Heart's Demand (44 page)

Once she was away, Michael yanked Romilard to his feet. Bryce leaned in so they were toe to toe, but he was many inches taller and much more robust than the pathetic little tyrant.

“The sword is mine,” Bryce informed him.

“You’ll have to kill me to take it,” Romilard blustered.

“I intend to.”

Romilard opened his mouth to call for help, but before he could murmur a sound, Bryce was holding his father’s weapon. He stabbed Romilard straight through the heart, then casually stepped to the side as his life’s blood drained out.

“Asshole,” Michael muttered as he released Romilard. He dropped like a rock, his head smacking the stones with a muted thud.

Bryce wiped the blade clean on Romilard’s trousers, then he sliced the belt and retrieved the sheath. He attached it to his own belt.

As he glanced up, Michael was studying him in an odd manner.

“What?” Bryce inquired.

“Matthew once asked me what you were like, and I claimed you weren’t anything like him and me.”

“What is that supposed to mean.”

“I claimed you weren’t the type to stab somebody in the heart and blithely walk away.”

“I hate this guy.”

“That’s obvious,” Michael mused.

“Someday I’ll tell you what occurred in Egypt. I barely survived.”

Michael pointed to Romilard. “He was responsible? He harmed you?”

“His men did, but they were simply carrying out his orders to murder me.”

“Bastard,” Michael spat.

“And I am Julian Blair’s son. No one can take from me what is mine.” He gestured down the hall. “Let’s go. I need to catch up with my fiancée. I’m not ever letting her out of my sight again.”

The two brothers rushed off, Romilard a forgotten lump on the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Goodbye, Calais. Goodbye, France. Goodbye, Europe.”

Kat stood at the bow of their ship, smiling at Isabelle who was throwing flowers into the water. The wind was catching the sails as the captain maneuvered them out of the harbor. In a few hours, they’d be in England.

“Do you miss Parthenia?” Kat asked her.

“No,” Isabelle scoffed.

“Would you go back someday?”

“Maybe if Nicholas was sitting on the throne, but not while Kristof is pretending to be king.”

“I agree.”

“Life was grand when Father was still alive. I hate how Kristof wrecked everything.”

“So do I.”

“Will the people ever tire of him?”

“Yes,” Kat said, “and I imagine it will happen very soon. When we departed, they were already growing restless.”

“I’ll never understand how someone could pick Kristof over Nicholas.”

“I’ll never understand it either. Father would have been so angry. I’m glad he wasn’t there to witness what occurred.”

“I’m glad too,” Isabelle said. “I could never bear to have him upset.”

Kat reached over and ran her fingers through Isabelle’s hair. It was a pretty chestnut color, but it used to flow to her bottom, and Kat had spend many years brushing and braiding it. But now it was cropped at her shoulders, swinging loose and free and too short to even be tied with a ribbon.

On the afternoon Isabelle and Nicholas had sneaked out of the palace, when they’d gone to saddle the horses for Bryce and Kat, they’d stopped by the nursery so Isabelle could change into the boy’s clothes that would conceal her identity.

She’d ordered Nicholas to cut her hair, and though Nicholas had put up a fuss, Isabelle had won the argument. He’d taken a knife and sliced through the braid so Isabelle could don a knitted cap like his, so she could pull it over her eyes and hide her face. Then she’d dropped the lengthy rope of hair into their old toy box and shut the lid.

Occasionally Kat thought about that hair, lying alone and forlorn. Would Kristof ever wed and have children? Would they ever play in the nursery and open the toy box? What would they think of that shorn braid tossed inside?

She spun and stared at the receding coastline, the receding town. They were about to leave the quieter bay and move out into the Channel.

The captain had warned her that the seas would be rougher, that they might be nauseous at the start, but he swore the waves would even out and carry them to their new life with no trouble at all.

Toward the stern, Nicholas was huddled with the twins, and on seeing them together, Kat sighed. He’d bonded with the two men, and they were constantly in deep discussion, talking about fighting and strategy and tactics. Matthew Blair had been a soldier since he was very young, so Nicholas was particularly fascinated by his stories of bravery and battle.

