Rather than say something else equally as foolish, he turned and walked away.
They hadn’t spoken since, but he couldn’t stop thinking of that moment. Her laughter. The snow crystals collecting on her long lashes.
“Clave, we need to talk,” said Geoffrey.
Garrick was equally as anxious to speak with the earl.
Without a backward glance, Emma rushed past him toward the stables, leaving them to make their way to the keep.
“How is Nella?” Garrick asked.
“Emma will be pleased to learn she is doing just fine. Whatever ailment afflicted her seems to have disappeared.” If Geoffrey thought it odd for him to inquire after Emma’s horse, he didn’t say so.
Garrick breathed a bit easier at the news. He’d only remembered the horse’s condition as they passed through the gatehouse. Her nervous posture had reminded him. Knowing how much she cared for her beloved horse, he’d hoped, for her sake, the animal had recovered.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Instead of leading him into the great hall, Geoffrey brought him directly to the solar, where they sat in front of the hearth.
“What happened?” Arms crossed, eyes blazing, Geoffrey Waryn was not a man easily dismissed.
“We were attacked.”
“I know you were attacked. Everyone knows. Who was it?”
“I don’t know. The enemy bore no markings of any kind.”
“But they knew where to find you. Knew who you were.”
“Aye.”
“Reivers?” Though Waryn was clearly angry his sister had been exposed to harm, his tone was evenly measured.
“Nay.”
“Trained?”
“Aye”—the door swung open unceremoniously, admitting Lady Sara—“and Scottish, or at least one of them was.”
“Was it Inverglen?” Lady Sara asked.
He bowed, but Sara dismissed his formality with a wave of her hand.
“Possibly. But my mother contends my uncle has accepted the title is mine.” At Sara’s arched brows, he amended, “Now that I’ve been formally betrothed to Magnus’s daughter.”
A look passed between Sara and her husband that Garrick couldn’t decipher.
“You must be thankful your mother arranged such an advantageous match,” Geoffrey said.
Thankful that my mother will not be forced to endure further disappointment after Father’s death? Aye. That the match should pacify my English-hating uncle? Aye. But thankful to be betrothed to a woman I do not know? Nay. I can never be thankful for that. Not now. Not since Emma.
“Aye, Sara. I am very thankful,” he managed to choke out.
Geoffrey began to pace, his fists clenching and unclenching as he circled the room like a caged animal. “She could have been killed. Whoever did this—”
“Will forfeit their lives for it when I find them,” Garrick finished. “I’ll hold a council of the border lords at Clave.”
The vehemence in his voice did not go unnoticed.
Sara leveled an assessing look at him. “Garrick—”
“My lady, I must apologize for—”
“Apologize? Garrick, you kept Emma safe.”
The earl very nearly growled. Spinning about on his foot to face them, he said, “Which would not have been necessary had she not—”
“Geoffrey.” Sara’s tone suggested this was not the first time they’d had this conversation.
“Fine. But I want to know who did this. If they were merely thieves . . .”
“They were not.” Though Garrick still didn’t know who was behind the attack, he was sure he and his men had purposefully been targeted. “They intended to kill me. If Sowlis hadn’t come so quickly . . .” Garrick refused to finish that thought. “I do wonder why they risked an attack so close to Scott territory.”
“What matters most is that Emma is safe. You are safe. Thank you,” Sara said. “Thank you for your escort and for all that you’ve done for her.”
A vision of Emma under him on the stairs of the storeroom flashed through his mind.
“No thanks are necessary. She is . . .” He had to be careful here. “A delightful young woman.”
Geoffrey’s lips quirked. “Delightful, aye.”
And also spirited. Full of life and humor and warmth. An amazing woman, he should have said.
“Speaking of Emma, I’m sure she’s waiting for us in the hall,” Sara said. “Garrick, you haven’t had time to refresh yourself. Come.”
She led him from the solar through a familiar corridor toward his guest chamber. He could not refuse to dine with them, which meant he would see her once more. One last time before he left at first light for Clave.
Thankfully, she would not be alone. What could possibly go wrong in the presence of her family?
Garrick already knew it would feel like both the longest night of his life and the shortest.
This is it. After you leave, you will never see her again. Or if you do, it will be as a married man.
Freshly dressed, Garrick walked toward the hall as if to the gallows, each step heavier than the last.
Kenshire’s hall was even more spectacular at night with dozens and dozens of candles lighting every crevice, their glow casting shadows on brightly covered tapestries depicting the Battle of Hastings, the stories of King Arthur, and other well-known tales.
“Pardon, my lord.” A young man, perhaps seven and ten, had bumped into him at the entrance to the great hall, forcing Garrick’s attention away from the high wooden beams overhead.
“Good eve,” he replied.
The boy beamed up at him, his expression familiar. It was the same look Garrick himself had once given knights bigger and more powerful than him. Though it was far from typical for a young man of his status, Garrick had not been sent away to foster. His father had personally trained him, just as he’d trained Conrad and several other men who were now earls, barons, or knights in their own right. Many prestigious men had sent their boys to train with the legendary Earl of Clave, and Garrick was glad for the friendships he’d formed because of it.
