Page 108 of The Rogue’s Embrace

In the depths of darkness, Isabel was aware of a presence. It scratched at her senses, beckoning for her to awaken. She didn't want to. Her dreamless sleep offered a near painless respite from a world that had suddenly changed too much.

The niggle persisted, dragging her from her slumber, and she forced open her eye, as painful as it was. A slit of light seeped in through her swollen eyelid and beams of sunlight drifted about the room, highlighting the dust in great streams and hurting her open eye.

She groaned but nothing came. Her throat constricted painfully, reminding her of its rasping, arid state. In the corner of her vision, she spied the source of her disturbance.

The knight who rescued her.

He sat slumped on a rickety wooden chair, the thin supports looking far too small for a man of his physique. He was dozing, she concluded, as his arms were resting upon his knees and his head slumped forward.

Had he remained watching over her? How uncommon for a man of his status to spend his time seeing to a stranger. She cast her mind back to the hazy moments spent awake in his company. She had thought him the lord of the castle - his commanding manner certainly led her to believe so - but now she wondered otherwise. Surely a lord did not have the time to tend to a bedraggled maiden?

Isabel studied the room. From what she could see, it was well appointed. The chamber's deep-set windows were fixed with clear glass, allowing light to settle on the whitewashed walls. Several brightly colored tapestries hung from the walls and she could just discern one on the floor. Though it was not unusual to have rugs, Isabel herself had not seen them used on the floor before and her father had always refused to sully such finery with dirty feet in his own keep.

The soft, feathered bed was more luxurious than any she had ever slept in before. Its great, carved pillars rose above her and heavy red damask curtains partially enclosed the bed. The same material adorned the wide windows. Whoever owned this immense keep was no pauper.

Her gaze settled back onto the brown-haired titan that guarded her. The memory of his giant hands wrapped around her sent a shudder through her aching body and she winced as her ribs stabbed in pain. They were broken, the physician managed to tell her. He attended to her with a kind efficiency, quickly establishing that she could not hear him. Had he told the man that her hearing was gone? And her voice?

What would happen to her now? Mayhap they would cast her out once she was well. Isabel shuddered at the thought. She would be little use to anyone in her current state and there would be no way to make a living without the full use of her senses.

Her head pounded as she continued to observe the sleeping giant. How could someone so immense be so gentle? He was truly fascinating. His tenderness had surprised her, particularly when he had taken her hand. A softness had glinted in his expression and she had nearly missed it beneath the stern brow.

Mayhap aware of her observation, he stirred. She did not turn from him, eager to see if that softness remained. He glanced at her as he stretched his wide arms and a flicker of surprise came across his brooding face.

He stood abruptly and then seeming to remember something, he sat again, darting a look of hesitation towards her.

He spoke, his mouth moving quicker than she was able to follow and she shook her head. Her vision swam and she grimaced.

This alarmed the man and he came to his feet once more, approaching the side of the bed and crouching beside her. He motioned to his ears and shook his head. She could just perceive a word coming from his lips. Hear.

Nay, she mouthed and he nodded. So he knew.

He put a hand to his throat, acknowledging she could not speak either and she nodded carefully.

Gesturing with his hands, he imitated writing. Could she write?

Nay.

Her father had never allowed her to learn such a skill, mayhap fearing it would bring her too much independence. Isabel had protested many a time that she needed the ability to document accounts for her future husband, a future her father had so eagerly prepared her for, but yet he still had not allow it.

He nodded again. What is your name?

She eyed his mouth avidly; just able to distinguish his words as he spoke more slowly. Isabel.

His lips curved into a smile. Isabel, he repeated, copying the movement of her mouth. I am Jake.

Isabel did the same, mimicking him. Jake.

How came you to be here?

Licking at her lips, she wondered what she should say. She could not risk him finding out where she had come from, lest he attempt to send for her father. Deciding to pretend not to understand, she merely frowned, allowing it to deepen as he repeated himself. She sighed inwardly when he didn't attempt to ask her again.

We shall see you well, Lady Isabel. Do not fear.

