The Thief's Countess (Border Series Book 1)

by Cecelia Mecca

  “Done,” announced the tailor, a thin, pompous man. He’d arrived with Lord Lyonsford’s retinue to put some final touches on the gown Peter had commissioned him at Lord Richard’s request. Occupied with Randolf and later Geoffrey, Sara supposed she was grateful her staff had continued to prepare for the wedding, even if she did not.

  Stepping out of the gown, assisted by Faye and Anna, Sara changed into a simple brown kirtle, the color a shade lighter than her hair, and made her way into the bedchamber. Sara sat on the bed and ran her hands along the soft fabric of the coverlet, wondering what to take with her on her journey south.

  Grateful for the privacy, she thought back over the last two long, miserable days. Her new lord, courteous and pleasing to the eye, was younger than she’d expected and more accommodating than she could have hoped for. After the wedding, they would travel to Archbald, only forty miles outside London. Lyonsford assured her that they’d spend little time in one place—and he’d promised they would visit Kenshire at least once per year.

  “I can tell it pleases my lady and, therefore, shall please me as well,” he’d said. The day after his arrival they had sat together for nearly two hours, discussing the terms of their marriage, specifics of the betrothal, and plans for their future. With any luck she had hidden her true feelings well. When he’d asked if she was happy with the arrangement, a question many in his position wouldn’t have considered, Sara felt compelled to assure him that she was.

  “Aye, very pleased.”

  “That’s not much of an answer, if I may be so bold, Lady Sara.”

  She had to do better. “Though Randolf is no longer a threat, Kenshire is very much at risk from border skirmishes. Your lord’s reputation is esteemed, so yes, I look forward to becoming Lady Lyonsford.”

  Several moments passed without a response, and Sara started to think she’d said something grievously wrong. She was trying to decide whether or not to amend her statements when he finally broke his silence.

  “Then we shall join our households two days hence.”

  He took her hand. Feeling like a traitor, she allowed it. She couldn’t help but compare his touch to another—and find it lacking.

  “As you know, I was married once. My wife, God rest her soul, died in childbirth.”

  Sara knew all too well the complications and dangers of birthing.

  “A kind, gentle woman, she taught me much about being a good husband. And I vow to you, Lady Sara, you’ll want for nothing as my wife.”

  Touched, Sara squeezed his hand. “I’ll do my best to make you a good wife.”

  Sara knew love was not required for two people to wed. And for the first time in her life, she was glad for it. She doubted she could ever love again.

  She’d not seen Geoffrey since the day Lord Lyonsford arrived, resplendent in his livery. The contrast between the men was evident. One, a great lord with vast lands and an army at his disposal … the other, a deposed baron who lived humbly, forced to fight and plunder for his next meal.

  Upon reflection, Sara wasn’t convinced Geoffrey had meant those harsh words he’d said to her on the beach. Something told her that he had thought she still needed protecting—this time from him. Faye was engaged to marry his uncle, something that had pleased but not surprised her, and she could not help but reflect on the similarities between uncle and nephew. Both were natural protectors, both put other people before themselves.

  It mattered not.

  The events set in motion before her father’s death had finally come to fruition. A subdued evening meal and final preparations for the wedding feast were all that stood between her and an exchange of vows with her new husband.

  A loud, insistent knock on her chamber door interrupted her thoughts.

  So much for a moment of privacy.

  “Milady, come quick!” The frantic knock brought her stumbling across the room.

  Peter wasted no time with pleasantries. “The king’s banner has been spied in the village coming this way.”

  “The king, truly?”

  “His banner. It appears to be a royal messenger as there are just two men.” With that, Peter hurried toward the spiral staircase, no doubt eager to ensure everything was ready for the unexpected visitors.

  Sara’s momentary shock gave way to curiosity. Why would King Henry send messengers to Kenshire?