Apparently she’d have a brother join the army before too much more time had passed, and she couldn’t decide how she felt about that. Nicholas insisted he needed the training and discipline the army would provide, and Matthew insisted he’d learn leadership skills that would serve him well when he went back to Parthenia.

At the moment, with her home country naught but a distant memory, she didn’t want him to ever go back. Nor could she imagine returning herself. Her future was in England and Scotland with Bryce.

She understood Nicholas’s yearning to reclaim what was his though, and she would always help him to achieve that goal. She suspected—with the Blair brothers offering their protection and advice—Nicholas would succeed at whatever he chose to do in Parthenia. How could Kristof hope to keep what he’d stolen?

Bryce climbed out of the hold and onto the deck. He looked very grand, but then he always looked magnificent. Their weeks of riding across Europe had lightened his hair so it was once again a golden blond. He’d begun shaving too, so the beard was removed. Attired as he was in tan breeches, a flowing white shirt, and knee-high black boots, he might have been a pirate about to commit mayhem.

He came over, and he had a wool blanket woven in a beautiful plaid of dark greens and reds, a purple and white stitch thrown in to add intrigue.

He leaned down for a quick kiss, then he wrapped the blanket around her so she discovered it wasn’t a blanket after all, but a long swatch of Scottish tartan. It was very warm and instantly warded off the cold wind. She grabbed Isabelle and drew her close, wrapping the tartan around her too.

Bryce pointed to the fabric. “Michael and Matthew brought it from Radcliffe Castle. It’s my family’s pattern.”

“It’s lovely,” Kat said.

“If I was any kind of Scot, I’d have dressed myself in it, but I’m not certain how the blasted garment is supposed to be worn.”

Isabelle peeked up at him. “After we’re in Scotland, you’ll have to ask the elders in the castle. They’ll know how.”

“I’m positive they will,” he agreed. He gazed at the receding coastline. “I can’t say I’m sad to see France disappearing.”

“Neither can I,” Kat said.

“Might Captain Romilard follow us to England?” Isabelle nervously inquired. “Should we be on the lookout for him?”

“No, Isabelle,” Bryce assured her. “He wouldn’t dare follow us to England. He’s too scared of me and my brothers.”

“As he should be,” Isabelle regally stated.

She’d posed the question a thousand times, and he’d furnished the same answer a thousand times. But evidently she was more anxious by all that had happened than she liked to let on. She’d been raised to be a princess, to take things in stride, but she was only ten. The past two years had been a nightmare of upheavals and drama that no child should have to suffer.

Bryce gestured to Nicholas who was still huddled with Michael and Matthew at the other end of the ship. “Why don’t you ask if they’re ready? Will you give me a minute alone with Katarina?”

“I will.” Isabelle giggled. “But not too much kissing!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Bryce said.

“Not until you’re married.”

“Which will be very, very soon.”

Isabelle ran off, and Bryce snuggled next to Kat, being enveloped in the warmth of the wool. It was December and the temperature icy. The wind made it feel even colder.

Once Isabelle had skittered away, Kat said, “Tell me the truth. Did you kill Captain Romilard?” So far on the trip, he’d refused to confide any details of the encounter.

“Will you be upset if I say
yes
?”

“I won’t be upset. I will be delighted.”

“Then
yes
. I killed him for what he had done to me in Egypt, for every insult he ever leveled at you, and so he couldn’t rush to Kristof’s chambers and release him one second earlier than I wanted him released.”

“My hero.” She batted her lashes at him. “If Romilard is dead, I don’t have to worry about him, but what about Kristof? Will he send guards to England? Will he try to take us back?”

“The road behind us has been empty ever since we left Parthenia. Maybe he convinced himself that you aren’t worth the bother.”

“Maybe, but I’m concerned about Nicholas and Isabelle. Remember in Egypt? We had several kidnapping attempts.”

“We’ll spend most of our time in Scotland, so any foreign strangers would stick out like a sore thumb. They wouldn’t be able to get within ten miles of Radcliffe without someone notifying us.”

“I’ll hope that remains true.”

He pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “Don’t be afraid. I would never let anything bad happen to you.”

“I know.”

