CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Belladonna knew she was in trouble.
She knew this because Dashiell hadn’t said a word to her other than telling her to remain in her tent and not leave. It wasn’t so much what he said but how he’d said it. She knew that he would be terribly angry at her if she disobeyed, so she didn’t. She simply sat on a stool near the brazier, warming herself, as the sounds of the encampment went on outside.
Acacia hadn’t returned from the lists. She had no idea where her sister was, and Lily hadn’t made an appearance, either, leaving Belladonna to believe that, somehow, she was being punished. Maybe Dashiell was keeping everyone from her, like some terrible solitary confinement. But as she sat there and stewed, the tent flap moved aside and a familiar figured stepped through.
“Are you well, Bella?” It was Jillayne, her fair face wrought with worry. “God’s Bones, when I saw you rushing the field, I nearly fainted!”
Belladonna was relieved to see at least one friendly face. Standing up, she went to grasp Jillayne’s outstretched hands.
“I am well,” she assured her petite, pretty friend. “No harm done.”
Jillayne forced a smile. “What happened?” she asked. “Why did you rush out to the field?”
Belladonna’s smile faded. “I am not entirely sure,” she said, and it was the truth. “I saw my father out there, and suddenly there were men rushing towards him… I thought he was going to be killed. I had to help him. I had to help them all.”
Jillayne squeezed her hands. “Your father is well,” she said. “I have just come from his tent. My father is with him now, as are some of your father’s men. They are all seeing to him and he is well. Sir Dashiell asked me to come and sit with you so that you are not alone.”
So… he wasn’t furious at her? At least, Belladonna could hope that was the case. She pulled Jillayne over to the stool where she’d been sitting, pulling up a second stool for herself.
“Sit,” she told her friend. “I am glad you’ve come to visit. We did not have a chance to speak yesterday when I brought you the pup.”
Jillayne’s face lit up. “He is a sweet animal,” she said. “He slept with me last night. My father already says he wants to breed him to our dogs to create very fine hunting stock.”
She seemed very excited about it and Belladonna was pleased. “They are very good dogs,” she said. “The knights of Savernake sell them to lords at a good price.”
Jillayne grinned. “I have my own fine stock now and I did not have to pay for it,” she said, watching Belladonna giggle. “It has been a long time since we last saw one another, Bella. I did not know your father… I mean, I did not know he was so… sick.”
Belladonna’s smile faded. “It started about three years ago,” she said. “It has gotten worse every day. In fact, the day we left for Chadlington, he did not even know me. That has never happened before. I suppose that is why I rushed the field – he seems to have no sense of danger. I am not ready to lose my father yet.”
She wasn’t ready to lose her father yet, for a variety of reasons. Firstly, because she loved him, but secondly because his death would mean Clayton would inherit the dukedom. There was panic in that thought. But Jillayne was sympathetic.
“My grandsire went mad in the last year of his life,” she said. “It is difficult when they do not realize something is wrong.”
Belladonna smiled weakly. “My father believes he is Paul the Apostle,” she said. “That was why he was on the battlefield. He was blessing the men.”
Before Jillayne could reply, the tent flap moved again and Lord Sherston abruptly appeared. He was looking at Belladonna but politely acknowledged Jillayne, seated near the brazier.
“My lady?” Sherston addressed Belladonna. “I apologize if I am interrupting, but I was given permission by Dashiell to inquire on your health.”
He is on our side. Belladonna remembered what Dashiell had told her and in spite of the oddity of her introduction to Lord Sherston last night, she smiled politely at the man.
“You are not interrupting, my lord,” she said. “And I am doing very well, thank you.”
He remained in the tent opening, making no move to enter. “That is good news,” he said. “What you did was quite brave, my lady. I commend you for it.”
Belladonna wasn’t too sure she should be congratulated, considering the chaos that had been going on. “It was foolish, I suppose, but when my father entered the field… I was greatly afraid for his life. I needed to help him. And Dash and you and the others – you were being set upon by fiends. I simply could not stand by and watch that happen.”
Sherston smiled at her. The lady was not only beautiful, she was brave. He was coming to regret having told Dashiell he wouldn’t accept the proposal, but it was a regret he was going to have to live with. He was a man of his word.
“Your father does not have a scratch on him,” he said. “You did, indeed, help him. And you helped Dash, too. Had you not beaten back those men, he might have been seriously injured.”
She flushed, ever so slightly, glancing at Jillayne, who seemed to be fixated on Sherston. She was staring at him with a greatly interested expression.
“Dash has not spoken to me since the incident, so I would not know how he fares,” Belladonna said. Then, she shifted the subject. “My lord, do you know Lady Jillayne Chadlington? It is her celebration we are attending. It is her day of birth.”