So he recognized her as nobility. That might explain his care of her. However, it still didn't warrant his full attention - she could just as easily be cared for by a maid. And who did he mean by ‘we'? Did he mean the other man? They were family then, just as she concluded, but how were they related? Her knight, as she was quickly coming to consider him, seemed older, but she was convinced now he was not the lord of this keep. Mayhap there was an older brother she was not yet aware of.

Mindful of the concern on Jake's face as he watched her, she attempted a reassuring smile.

His lips tilted tentatively, as if he had forgotten how to smile, and Isabel found herself taken by the change it made to his face. Gone was the furrowed brow and grim expression. He was surely one of the most striking men she had ever met.

A vibration resounded in her senses and as Jake turned to the door she realized someone must have knocked.

Jake opened the door and ushered in a plump, older woman. A white wimple covered her head, pulled tight, pushing her double chin up and giving her a comical appearance. Isabel could feel her mouth twitch as the woman bustled in, waddling like a duck, and she flushed as Jake gave her an amused look, noticing her levity.

Isabel imagined she could hear the woman clucking as she dithered around her, laying out some cloths and clean clothes. She watched the woman's mouth move incessantly and she picked out the occasional word.

Poor dear, the maid muttered, poor child.

Isabel's flush returned with force. If she could only apologize properly for her discourteous thoughts. The woman was obviously as kind-hearted as she was plump.

Two more maids, much younger in appearance, entered. They looked strikingly similar in their tight wimples and plain woolen clothing, and she wondered if they were twins. She had never met a set of twins before, the babes never normally surviving in the mother's belly, let alone during childbirth. They cast their eyes over her face simultaneously and Isabel couldn't miss their pale green eyes widening in sympathy. They shared a look before bringing in a bowl of water and some towels.

Isabel bristled. She didn't need their pity. She hated lying immobile and ignorant while everyone took care of her.

She felt a touch on her hand and turned her head. Jake looked down at her, patting her awkwardly, having detected her discomfort.

Winnie will take good care of you, lass. I shall return on the morrow, he told her carefully.

Isabel nodded, trying to ignore the desolation that welled up inside of her at the thought of him leaving. She prided herself on her independence and she would not allow those godforsaken men to take that away from her.

Jake motioned to Winnie and she bumbled over. Jake bent down to talk to her, turning his face so she could not see his mouth. What was he saying that he did not want her to see? They both glanced worriedly at her before turning back to one another.

With a nod, he bid her goodbye and Winnie made her way back to Isabel's side.

Jake had obviously told her of her affliction before leaving, as the woman smiled kindly before talking slowly to her.

I'm Winnie, milady. These two are Mary and Margaret. We shall take good care o' ye.

The girls dipped briefly to her before placing the water and towels on a large wooden chest that sat at the end of her bed.

Winnie helped Isabel undress with care. Isabel was grateful for the woman's kindness, but it grated on her to have them treating her like this. She could barely move and it was not easy to divest her of all her layers.

When she was fully undressed, the twins - aye, they were definitely twins - carefully dampened the cloths and cleaned the grime from her body. Her head was too fuzzy to protest, and she felt little embarrassment at her nudity, but she shivered as the water chilled her, making her intensely aware of her vulnerability.

As they washed between her legs, she caught all three of the women exchanging looks. What were they thinking?

Winnie must have noted her confused expression because the woman settled a hand on her hair, stroking it as she would a child.

…hurt ye in any other way? Isabel was just able to make out.

Her brow furrowed. Any other way? The outlaws had hurt her in every way possible. Her eyes widened. Were they checking for signs that she had endured a rape? Sweet lord, they thought she'd been compromised.

She quickly shook her head and the three women visibly relaxed.

Did Jake think the same? Heat flooded her cheeks. She didn't doubt that if he had not come when he had, she may well have been ravished, and she could have done nothing to prevent it. It was yet another thing she had to be grateful to Jake for.

Milord Jacob has been worried for ye.

So he did think her compromised. It pained her that he should think that of her. Why, she did not understand, for it would not have been her fault, but society took little pity on a fallen woman and she knew not what his views were. And from what little she could tell of him, she expected he would bear deeply the burden of such an attack. He struck her as a man who took on all the worries of the world.

