Neill froze in the entranceway, but it wasn’t the large, well-lit chamber or colorful tapestries that caught his attention. Kathryn sat with Lady Juliette on the far side of the room. Moving toward her, he knew he had completely failed at his goal to conceal his feelings for her from Bryce.
But he hadn’t expected this—the lady of the house had given her a gown worthy of her station. Pale blue. He’d never loved a color so much before. She truly looked like an angel, her hair tumbling down her back in waves of brown and gold. He knew not where to look—at her hair, her face, or her perfect breasts, which peeked out from the low neckline of the gown. Their eyes met, and she held his gaze for a moment before he managed to look away.
He recovered quickly, but mayhap not quickly enough, judging from Bryce’s expression.
“My ladies,” he said, sitting across from them in a high-backed wooden chair with royal blue and yellow embroidered cushions. Toren stooped to kiss his wife on the cheek before he and Bryce also took their seats.
“As you know,” Neill said to the group, “I escorted Lady Kathryn here, unaware of her true identity.”
“And for that,” she cut in, “I am sorry. It was never my intention to involve anyone in my plan.”
“A plan,” Bryce admonished, “that could have gotten you killed.”
Without hesitation, she responded. “Aye, but I cannot apologize for seeking the truth. He was my father. And a good man who served his king and country well.”
Of that, Neill had no doubt, knowing Kathryn as he did.
“Tell us,” Toren said, “everything. Neill is our family, and he has pledged himself to your cause. You can count on us to do the same.”
Neill avoided looking at Kathryn as she shared her tale, knowing his brother was watching him closely. Instead, he kept his attention fixed on Toren, the man his family had despised for so long. He had a new understanding of why his siblings thought so highly of this man.
He had a council to host. A country to keep safe. And yet, here was the chief of Clan Kerr, one of the most powerful of the border clans, listening to the tale of a woman he’d never met. And he did not doubt Toren intended to keep his word and pursue the matter.
He was an honorable man.
It was what Emma had told him in a letter some time ago. At the time, he’d struggled to understand how his sister and brothers could set aside their hurt and anger to open their hearts to the Kerr family. But Adam and Cora had helped him understand the truth: his parents had been casualties of a war none of them could control, one that raged even now.
Neill finally gave in to the urge to look at her. He wished more than anything he could take away her pain.
He tried to tell himself he’d feel this protectiveness for any woman in Kathryn’s position, but he knew that to be a lie.
“Does anyone,” he said when she finished, “believe it’s possible her father’s death was an accident?”
None spoke up.
“And if he was, indeed, murdered, Bothwell’s refusal to give him an audience with the king seems more than suspicious. Aye?”
Again, it seemed all agreed.
“So the question is, why would Bothwell want to have him murdered?”
“And what was the message?” Juliette added.
Everyone turned toward Kathryn, who shrugged. “I do not know. Even when my father was privy to the messages he carried, he never shared them with me.”
“The timing is curious,” Bryce said, sitting back in his chair. “This happened soon after King Edward returned from his long sojourn in the East.”
“Could it have been a request to renew his allegiance?” Neill speculated. “It was one of his conditions of my reward.”
“I don’t understand why Caxton has not already been removed,” Kathryn said. “Everyone I’ve spoken to says he’s awful.”
Bryce answered for him. “And yet he lines the king’s pockets.”
“The reason,” Toren interjected, “we refused to treat with Caxton is because he accepts black mal in exchange for setting even the worst criminals free. If Englishmen aren’t held accountable for their crimes, why should we submit to the Day of Truce?”
“But the situation has changed,” Neill said. “With his attention now on France, the king will need both funds and support. Alexander’s fealty has become more important.”
Kathryn startled at that news. “Do you believe we will go to war with France?”
Neill exchanged a look with his brother. No one was sure of the answer, but he had a definite opinion on the matter.
“I do.”
Toren whistled. “Edward is willing to release his profitable warden if he can retain the loyalty of a king who might provide him with some security.”
“Where does Bothwell stand on any of this?” Kathryn asked.
“A question I’ve been wondering about,” he admitted, “since you told me of your suspicions.”
Toren frowned. “None know. He never speaks at any of the councils, much to Douglas’s annoyance. He attends to report back to the king. No more, no less. ’Tis a role Douglas fills whenever Bothwell is not in attendance.”
“Hmmm.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Neill smiled at Kathryn’s expression. She looked so intent, so serious.
“I bet I can guess his leanings,” she blurted.
They were all thinking the same thing now. The English king’s messenger had disappeared under mysterious circumstances after bringing a message so inflammatory he would only share it directly with the king. The king’s chancellor had refused to allow it, and the messenger had been killed that same night.
The Earl of Bothwell had no wish to see the Scottish king allied with King Edward.
Which made Kathryn’s revelations akin to the most important information they had currently about the situation along the border.
“How much of this situation do we report to the council?” Toren asked.
They all looked at Kathryn, who, rightly so, appeared panicked. “You cannot tell them.”
“Do we agree,” Toren said finally, “about what all of this implies?”
