Page 84 of The Knight Who Loved Me
“Her father raised her to kill me, and that has not been easy to overcome.”
“But are you happy?”
“I’ll let you know.”
Reynold nodded, then seemed to hesitate. “I have one other thing I wish to discuss. Our brother, Edmund.”
James clenched his jaw and waited.
“This is the last ghost hanging between us, and I do not think Edmund would want it thus.”
“Reynold, what do you want from me?”
“Your understanding,” he said quietly. “It took me a long time to accept that I had a hand in my brother’s death, however accidental it may have been.”
“And I’m sure my behavior at the time didn’t help.”
“No, it did not. You beat me, James, when I was already hating myself. Why did you treat me like that? Edmund was different than us, and you never paid him much heed.”
“Of course I did,” James shot back.
“I saw how you behaved around him, how you wanted him out of the hall when your guests were there.”
James slammed to his feet, feeling again the helpless anger that overwhelmed him whenever his youngest brother was mentioned.
“Hold!” Reynold said. “I am not condemning you—I did the same thing. And for that, I bear the guilt of his death. He never would have made a knight, but he would have made a compassionate priest. And he certainly never would have wanted the two of us to carry this guilt throughout our lives.”
James sat back down, feeling again the anguish of Edmund’s death, and recognizing the guilt intertwined. “It was easy for me to blame you,” he finally said in a hoarse voice, “maybe too easy to take out my anger on you, the anger I should have reserved for myself.”
“Then let us put it behind us. We are only hurting ourselves and Margery, and even our wives.”
Reynold held out his hand, and James clasped it gladly.
~oOo~
In the morning after Mass, Isabel joined her husband and his brother and sister as they broke their fast. Reynold was a huge man, broadly muscled, with bright, violet eyes beneath a heavy brow. He had a gentle smile at odds with his warrior’s body. She tried to relax, seeing the two brothers at ease.
“Isabel,” James said, “allow me to properly introduce my brother, Viscount Reynold Welles. Reynold, this is my wife, Isabel.”
Reynold reached for her hand, and she let him bring it to his lips.
“I am pleased to have a new sister,” he said.
Isabel realized that he did not look down at her garments in shock, or express any wariness.
Margery wore a relieved smile.
“Lord Welles, did your wife give birth?” Isabel asked.
“Please, call me Reynold. Yes, we have a son, Nicholas.”
“ ’Tis a strong name.”
After they had begun to eat, Reynold said, “James, Katherine insists she would like to meet your wife this morn.”
James’s smile faded, and Isabel’s curiosity grew. Would he want to see the woman who had broken their engagement? Would he refuse and begin another argument with his brother?
And did she herself really want to meet another of James’s women, who would only remind her how little she could ever measure up?