Winnie, with the aid of the twins, helped her into a clean chemise and tucked her arms into an open robe. The chemise had exquisite embroidery and the gown was made of rich silk, another example of the wealth of this demesne. To whom did they belong? Mayhap it was Jake's wife?

Her heart panged at the thought and she shook it off. She had no reason to assume he would not be married, he was wealthy and handsome, but she could not see a man paying such attention to her if he had the love of a wife to come home to. She hoped he did not.

Exhaustion descended upon her as the maids finished attending to her. The pounding in her head and ears had worsened. The pain likely revealed itself as the three women fussed over her, settling her back into the sheets with great care. Warmth filled her belly as a musky scent settled in the air while they drew the sheets over her.

Jake.

She was in his chambers then. All the way here, that scent had wrapped her in a blanket of assurance and comfort. She'd recognize it anywhere.

The effects of the tonic the physician had given her still lingered and fatigue quickly overtook her, seeping through each limb and clouding her mind.

Winnie brushed her fingers over Isabel's temple and spoke to her but Isabel was too tired to focus on what it was. The woman's caress reminded her of her late mother and she drifted off with a contented smile.

The men-at-arms returned that eve after James led them in scouring the woods for the outlaws. They captured only one man and James's men dragged him through the Great Hall, his hands shackled. They placed him roughly in front of Jake and Dominic, forcing him to his knees. Jake eyed the filthy man over the long table that stretched across the hall's dais.

Dominic peered at him before turning to James. "Have you found no other?"

"Nay, milord. We searched far and wide but found no trace. This one claims he has a wounded leg and the others would not wait for him."

"Aye, probably from kicking the poor lass half to death,"

Jake snarled, his fist curling around his goblet. Dominic gave him a pointed look and he loosened his grip on the stem.

He took a calming breath. This was bound to be a struggle with one of the cowardly beasts right in front of him. Winnie informed him that Isabel had not endured the horror of rape but it did little to ease the blaze that burnt through his veins. The memory of her beaten body and the pain they had inflicted was enough to set his temper alight.

Dominic fixed the scraggly peasant with a cold stare. "What say you then? Have you an excuse for your wicked deed?"

Jake snorted. As if there could be an excuse.

"Nay, milord."

The man's voice shook as he flicked a glance from brother to brother. "We just wanted some gems. We're but poor men, milord."

"There are many poor men in this world but they do not beat defenseless women,"

Dominic's voice emerged with a calm that Jake knew he did not feel. While his brother controlled his emotions with an ease Jake envied, he could see clearly his brother's disgust at having had a woman attacked and nearly killed on his land.

The man lowered his eyes. "I know, milord. But she fought back…an' she split Wilbur's lip!"

He shrank down as Jake's jaw tightened. "We jus' intended to teach ‘er a lesson and then some of the men got carried away."

So Isabel had fought back. It did not surprise him. He knew by now she had great courage. Any other woman would have likely given up living long ago, but not Isabel.

"And you did not?"

Dominic asked.

"Nay, milord."

Jake growled and stood abruptly, knocking back his chair with a crash. Quickly coming around the table, he grabbed at the man's rough clothing and hauled him into the air. Jake's great height left the shorter man's feet dangling and he choked under the strong grip, his face reddening.

"You lie,"

Jake spat.

"Nay,"

the outlaw coughed out, shaking his head vigorously.

"I saw you kicking the lady. Do you call me a liar?"

Jake's tight grasp stole the air from his lungs and the peasant gaped and gasped as he shook his head again.

"Jake,"

Dominic warned.

Jake ignored him, the red mist of anger blocking all other sights and sounds. The image of the peasant kicking at Isabel churned in his mind and he saw himself crushing the man with his bare hands.

"Jake!"

Dominic snapped sharply. "Put the man down or we will not be able to find out where his friends are."

He snapped his head around to Dominic and recognized the warning in his eyes. He could not disobey his brother, not in front of his household. Jake reluctantly lowered the man to the ground. He was right, of course, but it still didn't stop the anger swirling through his body.

