tensed. The truth could destroy any hope of finding happiness with her. He dare not chance it. “The truth would only hurt her more. I want her to trust me.”
    “Ah, yes, the fierce Scots Ram is worried he might hurt a mere woman’s feelings. Perhaps it’s your own heart you guard.”
    “I have no heart.” Nicholas spoke between clenched teeth.
    “The truth would bend her to your will.”
    “Or drive her further away.”
    “She’ll have to be told eventually.”
    “No, I forbid it. There’s no need for her to know.” Nicholas scooted back from the table and stood. She showed Alex a grim expression. It mirrored his feelings. He must make himself clear on this point. There was too much to lose. “You will forget what you know, brother. It was an error for you to overhear my private conversation with Lord Maston. The truth changes nothing.”
    Alex frowned. “It changes everything, Nicholas.”
    “Forget it. Now!” Nicholas roared.
    People in the hall stilled and stared at the head table. Silence reigned. Nicholas’s brows lowered in a stormy frown and he turned to depart.
    “Where are you going, brother?” Alex asked.
    Nicholas responded over his shoulder. “To speak with the lady of my keep.”
    After seeking information as to the location of Ysabelle’s chamber, Nicholas mounted the spiral stairs three at a time. He climbed steadily until he reached the second floor. By that time, his temper raged and blood pounded in his head. He had given Ysabelle as much time as possible, hoping she would reconcile herself to their marriage. Obviously she had not.
    Pausing outside the door to her chamber, Nicholas fought to gain control over his fury. Tolerance didn’t come easy and his temper neared its end. With his knuckles, he rapped against the solid panel.
    “Who is there?” Her voice sounded dim and weary.
    “It is your lord, my lady. I seek your presence.”
    “Go away,” came her sharp reply.
    Stunned by her defiance, he could barely keep from bellowing in anger. He was now lord of Sutcliffe. She would obey him.
    He flung the door wide and stepped inside. And froze. Every ounce of fury drained from his body in a single moment of time.
    Ysabelle sat in a tub, her golden hair piled atop her head, her bare skin glimmering in the fireglow as she bathed.
    With a gasp of shock, she wrapped her arms across her chest. Her torso was slim, her shoulders creamy and smooth as she jutted her chin in challenge.
    His mouth dropped open.
    “Get out!” Ysabelle ordered.
    Tendrils of damp hair curled against her long neck. She was more than beautiful, her pale skin almost translucent. Ethereal, like a fairy princess.
    “How dare you?” she demanded.
    She stared at his chest. Emblazoned with golden threads on the front of his black tunic was the Ramsay crest; an eagle with its sharp beak open in a silent scream, its fierce claws unfurled as it swooped down upon its hapless prey.
    Ysabelle’s eyes widened. Perhaps his choice in wearing the garment had been unwise, but it was the only clean tunic he had in his saddle packs. He would not wed Ysabelle dressed in soiled clothes that stank of sweat and dust.
    “You will remove yourself from that tub, my lady, or you will find out just how much I dare,” he warned.
    Her gaze met his, her