“Aye,” Neill said, “although we know naught for certain. Naught except Lady Kathryn is not safe here.”
“Neill, you need to get her out of here,” Juliette said at once.
He’d already thought the same.
“They’ll want to hear the king’s words directly from my brother,” Bryce began. “He needs to be at the meeting.”
“And I will be.” Neill already knew what he had to do. “Tomorrow morning, I will tell them everything.”
“Everything?” Bryce interrupted.
“Aye. And you will watch Bothwell closely when I do.”
“Watch him?” Toren snorted. “We will do more than that. When I explain the king’s conditions, when Bothwell realizes even now a message is on its way to Edinburgh asking for a renewal of Alexander’s vow—”
“You will have him followed,” Kathryn said to Toren, catching on.
“Aye.”
“But I suppose I’ll not be here to see how this plays out?”
“Where will you go after the meeting?” Bryce asked, looking between Neill and Kathryn. “Bristol Manor?”
“Nay,” he said. “’Tis too close.” Kathryn asked the silent question, and he answered, “Kenshire Castle. We leave on the morrow for Kenshire Castle, my lady. You will be safe there.”
Chapter 16
Kenshire Castle.
Kathryn had heard of it, of course, but seeing one of the most formidable strongholds in the north was a very different experience than being told about it. Before their party even approached the outer curtain wall, she could smell the North Sea. Having traveled on a ship with her father, Kathryn knew the beauty of the sea could be deceiving. She still had a bump on her head from one particularly bad storm. A “testimonial to your travels,” her father had called it.
Despite everywhere she’d been, all the people
she’d met in the course of her travels, this experience stood out among the others. One of the greatest castles in England loomed above her, and one of its greatest knights rode to her left.
Neill had spoken to the council as planned, recounting his audience with the English king. As expected, Bothwell had not reacted to the news that the English king had set a condition on the reward he’d granted his Tournament of Peace champion.
They’d not stayed long enough to witness the events that came afterward. Neill had excused himself before the midday meal while the council was still in session. They’d left at once. The plan was for them to remain safely in Kenshire until matters had settled at Brockburg and both royal courts.
She wished to speak to Neill about it, to hold his hand and kiss him, but they’d not found themselves alone for long on this four-day journey. She had an escort now, a young Scottish maid grateful for the opportunity to travel to Kenshire, along with a contingency of men provided by the chief of Clan Kerr.
Even so, she’d caught Neill looking at her plenty of times. The previous day they’d both approached a small stream at the same time on a break from the saddle. Kathryn had hoped they might have the opportunity to speak. It had almost seemed as if he’d sought her out, but Innis, her ever-present companion, had approached them before any words could be exchanged. Innis, who was simply doing her duty.
Kathryn had tried to thank Neill for taking her here. For keeping her safe. For leaving the council. That discussion, which they’d had before embarking from Brockburg, was the only private one they’d had in days. Kathryn very much looked forward to speaking with Neill again.
Kissing Neill, more like.
As many times as she’d chided herself for thinking of him that way, Kathryn simply could not stop thinking of his lips on hers, their tongues tangling greedily. Neill Waryn was in her blood.
“’Tis beautiful,” Innis said beside her as the portcullis was raised. The hooves of their mounts clanked across the drawbridge. Kenshire’s lower bailey was nearly the same size as Brockburg’s main courtyard, the immensity of the castle a testament to its preeminence along the northeastern coast.
“Aye,” she agreed, watching as Neill spoke with a rider who’d come to greet them. Nay, not any rider.
His brother.
He had the same raven-black hair as Neill and Bryce, the same wide shoulders. Kathryn rode closer and both men turned to her. Almost as quickly as he’d ridden out toward them, Geoffrey Waryn turned back to the castle and their riding party followed. Neill glanced her way, which was when she noticed his broad smile.
Neill obviously cared deeply for his siblings, and not for the first time, Kathryn wished she’d had brothers and sisters. But her father had fulfilled his promise never to remarry, her mother, he’d said repeatedly, “a woman who could not be replaced.”
They rode through the inner bailey and a passageway that climbed steeply upward, the main keep high above them. When the ground finally leveled again, Kathryn found herself in the most magnificent of courtyards, one that could rival that of any royal palace. It was unusual to see grass in an area so heavily traveled, but patches of it grew in various places, flowers even sprouting up here and there. When they had all dismounted, Neill gave Kathryn’s reins to a stable boy, who bowed his head to her, a reaction to one of the two gowns Lady Juliette had insisted she take with her.
When she looked up at the main keep, Kathryn blinked. The woman walking toward them did not look as if she could be real. Lady Juliette was lovely, but this woman, who could only be the Countess of Kenshire, was striking.
Her dark hair and exotic beauty looked almost out of place here in this cool climate, but her face was not the most noticeable thing about her. The lady wore what appeared to be an altered version of men’s breeches paired with a tunic, not unlike the ones Neill wore, and no overtunic. She looked as if she were heading to the training yard.
In all of her travels, Kathryn had never seen anything like it.