The boy bowed. “Reginald, my lord.” He stuck out his chin. “Lord Kenshire’s squire.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said. “You’re a lucky lad to train with such a man.”
Reginald was already nodding before Garrick finished. “Very much so. He is the strongest, fiercest, and bravest warrior in all of England.”
Garrick raised his brows.
“Beg pardon, my lord,” the lad said, his cheeks turning pink. “I am sure you are just as strong and—”
“Fear not, you’re within your rights to say such a thing. And I’m sure you’re quite right about the earl.”
Faced with Reginald’s puzzled expression, he explained, “Though Clave is a neighbor to Kenshire, I’ve just returned to England—”
“From fighting alongside the king in the Holy Land,” Lady Sara finished from behind him.
Reginald’s eyes widened.
“You fought with King Edward? What is he like? When will he return to England? Who—”
“Reginald,” Sara said. “Poor Garrick would like to—”
“Nay, my lady,” Garrick said. “I’m glad to answer this fine young gentleman’s questions. The king is quite tall, as I’m sure you’ve heard,” he said, grinning at the lad.
Reginald nodded vigorously.
“And strong. Edward fights as well as any knight I’ve seen.”
“He does?”
“Aye, lad. And he’s quite intelligent too. As for when he will return? That I cannot tell you. When I left, he remained in Acre—”
“Why did you leave?”
“Reginald,” Sara warned.
“My father was killed in battle. I returned to ensure my mother’s safety.”
“And to claim the earldoms of both Clave and Linkirk,” Sara finished.
“You are a Scottish earl too?”
“Aye, Reginald. Sir Garrick is one o
f England’s finest warriors. And comes from a family as dear to the Caisers as any.”
Her last comment was directed at him, he knew, not the boy.
Long, long ago he had been as impressionable as young Reginald. If only life were still that simple. Back then, his biggest worry was whether or not he’d be able to remain on his feet in the training yard the next day.
Garrick had planned on saying something, either to the lad or to Lady Sara, but the words escaped him. Emma had just walked into the hall, emerging like a wood nymph from the corner of the room.
He’d become accustomed to her modest travel gown, but there was nothing modest about her this eve. Resplendent in a bright blue velvet gown, its sleeves nearly hitting the floor, she sauntered toward him. Her hair was as wild and untamed as ever, a delicious contrast to her courtly dress.
Garrick forgot to breathe.
He abruptly remembered Sara stood by his side and held his arm out to her. “My lady.”
Sara took it and allowed herself to be led to the table on the dais. If the Fates were kind, he would not be seated next to Emma this time.
The Fates were not.
Garrick continued to stand until Emma reached him. Holding out the cushioned chair she’d been assigned, he tried to avoid looking at her. But as she sat, he could smell the scent that was uniquely hers. His cock stirred, reminding him, as if he needed a reminder, of their meal the previous evening.
Garrick ate and drank in silence.
“You’re quiet this eve,” she said finally.
A trencher of roasted meat and carrots was placed between them.
“Your brother watches us.”
She turned her head just slightly before glancing back at him. The blue of her gown made her eyes look darker tonight. Though still very blue, they looked more serious than he was accustomed to seeing them.
“He knows nothing.”
“Emma—”
“I will never say a word, Garrick. You know that, I’m sure.”
He concentrated on his drink. It had never occurred to him that she would. But something about the finality of her words stirred him.
“I would speak to you one last time,” he blurted.
She didn’t hesitate. “I will come to you.”
“Nay, ’tis too—”
“Garrick.” She gave him a look similar to the one Sara had given Geoffrey in the solar earlier. The kind that said, I know best, and you well know it.
“Do you not agree, my lord?” Sara interrupted. “Geoffrey believes his brother should remain in training even after he is knighted. I think he should come home to Kenshire. Where do you think a young knight belongs? Fostering or with family?”
He considered the question. “I think it depends, my lady.”
Everyone waited for him to expand upon his answer. “My good friend Conrad came to us at one and ten. Had he stayed with his family, I do believe his mother would have coddled him. She does so even now that he is fully grown.”
Sara frowned. “I understand a mother’s desire to protect her own.”
“I mean no offense. His mother is quite unusual. I mean to say, I understand why most parents choose to foster their children. But as you know, I myself was trained by my father.”
“You were?” Emma asked.
“Aye.” He spoke to all three of his hosts. “He was one of the most skilled knights in all of England. He fought by King Henry’s side on more than one occasion.”
“And his reputation was only overshadowed by yours once you came of age,” Sara said generously.
“I agree with you,” Geoffrey said. “My own father fostered me as well, but out of necessity. Only after the sheep trade turned Bristol from a poor baron’s holding to a property with a lucrative income did we have the funds to send my brother Bryce to Huntington.”
“Has Neill discussed wanting to come back north? He’s said nothing of the sort to me,” said Emma. She seemed disappointed, hurt even.
“Nay,” Sara was quick to answer. “But he was just knighted this past year. Give him time.”
“And Sara has taken it upon herself to worry for him—” said Geoffrey. His words were said with an indulgent smile.
