“I do.”
Kathryn bristled. She’d not expected that.
Clearing her throat, pretending they weren’t standing closer than two people in a conversation should be standing, she boldly repeated his question.
“What is she to you?”
“A mystery.”
A rush of air left her lips. Oh. He knew she’d spoken of him, and he’d returned the gesture in kind.
Did that mean . . . was there no other?
Kathryn should not care.
“I have to leave,” she whispered.
He’d stopped her before, and she expected him to do so again. But Neill didn’t attempt to reach out to her as she skirted around him. He didn’t even turn to look at her. As she rounded the stables, she allowed herself a quick glance back, and he was already walking in the other direction, toward the keep.
She stopped, allowing for her heartbeat to return to normal.
Had she misread his interest?
The sun had set while they were speaking. She could move through the courtyard a bit easier, blending in with the other visitors, avoiding notice until he came.
And then what?
The question she’d been avoiding would not relent. Depending on what the man said, Kathryn would have to decide on her next move. Back to The Wild Boar? Make her way to Edinburgh, where her father had been killed?
It seemed she’d find out sooner rather than later. A new riding party had arrived, and though she’d never met the man before, he fit the descriptions she’d heard precisely.
Flaming red hair. Long beard. A large man, though not muscled like Neill.
The Earl of Bothwell.
Lord Chancellor of Scotland and the king’s representative here at the council.
Most importantly, the man with whom her father had last dealt before his body was found along the bank of the Firth of Forth.
Chapter 11
Hungry, tired, and thoroughly confused, Neill strode toward the great hall with the intention of seeking out his chamber. Bryce had mentioned they were housed in the Armorer’s Tower, and by the sounds coming from the hall, he suspected supper was already being served.
Another sound reached his ears from the other end of the courtyard, near the stables. Neill stopped at the entrance to the keep. A riding party had arrived, though he couldn’t see their banners from this distance.
Fortunately, he didn’t need to see. The whispers around him identified the men just as easily.
“Lord chancellor . . .”
“The king’s man . . .”
Neill knew of the Earl of Bothwell, of course, but he’d never met him. According to his brothers, the man was not to be trusted. He changed sides as it suited him. Thankfully, on the matter they were here to discuss, the ousting of Caxton and reinstatement of the Day of Truce, Bothwell appeared to support the Scots king, the wardens, and the select group of Englishmen, like Neill and his brother, who had been invited to this gathering.
According to Geoffrey’s letter, word of Neill’s actions had reached the border before he’d even left the south. All of the guests at the council meeting anticipated the renewal of King Alexander’s oath of fealty to Edward. Once that occurred, Caxton would be removed.
And I will be wed.
Thoughts of Kathryn intruded, just as they did every time Neill considered his intended.
As though his mind had summoned her from the shadows, he watched as a slip of yellow crossed the courtyard toward the newcomers. He changed course and approached the scene, continuing to watch her. As the newcomers dismounted, Kathryn continued toward them.
At the speed she was walking, Kathryn would practically be on top of Bothwell in moments. The earl didn’t seem to notice her yet. But he would. Given his horrible reputation, there was no knowing how he’d react to such an approach. He was known to be a cold, hard man.
Neill began to run.
Reaching her before the earl or his men saw them, Neill grabbed her arm and continued to walk, right back to the same spot where they’d spoken moments before.
“Let go of me.” She tried to shrug her arm free.
“Not until you explain why you were poised to accost the Earl of Bothwell.”
“Accost?”
She managed to wrest her arm away from him, but she did not flee. They listened as the Scotsmen’s horses were led into the nearby stables.
“Do you deny you were walking, quite briskly I might add, toward his riding party?”
She glanced in the general direction of the newcomers, but with a building separating them from the newcomers, there was nothing to see but a dog barking at the activity.
“I wished to speak with him.”
Ignoring the scent of lavender, Neill pressed. “Bothwell? What could you possibly have to speak with him about? The man is a . . .”
No. Not him.
Kathryn’s eyes widened. “You don’t think? Bothwell and I?”
Her nose wrinkled, and Neill immediately felt like a fool for having considered such a match.
“You insult me, sir.” She was jesting, but the comment was not without some annoyance.
“And you have lied to me at every turn, Kathryn. So please, just this once. Tell me the truth. What were you planning to say to Bothwell?”
She crossed her arms and let out an exaggerated breath.
“I have to go.”
“To Bothwell? To the man you came here to meet? Kathryn, please, tell me the truth.”
She glanced up at him then, meeting his gaze, and said, “It may be too late already.” There was a look of regret in her eyes, but damned if she didn’t try to walk away again.
He should let her go.
He had no right to detain her.
And yet . . .
He grabbed her hand, just like he’d done at the Boar. This time, though, he made it clear why he’d done it.
Neill wanted to touch her. He wanted to be near her. He wanted to know what she hid from him and who she’d come here to see.
