The Chief's Maiden (Border Series Book 3)

by Cecelia Mecca

  She had not seen him yet. She stood with her companions, Lord and Lady Hedford, as well as his sister and her husband. And then, as if sensing his presence behind her, she turned to look at him.

  Though clearly travel-weary, Jules had never looked more beautiful. Her cheeks had been kissed by the sun these past days, and she looked like an angel.

  But then a memory of her wrapped around him in the lake was overlaid upon the image of the serene lady before him. Quick to respond to his touch and passionate enough to make him more than slightly uncomfortable as they stood silently staring at each other.

  “Jules.” He quickly corrected himself. “Lady Juliette,” he said as he walked toward her.

  He lifted her hand, so soft beneath his own, and touched his lips to it. He never wanted to let go of her again.

  As if he had a choice.

  “Toren,” she finally responded.

  No one else existed. Except Bryce, who apparently thought it an appropriate time for a rare display of mirth.

  “I’ll have your apology any time, Kerr.”

  The bastard was grinning from ear to ear. Catrina must have sensed his reaction to the ill-made jest because she stepped between them and took Juliette by one arm and Lady Hedford by the other.

  “We’ve already finished the midday meal, but Cook will prepare you a light repast. In the meantime, Elise will look after your needs. My lord.” She nodded to Lord Hedford as she walked away with Toren’s English maiden.

  His chest constricted.

  No longer a maiden. Thanks to him.

  Jules glanced over her shoulder at him, and Toren realized he still did not know why they were there. What would he say to her? It would be days before Douglas responded to the message he’d sent asking for leave to further investigate the matter of Hallington’s guilt.

  It wasn’t just Juliette’s words that had swayed him—though they had weighed the most—he had been asking questions since his arrival at Condren, and nothing added up.

  By all accounts, Hallington had spent his life fighting for peace along the border. Just as Jules had said, his reputation was that of a hardened warrior whose relentless pursuit of peace had become almost an obsession. He suspected the man cared more for his legacy than he did for the safety of the English borderers he protected, but nothing he had heard pointed to a man who would jeopardize everything to line his pockets.

  Then why the rumors? Was he being framed? And would it matter to the king either way?

  He thought of Douglas’s words to him. ‘As long as he’s alive, Stewart Hallington will remain English Lord Warden of the Middle Marches. A man increasingly distrusted, and one who will be the downfall of any modicum of peace along the border.’

  The man’s guilt or innocence may be as insignificant as the reason why Toren had been chosen for this mission, especially knowing Douglas’s kin had been slain. When it came to taking orders from the king, only one thing truly mattered.

  Compliance.

  Tell that to the woman who had just disappeared from view. To the woman he loved.

  Their hostess was beyond extraordinary.

  Lady Catrina’s greeting had been warm and kind, particularly since they were unannounced guests. Juliette was about to whisper as much to Christina when Lady Catrina muttered, “Leaving his guests waiting,” followed by a word that made Juliette blush.

  She’d never heard a lady speak so! If Sister Heloise were here, the poor woman would likely faint. Lady Catrina must have realized she’d shocked them, for she clasped her hand over her mouth and looked at her husband, who simply raised his brows.

  Sir Bryce Waryn, who was reputed to be the most skilled tournament fighter in all of England, was a severe man. And yet he had a surprisingly tender look on his face whenever he glanced at his wife. An odd couple to be sure, and yet they were clearly in love.

  Still reeling from the fact that they were here, being escorted by a virtual stranger, Toren’s sister no less, Juliette took a steadying breath. She tried to listen to Lady Catrina and Christina’s chatter, but she could not stop thinking of Toren. Of his touch. Of her feelings for him. And of the fact that she would see him soon.

  After he left, whispers circulated of Lord Blackburn’s attempt to injure Toren after the match had ended. Some called for an inquiry, but without his opponent present, most agreed it would amount to nothing.

  Then he appeared behind her, and everything else ceased to exist—their hosts, her friend, Lord Hedford, and the very hall in which they stood. He was dressed casually, the sleeves of his tunic rolled to his elbows, as was his custom, yet Toren looked as in control as she’d ever seen him. Though no longer lord of Bristol Manor, his bearing proclaimed him an important man to be sure. Chief of an ancient clan. Ruler of her heart.

  He kissed her hand, and the warmth of his lips sent a shiver down her spine. She wanted so many things—to rail at him for leaving, to throw herself into his arms, and to kick him for making her fall in love with him in the first place.

  Instead, she did nothing.

  Before she knew it, Juliette was being shuttled to the manor gardens. Catrina had offered to show them to her and Christina, and though Jules had been reluctant to leave Toren, there was no polite way to refuse.

  “Yes, Juliette enjoys the gardens back home,” Christina said as they followed their hostess. “She often reads to the servants, which vexes her parents. Most especially her father.”

  Then they were there, and despite the tug she felt to return to Toren, there was no denying the gardens were magnificent. Shrubs that rivaled her in height surrounded them on every side, and flowers she’d never seen before bloomed despite the summer’s heat. It rivaled even Condren’s gardens.

  “This is beautiful,” she said in awe.

