“Aye. ’Tis true. The city sits in the bend of the river, and the keep is high on the rise above. The market there brings in people from all over the world.”
Bela shook her head. “I can’t imagine. One must hear so many different accents and languages spoken there. Someday, I’d like to see it. And England too.” A stubborn set to her mouth had Ilisa wondering if she’d been forbidden from traveling or if the idea of going to England was the problem.
Many in Scotland considered the English their sworn enemies, but several times throughout the centuries, Berwick had been part of England. A line on a map didn’t change the people who lived in the city. Only people could do that. Time would tell what would happen in Berwick. Ilisa only wanted peace.
Some villagers never ventured beyond their own village. Travel of any sort was difficult, let alone for long distances. Only the wealthy and merchants wishing to sell their goods ventured beyond their home.
Bela’s voice held the mark of Scotland, but her word choice suggested she was more than a maidservant. Mayhap a merchant’s daughter. Then why hadn’t she traveled more? Though curious, Ilisa kept her questions to herself since she preferred not to answer any. The idea of lying to the woman who’d been so kind thus far didn’t sit well with Ilisa.
Instead, they spoke of inconsequential things, from the weather to the merits of raising sheep to using raspberries in wine. Bela was knowledgeable in many areas, but that puzzled Ilisa even more as to where she fit in at Graham’s holding.
After a brief respite, Ilisa sighed, realizing she needed to return before Braden began to worry over her absence. “I should return to the bailey before my...husband declares me missing.”
Bela rose. “And I must return to my duties, but I’ve enjoyed our visit.”
“As have I. I hope we have the chance to do so again.”
A shadow passed over Bela’s expression, dimming her smile. “I fear the festivities will take much of my time, but if we are able to do so, I’d enjoy it.”
After climbing down the stairs on the inner side of the wall, Bela directed Ilisa as to which path would return her to the outer bailey, bid her good day, then turned to walk in a different direction.
The young woman was lovely, both inside and out. Though Ilisa hadn’t ventured far either, she’d certainly done more than Bela. She hoped the woman had the chance to do so as she clearly longed to see the view beyond Graham’s holding.
If only the other people she’d met were as pleasant to speak with as Bela, the party would be much more enjoyable.
Now she needed to find a way to stay on the opposite side of the bailey as Lady Gideon else she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions.
~*~
Braden was on the verge of panic. Ilisa had been gone far too long. He knew Lady Gideon had upset her earlier as he’d caught sight of her determined stride away from the tents but hadn’t been able to disengage himself from those to whom he spoke.
Something about the lady set off Ilisa. Not so different than Sir Matthew did to him. Whether the knight meant to be offensive, Braden didn’t know, but his remarks irritated Braden to no end. His overconfidence along with his smirk made Braden want to punch him just to remove it. How Ilisa could like the man, Braden didn’t understand.
He pondered his options of where to search for her when she entered the bailey. He strode toward her, doing his best to hide his concern. “Where have you been?”
She took his arm despite the fact that he hadn’t thought to offer it, easing the tightness in his chest. “Sitting on the castle wall enjoying the view with a lovely young woman named Bela.”
Puzzled, he waited, assuming there would be more to her explanation, but she offered nothing further. “I was beginning to worry.”
“My apologies. I needed some time away from everyone. I’m afraid I allowed Lady Gideon to gain the best of me.” She glanced about to make sure no one overheard her. “She insists my brother opened the gates of Berwick to allow King Edward entrance.”
Sympathy filled him. He wouldn’t take kindly to anyone criticizing Chanse either without being able to defend him. “I don’t understand why anyone believes that.” He shook his head. “It makes no sense. Your brother wouldn’t have knowingly endangered the people of Berwick.”
She stared at him in surprise.
“What?”
“I appreciate your confidence in my brother and his actions. ’Tis nice to have someone believe in him for a change.”
He frowned. “That woman needs to hold her tongue. She obviously has too much idle time on her hands.”
“It took all my fortitude not to call her crazed,” Ilisa said with a huff.
“That speaks highly of your devotion to our purpose here.”
“I’m sorry I worried you. I just needed time to collect my thoughts.”
“Who is this Bela you spoke with?”
“A villager, I think. She approached me in the stables when I was visiting my mare.”
He smiled at her. “So I’m not the only one who talks to my horse.”
“I admit it,” Ilisa said, returning his smile. “’Tis just that she’s always so pleased to see me.”
“Exactly.” That was one more thing they had in common.
“Bela was kind. ’Twas pleasant to have a conversation where I didn’t feel as if I had to raise the subject of Lord Graham.”
“She probably wouldn’t know of his plans to commit murder and stir up trouble, though I suppose one never knows. If she is a maidservant in the keep, she might have overheard a conversation or two.”
“I didn’t think of that.” She sighed. “Very well. If I see her again, I’ll attempt to work that into our conversation.” She paused and held his gaze. “How are you faring?”
The genuine concern in her expression warmed his heart. “There are many places I’d rather be and people I’d prefer to be with, but all issues considered, all is well.”
“Your shoulder?”
“A bit stiff but continuing to improve.”