  There was no sign of Faye and Anna, and since she did not have time to change without assistance, she took a deep blue overcoat out of the trunk at her bed and pulled it over her kirtle. Smoothing her hair with a few quick strokes of the brush, she pinched her cheeks and left her bedchamber.

  She found her maids in the hall, where the trestle tables that had been already set for the meal were being hurriedly put away. Eddard rushed up to Sara as she took her place on the dais. She was about to receive a royal party—while not a new occurrence at Kenshire Castle, it was certainly a rare one.

  Luckily the hall and its antechambers had already been prepared for the following day’s festivities. Mint-scented rushes, flowers of all varieties, new candles, polished torches, and freshly washed tapestries gave Kenshire’s great hall a warm, inviting atmosphere.

  Sara breathed in and out deeply, discreetly, looking down at her folded hands. “Where are the new guests now?” she asked Eddard.

  “They had already entered the main gate when we received word.”

  She looked toward the source of the deep voice that had answered her question. Though it had been just two days, it felt like a lifetime.

  The look Geoffrey gave her sent chills down her back. It was one of unbridled lust. Mayhap he had spoken honestly when he’d claimed to simply desire her. God help her, if he continued to look at her that way, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

  Looking away, Sara scanned the room. There was no sign of Lord Lyonsford among the crowd, so she inquired to his whereabouts.

  “He rides to Kenshire Village, my lady,” one of his men said, “inspecting the demesne and its surroundings.”

  Of course he’d want to see more of the property she brought to the marriage.

  “He’s been sent for?”

  “Yes, my lady,” the man replied.

  All eyes turned toward the hall entrance as Peter escorted the newcomers into the hall and toward Sara’s large, ornate seat on the dais.

  “Lady Sara, may I present Walter Gregory de Roquesle and Henry le Galeys, royal messengers from the court of King Henry III of England, Lord of Ireland and Duke of Aquitaine.”

  Both men fell on one knee in unison, honoring the highest-ranking noble in the room: her.

  “The honor is mine,” she said. “Please rise.”

  Lord, please give me my father’s strength.

  Geoffrey knew Sara wasn’t quite as calm as she appeared. The slight lift of her chin meant she was worried.

  After two days of avoiding her, two days of hell, Geoffrey had begun to question his decision. Could he truly just walk away, allow her to marry another man, and return to his life before Kenshire Castle? Did he have any other choice?

  For five years, Geoffrey had thought about nothing but revenge on the men who had slaughtered his parents and stolen his home. These days, he thought mostly of this woman who was trying so hard to live up to her father’s legacy. He watched as she left the hall to speak privately with two royal messengers.

  When he’d first learned of their approach, he had felt an alarmingly strong sense of panic. Did they pose some sort of threat to Sara?

  “Sir Geoffrey?”

  Lady Maude. He’d not seen her since her return to Kenshire. He knew she and her husband, Lord Edmund, often visited Kenshire. Despite the conversation he’d witnessed between Maude and John, Sara had insisted it wasn’t possible Maude or her husband were involved in Randolf’s plot. Her father had known Lord Edmund as a loyal vassal his entire life.

  Still, something was not quite right with the woman.

  Bowing slightly, he gestured toward the wall, a slightly more
private spot.

  “I’d like to speak with you regarding a very delicate matter,” the lady said. “I’ve heard ‘twas you who saved Lady Sara’s life.”

  Not wanting to discuss the event in more detail, he asked her directly, “How were you involved, Lady Maude?”

  The woman looked taken aback. “Involved? In Randolf’s plot? Nay, never.”

  “Then how may I be of service?”

  “I wasn’t involved, but I did want to speak with you about the incident. You see … I … I was unfaithful to my husband,” she blurted out.

  What the hell did that have to do with him? Or Sara?

  “With Randolf?” It was the only possible explanation that came to mind.

  “Nay! Shhhhh.” She darted her eyes in either direction.

  “What does this have to do with Randolf’s plot to inherit Kenshire?”

