While that struck a chord, she refused to back down. Once the idea had formed in her mind, it refused to budge. Of course she’d miss those things. But she wanted Geoffrey in her future—whatever form that took. It was more important to have love in her life. Passion. The ability to be herself and be valued for it.
“At best you’ll be miserable. At worst, dead. Nay, Sara, it won’t work,” he said, shaking his head.
She would not back down. “Are you finished?”
No answer.
“You’re right.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“I do love these people as if they are part of my own family. A life without Harold and Alice’s smiling faces or Cook’s curt greetings would be bleak indeed.” She reached for Geoffrey’s hands, his fingers automatically winding around her own.
“But my betrothed is to a southern earl with holdings of his own. Life as I’ve known it, sheltered at Kenshire, is over. Most likely I’ll be shuffled off to one of his other castles, lucky to visit Kenshire, which will have a new lord after some vassal to Lyonsford receives an appointment to control my home.”
Geoffrey’s relaxed stance tensed, though he didn’t let go of her hands.
“Fancy dresses, fine wine … the luxuries of my station are undeniable. I’ll also keep company with the knowledge of lost love, the empty feeling I had at supper when you did not come will follow me everywhere I go, intruding whether it’s wanted or not.”
Not sure where the words were coming from, she felt as comfortable with her speech as she did with its implications. But she wasn’t finished.
“When you first walked into the hall at Kenshire Castle, I wanted nothing to do with you or your unneeded protection. I was wrong. Wrong about the kind of man you were, wrong about needing you, and wrong to despair over how little control I had over the course of my life.
“Geoffrey, I love you and want to be with you. Forever.”
They stood close enough that Geoffrey could lean down and feel Sara’s soft lips beneath his own. Her pale blue dress reflected the moonlight prettily, yet her impassioned speech reminded him of how she’d doled out a death sentence to Kenshire’s traitor. Fierce and resolute, she was spectacular. He had thought her confident on the day they’d met. But this woman, the one glaring at him now, was so much more than that. She understood her own strength.
Love?
He wanted nothing more than to lean down and show her just how much her words meant. To throw her on the back of his horse, say goodbye to Kenshire, and take her with him. But if she didn’t completely understand the life she’d so willingly embraced, he most certainly did. He would not ask this noble woman to ride off with him into, possibly, an unknown future.
He could tell her that. Insist he could never risk her life and explain exactly what the wife of a reiver could expect. But Geoffrey knew Sara, and she’d not accept such a practical explanation. She would insist it didn’t matter when he knew it did. For her own protection, he must convince Sara to marry Lyonsford.
“I told you before, Sara. I’ve no wish to marry.” Letting her hands go, he stepped back and waited for her reaction.
Surprisingly, she was unaffected by his admission.
“I know you think to protect me, but Geoffrey…”
Cutting her off, he changed tactics. “Nay, you mistake me, Sara. I’ve no wish to marry you.”
Knowing why he did it made it no less difficult. The look she gave him very nearly changed his mind. But too much was at stake.
“You mistake desire for something more.” Schooling his face into a mask of indifference, Geoffrey added, “Marry your southern lord, Lady Sara. He’s the only husband for you. I’m nothing more than a failed protector who allowed his desire to interfere with a mission.”
Her eyes widened. “A mission?”
“Aye, I told you that when we met. Nothing more, nothing less. One that shall be over within the next few days. And then we move on.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He couldn’t relent. Not now.
“You asked if our lovemaking was normal?”
She was backing away now, and the look in her eyes told him she was finally starting to question her convictions.
“I said it was not, but I lied. It’s an act I’ve performed more times than I can count, and while never with such an esteemed lady such as yourself…”
“Stop!” she cried, turning from him.
He wouldn’t. Her life was at stake.
“My only regret is that you mistook it for something more.”
Her back was to him, but though he couldn’t see her face, Geoffrey could tell by the slump in her shoulders his point was well made. When she began to run away, he stood rooted to the spot.
He and his uncle would be residing at Kenshire until her future husband arrived, but she was already out of his life forever. First he’d lost his parents, and now the only woman he’d ever loved.
Geoffrey turned toward the ocean to take that swim. At least the ice-cold water wouldn’t affect him. He was already numb.
25
She would not mope. Too proud to allow thoughts of the blackguard who’d trampled on her heart, Sara instead threw herself into the necessary preparations. She’d accepted this betrothal for her father’s sake, but now she would also accept it for herself. There was no other choice.
Poor Faye didn’t know what to make of her renewed energy. The next morning after mass Sara marched from chamber to chamber, giving orders to prepare not only for visitors but for a husband. The blue wedding dress her father had commissioned for her before his death was brought out to air. He had insisted on moving forward with wedding details, but Sara’s heart had not been in the planning, especially as his illness progressed. Flowers were gathered and placed in every crevice of the great hall.
“Peter, do we know when the trouveres will arrive?”
Peter was clearly taken aback by the ferocity of her renewed interest in the upcoming nuptials.
“Aye, they’re in the village as we speak, telling tales and entertaining as they make their way to the castle. They’ve been joined by Lord Edmund’s own minstrel, making it quite the rowdy group.”