He’d seen the way she’d suffered for breath the other night. The glimmer of fear had danced in her eyes then, and he saw it again now.
“Are you afraid of me?”
She shook her head, still holding his hand.
He’d known the answer already but had needed to be sure.
He took a step toward her, squeezing her hand as he did so. “I would never, ever hurt you.”
She blinked.
Kathryn must have known that already.
“Or betray you.”
This time her mouth trembled.
So that was it. She did not trust him.
“Please. Tell me the truth.” He squeezed her hand again, silently urging her to unburden herself.
“You said you didn’t want to know,” she said softly. “That you didn’t want to involve yourself in my affairs.”
He had said that. And regretted it.
“Tell me,” he repeated. He licked his lips, his throat suddenly dry.
Her shoulders sagged in defeat, but still she held her head high. “I mean to ask the Earl of Bothwell about my father.”
Shocked she’d relented, Neill was nevertheless confused. “You told me your father was dead?”
Her head dropped down, making Neill feel like a complete arse.
“I apologize.”
She looked back up at him.
“I did not mean to speak so bluntly,” he said.
“My father is dead. And he—” she nodded toward the courtyard, “—was the last man to speak with him before it happened.”
If he was expecting an explanation of the circumstances of her father’s death, including why a man from a tiny village in England would have been speaking to one of the most powerful men in Scotland . . . it wasn’t going to happen.
As sure as he had three siblings, Neill knew Kathryn would say no more.
“Answer me one final question.” For now, he added silently. “Is Bothwell the reason you wanted me to brin
g you here?”
She nodded. This time, it was she who squeezed his hand.
Joined as they were, it was not appropriate. Especially not given his agreement to wed Lady Alina. But if the king of England himself had ordered him to release her hand, Neill would not have pulled away.
“There is no other man?”
He held his breath, waiting. Her answer should not matter, but it did.
“Nay. There is none other.”
He really should not keep pushing. “Earlier, when you spoke of ‘him’?”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Her silence was his confirmation—as he’d suspected, Kathryn had been speaking of him. “If I am to be your savior, of sorts, you will have to tell me more about the situation.”
“It could put you in danger.”
“My lady.” He took hold of her other hand. “Much of our world is dangerous, but right now, as we stand here in the recesses of Brockburg’s courtyard, there is only one imminent danger. And it is not of me knowing too much.”
Her brows furrowed. She didn’t understand his meaning.
“Right now, the most imminent threat is whatever is growing between us. For I have never wanted to kiss a woman more than I want to kiss you.”
Her lips parted as she tipped her head up to him, inviting him to do as he’d suggested.
He shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.
If she tasted as sweet as she looked, he would be lost in her. And not just for one night. Neill knew it instinctively, as if his training all these years had prepared him for something other than how to best a man on a battlefield.
He thought of the king and queen, sitting side by side, responding to his request to replace Caxton with one of their own.
He thought of his brothers and sister, who counted on him to keep his agreement.
He thought of Adam and Cora. Their words, their actions, preparing him to be a man of honor.
All of this went through his mind, warning him not to do this. Not to lean down. Not to take what she offered.
For he knew, with every part of himself, if he did this, there would be no turning back.
Chapter 12
For a moment, Kathryn thought he would kiss her. But the moment seemed to pass, even though he continued to hold her hands.
She’d forgotten, until now, another lesson her father had taught her.
To trust her instincts.
And though she’d known Neill Waryn less than a sennight, Kathryn knew he would never betray her. She’d told him a partial truth, realizing, even as she said the words aloud, it would only lead to more questions. Ones she couldn’t reasonably answer without telling him everything. And if her father’s murderer resided in the English court, she had no way of knowing who they might be connected to.
Certainly not the Waryns.
And yet, she held back.
He looked down, stared into her eyes, and swallowed. She was about to comment on the torturous look on his face when he suddenly released her hands.
Before she could object to the loss of his warmth, he stepped even closer.
When he reached up to cup her cheeks, Kathryn forgot to breathe. As he leaned toward her, giving her ample opportunity to stop him, she silently communicated that she wanted him to kiss her.
And he did.
His lips touched hers, warm and soft. She covered his hands with her own, kissing him back. Or so she thought.
“I want to kiss you properly, Kathryn.” He pulled away slightly.
“That wasn’t a proper kiss?”
It was just like her first two kisses, though much softer. Sweeter. Maybe because his hands still held her as if she were a delicate piece of glass.
In answer, he moved toward her once again. When his lips were just about to touch hers, he murmured, “Open your mouth.”
She did.
And this time, his touch was not so gentle. He slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue begging for hers. So she touched it to his, tentatively, but Neill didn’t allow for tentative.
He showed her what to do, their tongues tangling. She moved her hands to the back of his head, and he did the same, pulling her even closer. Kathryn met his every touch with one of her own, her chest tightening with the very idea of what they were doing.
She didn’t want it to stop.
Apparently, neither did Neill.
