Nicole Locke - Reclaimed By The Knight

But he’d kept to his bargain and continued to send coin, so she could keep herself in the manner to which she had become accustomed...just like his stepmother.

He should count himself lucky that he hadn’t married Matilda after all. The coldness of her heart would never curse him as Helena’s had his father. And Matilda’s heart was cold—of that he now had evidence.

Nicholas’s wound wasn’t new to him, but it was to her . What he’d suffered...how he’d survived. So much pain ... And yet she stood calmly before him, asking about his stomach instead of his eye.

If she wished for cold formality, he would treat her in kind. ‘I need no feast, nor any warm welcomes,’ he said. ‘I would not wish to cause you any more burden than that you already carry. I merely need a place to unpack my satchels and to change these clothes. My rooms are still available, are they not?’

There was a crack in her friendly demeanour, a tightening of her clasped hands. ‘They have been meticulously maintained.’

He relished seeing her mask slip. Until he knew how to exact his revenge it was best that she knew her place in his life—she was his bailiff, who managed his manor. ‘Then you have done your duties well. Good day.’

He turned, intending to stride away, only to be stopped by others. Greeted. Slowed in making his escape.

Louve was cracking smiles and talking to the tenants who waited to speak with him. In the past he had done much the same. Joked, answered questions, fielded enquiries from the tenants when they had pressured Nicholas too much. When the coin hadn’t enough for their demands Louve had learned to distract them so Nicholas could get away.

He wanted to get away now. He could feel Matilda’s gaze at his back. He broadened his steps and stormed closer to the manor, his fists clenching, ready for a fight. It took every effort to keep his shoulders and his breath even. To appear as if nothing was the matter when in actuality a sword had been sunk into his heart.

Did it look to her as if he was retreating? Let her think what she wanted. He didn’t care.

* * *

Matilda kept her chin high and her eyes on everyone who had observed Nicholas turning his back on her. Shaming her in front of the tenants... again .

‘Steady...’ Bess whispered by her side.

Humiliated, Matilda didn’t want Bess’s comfort. Keeping her hand on her belly, she walked in the opposite direction from Nicholas. The thick crowds parted easily. Because of her pregnancy or her disgrace?

Damn him for making her think these thoughts. She’d done her duty to the Lord of Mei Solis in greeting—and, more, she’d done her duty to Roger’s memory by keeping her composure as he would have done.

But she hadn’t wanted to. Not when she had first seen Nicholas, and certainly not after he’d spoken.

She had been cordial. He had not. What right did he have to treat her like a servant? As if all that mattered to him was that she did her duties here.

He had broken their betrothal and her heart when he had left Mei Solis, when he’d stopped his letters. He had no right to be aggrieved. But she was satisfied that the new Matilda had kept her calm. She’d changed herself, and today was testament that it was for the better. She just needed to distract herself a bit longer...

‘We’ll need to notify Cook of a feast—’

Bess’s hand on her elbow stopped her. ‘Be easy. Everyone knows of his return. Cook will already be preparing something special to add to the evening meal. You need to—’

She wouldn’t be ‘easy’ if Bess held her here. ‘Then I’ll see my father.’ She turned sharply to her right and Bess let her go. ‘He’ll need to know.’

Bess opened her mouth, closed it.

Matilda ignored Bess’s enquiring eye. She needed something to do between now and dinner. Something to occupy her hands, if not her thoughts.

She had always known this day would come, but she hadn’t been prepared for Nicholas’s injury. His patch hid most of the damage to his eye, but a scrap of leather couldn’t hide the fact that he’d suffered. The fact he’d never see the world as he had when they were children, when they’d first held hands...

There came the sting of tears, and she stumbled in her walk. She refused to think of Nicholas now. If she gave in to her weakness for him she’d never make it through this first night. He deserved no pity. Six years gone, and his friend dead, and he hadn’t even enquired about him.

‘My father will need to be prepared, and it’s best done by me. You know how he’ll feel about this.’

Her father had believed Nicholas would return to Mei Solis and to his daughter. Then her mother had died, and her father...her father hadn’t been the same.

‘He may not remember. It may be a bad day,’ Bess said.

Her mother and father had been very old when she was born, and she didn’t know now if it was his age or if losing her mother had caused the gaps in his memory. But he was a proud man, and he needed care, though all the while they made it appear as if they weren’t caring for him.

‘Regardless, it’s best I check.’

‘You’re doing too much,’ Bess said, her voice low. ‘You should sit. Maybe rest before dinner.’

That was the last thing she needed to do. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Just a few more steps and they’d be beyond the courtyard’s shadow and most of the prying eyes.

Bess sighed. ‘There’s no screeching coming from his home...that is a good sign.’

‘Or Rohesia has bashed his head in with a cauldron.’

‘True...’

There were days when Matilda and her father were more enemies than friends, but even if this was one of her father’s bad days, she’d gain distraction.

Curse Nicholas for returning. Why now? He’d never acknowledged the letter Roger had sent before they’d married, nor hers which she’d written with such meticulous care after they’d said their vows. The days she’d spent on each word...

Matilda shook herself. She’d put the past behind her and changed her ways. She’d put the Nicholas who was here now at Mei Solis behind her as well.

* * *

Too soon, Louve and Nicholas reached the threshold of a room he’d only ever intended to enter again as Matilda’s husband, and Louve gazed at him expectantly.

He had no expectations. The tomblike manor, Matilda’s cold formality...the fact that Roger hadn’t greeted him. He wasn’t welcome here.

Matilda was pregnant.

Again he was blindsided. Again betrayed. The blade swiftly planted between his ribs before he had even seen the glint of steel.

How he’d longed for a family with her. How he’d toiled to provide for his future children so they wouldn’t have to bear the burdens he had. And now Matilda was pregnant with another man’s child.

Boys carrying his personal supplies scampered past him in a race to reach his rooms before he did. But he didn’t need them to remember his way to the rooms that had once been his father’s.

All it took was the achingly familiar shape of the corridors that neither time nor distance could erase from his memory. As a boy, he too had scampered down this corridor. As a man, he had closed the door when he’d left for the last time.

He needed to get out of here. Never to have agreed to this fool’s errand. Never to have believed for a moment that he could have what Rhain had found with Helissent if he simply repaired his past.

There was no fixing this. He’d faced battles and men with rage in their eyes. He’d thought he could face this. Face her and hear her explanation. Hear Roger’s. Even Louve owed him something for not warning him.

Could he stay here just for revenge? He doubted he could stay here for apologies—not after seeing Matilda cradle her belly. Time had passed, and he shouldn’t feel the betrayal all over again like in some minstrel’s song. But she had stood before him and she hadn’t cared that he’d lost his eye. Hadn’t flinched at his return.