The peasant coughed and gagged as he collapsed to the floor.

Jake glowered and spat on the floor next to him. "You are lucky the lord has more foresight. I would have torn you to pieces on sight were it not for him."

Stomping back around the table, Jake slumped down on his chair. He couldn't decide if he was more annoyed at Dominic or at himself for letting his temper take hold. It was rare he lost his temper but when he did, there were few who were brave enough to take him on. Only Dominic had the ability to work through his anger.

"What is your name?"

Dominic asked the man.

"Peter, milord."

"Take Peter to the donjon,"

Dominic instructed James. "Find out all you can. I would see the rest of these swines captured and brought to justice."

He turned his gaze on the cowering man. "Tell him all you know or I shall not stand in the way of my brother again."

"Aye, milord,"

Peter stammered.

Jake considered Peter though narrowed eyes as James dragged him away, his anger still un-tempered. He shoved his platter away from him, his appetite gone.

Dominic noticed his brother's manner and leaned over. "I could not allow you to kill him."

"I know. That, dear brother, is why you are lord of Thornewall and I am not."

Dominic chuckled. "Nay, I am lord because our mother married my father. You are a fine leader, Jake."

Irritation pricked at him and he tamped it down. Dominic never intended to seem condescending. There was no jealousy between the pair. Jake's father had died when he was but a boy and his mother had remarried, bringing forth a young brother for Jake. He had enjoyed being an older brother and the two men had always remained close. Usually he did not envy his brother for much but he wished he had Dominic's ability to control his emotions.

And he may well have been able to, had the outlaw not lied. Jake could not stomach mistruths. He had seen all too well how lies could tear lives apart and he had little ability to suffer them from others.

"Were you able to find out anything about the lass?"

"Her name is Isabel."

"Anything else?"

Dominic's mouth split into a teasing grin.

"Nay,"

Jake mumbled.

He had been so grateful to know her name that he had given little thought to discovering anything else. She had given him no other information on how she came to be in Thornewall and he felt foolish for not pressing the matter. It was likely she had family who were worried for her.

"Well, no matter. Mayhap you can find out more on the morrow. You will be visiting her in on the morrow, will you not?"

Jake narrowed his eyes at him, wondering what his brother was playing at. "Aye, I told her as much."

"Good. Now let us eat, Brother, for we have had enough disturbances this day and you'll be no good to your fair maiden on an empty stomach."

Jake was about to protest until he realized, for whatever reason, Dominic was trying to get a rise out of him. He didn't think of her as his maiden…did he?

The following morning, a cheery Winnie roused Isabel. If she had been able to, she probably would have grumbled at the rude awakening but the scent of herbs and vegetables caught her attention and her stomach growled, having not eaten for nigh on two days.

She peered blearily at the bright light that shimmered through the windows and realized her injured eye had improved. She inched it open, blinking as it ached from the invasive light. Her ears, however, had shown little improvement and, although she was becoming accustomed to the rushing sound, they still hurt. Her body was stiff and her head still fuzzy. Shadows encroached on her vision, in part probably due to the vile tonic Winnie had forced her to drink during the night.

Winnie tottered over to her bedside and Isabel found herself smothered by Winnie's ample bosom as she helped her up to sitting. It was a struggle, particularly with her broken rib, but they managed to prop her up enough so she could eat.

Sitting firmly on the bed, Winnie offered her a spoonful of broth. Isabel scowled and shook her head. She would not allow her to feed her like a child.

Winnie shook her head. Ye'll not manage it yerself, milady, she said slowly.

Isabel snatched the spoon from her and held her hand out for the bowl. Winnie reluctantly placed it into her hand with a smile of resignation.

Her hand shook as she raised the broth to her mouth. She wasn't sure if she could yet manage the hot liquid. Her throat still felt as if it was on fire and merely swallowing the tonic had been a battle. The spoon touched her lip after what felt like an age and she hastily poured it in. With the liquid gone, the spoon dropped from her shaking hand and her arm slumped to the bed. Lord, she was tired.

