The Thief's Countess (Border Series Book 1)

by Cecelia Mecca

  Fear like none Geoffrey had known since the raid on his village gripped him. He started running before the lad could finish. It had suddenly occurred to him where he could find Sara. As he ran toward the sea gate, one thought overrode all others. Please let her be safe.

  Geoffrey cursed himself as he traversed the narrow passageway. He should have immediately thought of the beach. An image flashed through his mind of her head tossed back, her features alive with pleasure

  Making his way through the bluffs, Geoffrey could hear nothing but the sounds of the waves, see nothing but tall grass on the horizon. While just a few days earlier the chorus of the ocean had evoked a sense of peace, now it sounded foreboding to his ears.

  His heart slammed in his chest, in his ears. Geoffrey recognized the primal fear that gripped him and knew if anything had happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

  Please let her be safe.

  With the moonlight as his only guide, he made his way toward the water to get a clearer view of the coastline.

  And then he saw it. A shape? Or was it two? They were heading toward the bluff where he had stood just moments ago. No sound could be heard over the waves, and he’d almost missed them.

  Charging toward the movement, he unsheathed his sword—the same one his father had given him when he was knighted. A sword made for revenge. As he came closer, his view became clearer and he began to hear muffled sounds. Sara was being held from behind by a man he couldn’t identify. He could see the train of her gown though not her face.

  Somehow, his presence had gone unnoticed so far. But there was nowhere to hide, and he knew the element of surprise was his best hope.

  He moved stealthily, his soft leather boots not making a sound on the dry sand. It was the one and only time Geoffrey had ever rued his large size. All it would take was one look in his direction for the attacker to see him clearly. Luckily, the man’s back was to him, and Sara’s attempts to struggle free were commanding his attention.

  Though he couldn’t, wouldn’t, take chances with Sara’s safety, Geoffrey was straining against the urge to charge forward, pull her from the man’s grasp, and unceremoniously slit his throat. Instead he crept closer and closer, waiting to be discovered.

  That moment finally came when Geoffrey’s sword scraped a rock. The man turned sharply and spotted him. The moonlight cooperated, and he was granted a clear look at the man’s face.

  How the hell did Randolf get inside the castle walls?

  16

  Geoffrey began to run faster than he’d ever run in his life. Just before he descended on the man whose life he would end that night—there was no way in hell Geoffrey would let him live—Randolf stopped him dead in his tracks.

  “One step closer and she dies.”

  He immediately halted. Randolf had tugged Sara around so that both of them were facing Geoffrey. There was fear in her eyes, but they were also full of fight. His fierce countess. Randolf’s hand covered her mouth as she struggled.

  “Be still, wench!” He was clearly having a more difficult time with his captive than he’d expected.

  Geoffrey smiled. A cool, mocking smile meant to inflame the man standing across from him.

  “I wouldn’t be smiling if I were you, Sir Geoffrey. You’re going to die tonight.”

  He laughed in response, as if it were the most amusing joke he ever heard. Sara stopped struggling and looked at him as if he were mad.

  “Throw down your sword, bastard!” Randolf commanded.

  “Landless, yes. But a bastard? Nay, not that.”

  “Are you witless? I came here to force the lady’s hand in marriage, but I can just as easily slit her throat. I said throw down your sword!”

  The man was desperate enough to do something rash. Geoffrey took a deep breath, remembering the many times he had landed flat on his back in training because he was “too rash.” He silently thanked his father, who had always encouraged him to bring a cool mind to conflict.

  Geoffrey thought of everything he learned about his adversary, deciding which pieces of information should guide his next actions. A third son who had outlived both parents and brothers. An accident and whispered rumors. Ties to Caiser that went back generations. Alliances in the baron’s war. Traitor. Dangerous. Envious.

  Tossing his sword aside, Geoffrey crossed his arms, still smiling. “I’m most anxious to see how you think to leave here alive,” he said, acting as if Randolf were an old friend.

  The pretender looked toward the castle.