  Lady Catrina smiled.

  “Our gardener at Brockburg taught me how to make flowers thrive, even in less than ideal conditions.”

  She stared at the woman, her eyes wide. “You did this?” She tried to imagine her very proper parents’ reaction to Juliette assisting their gardener back home.

  “Whenever I have time, aye. Being raised by three men, Toren in particular, left little time for the niceties one would expect a lady to engage in.”

  They sat on two stone benches, the delicate carvings evidence of a master mason’s work. Their hostess looked at her. “Tell me, Juliette, why are you here?”

  Her voice held only curiosity, and she had expected the question, of course. But she’d imagined explaining herself to Toren.

  “Well, I. . . Toren and I. . .” Oh dear, this was not easy, however kind Catrina seemed.

  Christina answered for her, likely spying the blush on her cheeks.

  “Juliette’s father is the Lord Warden of the Middle Marches. She learned Toren attended the Tournament of the North with the hopes of speaking with her father, who never arrived. He was delayed.”

  Juliette finished, “Just after Toren left, Christina’s husband relayed information to me that I thought it important for Toren to hear.”

  She attempted to ease the look of confusion on her hostess’s face. “Lord Hedford is well-acquainted with border politics.” She hoped this next bit would not get her into trouble. “Toren advised me not to mention that he was looking for my father. But somehow Hedford already knew.”

  Oh, to hell with it.

  “Your brother and I grew. . . close. Hedford knew that, and when he learned the reason for my father’s delay, we both thought it prudent for Toren to receive the news as well.”

  She wasn’t sure how much Lady Catrina knew of her father and the vicious rumors about him. So she stopped there.

  “I see. You left the tournament early?”

  She looked at Christina, who shrugged. It wasn’t the question she’d expected.

  “If truth be told, Juliette made a convincing argument to myself and my husband why we should travel here,” Christina added.

  Christina put it more delicately, but the simple fact
was that she had begged until they relented. “Aye,” Juliette said. “We left as soon as Hedford received the message from my father.”

  Juliette had begun to form her own opinion about the nature of Hedford’s secretive past, but it was not her secret to tell. Although Christina finally welcomed this adventure, her husband was quite against traveling to Bristol Manor. He’d wanted to send a messenger, but she and Christina had worn him down with their relentless arguments.

  “Did you not wish to be there for the melee?”

  Juliette had the feeling she was being tested in some way. Though still gracious, Lady Catrina’s expression was. . . intent.

  “Nay. Watching your brother win the championship match, though it was quite a harrowing experience, was enough excitement for me. My lady, your brother is quite reckless. He took off his armor for the hand to hand combat and fought shirtless. In a swordfight! Christina, tell her.”

  Toren’s sister didn’t even appear the slightest bit alarmed. In fact, she smiled.

  “Juliette does not exaggerate,” Christina added.

  “That does sound. . . interesting,” Lady Catrina said.

  “Interesting? Lady Catrina, you should really speak to your brother before he gets himself killed.”

  The lady’s laugh was one of pure mirth, and Juliette couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Please, it’s simply Catrina. And it appears you’ve spent some time with my brother, so you’ll understand the futility of telling him to do anything.”

  “Catrina,” she repeated. “I’ve found you are quite right. But I’d like to try, if it pleases you.”

  Evidently she’d passed the other woman’s test, for Catrina wrapped her in an embrace and squeezed her so hard she nearly lost her balance.

  “It pleases me very much,” Catrina whispered.

  And that was when Juliette realized. . .

  Toren’s sister knew everything.

  After their discussion in the gardens, their hostess whisked them to their rooms, where a servant had been waiting with a stunning display of bread, cheese, and fruit on a table as large as one in the hall. As they ate, Catrina, a flurry of activity, handed Juliette the strangest garment she’d ever seen and insisted that she wear it.

  “For the ride,” she said, as if that explained all.

  When Juliette asked where and with whom she would be riding, Catrina simply smiled and admonished her to eat.

  The prospect of a ride did not appeal after the long voyage to Bristol, but the sparkle in her hostess’s eyes told her this was a ride she would not wish to miss. Catrina had something planned.

  “Tell me,” she said instead, gesturing to the garment, “what exactly is that?”

  Catrina looked down at the outfit. “Breeches, of sorts. They were made specifically for a woman’s legs. Here.”

  Juliette took the garment and prepared herself for yet another ride. It was only when they were leaving the keep that she realized Catrina would not be coming. She instead pointed her to the stables, which was when she first saw him and realized what was happening.

  Her pulse raced when she finally understood the ride would be with Toren, and he alone.

  And so she found herself mounting a beautiful chestnut mare not long before the sun would set. She assumed Hedford had already relayed their information to Toren, but since this was the first opportunity for them to talk, she tried not to groan when she mounted.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as they began to move.

  “You’ll see,” Toren shouted back to her. They rode past the curtain walls and around the manor, in the opposite direction of the small village she and Christina and Hedford had passed this morning.

  With the Cheviot Hills to her right and lush green grassland all around, Juliette tried to enjoy the last remaining vestiges of sunlight, but it was impossible to pay attention to anything other than Toren Kerr. They were finally alone together.