The lady rushed forward and swept Neill into a hug before pulling away to look him over from head to toe as a mother or a sister might.
“You are a boy no longer,” she exclaimed, her voice as bright as her visage.
And then the lady’s eyes fell on her. It felt as if she’d walked into the sun, an awareness of her own shortcomings nearly choking her. How could this woman in men’s breeches exude more grace than the finest of ladies at court?
“Geoffrey, Sara,” Neill said, smiling back at her, “may I present Lady Kathryn Wyld, daughter of the late Sir Richard Wyld. She is to be my guest at Kenshire.”
Sara took her hand, apparently a common gesture for this family.
“Richard,” Lady Sara beamed. “That was my father’s name as well.”
Instead of asking how she’d come to be his guest or inquiring about the circumstances that had led to their visit, Sara winked at Kathryn. “We will leave you to your reunion,” she said to her husband. “Come—” she tugged Kathryn’s hand, “—I’ve something to show you.”
“Show me?” she asked in bewilderment.
The countess did not know her at all, let alone why she was here, but none of that seemed to matter to her. With a final backward glance at Neill, who met her eyes and smiled encouragingly, she followed Lady Sara around the great keep, past tower after tower. The castle was bustling, with knights and servants milling around every corner.
Lady Sara had released her hand and was now climbing a set of stairs built into the side of the inner curtain wall closest to what appeared to be a guardroom. When they arrived at the top, Kathryn, beyond curious now, looked out and immediately knew why Lady Sara had taken her here.
They stood above a most spectacular view of the North Sea. Below them, a steep drop of grass and rock gave way to taller blades of grass waving in the breeze, and then sand. Beyond it, the sea. The sound of its waves did not reach them here, but Kathryn could easily imagine its song.
Kathryn spun in all directions, taking in the view. To their left, nothing but fields, farmlands most like. Behind her, beyond the retaining walls, she could even see the village they’d passed on their way to the castle. Her eyes finally came to rest again on the ocean.
“’Tis breathtaking, Lady Sara.”
“Sara. And aye, it is that.”
Kathryn looked at the other woman in surprise. “My lady?”
“I am not one for formality.” She nodded down, toward her attire. “As you can see. Most especially with a woman who has captured the heart of my brother-in-law.”
This woman was full of surprises.
“Oh, no, my lady, ’tis not that way at all.”
She wished to ask the other woman why she’d formed such an impression, but the Countess of Kenshire made her uncharacteristically shy.
“Sara.”
Kathryn relented. “Sara.”
“And if I may have leave to call you by your given name?” Sara prodded.
“Of course!”
“Then I would be so bold to ask, Kathryn . . . how is it between you and Neill?”
“I . . . that is . . . we . . .” In truth, it was a good question, one she was wholly unprepared to answer, especially to a stranger. Even if she was Neill’s sister-in-law.
“I see. Well, luckily, this will not be my very first foray into a complicated relationship. It seems this family has no shortage of them.”
“There is . . . we are not together, my . . . Sara.”
Kathryn didn’t understand her own impulse, but under the warm summer sun, along the ramparts of what was one of the loveliest places she’d seen in her life, she found herself sharing her story with the countess.
She began at The Wild Boar. She told Sara of her plan, one that seemed rather foolish now that she’d shared it aloud, twice. She told her of her father too, although the recounting was no easier than it had been when she’d told Neill about his death.
“I am very sorry for the loss of your father,” Sara said when she finall
y finished. “I understand how painful it is to lose your only parent. Your mother?”
“Died in childbirth.”
In that moment, something passed between them. The hairs on Kathryn’s arms stood straight up. She knew without asking the countess’s mother had passed under the same circumstances.
“It seems we are kindred spirits, you and I. Daughters of great men—” Sara smiled, “—two Richards who lost their loves too early.”
It was remarkable, really, when she put it that way.
“Though you are a countess . . .”
“And you, the daughter of a man who might, even after his death, alter the course of history.”
Kathryn held her shoulders back, a vision of her father flashing before her. He’d been a handsome man with dark hair speckled with grey. Articulate. An expert horseman, and one who knew the land above all others.
A great man indeed.
When she saw the glint of tears in Sara’s eyes, Kathryn could no longer maintain her composure. She’d thought the countess too strong to succumb to tears, and the sight called forth her own emotion.
Sara closed the space between them, her arms wrapping around her as if she were a sister and not a stranger. They cried together for all they’d lost. Great men. Mothers they’d never known.
Kathryn had never allowed herself to cry like this, as if her father were truly gone forever. Though she had not questioned the truth of the cleric’s words, some tiny part of her, never having seen his body . . .
But he was gone, and Kathryn would never, ever see him again. She was alone in the world.
Sara pulled away.
“I do not normally greet new guests with tears,” she said, a sad smile forming on her lips, “but neither am I embarrassed to have done so. I thought to press you on the bits of the story you left out. But perhaps I can do that later this eve.”
Kathryn’s eyes widened. How had she known? The only aspect of the story she had kept to herself related to Neill.
The Knight’s Reward: Border Series Book Ten Page 11