  A flush crept up her cheeks, turning both of her delicate ears red. Her story finally came tumbling out. “John caught me and … you know.”

  “Your lover?”

  She winced, clearly not appreciating his choice of words.

  “He caught us in the buttery and attempted to blackmail me with the information. He said, ‘All you need to do is flirt with…’ Well, you.”

  He caught on quickly. “When you refused, he threatened to expose your secret, at which point you left Kenshire.”

  She grabbed his arm, almost frantic. “I thought the servant mayhap had a tender for the lady. Was jealous perhaps? I wanted to tell Lady Sara, but she seemed so preoccupied. I was never able to get her alone.”

  He was about to ask why she had felt the need to share her story with him, but a commotion demanded their attention. The new lord had returned. As he’d done many times over the past two days, he involuntarily imagined the man in bed with Sara.

  Turning back to the young woman, he tried to figure out her purpose. “Why are you sharing this information with me, Lady Maude?”

  “I know you’re very close with Lady Sara, and I hoped you could relay my story to her. Had I any inkling he was planning harm milady, I’d have come to her immediately, my reputation be damned.”

  He believed her. The poor woman was nearly in tears.

  “But another reason, if I may be so bold.”

  Geoffrey glared at the retreating back of Lyonsford, who was currently making his way out of the hall. He was barely listening now.

  “I tell you because I had no choice but to marry a man more than twice my age.”

  That got Geoffrey’s attention.

  “To live without love or passion. Well, I’m sorry to see Lady Sara in such a position.”

  With that statement, Lady Maude let go of his arm, looking down at it in surprise, as if she didn’t remember grabbing ahold of it.

  “I fear she’s about to make the same mistake.”

  Cocking his head, considering the woman in a different light, Geoffrey imagined what her marriage must be like for her. Lord Edmund was old enough to be her grandfather. He shuddered at the thought of the elderly man touching her.

  And then he realized what the lady was implying.

  “Are you saying she has a choice?”

  Lifting her immense and impractical gown, bedecked with more jewels than he’d ever seen on Sara, she answered with as much conviction as someone her age could muster. “She’s an earl’s daughter, is she not?”

  Lady Maude took her leave, and he could only stare after her as she walked away. Sara had attempted to make a choice. One he didn’t necessarily agree with. The thought of Sara near the borderlands terrified him. He couldn’t take a chance Lyonsford would simply accept her change of heart or that the king would take kindly to a change in plans. But being without her terrified him even more.

  27

  Still in shock, Sara watched as her wooden tub was filled with precious hot water that had been heated meticulously over the open fire in the kitchen. Marveling at the number of attendants it took to fill the tub, Sara thanked each one profusely. It was an arduous task, but one she appreciated.

  “Ye need not fall at their feet, milady. ‘Tis their job to fill a tub for you.”

  Faye, still tentative around Sara since breaking the news about her engagement to Hugh, scented the water with chamomile and lemon balm, laying out a basin filled with sponges and scented soap.

  “Thank you, Faye.” Sara stepped out of her chemise and into the tub.

  “Yer obviously not listening to me.” Making her way to the tub, Faye bent down to assist her lady.

  “Nay, I can manage. I’d like to be alone, please.”

  Faye pulled a small stool to the side of the tub, placing the wash basin beside it.

  “Very well. I’ll be along to prepare you for bed then.”

  Sara reached for the soap. “For the remainder of the evening, Faye. I’ve much to consider.”

  Faye made a sound which relayed her displeasure. The way she threw the kindling into the fire left little doubt she was upset. “In that case, I leave you to your bath, my lady. Shall I send for it to be retrieved?”

  “Nay, leave it. I’ve no wish to be disturbed. And Faye?” Looking into the eyes of the woman she loved like a mother, Sara added, “I’m just overwhelmed.”

  Her maid’s lips turned up slightly, and Sara knew she’d done her job.

  “I’ll ensure his lordship and our guests have settled for the night and see you in the morn. Tomorrow is a big day!”