  She heard the sound of the waterfall before she saw it. And then it was before her. Water tumbled down a series of rocky outcrops, a white blanket against the hillside. It almost appeared as if there were multiple falls with plumes of water spraying in every direction.

  Toren stopped without speaking, dismounted, and held up a hand to help her do the same. She took his hand, reveling in his touch, and allowed him to help her off the horse. Together, hand in hand, they walked toward the pool of crystalline water at the foot of the falls, surrounded by mossy rocks that climbed up the side of the modest hill.

  His arms encircled her from behind.

  Juliette lay her head back on his chest and grasped his forearms, never wanting to let go.

  This time, she would refuse to let go.

  She sighed when he swept her hair to the side and leaned in close, his warm breath on her flesh. He moved the odd tunic Catrina had lent her aside and kissed her so gently on the back of her neck she wondered if it had actually happened.

  His arms tightened, and this time the touch of his lips was unmistakable.

  The sound of the waterfall, so powerful yet peaceful at the same time, had a calming effect. She’d been so worried about how Toren would welcome her—about whether he would welcome her—the relief she felt now was mixed with the raw emotion.

  “I missed you,” he said over the sound of the falls.

  How she had longed to hear those words. She’d missed him as well. The days they spent apart were some of the longest of her life, as if each moment stretched into eternity.

  “Mayhap you should not have left?”

  Toren spun her around, his arms still wrapped around her.

  “I had no choice.”

  She reached up to touch his cheek. “You could have told me the reason for it.”

  He covered her hand with his own. “I thought I had told you.”

  “I know everything.”

  His hand froze. His eyes widened, and Juliette could sense he was struggling to remain calm. A storm in his eyes raged.

  Why does it matter that I know?

  “Somehow Hedford learned of your intent at Condren. He’s more aware of my father’s dealings than I would have guessed.”

  His hand dropped, so she let her own fall. What was wrong with him?

  “Toren, are you quite all right?”

  Though his arms stayed loosely around her, she sensed a marked change in his mood.

  “What exactly do you know?” he asked.

  She looked quizzically at him. “That your king sent you to determine whether my father is taking bribes in exchange for failing to bring men to justice across the border on the Day of Truce. Your people are threatening not to honor the decades-long tradition because of it, which is threatening peace along the border. And that you were sent to right the wrong.”

  And yet there was something in his expression that told her there was more. She pulled away to look at him.

  “I imagine Hedford told you about the message he received,” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

  “Aye, lass, he did.”

  “Well?”

  He reached for her, but she avoided him, wanting to first know what he thought of this turn of events.

  “’Tis. . . interesting.”

  “Interesting? You and your blasted countrymen have accused my father of deceit, only to find out it was his bailiff taking bribes without his knowledge. And that’s all you have to say? ’Tis interesting?”

  “Are you surprised, Jules?”

  “That Henry Rode nearly succeeded in undermining my father and putting our entire family in danger because of it? Nay. I never liked the man. I’m glad he’s been arrested and this matter of my father’s guilt has finally been settled.”

  And there it was again. That look.

  “What are you not telling me, Toren?” Mistakenly, she had believed that there would be no more secrets between them once he knew the truth. Disappointment weighed down on her.

  Toren countered with a question of his own.

 
“What do you make of Hedford? Do you find it odd that he knows so much?”

  She allowed him to distract her momentarily. “Aye. As I said, I hardly know the man, but there’s something a bit odd about him.”

  He stared into the falls, and for a moment, she didn’t think he intended to say anything else. Then he suddenly blurted out, “I believe Hedford is a spy.”

  She had guessed as much and was therefore not overly surprised.

  “An English spy,” she said. “His travel to France—”

  “His reluctance to discuss personal matters,” Toren finished. “Campbell confirmed it.”

  “The man whose tent you ‘borrowed.’”

  “Aye. I believe the injury forced him to retire. It would explain his numerous connections and access to information. Likely he was chosen very carefully as your chaperone.”

  “He was not chosen. He happens to be Christina’s—”

  “It may be possible this matter of Henry Rode was already being sorted before I left for Condren.”

  “Most likely. Do you remember the day of Gregory’s fight? When Hedford spoke to me?”

  “Aye.”

  “He knew of our ‘relationship,’ if you will. But he did not warn me off. I suspect he knew my purpose for being there. To speak with your father, that is. And he did not seem to disapprove, which raised my suspicions.”

  “Disapprove of what, exactly?”

  She’d had a lifetime of border politics and was bone-achingly weary of it all. And though she was content to have her suspicions confirmed —did Christina know?—she was proud of herself. Her instincts about him had been right.

  Toren reached her so quickly Juliette did not have time to react.

  “This,” he said as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  All talk of spies and traitors ceased.

  16

  He was going to kill Catrina.

  She had suggested that he bring Juliette here. Alone. With so little privacy at the manor, he’d agreed they needed to come to an understanding about their time here at Bristol. Toren planned to hear Hedford’s revelations from her lips. He’d known the risks, but he’d assured himself his will was strong.