The Knight’s Reward: Border Series Book Ten

by Mecca, Cecelia

  And though he could not yet see their faces, Neill knew the couple well.

  Throat scratchy, he swallowed, attempting to regain composure. “How?” he murmured to no one.

  Geoffrey answered him. “Kathryn sent word to them before you left London.”

  Kathryn could not have known they would marry this day. If she’d let Neill have his way, they would already be man and wife.

  “But . . .”

  “She explained the date had not been set but they may want to leave ‘posthaste.’ They arrived last eve after you retired. It was Kathryn’s idea for them to announce themselves now rather than earlier.”

  They smiled as if he were their son in truth rather than a boy whom they’d fostered. These two new guests were as dear to him as any in the world, and it felt right that they should be here. He knew Adam felt a special kinship with the Caiser family because of his connection with her father and grandfather, the man who’d bequeathed him Langford Castle. Bryce made space for them along the lowermost stone stair. Grinning at them, Neill collected himself as best he could, marveling at the surprise his future wife had managed to send to him this day.

  Kathryn.

  No sooner had he regained his composure than he spotted the first glimpse of color moving toward him through the crowd.

  Bryce’s wife, Catrina, followed by Emma and then Sara. They each wore a different color, but while they looked lovely today, it was the woman who was now coming toward him who nearly made his knees buckle. With her hair pulled partially back, her face completely visible, Kathryn’s blue silk gown glimmered as the sun shone against the gold embroidery. Gold thread danced around her neckline, her sleeves . . . everywhere. And just one simple jewel adorned her neck.

  Neill knew it well.

  The necklace had been his mother’s. And now, it was his wife’s. Or his soon-to-be wife. He could not stop smiling at Kathryn as she finally joined him at the top of the stairs, and when Father Simon finally cleared his throat, loudly, Neill knew he’d been caught.

  He attempted to concentrate on the priest’s words, but it was a battle he could not win. He only processed the most important part: the recitation of his vows. Repeating after Father Simon, he said, “I, Sir Neill Waryn, take thee, Lady Kathryn Wyld, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, for fairer or fouler, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ’til death us depart, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereunto I plight thee my troth.”

  Kathryn said the same, and a short time later, it was done.

  She was his wife. His heart felt like it had expanded to fill his whole body.

  Cheers went up from the crowd as they made their way from the chapel toward the great hall. A wedding feast would last into the night.

  “No more beautiful bride has ever graced this hall or any other,” he said as they entered the front doors, which were held wide open. All would be welcome this day, Kenshire’s hall filled beyond its capacity.

  He’d seen it earlier in the day, the fresh strewn rushes and flowers everywhere, but it seemed somehow more vibrant, more decorative now. Everything seemed brighter and better now that they were wed.

  “And you, sir, make an extraordinarily dashing groom.”

  Though their guests would sit at the extra trestle tables set out for the occasion, it would be some time before Neill and Kathryn took a seat. It was customary for the newly wed couple to walk among the guests first, and they gladly did so together.

  Just before they arrived at the table closest to the dais, the one where Adam and Cora sat, Neill pulled Kathryn to the side.

  “Before I introduce you to them, I want to thank you.”

  Kathryn smiled. “’Tis my wedding gift to you, husband.”

  “And a fine one at that. But how did you know the wedding would be delayed?”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “In fact, I thought they would likely miss the ceremony, but I suspected they’d want to know . . . that you would be overjoyed to see them even if they arrived after the wedding.”

  “Thank you,” he said again as they approached the table where Toren and Alex Kerr and their wives sat with the older couple. After a quick welcome to the others, he stood back as Adam and Cora rose from the table to greet them.

  “Adam. Cora. It seems you’ve met my wife.” Neill could tell he grinned like a boy with his first sword every time he used that word. “Kathryn, Sir Adam Dayne and Lady Cora Maxwell.”

  “Of Clan Maxwell?” Kathryn asked. “I meant to ask you about it last eve.”

  “Aye, the same. But please do not judge me for it.”

  Her clan had been one of the first to boycott the Day of Truce more than thirty years earlier. A fierce lot of warriors Neill knew she loved dearly. Though it had taken some years, she confessed, for her Scottish family to accept her English husband.

  “I met a man once, Fergus Maxwell, at The Wild Boar.”

  “My cousin,” she said, giving her a wide smile. “So you’ve been to The Wild Boar? I was only there once. Do you remember, Adam?”

  “Aye, I do,” he said to her. “But wish that I could forget.”

  Adam turned back to Kathryn. “But that is a story for another day, as is yours. This day is for celebration, but I do hope we will have time to share stories before Cora and I must leave.”

  “We will ensure it,” she said.

  Knowing Kathryn would not do so, he pardoned them to the head table, where finally they sat.

  Surrounded by family and friends and next to the woman he loved, Neill could think of no happier day. If his parents had been here to see it, they would have been well pleased. Even though Bryce taunted their sister, and Emma looked very much as if she were planning some nefarious deed, they would be proud.

  Making them proud, wherever they were, had long been his goal, and he took a minute to savor the sensation.

  “What are you thinking?” Kathryn asked, and he told her. They spoke of their parents then, and of the days that had brought them to this one.