She glanced around the bailey. “Have you heard anything of interest? Anyone you would make a priority to question?”
“Sir Matthew,” Braden offered without hesitation.
She turned to him in surprise. “Truly? I found him likeable. ’Tis Monroe who unsettles me.”
Braden scowled. He much preferred it when they agreed. No matter. He didn’t intend to trust anyone while they were here. He knew all too well what it was like to believe in someone only to have them betray you. Though he cared for Ilisa and valued her opinion, he needed to rely on himself first.
“We shall keep an eye on them both for now,” he said.
Ilisa was as temporary in his life as Scotland. When the mission was over, he’d be returning home and putting both far behind him.
For the first time, he realized how mixed his feelings were about that. Whether it was because of Ilisa or his concern for events here, he didn’t know. Nor did it matter, he told himself.
~*~
Lord James Graham sat in the great hall with the Earl of Rothton. James didn’t look forward to this conversation, for he feared the earl might lose his enthusiasm for their quest when he learned of the lack of progress made thus far. Mayhap James could ease into the conversation.
“Any news on the plans?” Rothton asked.
James nearly sighed. Trust the earl to get directly to the point. “No resolution has yet been seen.”
“You said you could easily take care of the situation.”
James glanced about. “Keep your voice down. Ears are everywhere.”
“Then you should tend to your holding better.”
“My people are trustworthy.” James reminded himself to hold back his temper. The earl was one of the few who were as supportive of the Sentinels as he. Well, almost as supportive. The man had handed over coins quick enough but had yet to put his own neck on the line. “However, this information is private. And I’d remind you that many guests wander
my holding.”
“Aye. Seems far too risky to me to fill your home with strangers, considering all that is happening.”
“’Tis risky indeed. However, I’m anxious to see my daughter, Arabela settled.” He waited to see if the earl understood the full meaning of his words.
“Married?” The earl raised one bushy brow. “To someone in particular?”
“Wouldn’t it be interesting if she were to marry the future King of Scotland?” James kept his voice to a whisper but couldn’t hold back his smile. He was delighted with his plan and wanted the earl to understand its perfection as well.
“And who would that be?” The earl leaned back to sip his ale, not nearly as excited as James had hoped. “Last I heard, there was no true heir to the throne.”
“But if the right person were to emerge and prove themselves worthy, then marry into a strong family with the right connections, all of Scotland could be convinced that the obvious person to lead our country has come forth.”
The earl considered him for a long moment. “Are you certain this plan isn’t more about placing you in a position of power?”
James slammed his fist on the table, only to realize too late he was drawing unwanted attention from the few servants passing through the great hall. “This is not about me. If I wanted the throne for myself, I would take it.”
The earl stared, his disbelief obvious. “For certain. No doubt ’tis yours if you only reach out for it.”
James pushed back his pride. The earl was right. Taking the throne would be no easy task, nor was it one he welcomed. Such battles were better left to the next generation. But he knew he had royal blood. While it might be diluted, it remained all the same.
If his daughter married the right man—or rather, when she did, the foundation would be set. He intended to build it during this gathering. A few hints here and there of Arabela’s lineage and the seeds would be planted. “Do you have a better idea of how to place the person we pick on the throne?”
“Nay, but Robert the Bruce might.”
“His claim to the Scottish throne is muddied by his quarrels with John Comyn and the others. They’ll never agree who amongst them should rule, nor do they share the same ideals as we do.”
The earl nodded reluctantly. “I see your point. This could be what we need to move events in the proper direction. Who is the man you see in this role?”
“Several candidates have caught my interest. Which one will be determined by the end of this gathering.” He held the earl’s gaze. “I am hoping you will offer your opinion as well.”
Interest lit the older man’s eyes. “My opinion would hold weight?”
“Of course. I would be honored to have your thoughts.”
“What of the others in our...group? Will they have a vote as well?”
“Aye. If we can all agree on the right man, then we have an even higher chance of success. Don’t you agree?”
The earl’s gaze held on the fire before a smile turned the corner of his mouth upward. “The Sentinels will choose the next king and queen of our country. That is more than I ever hoped for when we began this mission.”
James sat back, relieved to have his agreement.
“What of those with English ties? Will we continue our work there?”
“Absolutely.” James was most anxious to see the end of Sir William’s family. Revenge was long overdue. And if eliminating others with English ties sent a clear message to those tempted to oppose the Sentinels, all the better.
Chapter Twelve
The next day, those not participating in the tournament gathered in the outer bailey to watch. The midday meal had passed, and the sword fighting would soon begin.
Monroe, the steward, glanced several times toward the keep, no doubt waiting for Lord Graham’s arrival so the competition could begin. The steward did his best to entertain the guests while they waited.
Braden couldn’t help but laugh at his jests. Not only did the man handle his duties with ease, but he was also amusing. Braden didn’t understand Ilisa’s dislike of him.
Braden had to wonder if Lord Graham made them wait purposefully to remind them all that he was in charge. That spoke of pride. Too much pride, in Braden’s opinion. However, none of the guests appeared to be irritated by Graham’s delay.
