Page 72 of To Love

Amalia’s eyes widened. She might have replied, but a knock on the door interrupted them. Their meal had arrived.

By the time they drank, and ate, and drank some more, Elara occupied Amalia’s mind with questions and speculation. Though they did not forget about the defeat, about the possibility Gareth, Roland, or Alden may not return, neither did any of them break down again.

It was only after the others left, after Elara changed from her gown into a shift and lay in bed, blowing out the single candle, that tears began to form. She’d told Amalia not to allow herself to imagine the worst, but Elara could not follow her own advice.

She thought of him, lying in the streets of a city they attempted to take, but failed. She thought of his eyes, pleading with someone, anyone, to notice him before he left this world. Elara did the opposite of occupying her mind. From one horrific scenario to the next, she considered every manner of his death.

How could I have let him leave that way?

But Elara knew the answer before she asked the silent question, alone in her bed. She had not trusted him to hear her truth. Elara had taken her father’s warning not to trust anyone but herself to heart. Even when she’d known the truth already.

He was not like other men. Alden claimed her, said Elara was his, and the claim was as true that day as it was this eve.

She was his, and wished to be so . . . forever.

But had she realized it too late?

Chapter

Thirty

Despite that their retinue included the bodies of four of their men, the closer they got to Castle Blackwood, the quicker they rode. Smiles could be seen for the first time since Winchester as the sanctuary of their temporary home rose before them.

Alden allowed his mind to wander back to that very afternoon, the one when he’d been knighted, not long before the chaos. They’d received word Gloucester had been captured, but before any could take command of his men, their lines broke. Confusion reigned. Stirling had not waited to pull them from the confusion out of the city into the rolling hills beyond Winchester as they watched the queen’s forces chase Empress Matilda’s from the city that they recaptured. Learning later the empress herself had left the eve before after receiving word the tide had turned, Stirling had been furious. He’d not stopped cursing Gloucester since.

By the time he and the others rode through Castle Blackwood’s gates, Alden could barely remain atop his mount. They hardly rested, Stirling pushing them to return before their order could be discovered and followed.

Before they’d even dismounted, the recruits who had remained came streaming from the keep. Tales were recounted. The dead were mourned as their bodies were carried toward the chapel, where they would be buried on the morrow.

Handing his reins to an overworked stable boy, Alden looked for Elara, but there was no sign of her. When a flash of bright red caught his eyes, he realized it was Amalia. She flew down the hill, calling Roland’s name.

“There,” Alden yelled, having just seen his friend. “In the stable.”

He watched as she ran inside the original stable. Their new one, courtesy of the remaining recruits assisting, was already nearly complete.

Walking toward the keep, he saw her. Standing beside Evelina, who was searching the men for Gareth. His friend slapped him on the shoulder.

“Returning, defeated. Not how we thought this day would go.”

“Nay,” he agreed. “’Tis not.”

Alden could not take his eyes from her. More beautiful than he remembered, though Elara’s expression was impossible to interpret. Like the first day they met, she watched them approach, stoic.

“Gareth,” Evelina exclaimed, seeing him for the first time. His friend ran the remaining distance toward her, and both he and Elara watched the two embrace.

Alden wished he could do the same. Instead he was forced to stop before her.

“Lady Elara.”

Nay, not stoic. Closer to her now, Alden could see her eyes clearly. They were filled with relief and perhaps something more.

“Alden,” she said as he inclined his head in deference to her.

“Sir Alden.” Gareth kept his arm around Evelina as he brought her toward him. “He was knighted on the battlefield by Stirling. A well-deserved honor.”

Alden watched Elara’s face transform. Surprised. Pleased. Even more unexpected, her eyes welled with unshed tears. An open display of emotion, of any sort, was not Elara. Not the one he had first met.

“Congratulations,” she said, swallowing and tipping her head back slightly. Just like that, the tears were gone. Her emotions, in check. “I am pleased to hear that Sir Gareth is correct. I know no other man more deserving of the honor.”