  “Good eve, Faye. And thank you.”

  Smiling more broadly, Faye straightened her shoulders and walked toward the door.

  “‘Tis my job, milady.”

  She wasn’t surprised Faye had managed to get the final word. She was good at making her point in any way possible. A quality Sara would sorely need.

  Lowering herself in the blessed warmth of the tub, Sara breathed deeply. After relaying their message, the royal attendants had agreed to stay the night. The message they bore had been a note from the king congratulating her and Lord Lyonsford on their coming nuptials. Seeing that note had made it real—and that had changed everything.

  Not surprisingly, Geoffrey had been absent for the evening meal, a good thing under the circumstances. Sara had spent most of the evening speaking with her betrothed.

  Even now, hours later, she could hardly believe what had transpired after her brief meeting with the king’s messengers. Shivering despite the water’s heat, Sara was reaching for the sponge Faye had left for her when a loud noise startled her from behind. Shattering the quiet of her chamber, the door swung open and closed just as swiftly.

  What the devil?

  “What are you doing here?”

  Striding toward her as if he belonged in her chamber at this late hour, Geoffrey lifted the basin and sat on the stool beside her.

  Instead of answering, he held out his hand for the sponge she was currently dangling in mid-air.

  Handing it to him, she asked again, “What are you doing in my chamber?”

  No answer. “Sit up.” Geoffrey commanded.

  Sara did as he asked, exposing her back to him. She jumped at the first touch of the sponge on her back.

  Finally, the deep voice she’d craved to hear these past days answered. “I came to bathe you, of course.”

  Does he know? Nay, it’s not possible.

  “How did you get past the guards?”

  The sponge moved across her body, dipping into the scented water periodically.

  Glad that she was not looking at his face—she couldn’t resist him if she did that—she finally remembered why they hadn’t spoken since Lyonsford’s arrival.

  “You’ve made it clear what you want from me, Sir Geoffrey. Under the circumstances, I’m afraid I’m unavailable to be at your beck and call when your need arises.”

  His hand moved to her lower back, deep beneath the water, moving in a slow, circular motion.

  “Furthermore, it was you who insisted this could not happen again.”

  Dropping
the sponge, he splayed his hand across her hip, inching it between her legs.

  “You mean this?”

  His fingers plunged inside her, and God help her, she allowed it. They dipped in and out as she lifted her hips to meet them.

  “Aye, precisely.”

  Forgetting her anger, she closed her eyes and dropped her head back onto the rim of the large tub. His fingers moved expertly against her with increasing speed.

  She opened her eyes to find Geoffrey staring at her, his ice-blue eyes hooded with desire. He wanted, nay, needed her as much as she needed him. Of that there was no doubt.

  Leaning over the tub, Geoffrey took her lips, not giving her any time to adjust. His tongue plunged in and out of his mouth with the same rhythm as his fingers. Water splashed around them. Sara was unaware of anything other than the building of sensations until she pushed against his hand and felt the shattering sensation of release. His fingers were squeezed beneath hers as she groaned.

  “Yes…” he whispered. His mouth moved to her ear and his tongue nipped the sensitive skin there.

  Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when Geoffrey stood and began to disrobe.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like?”

  If she weren’t worried about someone barging in on them at any moment, Sara could almost appreciate the irony of the situation, given the current state of affairs.

  “It looks like you’re disrobing, which doesn’t make sense since I’m extremely angry with you. Someone could come along at any minute and, oh, that’s right … I’m supposed to be married tomorrow.”

  Just as before, Geoffrey did not see fit to answer her. Instead he stripped off his shirt, revealing the broad, tanned shoulders beneath.

  Then came the breeches. He stood completely naked before her, his imposing manhood on full display.

  And then he actually climbed into the tub with her.

  “You can’t be serious!”

  As if to prove otherwise, Geoffrey positioned his knees on either side of her beneath the still warm water and leaned forward, grasping the edges of the tub with each hand.