They stood silently for a bit, enjoying the sway of the ship, the caw of the gulls overhead.

“I’m happy,” he said.

“So am I.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever marry.”

“I thought I would, but I figured it would be a political union, forged under a treaty to some aging despot whom I couldn’t abide.”

He grinned. “I saved you from that fate at least.”

“And I will always be grateful.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course.”

“There’s no going back,” he reminded her.

“There’s no going back for you either. If you wake up some morning and decide it’s exhausting to have a house full of royals, I don’t want to hear a word of complaint.”

“I’m starting to like it,” he claimed.

She snorted. “I’ll ask you in six months and see how you reply.”

He pointed to their four siblings, who were merrily chatting. “My family is growing by leaps and bounds. For so long, it was just me on my own. I never believed I could change my situation.”

“You were likely wary of changing it too. After discovering how quickly stable things can fall apart, it definitely makes a person cautious.”

“It definitely does,” he concurred.

In their frantic dash across Europe, he’d shared the heartbreaking tale about his parents. Kat couldn’t imagine what it must have been like, especially for Anne Blair, with her husband deceased, her children being so little, and her not being able to stay with them.

Kat wished she could argue that her own family was better, less cruel and less greedy, but the Morovsky clan had no right to brag. Kristof had proven her kin possessed as much avarice and malice as anyone. Yet Kat had only had to suffer tragedy and turmoil for two years. Bryce had suffered from the time he was a tiny boy.

He was such a fine man, strong and faithful, steady and devoted. He’d overcome every obstacle, had raised himself to heights that seemed impossible when his rough beginnings were considered.

His brothers were the same, had both achieved remarkable feats. What extraordinary men they all were.

Their sister was searching for their mother, optimistically hoping the woman might still be alive. If Evangeline could locate her, she intended to bring her to England, to have her pardoned and reunited with her children. Kat secretly vowed—as an unspoken wedding gift to her husband—that she would spend any amount of her fortune necessary to find out what had happened to Anne Blair.

It would be a way to show her immense gratitude to the Blair family. When she and her siblings had been alone in the world, when they hadn’t had a friend who would dare to stand by them, the Blair brothers had stepped forward. The Blair brothers had offered their loyalty and protection. Kat could never fully repay that debt.

Bryce was nervous about Kat’s decision to wed him. He assumed he was too far beneath her, that she’d ultimately regret it.
He
thought he was reaching too high, but Kat was the one who’d garnered much more than she deserved.

Who wouldn’t want to marry Bryce Blair? He was handsome, dashing, brave, trustworthy, and wickedly fun. Who wouldn’t want him? Who wouldn’t love him?

She probably should have left him in peace, should have let some other woman have him. But it was her heart’s demand that—for once—she not be selfless, that she not be noble. For once, she would take what she desired—without reflection, without apology.

She’d cherished the title of Her Royal Highness, but she couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Bryce Blair and Lady Radcliffe instead. She was a princess who no longer had a home or a country or a place to call her own. Yet she had Bryce Blair, which meant she had much more than she would ever need.

The ship maneuvered past the jetty, the waves growing bigger as they headed into open water. The sails cracked and snapped in the sharper breeze. Sea spray splashed over the bow, wetting them, and they laughed and twirled in circles.

The captain approached and asked, “Shall we proceed, Lord Radcliffe?”

Bryce smiled at Kat. “Last chance. Are you still sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You’ll be mine now.”

“And you’ll be mine.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Matthew, Michael, Isabelle, and Nicholas came over and stood behind them. Isabelle had a few flowers she hadn’t tossed into the ocean. She gave them to Kat, and Nicholas clasped her arm and turned her to Bryce.

“She’s yours, Mr. Blair,” he solemnly said. “Swear to me you’ll always take care of her.”

“I always will, Your Grace,” Bryce responded just as seriously. “Don’t worry for a single second. I will go to my grave taking care of her.”

Michael grinned at Bryce. “I’m trying to picture Evangeline’s expression when we walk into Radcliffe Castle not only with you, but with an entire family in tow. What will she have to say?”

“She’ll say she had no idea I was smart enough to make myself so happy.” He gazed at Kat. “Are you ready?”