  Geoffrey continued to mock him. “Ahhh, you’re waiting for company.” He still wondered how the hell Randolf had managed to get past the guards, but he didn’t voice that particular question.

  Sara began to struggle again in earnest. Geoffrey forced himself to hold his concentration on the man who held her. If he looked into her eyes at this moment, he’d very likely lose the composure he was struggling to maintain.

  Randolf sneered, “You forget, reiver, I know the secret passageways as well as anyone.”

  Geoffrey wanted him to keep talking. “And John?”

  Randolf laughed. It was a high-pitched, overly confident sound.

  His suspicions about Margaret and John were confirmed, but was anyone else involved? He began to applaud. “Well done. I just wonder, if you will indulge me, what Lady Maude had to do with your design?”

  Randolf looked confused. “Lady Maude? I know nothing of a Lady Maude. John was told to get Sara alone and unguarded, and he did.”

  Geoffrey pretended to ponder that. “Hmmm, but I wonder how you knew precisely when that would happen.” Every time Randolf answered, Geoffrey inched his way forward, using the other man’s distraction against him.

  Glancing back at the secret path from the castle, Randolf appeased Geoffrey’s curiosity.

  “A signal from the Constable Tower solved that problem easily enough.”

  Geoffrey could sense the man’s rising panic. There was no sign of any helpers, and Randolf had no hope of escaping alive without any aid.

  “If your purpose is to dispose of Lady Sara—” Geoffrey said. His composure nearly cracked at the thought, “—why not just have your man John do it rather than risk coming here yourself?”

  Randolf clearly had difficulty deciding whether to sneer at him or formulate a new plan.

  Sara stopped fighting, most likely surprised to learn that the man who had served her household faithfully for these last three years was a traitor.

  Randolf’s laugh made Geoffrey’s blood run cold. He was getting impatient, but he needed to know who else was embroiled in this scheme to wrest Kenshire Castle from Sara.

  Accommodating for a miscreant, Randolf indulged him. “The original plan was for him to dispatch her with a few drops of poison in one of the drinks he poured. But the coward thought it could be traced back to him.” Randolf shifted his weight back and forth. He was tiring. “He proved useful, however. A forced marriage will do just as well.” Another quick glance toward the castle.

  “Waiting for your men?”

  “My men?” Too quickly, Randolf added, “Aye, and when they arrive, your meddlesome presence will no longer be an issue.”

  He didn’t dare move any closer, but Randolf had just confirmed that he was waiting for just one person. One who would never arrive. Geoffrey had seen to that.

  Sara caught Geoffrey’s gaze, and he was nearly undone. Despite her obvious terror, she was composed, aware. He nodded his head, and she somehow seemed to understand. Struggling like a wildcat, she kicked Randolf squarely on the shin. Later Sara would say she hardly saw a movement before being thrown to the ground.

  In one fluid motion, Geoffrey grabbed his sword, charged the pair, and twisted Randolf’s arm until his weapon fell to the ground. After recovering from his surprise, Randolf unsheathed his sword and simultaneously jumped back. A wave of relief washed over Geoffrey—Sara moved away from them. She was safe

  While Randolf was surprisingly adept with the knight’s bro
adsword, he stood no chance against Geoffrey’s strength and vengeful fury. He had dared to threaten Sara’s life—his only option was to die. With a bellow of rage, he ran his sword through the traitor’s gut. The fool wasn’t even wearing chainmail.

  Falling to the ground, Randolf clutched at the sand below him, his eyes wide with shock. Geoffrey felt nothing but satisfaction as he watched the life drain from Sara’s relative. Gurgling now, attempting to talk but unable to do so, the last man with any blood ties to the Caiser family finally succumbed to his destiny.

  Randolf was dead. Before the thought could fully register, Sara ran to Geoffrey and clung to him as if her life depended on it. The rage and despair she’d felt upon seeing him with the beautiful servant didn’t matter.

  He had saved her.

  Geoffrey wrapped his arms around her, dropping the sword that dripped with Randolf’s blood.

