3. Borderland Betrayal by Samantha Holt

Author:Samantha Holt [Holt, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2014-03-18T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Blowing a strand of hair from her face, Ellise scowled as it fell back over her forehead and stuck to her skin. The warmth from the large fireplace mingled with the summer heat and the air in the kitchen stifled. She dropped the willow bark into a steaming pot and gave it a quick stir before turning back to the big table and gathering up the mint leaves. The cook glowered at her. He hated her taking up cooking space with her ‘useless bits o’ tree’.

A trickle of sweat dribbled down her forehead and she swiped at it angrily before snatching the knife and chopping the mint roughly. The clean scent mingled with the smell of fresh pastries as she worked the knife across the leaves and chopped them into fine pieces.

Mio Dios, but she was still angry. Foolish woman. Even an afternoon of preparing remedies for Lucy would not calm her. Usually it brought her such peace but turmoil still raged.

But it could not be jealousy surely? The conversation she’d had with Winnie earlier had unsettled her though as they spoke of James’ absence. Winnie’s words echoed in her mind. He will likely be making arrangements for his marriage. What did it matter to her if James married? However the idea of him marrying some insipid southern lady made her stomach twist. James deserved so much more than an arranged marriage to a young, inexperienced lass.

A jolt of sensation dripped over her and she straightened, sensing him before she spotted him. He approached from behind, as if she had somehow summoned him but he didn’t speak. Merely stood and observed as she reached for another clump of mint leaves and started work on them.

The thud, thud, thud of the knife on the wood mirrored her thumping heart as James waited silently. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him, arms folded as he rested back against one of the table tops. The servants and cook paid him little attention aside from greeting him with a dip of their heads as they scurried about preparing the evening meal.

It seemed the only one disturbed by his presence was her.

“What do you make there?” he finally asked.

“A tonic. For stomach ailments,” she answered without looking round.

He didn’t respond and Ellise noted his stiff posture, even as he tried to affect an air of nonchalance. What plagued the man? Something clearly bothered him.

She kept her gaze on the herbs, unable to look at him yet. Her heart still hurt when she thought about what she’d heard. “Is all well?”

“Aye.”

“Lucy is not ailing?”

“Nay.”

“Your journey went well?”

“Indeed.”

“And all is well at Harrowsbridge?”

“Well enough.”

She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Can I aid you with something?”

“Nay.”

Slowly inhaling, she brushed the stray mint leaves from her hands and swivelled to face him. “Then pray tell why you are stood there like an ominous shadow? ‘Tis most disconcerting.”

The muscles in his jaw ticked and he straightened, a hand coming to his sword. Did the man always

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