Ilisa visited with Lady Rothton a short distance away. As Braden studied the crowd, he tried to determine if anyone was missing. That could help identify with whom Graham was meeting under the guise of the celebration. He didn’t see the Earl of Rothton anywhere. Might he have been meeting with Graham?
He hoped Ilisa was having better luck discovering relevant information than he’d had thus far as he’d found little else of note.
He’d spent time with Sir Matthew, the head of Graham’s garrison, earlier, hoping he knew something of the lord’s activities, but the knight seemed to find Braden’s questions unusual.
Lord Allaway, the wealthy lord with the Persian rug, had visited with Braden for a time. Braden didn’t think he was involved for even when Braden mentioned England, the lord had little reaction.
“Sir Hugh.”
He was so deep in his thoughts that the name didn’t register immediately, and a long moment passed before Braden realized he needed to respond. Pretending to be someone else was more difficult than he’d imagined.
He turned to see Sir Matthew waving for him to come over to where he and the competitors gathered. Grumbling under his breath as he knew the man wanted to goad him into joining the fray, Braden started in his direction.
“Greetings, husband.”
He turned to find Ilisa walking at his side and smiled. Her presence eased his concern for reasons he didn’t care to examine too closely. “Wife. Your arrival is perfect.”
“Oh?” She stared at Sir Matthew, a frown marring her brow. “You don’t intend to join the contest, do you?”
“Nay.” Braden tucked her hand under his elbow, prepared to use Ilisa as an excuse for not participating if necessary. Matthew annoyed him, which was all the more reason to watch him closely.
“Would you and the lady care to wager on the winner of the sword fight?”
“We would pick you, of course,” Ilisa told him with a smile. She squeezed Braden’s arm. “Wouldn’t we, dear husband?”
“Of course,” Braden agreed, not bothering to hide his lack of enthusiasm.
Sir Matthew laughed, seemingly unaware of Braden’s sarcasm. “Thank you for your confidence, but I’m not participating. I’m only here to make certain no one breaks the rules.”
“Come now,” Braden said. “You can’t allow these other men to best you. What better way to show them who is truly the champion than to beat them all?”
“I think not.” Something in the younger man’s tone had Braden watching him more closely.
“What is the prize for the champion?” Ilisa asked.
“’Tis a surprise that only Lord Graham knows. Though he’s promised ’tis one beyond measure.”
Braden caught Ilisa’s gaze, certain she thought the same as he—the rumors were true. Graham would offer his daughter’s hand to the winner. Mayhap he hadn’t announced it and wouldn’t until he approved of the winner. That way, no unwanted or unworthy knight could claim his daughter. Did Sir Matthew have any interest in marrying the lady? ’Twas difficult to determine when they had yet to meet the person whose birth they had gathered to celebrate.
Several of the contestants began to warm up, some sparring with each other. A few appeared so young that Braden wondered if this was their first competition. They seemed nervous, making mistakes even in practice.
Sir Matthew called instructions to one or two and berated a few more, already displeased with their performance.
Braden shook his head, fearing the more inexperienced ones might end up hurt. Or worse. The older, more seasoned knights watched the younger ones with amusement.
“What say you, Sir Hugh? Why don’t we show them how ’tis done?” Sir Matthe
w drew his sword, holding it aloft, a gleam of challenge in his eyes.
Braden clenched his jaw even as he forced a smile. Damn and blast the man. Why was he pressing him so? “I’m certain you can find a worthier opponent than me to demonstrate among these fine competitors.”
He felt the weight of Ilisa’s gaze, her worry palpable. She wasn’t the only one. His shoulder still ached and was much weaker than he cared to admit. Sparring with Alec was different than doing so with a trained knight such as Matthew. As leader of the garrison, he’d be skilled in all types of weaponry.
“Nonsense. I insist.” Matthew’s smile was all teeth, making Braden long to place his fist squarely into them.
Left with no choice, Braden returned the smile, stepped away from Ilisa, and drew his sword.
Immediately, the other men gathered around Braden and Matthew, forming a loose circle, many calling out encouragement to Matthew. That only made Braden more determined. To hell with his injury. He wanted to prove to Matthew that he was no one with whom to be trifled.
Well aware of how much strength he’d lost, his best hope was to act with enough determination and anger to overcome his weakness. And fight smarter.
“Defeat him, Sir Hugh!” Alec’s demand cut through the other voices, as did Ilisa’s accompanying cheer.
His spirits lifted at their support. At least someone here wanted to see him win. He grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands, the stone in its pommel winking at him, and widened his stance as Sir Matthew did the same.
Braden let all else fall away to focus on the task before him. Surely after a few swings, they could end this display with no one the wiser that Braden was still recovering. Revealing that would only raise questions, something he preferred to avoid.
He waited for Matthew to make the first move as he didn’t care to be accused of taking unfair advantage, especially when most who watched favored Matthew. The knight’s body tensed a moment before he delivered the first blow. Braden kept his gaze on Matthew’s eyes. The moment his gaze flickered to the left, Braden shifted in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding the direct force of his swing.
A Knight's Temptation (Falling For A Knight Book 2) Page 13