  “Shhhh, you are safe now,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. Sara could feel his heart pounding against her chest.

  Tears streamed down her face. She sobbed uncontrollably for everything that was lost. The life of the man who had threatened Kenshire. Her father, whom she thought of every single day. The love of the man whose arms held her now.

  She should never have come down here alone. But she hadn’t stopped to think after seeing him in an embrace with the comely servant. Pain and rage had swallowed her whole. He belonged to her. Of course, he didn’t, not really, but she hadn’t been thinking rationally. She had alternated between wanting to tear out the girl’s hair and weeping like a child.

  She’d hardly noticed her surroundings. Only when she heard the sound of the water did she realize she’d run toward the sea. She hadn’t noticed Randolf until he was upon her—and by then it was too late to escape. She’d never been as scared in her life.

  Randolf had come to take her castle, her inheritance. Her people. She’d struggled with all her might, ignoring his frantic pleas to calm down.

  Never. She would do right by the people of Kenshire if it killed her.

  Luckily, thanks to Geoffrey, it hadn’t come to that.

  Pulling her face from him, Geoffrey stared into the eyes of the woman who had just brought him to the brink of terror-induced madness. Her eyelashes still glistened, so he carefully wiped away the tears with his thumb and leaned down to kiss every inch of her face. Her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. His mouth moved over hers in a kiss that conveyed everything he’d been feeling that night. The kiss was tender at first, his only thought to erase the pain of what she’d endured, but Geoffrey felt powerless to stop. Desperate to taste her, he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, twining it with hers as he pulled her toward him.

  He eventually pulled back, cupping her beloved face in his hands. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  Sara’s unsteady smile and drying tears made his countess look more vulnerable than usual. He wished he could wipe away her worries as easily as he had her tears.

  “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’d be lying,” she said. “I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life.”

  Knowing she meant it, he reached for her hand. “Come.” He nodded to Randolf’s dead body. “He must be taken care of.”

  “Randolf said he was waiting for his men?”

  “There is no one. I’ll explain everything. But Kenshire is safe.”

  Her shoulders relaxed.

  He looked up at the castle, seeing nothing out of the ordinary above the high outer curtain wall. Reluctantly, he tugged Sara in that direction, hurrying his steps. There was a full-fledged search underway, and none of Sara’s people would rest until they knew she’d been found safe.

  Lifting the hem of her torn dress with her free hand, Sara followed, looking as if she wanted to ask him something.

  “What of the embrace I witnessed?”

  He stopped in his tracks. “Of all the questions you have, that is the most pressing?”

  Sara stopped alongside him, close enough for him to reach out for her, which he was sorely tempted to do.

  “Aye.”

  “It was a trick, a way to separate us. Effective, it would seem.”

  She looked into his eyes for a long moment, studying him, and by the time she looked away, Geoffrey knew that she believed him.

  “The perfect timing,” he admitted, “eludes me still.” Grabbing her hand again as he led them through the bluff toward the gate, he thought aloud. “Something about John piqued my curiosity enough for me to inquire after him.”

  Sara interrupted, a common but endearing trait of hers. “What could possibly have interested you about the man? He’s as quiet and nondescript as any servant at Kenshire.”

  “I witnessed a discussion between him and Lady Maude.” He struggled to find the right words. “It’s difficult to describe. Something just wasn’t right.”

  He could hardly tell her about his uncanny sense of intuition, which had gotten him out of more situations than he could count.

  “And then I spoke to his men.” At her quizzical look, he explained, “The night my arm…”

  “You went to his camp,”

  It was a statement, not a question.

  “What happened tonight?”

  Straight to the point, as always.

  “I’ll explain everything, but first I need to know.” He took a deep breath. “Did Randolf hurt you?”

  Mercifully, Sara was quick to answer. “Nay. He wasn’t gentle by any means, but other than a few snide remarks and his filthy hand gagging my mouth, he didn’t hurt me.” She amended, “He never had a chance. You came upon us not long after he found me on the beach.”

