So much for acting like the countess she’d become.
Instead of explaining himself, Geoffrey lowered his head once again, claiming her mouth with more force this time. Sara’s stomach fluttered as his tongue moved expertly with hers. A strange tingling shot from her core through every inch of her body.
With difficulty and indecision, she pulled away.
“Sir—and I use the address loosely—you insult me.” Sara thought it was a good start and felt triumphant if somewhat unsteady.
“Insult?” Geoffrey’s cock-sure smirk returned with a vengeance. “Make you hot, you mean?”
“I have never…”
“Aye, Lady Sara, I know. ‘Twas evident from the way you kissed.”
“I won’t apologize for my lack of experience.” Sara straightened her back, becoming emboldened as she spoke. “You know full well a lady in my station has no right to such a thing.”
Geoffrey grabbed her hand once more, striding briskly toward an outcropping of rocks. Reluctant to return to the keep, she followed.
“Aye,” he admitted, “I ken it well.”
Sara thought briefly about pulling her hand away, but his slight accent startled her.
“You spent time in Scotland?”
“Aye, milady, us thievin’ reivers know no borders,” he said, slipping into a Scottish brogue.
Sara laughed and Geoffrey glanced sideways at her. “You should laugh more often.”
When they reached a long, flat rock, he stopped walking. Turning toward her, he said, “My lady, I have no right to ask you to sit with me, especially after the liberties I took.”
She knew she should agree. It would be the proper thing to do, the countess-like thing to do. Yet she found that she was not feeling very countess-like. Without responding with words, she found herself a comfortable position among the rocks, and he sat down beside her.
Sara noticed the sideways glance he gave her attire, and indeed, she was only surprised the conversation hadn’t turned toward her wayward appearance earlier. It tended to cause quite a fuss among those unaccustomed to her habits.
Of course, there hadn’t been much chance for conversation until now.
“I wore breeches precisely to traipse about the rocks this morn,” Sara began, still not sure if she wanted to continue talking, admonish her protector for his actions, or be scooped up in his arms again.
Geoffrey looked squarely at her, his eyes defying her to lie.
“Are you disappointed I joined you?”
“No.” Embarrassed by how forthright she’d been, Sara promptly changed the subject. “How did you know about the sea path?”
“I made it my business to know everything there is to know about Kenshire Castle when I arrived.”
“Peter told you?”
“Aye, he did. And assured me it was safe despite being outside the castle walls. He claims your sentries can see for miles down the beach on a clear day. Although—” He turned toward the nearest watchtower. “I can’t say I’m convinced.”
“A point of contention between my father and me. It’s good to know Peter has finally taken my side,” Sara said, her voice nearly cracking as she thought about the countless arguments she and her father had had about her late night jaunts.
“I’m sorry about your father.” The sincerity in his voice startled her.
“Thank you.”
For the first time since they’d arrived on the beach, Sara listened to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. Odd she hadn’t heard it earlier. That calming, rhythmic sound was what usually led her to this spot in the first place.
“Peter felt comfortable sharing information about our defenses.” It was not a question. And she didn’t mean to provoke Geoffrey. She meant it in earnest. Peter seemed very convinced of the reivers’ value.
“Lady Sara…”
“Sara.”
Geoffrey looked at her intently, the question clear in his eyes.
Not one to mince words, Sara got straight to the point. “I didn’t want you here. After all…” She cleared her throat, wondering how to broach the topic delicately.
“I understand.” It was obvious he meant it, though she sensed resentment in his tone. “I know my profession well,” he added.
She considered the man sitting across from her for a moment. In some ways, he looked every bit the ruthless mercenary, and yet … she’d met knights who’d sold their swords and was always struck by the coldness in their eyes. Geoffrey’s lacked that same empty look.
“Be that as it may, I know my father. While it pains me to welcome a virtual stranger into our lives at such a difficult time, my father trusted your uncle without reserve. So that must be enough for me.”
“Just so we understand, my lady, I have no desire to be here. With any luck, your betrothed will arrive shortly and Hugh and I can be on our way. But while I’m here, I plan to take this mission seriously.”
“I’m your mission, then?”
“Your safety is, yes.”
When Geoffrey narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, Sara resisted the urge to inch away. She was intimidated by no one. Or at least tried to convince herself as much.
“Tell me,” he finally said, “what would make the daughter of a powerful earl offer a stranger, a reiver, use of her given name?”
Rather than answer immediately, Sara considered how much she should tell him.
Veritas facio semper, she reminded herself. It was their family motto. Her father’s favorite saying.
The truth will always do.
5
“I give you leave to call me Sara because—” She hesitated and almost thought better of her characteristic bluntness before deciding to forge ahead. “Because despite my good sense … I like you.”
The admission startled her even as the words tumbled out of her mouth. Sara could sum up all she knew about this man in a few short words. Thief, intense, incredibly good-looking. And yet he made her feel startlingly safe.
Maybe it was the fact that her father had trusted Sir Hugh, and by extension his nephew, with her life. Or could it be Geoffrey’s swift perusal and fortification of Kenshire? It certainly wasn’t that kiss, however much it had moved her. Nay, kissing this man could only be dangerous for a woman in her position.