Winnie picked up the spoon and took the bowl from her limp fingers. Well done, milady.

Isabel tried not to appear sullen at the women's words, after all, she had not intended to be patronizing, and she offered her a hesitant smile. The maid beamed back and shifted closer with the bowl.

Isabel barely managed a few spoonfuls before exhaustion and pain stole her appetite entirely.

The door opened slowly, and Isabel's heart picked up as she waited to see who it was. Would it be Jake? Her heart sank as the long-haired man popped his head around the door.

He looked her over with a smile before stepping into the room and walking confidently over to her bedside. Isabel shrank under the bedclothes, acutely aware of her unbound hair and thin chemise.

She observed him as he conversed briefly with Winnie, their mouths moving too fast for her to catch what they were saying. He was handsome enough with clear blue eyes and a strong jaw. His tied back hair showed off his classic profile, but she could not help wish it were Jake that stood before her instead.

He faced her, offering her a slight bow. Her mouth twisted in amusement at his gallant manner - she hardly warranted such behavior in her bedraggled state. His eyes glinted in return and she wondered if he thought the same.

He spoke to her, his mouth moving quickly, and she struggled to catch all he was saying. …Lord Dominic….home…

So he was the lord of this keep? Isabel nodded as graciously as she could manage before mouthing her thanks. Hopefully she could convey her gratitude for his hospitality.

Dominic began speaking again, and she failed to understand anything this time. He must have noted her blank expression as he moved his mouth more deliberately and she was able to distinguish most of his words.

We have caught one of the outlaws…

Isabel suppressed a shudder at the thought of one of the men so close by.

We shall catch the rest, I promise you, Isabel.

Thank you.

Can we send word to anyone? To let them know of your whereabouts?

What could she say? She could not let them know she had run away, for they might send her back. If not, her father would surely come and drag her back home, should he discover where she was. Her one hope was to remain hidden until she was well enough to move on. Winter would be upon them soon and with that, snow. There would be no way of her father journeying this far north in the hopes of finding her.

Nay, there is no one.

Dominic frowned. No husband or father that will be worried for you?

Nay, no one, she mouthed more firmly.

He studied her determined expression and then shrugged with what she supposed was a laugh.

You are a determined lassie, are you not? My brother shall be along shortly to check up on you. I will bid you good day and offer my prayers for your quick recovery.

Isabel smiled her thanks, her defensiveness overcome by his charming countenance. With another bow, he left. Isabel puzzled over the man. If Jake was his brother then how was it that Dominic was the lord? She was certain Jake was at least five summers older than Dominic, likely nearing thirty years of age. Were they half-brothers mayhap? Was there any animosity between them? Isabel had witnessed families torn apart by things far less significant than the ownership of land.

His open manner had also surprised her; Dominic was entirely unlike any lord she had ever met. They were normally arrogant, boorish creatures and would not deign to waste their time seeing to a woman. Both of these men were an enigma to her. Both attentive and yet entirely unlike one another. Were all men in Northumbria like this? Isabel concluded she had obviously grown up in the wrong part of England and she envied the Northumbrian women. With men like this around, no woman could possibly complain of being unhappy.

Winnie clunked the bowl down on the chest, the vibration of it drawing her from her thoughts.

Oh, sweet Mary, Dominic had said Jake would be along shortly and she was in no fit state to be seen!

Motioning frantically to Winnie, she tugged at her hair and Winnie gave her a knowing smile, drawing a comb and some ribbons from her apron.

Isabel would have laughed if she could. Thank God for Winnie. This woman was fast becoming her favorite person.

Jake awoke late the following morning, having slept poorly that night. Sleeping in the guard's quarters, he had not even heard the men readying themselves for the morning. Quickly clambering off his pallet, he hastily went through his morning ablutions and dressed, throwing on his rumpled tunic from the day before. His clothes were still in the chest in the guest quarters and he was reluctant to disturb Isabel to retrieve them. He would have Winnie fetch them later on in the day.

Making his way across the courtyard, he nodded absently to those that greeted him. The morning meal remained laid out in the Great Hall but most of the household had departed, moving on to their tasks for that day. Dominic was not in the keep but that did not surprise him. His brother had little time to waste waiting for Jake to arise.