  They drank and laughed at Geoffrey’s tales of his young ones, warning the newly wed couple of how wee ones made a man turn into “nothing more than a simpering child” as they came into the world.

  And Neill tried not to look at the ample cleavage Kathryn’s gown displayed.

  Tried not to remember her soft moans from a few nights past, on the eve they’d decided not to be alone in her bedchamber again if they wanted to have a wedding night in truth.

  Neill tried, and failed, not to imagine his wife, fully unclothed, underneath him as she would be that night.

  “What are you thinking?” Kathryn licked a bit of cake from her finger.

  “I’m thinking—” he leaned toward her, ensuring his words were only for her to hear, “—I’ve been dreaming of slipping inside of you for so long that I fear I may not be able to control myself when I do.”

  “I . . .” Her lips parted and Neill watched as she thought more carefully on his words. “I look forward to . . .” Though she didn’t finish, his suddenly shy wife did not need to say the words. He knew what she wanted.

  He should not tempt fate, but would anyway. Knowing he tortured them both, Neill leaned in even closer.

  “And I will give it to you. This night and every night, my lady.”

  “Can we leave our own wedding feast?”

  He laughed, loudly enough to garner looks from those around them. Neill lifted his goblet in response, and their guests did the same.

  There would be singing and dancing, a long night ahead.

  But not for the newly married couple.

  “Aye,” he said. “We can.”

  Chapter 35

  She was ready.

  Kathryn and Neill had left the hall at the same time, her cheeks flaming as the guests cheered and called out bawdy suggestions, but they’d been separated into their own private chambers so Kathryn could prepare for the wedding night. She was no
t far from the lord and lady of Kenshire, just one floor below them, in the same tower.

  But that was not where she would be staying this night, or any other night henceforth. Neill would come to fetch her soon and bring her to their new chamber.

  “You look lovely,” Sara said, stepping back. The countess herself had fastened the clasp to the robe she’d gifted her that morn. Velvet, fur-lined, and exquisite. Kathryn had tried to refuse—the countess had given her so much already, gowns she claimed no longer fit and the kind of friendship that felt more like sisterhood—but Sara would have none of it.

  “So tell us,” Emma said as Faye tsked and left the room. Sara’s maid had accompanied the ladies of the family to the chamber. She’d untied Kathryn’s hair and brushed it until it gleamed. “Are you a virgin still?”

  “Emma!” Catrina scolded her.

  Kathryn knew Catrina the least of her new sisters-in-law, but she liked her just the same. These women were her family now, and if she could not speak of such things with family, then who could she take into her confidence?

  “Aye,” she admitted, fanning out her robe. Kathryn loved how it gathered around her feet, covering the equally as fine silk shift beneath it.

  “You’re nervous?” Catrina asked, her accent leaving no doubt she hailed from north of the border.

  “Of course she’s nervous,” Emma answered for her, the chamber suddenly feeling quite crowded. She was grateful for their presence but felt quite ready to be reunited with Neill. “Do you know what to expect?”

  “Aye. I know the first time will be painful. And after that, not as much so.”

  “Oh dear.” Sara sat on the bed and patted the space beside her. “What about the ladies at court? What have they told you?”

  Kathryn sat as the others gathered around them.

  “Some,” she admitted. “But none were widows.”

  “All virgins then,” Emma blurted, which earned her a look from the others.

  “Do not be nervous,” Catrina said. “When there is love between a husband and wife—”

  “Or even a man and a woman,” Emma laughed at her own jest. “For who here was wed first?” She winked at Kathryn. “The Waryn women don’t care to do things in the typical way.”

  That, she’d noticed. “I . . . may not have done so either. But we decided to wait . . .”

  “An admirable feat, that.” Emma looked toward the door as if Neill were to barge through it at any moment.

  “Rest assured that you will be well taken care of. Neill is like our brothers in that way.”

  Both Sara and Catrina looked at her, their faces stricken.

  “Gentle!” Emma blurted. “Large but, oh do stop. I meant their frames are large, but they are gentle still.”

  All of them burst into laughter at the way Emma had unintentionally phrased her words of comfort.

  Which was precisely when Neill walked into the chamber.

  Their laughter became even louder, and even Kathryn could not stop. She thought of what Emma had said and inadvertently looked . . . there.

  Apparently the others noticed because, instead of gathering their composure, they did quite the opposite. They were doubled over in laughter, tears tracking down their cheeks.

  Neill looked at his sister.

  “Emma?”

  Which only made the situation worse, since he had so easily predicted the source of their merriment.

  “I . . . ,” Emma managed, “claim my innocence in this matter.”

  “You can claim it—” Sara stood, “—but that certainly does not mean you’re right to do so.”

  Neill smirked as the women made their way out of the chamber. Emma merely shrugged as she left the room.

  “You’ll pardon my sister,” Neill said, holding Kathryn’s gaze. “Though I fear you’ll need to become accustomed to her. With Clave Castle so close to Kenshire—”

  “She is a delight,” Kathryn said honestly. She forgot whatever she’d been about to say next and took in the sight of her husband.