As she waited for Geoffrey’s response, Sara studied his features. Everything about him was dark: his hair, his tanned complexion, his expression. Everything but his piercing blue eyes. Her gaze was drawn to his strong jaw—a slight tic had developed, making him appear even more menacing than he had moments before.
“And this from a lady who just yesterday said ‘we’ll make the best of a situation neither of us desires.’ Interesting.”
That bit of mockery made Sara stand in her own defense.
“Nay, milady.” He shook his head, then amended, “Sara.”
She slowly sat back down, not wanting to end their conversation.
“I apologize for throwing your words back at you. But you’ve said on more than one occasion you don’t want us here. You spent the better part of the morning sparring with me. I’ll admit that I’ve become a stranger to courtly manners these past years, given my current situation.”
“Well, sir—” Her voice sounded curt even to her own ears. “I’d prefer to keep my own counsel, but as you’re here and likely to stay until Lord Lyonsford arrives…” Geoffrey scowled at her words. “I thought it prudent to be honest and maybe even call for a truce.”
She sounded like a queen instructing her court. How Lady Sara managed to play the cool countess and fiery temptress all at once, he wasn’t sure. Granted, his experience with women didn’t extend to noblewomen, and Lady Sara was the daughter of an earl.
“In that case, Sara, please call me Geoffrey.” He was pleased to see her eyes widen at that, though she couldn’t have expected anything less. After all, he was the outlaw son of a baron. A man without lands. The use of his given name meant little; the use of hers meant much.
; “Well, Geoffrey.” His name sounded like a caress on her lips. “It seems we’ve settled on forms of address. And yet I still know nothing about you.” Her statement sounded like a question.
“You know the important parts. My occupation. What else would you like to know?”
She squirmed on her makeshift seat, making him intensely aware of her attire. Not accustomed to seeing women in breeches, he silently thanked whoever was responsible for her dress and tried not to stare at the shape of her legs. Interesting. He had never imagined breeches could be so provocative on a woman’s form.
“That’s precisely what I’m curious about,” she said. “How did you … well, what do you…”
His eyes had strayed to the beach, as they had done throughout their talk, searching it for any possible threats, but he returned his attention to her. “Reivers live simply, moving from place to place depending on the season. We take what we need, give what we can, and fight for survival,” he said dispassionately.
“That’s a fine speech.” She all but rolled her eyes. “But it tells me little.”
“Specifically, when word reached my uncle that he was wanted at Kenshire, we were camped just outside the village of Otterburn preparing for a cattle raid. Traveling by moonlight, I might add, takes considerable skill.”
Sara gasped. “Are you mad?”
“Nay, milady, we do what we must to survive. It’s a busy time of year for my people. The weather is still cooperating and court is out of session.”
Appearing more indignant than sympathetic, Sara shifted in her seat. “You’re stealing, plain and simple. How can you live with that?”
This time it was Geoffrey who stood. Who was she to judge him? They were both doing what they could to honor their fathers’ legacies.
It had been a mistake to kiss her.
“Don’t ask about what you don’t understand.”
Sara stood as well, the mood vastly different than just a few moments earlier.
“Are you coming, Sara?”
“Aye.” The frosty countess was back, the fiery woman gone.
As they walked, Geoffrey cursed his impatience. His father had often regretted his decision to train Geoffrey as a knight himself rather than send him away to squire. You’re too rash, he had told him often. And to soften the blow he would add, As am I.
Unlike his uncle, his father had always acted first and thought about consequences later. Geoffrey understood the merits of being patient even if he didn’t always put it into practice. But the same decisiveness which served him well on the battlefield often made him retrace his steps.
While he regretted his harsh manner, he didn’t look back. Nor did he offer an apology. Their mission here was to keep the lady safe, and that’s exactly what he’d do. And nothing more.
Thanks to the well-trained staff at Kenshire Castle, they had not been missed. Sara returned to the kitchen to find the noon meal already being prepared and the castle running smoothly.
It was close to the time of year when her father used to depart for a tour of his estates. Their family had amassed quite a few over the years across England. She’d been to all multiple times but preferred her home at Kenshire despite unease at the nearby border and the brutal winters.
It occurred to her, not for the first time, that her life would change quite a bit once she married. It was to be expected that Lyonsford would never approve of her current state of dress or propensity to wield a bow, but she was prepared to fight for visits to Kenshire as often as possible.
What would Geoffrey think about such matters?
A shout interrupted her thoughts.
“We have a visitor, milady.” Faye at least was in good spirits.
Her heart plummeted. So he had arrived already. The man she was to marry, the one who held her future in his hands. Geoffrey’s kiss flashed through her mind. Her future husband had finally arrived, and she was worried about a reiver? Maybe she should concentrate on the fact that Kenshire was saved. That the man trying to steal her inheritance would be thwarted. Indeed, the more she thought about it, the more she was ashamed to have allowed Geoffrey to take such liberties. A scoundrel, just as she’d suspected. An extremely attractive one, that was all.
“Let’s meet Lord Lyonsford, then, and get it over with.”
Faye’s answer startled her. “‘Tis not Lord Lyonsford, my lady, but Lord Thornhurst.”