Sara groaned. Of course Lord Edmund had sent for his personal musicians. They’d asked to stay for the wedding ceremony, and of course she’d agreed. She quite liked the man but was unsure his wife felt the same way. Of course, if she’d been forced to marry a man her father’s age, she would likely feel the same. At least Lord Lyonsford wasn’t that old.
“Good, then they’ll be here in time for the festivities.”
She caught the glance between Peter and Faye.
“I would think you’d be happy I’m taking an interest in my own wedding.”
Another look.
“We are, my lady, it’s just…”
“You’re not yourself,” Peter finished.
Sara didn’t think she’d ever be herself again.
“I am exactly who I need to be. Daughter of Richard Caiser, third Earl of Kenshire, Countess of Kenshire, and soon-to-be Lady Lyonsford. And that last fact is what we must concentrate on. The banns have been posted long enough and Lord Lyonsford’s wishes have been conveyed by his messengers. We’ll marry without delay upon his arrival.”
“And then?”
She wouldn’t consider it. “I’m not sure, Faye. We shall see what the new lord desires.”
Without a backward glance, she made her way to the entrance, intent on speaking to Eddard about the readiness of Kenshire’s stables to receive Lyonsford’s party.
Sara had spent hours considering Geoffrey’s words, and while part of her still disbelieved he could be so cruel, she also knew it mattered naught. She was as sheltered as he’d accused her of being, and a fool for thinking he shared her feelings. Her new lord would arrive any day. Realizing how woefully unprepared they were to receive him, Sara had decided to put the mule-headed reiver out of her thoughts for the day.
“Milad
y?” a small voice asked as she walked toward the stables.
Doing her best to smile, Sara stopped and greeted the young boy.
“Good day, Reginald.”
He shifted from side to side. “May I ask you a question, Lady Sara?”
“Why, of course! What is it?” She could tell he was nervous and sought to reassure him. Coddling, her father would have called it. He’d done it oft enough himself to know.
“Well, I just wondered, milady, when the new lord arrives. You see, Sir Geoffrey…”
The poor boy couldn’t string his thoughts together. She smiled reassuringly, though the mention of Geoffrey felt like a barb.
“Well, I didn’t ask him yet, but if he agrees, that is, Sir Geoffrey…”
Sara guessed at his meaning and decided to put the squire out of his misery. “Reginald, I don’t believe your father would approve of you squiring for Sir Geoffrey.” She tried to let him down gently. “You’d make a fine squire to him, and Sir Geoffrey would be lucky to have you, it’s just…” She stopped, seeing the disappointment on the boy’s face. So young and innocent. How could she explain the complications of the world to him?
“What my lady is trying to say…” A familiar voice from behind her cut in. “Is that if your father would allow it, I’d be delighted to train you.”
Oh God, no … not so soon.
She lifted her chin, taking a deep breath.
Spinning, she glared at the man who’d trampled on her heart. “You raise his hopes, Sir Geoffrey.”
Shrugging his shoulders, seemingly unconcerned, he walked closer to the wide-eyed knight in training.
“Sir Reginald, I hoped to speak with you today as I’ll be leaving shortly.”
No! The thought came from deep within her, deeper than all of her anger.
“If, in the future, I am in a position to have a squire as the lord of Bristol Manor, I will send for you. But,” he quickly amended, “in the meantime, you must stay here and do as your new lord tells you. You’ve great promise with the sword,” he continued, “and I’m honored to have had the opportunity to train you these past few days.”
Beaming now, Reginald thanked Geoffrey profusely, bowed more than once to Sara, and nearly bounced away with pleasure.
That was the Geoffrey she knew. She could hardly reconcile it with the man who had set her aside so cruelly the previous evening. The one who had so casually disregarded her declaration of love.
They stood immobile for what seemed like an eternity. And while Geoffrey looked like he wanted to say something, he never got the chance. A bell rang loudly in the distance, heralding the arrival of someone important.
A flurry of activity confirmed the new Lord of Kenshire had arrived.
Everything seemed to happen at once. The last look Geoffrey gave Sara haunted her. Was that regret she’d seen in his eyes? But having been shuffled back into the hall and to her chamber, she hadn’t been given the chance to consider anything beyond Faye’s nonstop chatter.
“He wasn’t due until tomorrow at the earliest. The blue or yellow? Milady, which dress do you prefer?”
She truly didn’t care.
“The yellow,” she said flatly, not wishing to deflate her maid’s excitement.
“They’re saying it’s a most impressive party.” Faye smoothed the dress with her nimble hands. “Lord Lyonsford at the lead, purple and gold banners fluttering, the lion crest of Lyonsford prominent. Peter said he heard they rode like the wind to get here.”
“Faye, you’re making me nervous.”
“I’m sorry, my lady. But aren’t you curious? I wonder if he’s as handsome as they say. Do you know how his first wife died?”
“Nay, nor do I believe it will be a topic of conversation, so let’s concentrate on something more useful.”
“Such as?”
“Such as getting me into that dress so the new lord isn’t left waiting.”
“Oh aye, my lady. Hurry! They’re coming into the hall as we speak.”