The loud bark of a nearby dog shattered the moment, Kathryn pulling back and looking around them.
Nothing.
She forced herself to step back, her hands falling to the sides, and tried to catch her breath.
“I . . . never.”
I’ve never been kissed that way before.
“That . . .” Neill smiled slowly. “Was a proper kiss.”
“’Tis a wonder people don’t do that more often.”
When he laughed, Kathryn wanted him to kiss her again. The happy sound, from deep within his chest, made her forget everything else in the world.
Including her purpose here.
That, she could not allow.
“I must go,” she said, although her feet did not move.
“To find Bothwell? Tell me why. Let me help you, Kathryn. Bothwell’s reputation is not of an easy man to deal with.”
Although, she’d decided to trust Neill earlier, now Kathryn felt a throb of uncertainty. She’d kept her background a secret for so long . . . was she really going to blurt everything out to a man she hardly knew?
A man who she’d just allowed to take more liberties than any man before him.
She could not allow her interest in him to overcome her sense of reason.
“Come to the hall with me,” he said softly. Gently. “Allow me to introduce you to Lady Juliette.”
“Has Douglas arrived yet?”
Neill seemed taken aback. “The lord warden?”
“Aye.”
“I don’t believe so. Why?”
“Then I suppose I can dine in the hall just this once.”
She knew he didn’t understand, and Kathryn also knew she had no choice but to tell him something. But that kiss had muddled her thinking, and really, she just wanted him to do it again.
Or she would if she did not know what would come of it. Although Kathryn had little left, she did still have her virtue.
“And what will you tell Lady Juliette?”
“That you needed escort. That you are on your way to Dunbar and, fearing a delay, I brought you here first.”
Her eyes widened. “You would lie for me?”
Neill crossed his arms, and Kathryn’s fleeting elation was immediately tempered.
“If you’ll tell me why you wish to speak to Bothwell. Why you avoid Douglas.” He cleared his throat. “And how a lady such as yourself has landed in such a predicament.”
A fair trade, she supposed.
“I will tell you after supper.”
The bread she’d eaten hadn’t quite quelled her hunger.
“You’ll tell me everything?”
“Yes,” she lied, feeling poorly for doing so.
Neill, for his part, didn’t look as if he believed her.
“Then come.” He started to walk away, stopped and turned. “One more question.”
Kathryn groaned, eliciting another laugh from Neill. But he sobered as soon as she looked up to meet his eyes.
“Do you regret it?”
Aye, she’d pulled away. But no, she did not regret kissing him. Not even a bit.
“No.” And then, hesitantly, she added, “Do you?”
He was shaking his head before the question even left her lips.
“I should, Kathryn. I will tell you why later, although you’ll think less of me for it. But no, I do not regret it. I’d not let that thief steal this moment.”
He said the words as if they meant something more than they did. As if it weighed on him to admit that he did not regret kissing her.
But he began walking again, so she let the comment pass.
For
now.
* * *
“Tell me,” Bryce said as they finished the best meat pie Neill had ever tasted, “how did the king react to your request?”
Surrounded by their own men, Neill and Bryce spoke freely as they ate with the one hundred or so other guests. They had been invited to dine on the dais, as family, but had opted to eat alongside their men instead. Just as Neill had expected, only a few Englishmen were present and the guests consisted of mostly men. With the peace at the border so tenuous, the clan chiefs and wardens had left their wives at home.
Most of the women in the hall belonged at Brockburg, with a few exceptions. Kathryn had agreed to attend the meal, but so far, he did not see her.
“Neill?”
He shifted his attention back to his brother. Though he’d written his brothers and sister straightaway to tell them of the king’s agreement to do away with Caxton, he’d told none of them yet of the queen’s condition. “He didn’t answer right away,” he said, “but he also did not appear overly disturbed by it. I do wonder if he’d been planning to remove Caxton anyway.”
It was Edward’s father who’d favored the crooked warden. The son had returned only recently from abroad to claim his crown.
Bryce shook his head, scowling. “With a war brewing in France, I’ve no doubt he’d have let the border languish.”
Aylmer, who sat across from them, interjected. “Rumors in the south would agree with your sentiment.”
“Aye.” No denying it. Neill lifted his mug, a fine-looking pewter piece in a hall that was both functional and resplendent. The tapestries on the wall were simple and tasteful, though of fine quality.
Neill had never imagined himself dining in Brockburg Castle. Time had wrought unexpected changes on his family, to be certain.
“Either way, ’tis done. And as much as I wish the plan had been solely mine, it was Sir Adam who first suggested the idea.”
“Do you remember that day?” his brother asked.
Neill groaned.
“Please, do not speak of it.”
Bryce turned to Aylmer, a touch gleeful. “After losing Bristol Manor, Geoffrey, as I’m sure you know, turned to reiving in order to support our aunt and uncle with whom we lived.”
The Knight’s Reward: Border Series Book Ten Page 8