In fact, Sherston had been waiting for this introduction. He’d hoped to have it last night, but he’d been occupied with Clayton for most of the night in order to keep him away from Belladonna and Dashiell, so the introduction Dashiell had promised him never came. But here it was, in a private setting no less, and he had to admit that he was quite taken with Lady Jillayne’s petite beauty.
“My lady,” he said, bowing his head gallantly. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Anthony Cromford, Lord Sherston.”
Jillayne flushed prettily; she was quite adept in the art of feminine flirtation. “It is an honor, my lord,” she said. “May I congratulate you on winning the mass competition?”
Sherston grinned. “It was purely by chance, I assure you,” he said. “Luckily, Lady Belladonna gave us the advantage we needed to secure the victory. I would be proud to take her into battle with me any time.”
Belladonna was mortified, but in a good-natured sense. As she shook her head firmly, and Jillayne giggled, another body came to stand next to Sherston.
Dashiell had finally made an appearance.
“How are things with the duke?” Sherston asked him. “No ill effects?”
Dashiell was bruised and beaten, and his right eye had a hint of dark shadows around it, but he was otherwise whole enough. His gaze was on Belladonna.
“No ill effects,” he said. “But Clayton is nowhere to be found. Have you seen him?”
Sherston shook his head, slowly. “Nay,” he said, “but I would be willing to wager that if I walk this encampment and the outlying area, he might very well find me.”
That was probably true. Clayton wanted something from Sherston, and considered him an ally, so Dashiell nodded his head.
“Would you mind?” he asked.
“Not at all,” Sherston replied. “When I find him, where would you have me take him?”
“Where are you staying?”
“In town, at the only tavern.”
“Take him there. I shall join you at some point soon.”
Sherston simply nodded. Then, he turned to Jillayne and dipped his head once more.
“My lady,” he said. “It was a great honor to know you. I hope to see you again, very soon.”
Jillayne smiled prettily and Sherston quit the tent. When he was gone, she turned to Belladonna.
“He is so handsome,” she gasped, but then realized that Dashiell was still standing in the tent opening. Feeling somewhat foolish, and thinking that she should probably leave, Jillayne rose from the stool and made her way to the tent opening. “Good day to you, my lord.”
Dashiell simply bowed his head to her as she slipped out. Once she was gone, he stepped into the tent and closed the flap.
Now, a heavy silence settled. Was he angry with her? Was he not? Dashiell remained silent as Belladonna stood there, watching his every move. The anticipation of his anger was setting her on edge.
“Well?” she finally said. “If you are going to become angry with me, get on with it.”
He sighed faintly. “I am not angry,” he said. “God knows, I should be. But I find I cannot muster the strength. I am simply glad that you were not injured.”
Belladonna was distressed to realize that he seemed subdued. Beaten, even. She didn’t like that appearance on the man, not in the least.
“I am sorry that I ran onto the field,” she said, “but when I saw my father… and when I saw you fighting with all of those men trying to save him, all I wanted to do was help. I could not sit by idle and watch something terrible happen.”
He simply nodded his head. Then, he saw a pitcher half-full of wine sitting on a small table and he went to it, picking it up and drinking straight from the pitcher. He drank most of it before lowering the pitcher to the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“It was foolish of you,” he said, heading wearily for one of the stools. “You could have been gravely injured, or worse.”
“I know.”
“Do you have any idea the terror I felt when I saw you swinging that club?”
“I am sure it was considerable.”
“Considerable?” he repeated, his tone tinged with anger in spite of him telling her he had none. “That does not come close to…”
He was cut off when he lowered himself onto the stool and it immediately collapsed, dumping him onto his back. As he grunted in surprise and, perhaps, a bit of pain, Belladonna ran to him.
“Did you hurt yourself?” she gasped.
Flat on his back, Dashiell looked up at her. After the mass competition that morning and the battles he’d been through, for her to show concern with a broken stool seemed utterly ridiculous. He started to tell her so when he suddenly started laughing.
It was too ludicrous to believe.
When Belladonna saw Dashiell laughing, she began to see the humor of the situation, too. The man had just grappled for his life, and managed to remain somewhat upright, before being dropped by a broken stool. It was faulty furniture that finally sent him to the ground. Plopping onto her buttocks beside him, she laughed until she cried.
Dashiell, too, was laughing tears. Pushing himself into a sitting position, which took a great deal of effort, he wiped at his eyes as he gazed into Belladonna’s face. She was sitting right next to him so when he sat up, they were very close. The laughter faded as her near proximity had an impact on him.
He didn’t feel like laughing anymore. Reaching out, he cupped her face with his bruised, scarred hand.
“I was never so proud as I was today, knowing you were watching me from the lists,” he said quietly, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “It was a perfect day and I would have been victorious had your father not made an appearance.”
