Page 23 of Her Noble Groom

She turned, a haunted look in her eyes, then returned to staring down the cliff at the water churning about the rocks below .

“Thomasse, please do not do this.”

He dropped the reins and vaulted from the saddle, racing to her side. “I brought your cloak.”

“Let me be,” she said, her voice cracking.

James draped the cloak over her shoulders. “Let me take you home.”

“I have no home,” she replied, her voice flat. “Go away. I wish to be alone.”

“I will not leave you here.”

What he would not give in this moment to protect this woman forever, to confess his undying love, but it would not be right. “You are not alone. There are those who care for you.”

Thomasse stepped closer to the edge of the rocky cliff, her gaze fixed on the dark, swirling water below.

James reached out his hand, willing her to take it. “What of Philippe? He would be devastated at the loss of his governess and friend.”

The rocks shifted and her foot slipped. James lunged, his heart pounding, and drew her away from the crag. A sob escaped her lips, and James wrapped his arms around her trembling body. He stroked her hair, waiting for her to calm.

“What happened?”

She shook her head against his shoulder, and he accepted that she was not ready to talk.

James pressed a light kiss on her hair. “Whatever has brought you to this point, I promise things will get better.”

She drew away and wiped her eyes. “I do not see how.”

“Come with me.” He extended his hand. “Please.”

She took it and allowed him to lead her to the horse.

Once astride the roan, he drew her up into the saddle and wrapped a protective arm about her waist. Taking up the reins, they rode slowly down the path toward the manor.

She relaxed against him. He tightened his hold on her, breathing in her scent of jasmine, hoping she felt his love. Maybe one day she would bare her soul, but for now, it was enough to know she was safe.

A t the manor, James helped Thomasse down from the horse. “If you need to talk, I will be there for you.”

She nodded and darted into the house. As she crossed the great hall, a servant pressed a letter into her hand. “This arrived a few hours ago.”

Thomasse thanked the servant and raced up the stairs to her chamber, barring the door behind her. She set the letter on the table beside the bed and removed her cloak. She huddled near the fire, trying to chase the chill from her bones, terrified by where her thoughts had taken her.

Why did it have to be James who found her? Of all people, she did not want him to know how low she had sunk, the depths of her shame. If he knew the truth, that she carried the pirate’s child, he would shun her, and she could not bear it.

The warmth thawed her distress, and she remembered the letter. Curious who could have sent it, she broke the seal, surprised to discover it was from her father.

Thomasse,

I have arrived in France and am residing with our queen. I am happy to report Lord Jack is here among the exiles. He offers news of Eleanor and Arthur. They have settled near Oxford, although Arthur has turned traitor, joining forces with Edward, Duke of York.

Good tidings. Lord Jack has been bestowed with the title of Earl of Devon. When this business is concluded, he means to claim your hand. Take courage. The wait will soon be over. King Henry will be restored, and you, my daughter, shall be a countess.

Your loving father

.

Thomasse refolded the letter and tucked it beneath the bolster. She had never dared hope this could happen. In England, she would be safe with her father’s, or Lord Jack’s, men-at-arms to protect her. Maybe then she could forget.

Her father remained ignorant of her ruination. If she gave up the child, no one would suspect until after the vows had been spoken .

Even then, perhaps the earl would suspect nothing amiss. Her future children would grow up with the same privileges that she had known; a fine education, beautiful clothes, horses, and a noble lineage. Safe. They would never face the hardship she had endured these past two years.

Unbidden, she heard Madame’s words. “You may be barren.” What if this child was her only chance to be a mother?

J ames whistled as he rubbed down the seigneur’s black destrier. A hint of jasmine wafted through the stable. He glanced up to see Thomasse. A fortnight had passed since he had found her on the cliff. She stood just inside the stable door, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

“You said if I needed to talk,” she said in a hushed voice. “Is your offer still good?”

“Always.” He set aside the brush and gestured for her to sit on the bench.

She perched on the edge, arranging and rearranging the folds of her skirt. “Promise not to think ill of me?”

“I could never,” said James, taking a seat on the bench, leaving a comfortable distance between them.

“And not to tell anyone?”

“I am no gossip.” Her question pained him, for he thought she knew him better.

“I am with child,” she blurted out.

James flinched as if punched in the gut—the revelation dropping like a stone into a pond. His thoughts rippled and swirled as the weight of her confession hit him. Though he had suspected what had happened in the cottage, her disclosure removed any doubt.

“You think me a harlot.” She must have misinterpreted his silence.

He schooled his countenance. “Do not assume what I think.”

“The pirate is the babe’s father.” Thomasse slumped against the wall as though the admission required all her strength .

James slid his hand down the bench, stopping halfway between them, hoping she would take his hand, recognize the gesture as a sign he still loved her. “His actions do not determine who you are.”

“Thank you for that kindness, but I fear when the Seigneur and Demoiselle learn the truth, they will turn me out.” She turned toward James. “What will I do?”

“You can conceal your condition a few months more. Perhaps by then a solution will present.” Take my hand.

“I should not have burdened you with this.” Thomasse replied. “I am not your responsibility.”

“If there is anything I can do to help?” James rose and offered her his hand. “This chill is not good for you or the babe. Let me take you back to the house.”

Neither James nor Thomasse spoke as they crossed the green. What does a person say under such circumstances? While he could understand her distress, he could never fully comprehend the depths of her despair.

At the door, James said, “If you need anything, even just to talk—”

Thomasse nodded and disappeared within.

James stared at the closed door for a few moments, then returned to the stable, his heart heavy with regret.

He grieved as he recalled how he had acquiesced to her father’s wishes when Thomasse was prepared to stand up for their love.

If her father had not forbidden their marriage, she would have been with him on that fateful morning.

Even now, he would happily wed her, but she had not taken his hand, had not met him halfway.

Perhaps more than her father stood between them.