  He didn’t have to ask what had brought her there, alone, in the first place. They both knew.

  “How could he have possibly known you’d be down there?”

  “When we were young, before my father and Randolf had a falling out, he spent enough time at Kenshire to know about my affinity for this secret path. As I said, it was a sore subject between my father and I, enough so that he built that tower—” Sara pointed to a tall building he knew as the Vale Tower, “—for extra eyes on the coast.” She smiled at the memory. “He said, ‘‘Tis an expensive habit, your late night jaunts on the beach,’ though I knew it wasn’t for my benefit alone. Ever since the castle was built, there’s been discussion about how best to secure it along the coast.”

  Geoffrey conceded it was a reasonable guess that a distraught Sara would seek solace in a spot she revered. But he found it hard to believe a plan would hinge its success on that likelihood. Unless, of course, Randolf really was that stupid.

  Nearing the entrance, they stopped, knowing what their arrival on the castle grounds would bring. “Twas a risky plan on Randolf’s part.”

  “Aye, but my father always said Kenshire would be nearly impossible to breach by force. It’s not uncommon for treachery to be the sole means into an impregnable fortress.”

  On that point Geoffrey agreed. “I’ve seen it often enough, which is most likely why your father entrusted your safety with someone he’d known since childhood.”

  Neither spoke, the implications of Randolf’s demise clear to them both.

  “You’ll be leaving?”

  “I don’t know.” A pinch in his chest reminded him of his need for this woman he couldn’t have. “Hugh will decide our next move.”

  He grasped her other hand, their slight trembling nearly enough for him to toss out his good intentions. But Sara’s people were searching frantically for her; it wouldn’t be right. “I’m glad you’re safe.” His words and tone seemed foreign to his own ears. “If anything had happened to you…”

  Tears welled her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” With a quick kiss, he let go of her hands and led her through the gate.

  Walking behind her … she was so graceful … an uncomfortable thought tightened its hold on his mind. The possibility had first occurred to him when he’d discovered she was missing. It had shifted to near cert
ainty the moment he saw her with that man.

  But wasn’t he immune to love? He’d always thought his heart was too full of vengeance to make room for any other emotion. Others succumbed to love, and it usually led to sorrow, but not him.

  Yet his heart knew a truth that his mind would rather not acknowledge.

  17

  When Sara and Geoffrey entered the courtyard, they were greeted by a sky lit with torches and shouts of joy. “She’s found!” one man yelled. “It’s Lady Sara.”

  The blacksmith rushed toward them, engulfing Sara in a hug.

  If Harold had not been so much older than Sara, Geoffrey would have bristled at his familiarity. “God be blessed,” the man muttered as more people, servants and knights both, gathered around their lady.

  Geoffrey allowed himself to be pushed back by the crowd. The people’s relief was palpable. It was nice to see their love for Lady Sara, though it did not surprise him. He’d witnessed her gentle ministrations to Kenshire’s people for days now.

  A panicked woman’s voice could be heard above the crowd. “Oh thank ye good Lord, thank ye.” Running toward them, a disheveled Faye wept and prayed simultaneously. The circle around Sara parted to allow her into its midst.

  “What happened?” Hugh asked. Geoffrey turned to look at him, and his uncle clapped him on the back. “Come,” Hugh said. Nodding to the crowd, he continued, “She’s well taken care of.”

  They walked to the side of the crowd, and Peter peeled off from the gathering to follow them.

  “Sir Geoffrey, I’m glad to see you unharmed.”

  His smile for the man was genuine. It was obvious Lady Sara’s steward cared for her—just as his father had done before him.

  “And in good humor,” Peter continued. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Gladly, sir. But first, John’s secure, I assume?”

  “Aye, securely guarded at the moment.”

  “Good, I’ll be back momentarily to explain. In the meantime, there’s a body to recover on the beach below the sea gate,” he said as if talking about a dead stag. It was as much respect as Randolf’s remains deserved.