  Divested of his surcoat, he wore only a loose linen shirt, its sleeves rolled to reveal thick forearms accustomed to wielding a sword. Her gaze moved up to his face, his eyes flickering with desire, which was when she realized this was finally truly going to happen.

  “Are you nervous?” He took a step toward her.

  “Aye,” she admitted, wishing it were not so.

  And then he did something unusual. Neill held out his hand. Confused, she took it. Then, without a word, he unclasped her robe, laid it on the bed, and led her from her chamber.

  “Are we going to your bedchamber?” she asked.

  “Our bedchamber is located on the northeast side of the castle, and I’d not walk you there dressed this way.”

  He stopped, without warning, and kissed her hard. But he pulled back before she was ready, leaving her wanting much, much more.

  “Then where?”

  Neill didn’t answer, but he did take a wall torch as they made their way down the circular stairwell. It was only as they walked through darkened corridors and down another set of steps that Kathryn realized where they were heading.

  At this time of night?

  When they exited the Sea Gate, Neill took off his leather shoes. Kathryn did the same. Wordlessly, he led her toward the water, which she could hear but not see. Everything in front of them was black with only the faintest glimmer coming from the moon.

  Just like she had the first time, Kathryn twirled about as she reached the point where the saw grass around them became nothing but sand. The sight before her was spectacular. This time, instead of the castle, dots of lights along the wall-walks and atop each tower broke though the black night.

  “Beautiful, is it not?”

  “Aye,” she said as he tugged her hand once more.

  And then she noticed it.

  A blanket spread out on the sand, and as they moved closer, Kathryn spotted a wooden slat with pieces of bread and cheese on it, along with a pitcher and two goblets.

  “This is . . .” She had no words.

  “Our wedding night,” he finished for her.

  * * *

  She was much more relaxed now.

  Kathryn had not drunk much at dinner, and he’d seen her nibble a bite or two of meat and a small bite of almond cake. Now that they were alone, he’d lulled her into a discussion that would keep her mind free of worry. She’d eaten a few bites of bread and cheese, drunk two goblets full of red wine, and finally forgotten that she wore nothing but her shift.

  At first, she’d worried they would be seen by the guards, but Neill had assured her the men atop the wall could see nothing but the light from the torch he’d stuck in the sand.

  His wife looked out into the darkness, and though he couldn’t see her face, he had memorized every feature and could easily imagine it. If she but turned her head, their lips would be close to touching.

  “Go on,” he said as she told a story of her childhood at court.

  He lifted the mass of waves over her shoulder and pulled the string he’d been looking at for the past hour. The one that loosened the top of her shift. He was able to pull it off her shoulder, exposing the bare skin to his touch.

  Kathryn stopped talking, but she did not turn around just yet.

  When he kissed her first on the shoulder, and then on her neck, Neill hardened immediately. He was ready.

  But she was not.

  Not yet.

  When he pulled back the errant strands of her hair this time, they fell back, as if in protest. To ensure they stayed put this time, he grasped as much hair as he could and held it.

  Turning her head toward him.

  Guiding their mouths together, Neill kissed her with the knowledge that, this time, they would not stop. Hungrily, he caressed her with his lips, his tongue. His hands slipped under her shift, which she aided him by lifting up, and he removed the fine but offending garment in one swift movement.

  Standing, he quickly removed his
own clothing as she watched.

  “Are you afraid still?”

  He sat, and his wife’s eyes followed his movement, resting between his legs.

  “It will hurt for but a moment.”

  And then she surprised him by laughing.

  “’Tis not the reaction a man hopes to elicit from his wife when she sees him for the first time.”

  He groaned as her body taunted him. Her full breasts, the mound of hair peeking out from between her legs as if to taunt him.

  “’Tis just something your sister said.”

  “If we cannot talk about her just now . . .”

  She smiled, the corners of her perfect lips rising just enough that he could see the white of her teeth.

  A tug in his chest made him impatient.

  He laid her down and climbed over her in one quick movement. This time it was his turn to laugh at her look of surprised delight. Instead of lowering his mouth onto hers, Neill kissed his way down her chest toward her breast, taking it in his hands first. He gave the perfect hardened nipple the attention it deserved as his fingers entered her without warning. Pressing his palm against her, he grazed his teeth gently on her nipple. Kathryn’s gasp was a welcome sound.

  With the waves as their backdrop, the warm summer night licking their naked bodies, Neill used everything he had to ensure Kathryn would forget the tales she’d heard about the pain of having her maidenhood taken away.

  When her hands started clawing against his back, Neill moved to the second breast but did not relent the sweet torment of his caresses down below.

  “Neill . . .”

  A sweet sound, but he was aiming for an even sweeter one. So he circled and pressed until her rapid breathing was the only thing he could hear.

  And still, Neill did not relent.

  When her wetness covered his fingers and her moans filled his ears, still Neill continued to pleasure her.

  Lifting his head, he removed his hands and watched her return to him.

  Lips parted. Cheeks flushed.

  His wife looked thoroughly ravished. But she was not.

  Not yet.

  Without giving her time to consider anything but the afterglow of pleasure, he positioned himself inside her.