Belladonna leaned her cheek into his hand; his touch was like magic. “I do not understand how or why he came to the field,” she said. “When we left him in his tent, he was sleeping soundly. But when he appeared on the field, he was alert and warmly dressed. As if he had planned to attend all along.”
Dashiell had much to say on the subject, since he’d just left the duke’s tent. Lily was there, still trying to keep her father calm, as was Lord Chadlington. Bentley and Aston were there, but they were simply there to ensure that the duke didn’t try to leave his tent again. They were also there to prevent Clayton from coming into contact with him.
Lily had told Dashiell that she’d seen Clayton lingering on the edge of the field at the time her father made his appearance, which led Dashiell to believe that Clayton had orchestrated the entire thing. In fact, he was certain of it. Such things had happened before, too many times to count, only this time it was different.
It was going to be the last time.
With a heavy sigh, Dashiell dropped his hand from Belladonna’s cheek.
“It was Clayton,” he said after a moment. “I was not going to tell you about this, but since I believe it was the motivation behind Clayton’s actions, I must. When we went to visit your father before the tournament, Drusus told me that Clayton had given him money.”
Belladonna’s brow furrowed. “Money? For what purpose?”
Dashiell cocked an eyebrow. “So that Drusus would do what Clayton wished,” he said. “Drusus returned the money to me and I went to Clayton with it. In fact, I knocked him out with a blow to the face and threw the money beside him. Did you not notice that Clayton did not make the tournament?”
Belladonna’s eyes were wide with surprise. “I did, but I did not care, and I did not ask Lily about it,” she said. “He did not come because you beat him?”
“I beat him because he is trying to force Drusus into doing his bidding when it comes to your father,” Dashiell said. “Bella, Clayton wants your father dead. He used to be subtle in his attempts, but he is no longer subtle about it. Ever since we returned from the battle campaign, he has been quite obvious in his actions.”
Belladonna was greatly disturbed by what was happening with her father. “Clayton wants to be the duke so badly that he will do what he can to ensure my father’s death,” she murmured. “Dash… what happens if my father dies before the Archbishop of Canterbury can sanction our betrothal?”
Dashiell could see the fear in her eyes. “Not to worry,” he said. “I will prevent whatever Clayton is trying to accomplish. But I think our betrothal is only part of it, to be truthful. I believe that Clayton simply wants the dukedom and its riches. His greed is starting to overwhelm him.”
Belladonna pondered that for a moment. “You must protect my father, Dash,” she said, angst in her eyes. “Not because I simply do not wish for Clayton to become the duke, but because I love my father. He is a great man.”
He could see how much she was worried and he shifted so he could put his arms around her. He pulled her close, his big hand on the back of her head.
“He is a very great man,” he said quietly. “And I will do what is necessary to protect him, up to and including killing Clayton. Now that Clayton is showing his true colors, I will show mine. I will kill him before I let him make another attempt on the duke.”
His words gave Belladonna a good deal of comfort but being in Dashiell’s arms gave her far more than simple comfort. He was dirty, and smelled of mud and grass, but she didn’t care in the least. She wound her arms around his neck and buried her face in the side of his sweaty head.
“I trust you,” she whispered. “And I adore you, Dash, for everything you have done for my father and for my family.”
The mood of the tent had gone from one of concern over the events of the day to something hot and smoldering all in the blink of an eye. Dashiell could feel Belladonna’s hot breath against his ear and it sent bolts of excitement running through him. Instinct began to take over; this sweet, beautiful woman loved him and he knew he loved her with all his heart. He’d never been this close to her, at least not in the manner in which they were embracing each other, and he followed that instinct that told him to taste her. Something inside his head was screaming at him. Shifting his head, he began to deposit soft and tender kisses on her jaw.
Belladonna gasped when she felt the first kiss. It was an innate reaction to something she’d been dreaming of for years. In fact, she was having difficulty breathing as he tenderly kissed her flesh. Turning her head slightly, Dashiell’s mouth was suddenly in front of her and their lips met with such force that Belladonna audibly grunted.
But that was nothing compared to what Dashiell was feeling. Belladonna was sweet and hot, incredibly delicious. Her sweet scent filled his nostrils as he suckled her lips, tasting her, acquainting himself with her. He could have very easily lost himself in an even deeper kiss, but he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that they were in a tent, and anyone could enter at any moment.
Still, it wasn’t enough of a fear to cause him to release her right away. He’d been waiting for this moment for a very long time and he wasn’t going to relinquish it until he was ready.
He might never be ready.
His hands went to her head, holding it between his two enormous palms as he kissed her with a passion he never knew he could feel. He’d had women before, but not like this. Never like this. He held her head in his hands as his lips devoured hers, and then he pulled her close to him once again, so forcefully that she grunted as he forced all of the air out of her lungs.