How she could possibly know that, Sara wasn’t sure. But, like Peter, Faye seemed to see and know everything that happened in the castle. With slightly shaking hands, Sara allowed her maid to assist her. It was time to meet her future husband.
All eyes were on the stairs. Lady Sara descended like a queen, her yellow dress with wide sleeves and small train of material at her heels announcing her to be every bit the noble lady that she was. Geoffrey had done the right thing.
He had no desire to be present for her initial meeting with her betrothed, but Hugh had caught him in the courtyard and dragged him into the hall. He could not think of a reason to retreat quick enough that would appease his uncle.
Lyonsford’s arrival had sparked an impromptu celebration, and the great hall was bursting to capacity. It seemed as if every man and women currently residing in Kenshire was present. Flowers were everywhere, their scent overpowering all others.
It was an unusual custom to involve the entire household in important events, but from the post-Randolf meal to the arrival of Lord Lyonsford, all were welcome in Kenshire’s hall.
Even border reivers.
“Just like her da,” he overheard a servant standing directly in front of him say.
“Aye, only much prettier,” agreed his companion. They both laughed.
The murmur quieted as Sara walked toward her new lord. Lyonsford was a tall man who looked to be about five and thirty. Though not stocky by any means, he was not as skinny as Geoffrey remembered. His light brown was graying slightly around the temples, and the man carried himself as one might expect from an earl.
Though he was the highest-ranking official in the room, the earl, helm in hand, knelt at Sara’s feet on bended knee.
The humble gesture elicited sighs from what seemed like every female in the room.
Geoffrey wanted to kill the man.
It was nearly time for the most celebrated meal of the day, and he assumed Lord Lyonsford and his retinue would make their way to their chambers to refresh. It was a small party consisting of all men, knights who had likely traveled with their lord back from the Crusade, and they appeared battle-hardened but weary. Geoffrey would have admired their show of force under different circumstances.
Smiling broadly next to him, Hugh looked as pleased as he was miserable.
“A right magnificent sight, eh, boy?”
“I suppose.”
“And with them, our time at Kenshire is at an end. Come, we need to talk.”
Anything to escape the hall. His uncle led him through the crowd, away from the couple. Geoffrey could not stop himself from glancing back at Sara. He could swear she looked his way, but it happened so quickly he couldn’t be sure.
“My son.” Hugh’s use of the endearment spelled trouble. “I’ve something to confess.”
Confess?
“I’d never thought to marry again, and Lord knows I’m not in a position to do so now. But with any luck, we’ll manage to take back Bristol before long, and I’ll have a home to take her to.”
“What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“Faye.”
It shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d noticed how happy his uncle was here, and how he lit up whenever he saw Sara’s maid. But how would his uncle support her?
“Uncle, I’m happy for you, truly. The woman is a blessing to Sara, but how do you propose to support her, keep her safe until we re-take Bristol?”
Hugh shook his head. “While I haven’t worked out all the details, hopefully none of the Waryn men will have the need to reive much longer.”
Stunned, Geoffrey tried to take it all in.
“But how could she agree to such uncertainty? Faye is accustomed to luxuries as a lady’s maid. Does she understand what life will be like on the manor of a freeman? She’ll need to stay at Elmhurst until Bristol is back under our control.”
Hugh looked him squarely in the eyes, as if he could see through to his soul.
“Faye is not Sar
a.”
Geoffrey understood.
His uncle knew more than he’d let on. In that simple comment, he’d told Geoffrey not only that he trusted his judgment, but also that he’d made the right choice.
Still, this was about Hugh, not him.
He clasped his uncle on the back, genuinely happy for a man who’d endured so much for their family and asked for so little.
“Congratulations, Uncle. Does Sara know?”
“Nay. Faye planned to tell her last eve…” Lowering his voice, Hugh continued, “but the poor girl was so distraught that she didn’t have the heart to break it to her. She won’t like it, but I know she’ll give her leave to go. She already gave Faye the choice of remaining at Kenshire or traveling south with her.”
He imagined Sara leaving Kenshire with her new husband. Leaving her home, the people she loved. It would kill her. And yet it was done all the time.
If only he had something to offer her. Unfortunately, he had nothing to give.
26
Two days after the lord’s arrival, Sara prepared to become Lady Lyonsford as she stood in her wardrobe, enduring a final fitting of her royal blue wedding gown. As expected, Lord Lyonsford saw no reason for delay. He’d even brought his own priest to perform the wedding ceremony the following day. Since the betrothal had occurred by proxy, and arrangements had already been made for her dowry and inheritance, nothing stood in the way of a hasty end to their planned union.
“My lady,” exclaimed Anna, a chamber maid who had just returned from Sara’s bedchamber, “that be the most beautiful gown I ever saw!”
Looking down, an action which brought a swift tug from the tailor, Sara had to agree.
“Aye, ‘tis lovely, Anna.” Lined in soft white fur, the deep blue gown trailed longer than any other she owned. Its sleeves were low-hanging, and jewels were sewn into the silver belt that lay below her hips. It was indeed a garment fit for a queen.
The Thief's Countess (Border Series Book 1) Page 23