Sara fairly squealed with delight. It had been nearly a year since she’d seen William. “Truly? What brings him to Kenshire?”
“I know not, Lady Sara. He arrived but a moment ago and is inquiring after you.”
Sara glanced down at her breeches, briefly wondering if she should change before greeting him. While William was well-accustomed to her unusual garb, she was loath to take a meal in such a state. Shrugging her shoulders, Sara decided there were bigger issues at the moment than her apparel.
The scene that greeted her in the entrance to the hall was of Sir Hugh vigorously questioning one of her father’s best trained and most trusted knights. Squired at Kenshire from a young age, Lord Thornhurst was now castellan of Camburg Castle, a Caiser property near the Welsh border. Travel was dangerous for her, which meant she rarely had an opportunity to visit the small yet pleasant estate, but she always welcomed visits from this knight who faithfully held Camburg in her family’s name.
“No need for further questioning, Sir Hugh.” Sara approached her old companion. He reminded her of Geoffrey in some ways. Though his hair was light where Geoffrey’s was dark, William was as tall and well-muscled. “As my men have surely told you, Lord Thornhurst is a trusted friend.”
The man in question spun around and swooped Sara into a brotherly hug, which was how Geoffrey found them moments later.
“My, my, isn’t this a pretty scene?”
It was spoken in an ominous tone, and both Sara and William disengaged and turned to stare at the foreboding intruder. Was he always this rude?
“Forgive me, my lady,” Geoffrey said, having found his manners. Still, he looked anything but pleased.
“And to whom do I have the pleasure?” William said, his cool tone at odds with his usual carefree manner.
“May I introduce Sir Geoffrey Waryn, nephew of Sir Hugh, whom you’ve already met. Sir Geoffrey, this is Lord Thornhurst, castellan of Camburg Castle, a friend and trusted servant of the Caiser family.”
Geoffrey nodded and said, “Welcome, Lord Thornhurst. Kenshire could use a knight of your reputation.”
It didn’t surprise Sara that Geoffrey was aware of William’s exploits on the Welsh border. He was making quite a name for himself.
“Thank you, Sir Geoffrey,” William answered, his eyebrows furrowed. The charged atmosphere made her want to stand between the two men.
She needn’t have worried. Leading William into the great hall, Geoffrey inclined his head in dismissal, leaving her to gape at his transformation. She couldn’t quite reconcile the many sides of his character. There was the rude retainer, the gallant companion, and the man who had kissed her so passionately. And there it was again, the memory of that kiss. She felt her face flush.
“So, tell me more about Lord Thornhurst,” Hugh said, interrupting her thoughts. “I remember the boy but don’t know the man.”
Sara took the older gentleman’s arm and allowed herself to be escorted deeper into the hall.
“He squired with us,” she explained, “and we were raised much like siblings. In fact, I was surprised my father did not appeal to Lord Thornhurst for further security. I know how much trust he put in him, and his reputation as a trained knight has only grown since leaving here.”
Hugh stopped to face Sara. “And you were disappointed?” His tone was more straightforward than accusatory.
“I was,” Sara admitted, “and confused.”
Hugh nodded. “Asking two lawless reivers with no home to protect his daughter rather than trusting his own men both here and across England…” He drifted off as if lost in thought,
then said, “You’re still uneasy about our presence?”
Sara had the decency to blush. Sir Hugh had so neatly summarized her thoughts.
“I think it’s nigh time for me to explain some things, my lady,” he finished as they arrived at the dais in the great hall. “Things I’m told your father wanted you to know, eventually. Perhaps this eve after we dine?”
Eventually? What could that possibly mean? But she’d been too rude already to ask. “That sounds like a wonderful plan, Sir Hugh,” Sara answered, feeling both pleased and anxious for an explanation.
As Sara took a seat at her place at the dais beside Lord Thornhurst, her gaze settled on the trestle table where Sir Hugh was taking his seat. Shame clogged her throat; she’d asked for them to sit at the dais as part of the begrudging welcome she’d offered, but now it seemed wrong. She made a mental note to move them at the evening meal.
Knowing she would receive answers that evening, Sara shifted her focus to Hugh’s companion, whose eyes bored into her own. Her breath caught. Geoffrey’s expression could only be called feral. Sara quickly turned toward her old friend.
“Good sir, how do you happen upon our dwelling?” she asked, slipping into the lighthearted banter of their youth.
William laughed. “Hardly humble, my lady.” Then, more soberly, he leaned closer and whispered, “I mourn for your father.”
Sara inclined her head, tears quickly welling, threatening to spill over.
William tenderly wiped away a tear and held her hand, his touch a familiar one.
“I’m sorry you were unable to be at his side,” she said.
“As am I. But the continued unrest with Wales has kept me busy, and there are mounting rumors of an impending invasion.”
“How is it you came to visit Kenshire at such a time?”
“Well, little lass—” the endearment had roots in their childhood, “—‘tis a good question. En route from the Scottish border, I received word of your father’s death and came to see you. Against Lord Kenshire’s wishes, I may add.”
The Thief's Countess (Border Series Book 1) Page 5