“Only,” Emma interjected, “because we continue to hear whispers of his name. I don’t believe there’s a single tournament he’s not entered.”
“A worthy activity for a man in training,” Garrick said.
“And nearly as dangerous as battle,” Emma said in a quiet voice. In those few words, she revealed all of her worry about her brother, her twin.
“I can understand your concern, but every match ensures he is more skilled. Protects him for when the broadswords are not blunted.” Garrick looked straight at Geoffrey. “Mayhap Emma could attend the next Tournament of the North to see for herself what Neill is facing?”
Emma stared at him in shock. Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed, and Garrick knew he had overstepped. But he didn’t care. The way she’d spoken about that horse race she’d never seen had stayed with him. Despite what he’d said to her, he wanted her to see that race. Was attending risky? Perhaps. Especially after their attack. But a life without risk was a life not worth living at all.
“We shall see,” Geoffrey said, turning his attention back to his food.
Garrick caught the conspiratorial look between the two women and tried not to smile.
He actually relaxed for a moment until he remembered his earlier conversation with Emma.
I’d speak to you one last time.
What had he been thinking? And what would he possibly say to her that had not already been said? He would find out soon enough.
15
Emma hated the dark. Every time she was forced to face it, she felt the need to run and run and run, as if something terrible would materialize behind her. Somehow the stables didn’t qualify. But these abandoned secret passageways that hadn’t been used since . . . well . . . since she’d used them to smuggle a cat inside the year before.
Little had she known the animal was about to give birth. Her brother had never loved cats, so she’d hidden the mama and babies in her chamber. After trying, and failing, to care for four newborn kittens unnoticed, she’d finally informed Geoffrey of their new addition.
She continued through the passageway, careful step after careful step, until she arrived.
Though Garrick had seemed to regret the hasty invitation moments after issuing it, she could not. She’d been trying to conjure a way to speak to him just once more before he left. Though there was nothing further to say, she could not imagine waking up to find him gone without a final goodbye. Or a “thank you” for all that he had done.
Aye, that was it. She would thank him for escorting her to and from Scotland.
She had not finished knocking when the door opened.
She stepped into the chamber and placed the lantern, its single candle flickering, on a nearby stool. The sparsely furnished room was warm thanks to a fire in the corner.
“I’ve never been in here—”
“You should leave.”
He had that look about him. A warrior’s look. But it no longer frightened her. The tick in his jaw begged to be touched. He wanted it to be touched. It was why he was so desperate for her to leave. She’d come to say goodbye, aye. But she’d also come to feel his arms around her one last time. To be cherished by his lips, kissed like she was the one he would marry.
At some point in these last days, her fears about marrying an earl had begun to melt away.
Emma had not stopped thinking about their encounter in the storeroom even for a moment. Or how he defended her—so fiercely—in battle. And then at dinner, when he’d prodded her brother to take her to the tourney.
Aye, this was a powerful, forceful man. An earl in two countries.
But he was also Garrick.
Her Garrick.
“If you don’t, I will dishonor you, Sara, your brother, my mother—”
“Your mother? Not your intend
ed?”
They stood close enough to touch, but neither reached out. It was as if they both knew the flames, once sparked, would not be doused.
“My mother wants this marriage. Deserves it, after I—” He stopped.
“After you what, Garrick?”
He shook his head.
“What? You can tell me. After you—”
“Killed my father.” Clearly, he was as surprised he’d uttered such words as she was to hear them.
“How could you possibly—”
“It was my idea.”
He swallowed, and Emma didn’t move. She was afraid to do anything that might stop his lips.
“I’d fought alongside Edward before. When he decided to join the king of France in the foreign campaign, I received the summons.” Garrick ran his hand through his hair and made a sound. A painful, strained one utterly unlike anything she’d heard from him before.
“When you received the summons?” she prodded.
“He’d been saying for months he felt useless. Age had begun to claim his body. He’d slowed down, but he was still one of the finest warriors I knew.” He frowned. “I wished to prove it to him.”
She waited for him to continue, still unmoving.
“I encouraged him to come with me. My mother begged for him to stay. Neither of us listened.”
And so he thought it was his fault his father had been killed. This was the weight he carried on his shoulders.
“Garrick, you didn’t—”
“If I hadn’t talked him into coming, he would still be the earl.” He looked at her with such pain in his eyes. “I would be—”
“Garrick Clave, listen to me.”
When she grabbed both of his hands, a jolt ran through her. The spark in his eye assured her that he felt it too.
“You did not kill your father.”
He tried to pull away, but Emma would not allow it.
“You say he was the strongest man you knew. Not the kind of man to be swayed against his will.”
“But he may never have—”
She used Sara’s tone. “You did not kill your father,” she repeated. “The day my parents were killed, I asked my brother to take me to the market for new ribbons. My uncle Hugh decided to join us, so two of the best Waryn fighters were not there to defend Bristol when it was attacked. For years, Bryce blamed himself for leaving. But it was not his fault. It was not my fault. Your father’s death is not your fault, Garrick.”
The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5) Page 12
