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

eyes spitting flame. “Sir, you are a clod.”
    “It was not my intent to interrupt your bath, but you will join me below. I wish to present a united front to our people before we are wed.” His gaze took in her stiff posture.
    Shifting restlessly, she gave him a glimpse of her flawless skin as she reached for a cloth to wrap around herself.
    He’d been blessed when Lord Maston came to Dalhousie to betroth this woman to him. It wasn’t every day a bastard found himself so fortunate to receive an affluent estate and a beautiful lady for his wife.
    A possessive tightening filled Nicholas. Even from across the room, he could see she grit her teeth as she spoke. “I sent word I cannot join you now.”
    “I received your message, though it is unacceptable,” he said.
    Closing the door, he approached the tub and she sank lower. The water lapped at the slim column of her neck and a droplet clung to her chin. He almost reached out a finger to wipe it away.
    “You had best complete your bath with haste, lady. Father Edward will wed us this evening.”
    Indicating the bath, she spoke in a strained voice. “You can see I am occupied.”
    He took another step and Ysabelle inhaled sharply. Her eyes challenged him. “What has Father Edward said to you?”
    “Since he performed our betrothal, he has agreed to wed us,” he said.
    She blinked. “So, you will force me to the altar, just as King William did?”
    “I think that willna be necessary. Surely you will honor your own vow to wed me.”
    She flinched at his reminder. Hopefully her honor would win where threats could not. Nor did Nicholas wish to threaten or coerce her into being his wife. Together they would have much to face. It would be better if she became his wife of her own free will.
    “It is treasonous for me to wed you.” Her voice was a tight whisper.
    Two more steps took him to the edge of the tub. Looking down, he was enchanted by the way the water swirled about her shoulders. “I don’t believe you care what your king thinks.”
    “I care what he does to Sutcliffe.”
    She clenched her eyes closed, her skin a ghostly pallor that spoke of revulsion.
    “Ysabelle, what is it?” he asked.
    Her eyes opened, no longer filled with defiant light but only fear. His heart squeezed.
    “Please don’t,” she begged.
    His heart melted. Guilt lodged deep in his chest. If he forced her to the altar, he would win her hatred. He could not stand that. He wanted happiness with his wife, not loathing.
    Her eyes closed again and she shook her head. “I want no husband.”
    “Wee lass, open your eyes.” She did so, and Nicholas was lost in them as they glistened like dazzling jewels. “Never will I harm you. Rise and dress for our wedding.”
    “I will pay you to go away. My father had much wealth.”
    A bribe! Nicholas hadn’t expected this. “There is only one payment I would accept, and I doubt you would offer it.”
    She met his gaze. “Name it.”
    “You.”
    She blinked, her rosebud mouth so full and kissable he had trouble concentrating. He forced his gaze to move from her lips.
    “I offer gold and grain, flocks of sheep, and herds of cows. Will you accept it?”
    “I only want you.”
    “If I give myself to you, will you leave Sutcliffe?” Her voice trembled.
    “Yes.”
    Her eyes closed and she swallowed, her slender throat open to his gaze. He longed to press a kiss to the rapid pulse there, to breathe deeply of her warm, fragrant skin.
    “All right. I will give myself to you if you and your men will depart immediately thereafter.”
    Her eyes opened and he saw her dread and resolution. She planned to sacrifice herself so that Sutcliffe might be safe from war. Lust crawled through Nicholas’s veins, lulling him to accept her offer. But he wanted more than just a few fleeting moments of pleasure.
    “You misunderstand me,” he said. “I will leave only if you accompany me, as my wife.”
    A harsh laugh slipped from her throat. “You seek to keep