“Christ,” he hissed, loosening his grip. “Did I hurt you? I did not mean to.”
Belladonna had a dazed look about her. Her lips were red and chaffed from his bristly mustache having scratched her tender skin.
“Nay,” she said, swallowing. “You did not hurt me at all.”
He stared at her a moment, trying to determine what he was really feeling. When he exhaled, it was a ragged breath.
“This is all so new,” he murmured. “Even now, as I have duties hanging over my head, all I want to do is take you in my arms. I want to kiss you until you swoon and I want to hold you until the sun sets, and longer even than that. I do not want to leave this moment in time. Even saying such things makes me sound like a silly, besotted fool.”
She smiled, her hands going to his face. “It makes you sound like a man who has found happiness,” she said. “There is no shame in that.”
He lifted an auburn brow. “Mayhap not,” he said. “But I have gone through my entire life thinking love was something that only the weak succumbed to. Now… I am not so sure that is true.”
Belladonna gazed into his eyes, the color of blue that was so deep, it was nearly lavender. “Then I am weak,” she whispered. “You have made me weak and I do not care.”
Nor did he. Dashiell took her into his arms again, pulling her close as his lips slanted over hers. The kiss was hotter this time, something that made Dashiell’s heart pound and his loins grow warm. All he could think of was her soft flesh beneath his callused hands, and her hair, when he kissed her neck that smelled of flowers. Everything about her was soft and fragrant, things he’d dreamed of but had never truly experienced.
Now, he was.
“Bella,” he whispered against her flesh. “If I told you that I loved you, would you believe me?”
She gasped; he heard her. He stopped kissing her long enough to look her in the eye only to see that she was tearing up. Thinking he’d said something terribly wrong, he opened his mouth to apologize but she put her fingers over his lips, silencing him.
“I have waited so long to hear those words,” she whispered, “for I have loved you for as long as I can remember, Dash. So very long.”
A smile spread across his lips, tremulously, and he leaned forward to kiss her once more, simply because he could. He wanted to kiss her every day, as much as he could, for the rest of his life because it was something that seemed more natural to him than breathing. Just as he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close, they both heard commotion outside of the tent.
Dashiell released Belladonna so quickly that he ended up rocking back on his heels, losing his balance, and falling on his buttocks right next to the broken stool. Belladonna lurched to her feet about the time the tent flap pulled back, spilling forth Lily and Bentley.
Instantly, their focus changed. Lily looked as if she had been weeping and Belladonna immediately went to her as Bentley looked at Dashiell, sitting on the ground.
“Clayton is back,” Bentley muttered. “You had better come, Dash.”
For a man who was thoroughly exhausted from the events of the day, Dashiell moved to his feet fairly quickly. “When did he return?”
Bentley sighed heavily; he was incredibly unhappy. “A few minutes ago,” he said, keeping his voice down because Lily was so upset. “He’s in a foul mood. Evidently, he saw Lord Sherston and Lady Jillayne walking together through the encampment, and he is in a rage about Sherston paying attention to someone other than Belladonna.”
Dashiell’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “He said that?”
Bentley nodded. “He did,” he said. “Not to anyone in particular, but he was mumbling about it when he returned to the duke’s tent. Aston was at the door and told him to go away, so Clayton hit the man in the face. When I intervened, he tried to hit me, too, but I shoved him away. Then, Lily and Acacia got involved and he slapped them both. God help me, Dash… it was all I could do to not kill him.”
Dashiell rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Already, he was moving from the tent, mentally preparing himself to take on Clayton.
“Why did you not bring Acacia with you?” he demanded. “You left her with him?”
“She would not come.”
Dashiell growled. “Foolish wench,” he said. Then, he eyed Bentley. “Why did you not kill him, Bent? I would not have faulted you.”
Bentley eyed Lily. “Because Lily asked me not to,” he said. “She pulled me from the tent, away from Clayton, who was trying to provoke everyone. Aston is still there, as is Acacia, but Clayton is combative. You must go to him.”
Dashiell was already so angry he could hardly see straight. It was a struggle to maintain his composure.
“I will,” he said. “But you will remain here with the women. If Clayton is on a rampage, I do not want them unprotected. And I do not want you around Clayton right now if he is targeting you somehow.”
“I believe he is targeting Lily more than me.”
Dashiell put a hand on the man’s chest to keep Bentley from following him. “Bent,” he commanded softly. “Stay here. I will return.”
Bentley paused at the tent opening, watching Dashiell as the man headed to the duke’s large tent. The past few minutes had been an absolute nightmare with Clayton, so Bentley found himself praying that Dashiell would either find the strength to deal with the man or the strength to kill him.
All Bentley knew was that if Dashiell didn’t do something about the bastard, then he would.
It had come to that.