James stood by the wooden stairs that led from the minstrel's gallery, instructing a small group of men-at-arms. He spotted Jake and dipped his head in greeting. "My lord."

Jake grabbed a chunk of bread from the linen covered table and took a quick bite, his appetite still spoiled by yesterday's occurrences.

"Have you any information on the whereabouts of the rest of the outlaws?"

"Aye, milord. Our outlaw friend was most helpful. They hail from Brampton. Lord Dominic has already dispatched a missive informing the Lord of Brampton of their crimes and I shall be leaving shortly to ensure they are captured."

"Aye, my thanks, James. Where is my brother this morn?"

"I believe he went to check on the Lady Isabel, milord."

Sensations stirred in Jake's gut and his jaw clenched. What did Dominic want with Isabel? Dominic knew he had intended to go visit with her first thing.

Without bidding James farewell, he stomped back across the hall, throwing down the bread. He nearly missed the look of amusement James directed at him as he raced through the entrance door and across the dusty courtyard, pushing his way past the servants that were scurrying back and forth with food and supplies.

Jake made quick work of the spiral staircase and shoved open the door unceremoniously. Winnie and Isabel both darted their heads up, their eyes wide, and he picked at his tunic as his heart thudded unnaturally. What in God's name had come over him to make him act with such haste?

Winnie's astute eyes took in his crumpled clothing and tousled hair with a bemused expression. Rising from her chair, she dipped and greeted him. "Good morrow, milord."

"Good morrow, Winnie,"

he replied tersely.

The maid scampered over to the large wooden chest and carefully removed some of his clothing. "I shall place these in the guard's quarters. Good day to ye, milord."

Winnie brushed past him and shut the door gently behind her, leaving Jake alone with Isabel. Her eyes had not left him since he had entered and he stared back as his pulse heightened, a slight prickle dashing over his skin.

Her hair hung in a loose braid that skimmed over her shoulder, the pale morning light picking out its gilded highlights. Her eye appeared significantly better and it pleased him to note that she had lost the aura of death that had shrouded her the previous day. Even with the bruising on her face, she was beautiful. God's blood, how would he survive around her when she was fully healed?

Isabel offered him a tentative smile and he thought, nay, hoped that she was happy to see him. Jake scowled at the thought of his brother coming to check up on Isabel without him. He could not justify his anger, but it was there, nonetheless. Isabel traced the line of his brow and he released his frown, attempting an awkward look of concern.

"You look better, lass?—"

They both started to talk, Jake speaking as she mouthed to him, and he missed what she said. They stopped, simultaneously clamping their mouths shut. He clenched his jaw, glancing to the floor as heat filled his face. God's blood, he was an oaf.

Isabel motioned anxiously to the chair at her bedside and he hurriedly sat down. They sat in silence for a moment and Jake fought the temptation to excuse himself, clenching his sweaty palms together. What had he expected from visiting her? That they would have a pleasant conversation? He should have just come to see she was well and then left. He doubted she wanted some awkward giant hovering around her.

He looked over at the half-empty bowl sat on the window ledge. "You have eaten?"

A little, she indicated with her fingers.

He nodded, a slight breath escaping his lips.

Thank you, she mouthed, thank you for saving my life.

"‘Twas my pleasure. I am only sorry I did not arrive in time to prevent you from experiencing such horror."

She watched his mouth carefully. Was he was speaking slowly enough? She responded with a slight smile and he decided he was.

You have done enough. She plucked at her silk robe. Whose are these? I would thank the lady they came from.

"They belonged to my mother. She was taken by the plague."

Isabel's eyes dimmed. She was likely too young to remember the plague, being mayhap twenty at most. His stomach clenched as he recalled the devastation it had wrought. At the tender age of ten, he had been just able to comprehend the horror and it remained with him, even now. They would never forget the fear and uncertainty they had all suffered as entire families succumbed to it.

Not your wife?

A flash of anger surged through him at her words. His wife. Oh, how she had destroyed him. In spite of nearly nine summers passing, her lies and betrayal still lingered with him. If events had happened her way, he would now be lying next to his mother and stepfather. At times he suspected that might have been preferable to the numb existence that was his life at present.

"Nay, I have no wife."

He observed her closely. Was there a flicker of relief? He could not imagine a woman like Isabel should care if he had a wife or not. Surely a beauty like her had a husband somewhere. If he were her husband, he would never let her out of his sight, let alone allow her to endanger herself by navigating the dangerous woods of the borderlands.

"Have you a husband?"

Her expression shuttered. Why should his question provoke such a response? Mayhap she had suffered hurt too. She shook her head vigorously.

"You must have someone who cares for you? Who would wish to know you are safe?"

Isabel shook her head again, her chin jutting forward as she clamped her mouth shut.

He sighed and realized he would get no more from her. Mayhap she too was widowed and had no family left. It was possible, he supposed, but he could not believe there was no one who cared for her. Hopefully she would regain her voice and they could learn where this mysterious woman had come from.

Isabel‘s eyes darted around the room. Where…? Jake could just make out.

He paused to take in the sight of her delicate frame propped up in his bed. "These are my chambers, lass."

She shook her head and indicated out of the window.

"Thornewall. On the Scottish border. ‘Tis my brother's demesne."

Recognition sparked in Isabel's expression as she nodded. It did not surprise Jake that she recognized the name. Thornewall was one of the most powerful demesnes in Northumbria.

Your brother is lord?

"Aye."

He smiled as he discerned her confusion. Jake was well used to people questioning their kinship, they were little alike. "Half-brother,"

he added. "Twas my stepfather's land."

And your land?

"‘Tis to the west."

Jake pointed westwards. "Hard on the border."

Isabel tilted her head and studied him. She could not hear the wistfulness in his voice but mayhap it revealed itself in his expression. His lands were dear to him. They were all he had left of his father.

Tell me.

Jake laughed inwardly. With less than a whisper, she was commanding him. Lord help him when her voice returned. If her voice returned.

He could not help himself. Isabel had an uncanny hold over him.

He settled on the wooden chair, shifting as the wood creaked under his weight. The first thing he would do on the morrow was burn this damn chair and have a new one installed in his chambers. Jake suspected he would come to spend much time in this room over the coming days.

"Greycroft is in the hills,"

he told her slowly. "‘Tis no grand keep like this one, but ‘tis comfortable and the people are kind. We see naught of the border reivers, as it is of little import."

Isabel nodded, though Jake doubted she understood his every word. A tantalizing smile slid across her bruised face as she studied the movement of his lips and he wondered if she took pleasure in his company. He certainly took pleasure in hers. Mayhap a little too much.

"‘Tis rugged and wild, but beautiful,"

Jake continued. "I've yet to see anywhere that can rival it."

You wish to return?

"I do not mind aiding my brother in his duties. Dominic has many burdens to bear and I gladly help where I can, but, aye, I miss Greycroft."

Greycroft, she repeated.

"‘Tis the name of my lands."

I like it, Isabel told him as firmly as someone with no voice could.

Jake chuckled at her determined expression. Her eyes wrinkled in amusement but her levity quickly gave way to a yawn.

Damn but he was tiring the poor lass.

Jake stood abruptly. "Forgive me, you should be resting. Winnie will have my head if I tire you out."

Her slender hand stretched towards him and Jake remembered how she had looked the day before, vulnerable and fragile. The twinkle in Isabel's eye lifted the tension from his muscles and he took her hand. Impulsively, he lifted her fingers to his mouth and touched his lips to her knuckles.

Even under her bruises, Jake could see her freckles darken as she flushed. He released her hand with a cough, drawing away from her bedside. What had possessed him to act with such impropriety?

On the morrow?

He released a breath. "Aye, I'll return to you on the morrow."

Jake's legs weakened at Isabel's answering grin. Lord, with a battered face she was still radiant. He turned quickly and hauled open the door. Mayhap she had not noticed his reaction to her. Closing the door behind him, Jake stared at the wood for a moment. The morrow seemed like a lifetime away.