Evelyn always did talk too much.
“My brother’s home is my own. And I already told you—”
“Aye, I know what you told me.”
They stared at each other, not moving. Barely breathing.
“Come.”
The spell was broken. Bryce turned and began to climb the stairs.
Catrina followed him through the storage room and buttery and finally into the great hall. Preparations for supper were already underway. She stopped. She had thought he was going to kiss her down there. Was she actually disappointed? It was good that he had not. Certainly she hadn’t wanted a kiss.
Of course she hadn’t.
Bryce stopped, said something to her guard, and left the hall.
He was too suspicious to allow her a visit with the alewife. That plan had failed, and it was clear Fergus’s help was lost to her. There was no way she could reach him undetected.
But Bryce had given her another idea. If she had to cross the border alone, so be it. But she could not do it on foot. And there was only one way he’d allow her to ride Davie.
She would be leaving Bristol Manor tomorrow. And Lord help her because she needed Bryce’s assistance to make her plan work.
9
Bryce paced at the entrance to the manor. He didn’t know if he was angrier at himself or Catrina. She goaded him at every turn, but he sought her out.
What did he care if she counted barrels of beer? Never mind that a lady should prefer wine. Or should be ignorant of the needs of the manor’s stores. Had Kerr’s household been so short-staffed?
She was limited to the manor and under guard, but for some reason he had felt compelled to assure himself of her whereabouts because she was so valuable.
Nay, because he wanted her. That blasted kiss had done nothing to temper his desire.
He turned when a retinue of men rode through the gate. Horses’ hooves kicked up dirt and mud as they approached.
They stopped in the bailey, not far from where Bryce stood. The new captain of his guard dismounted and took off his helm as Bryce joined him. Thomas came up from behind as the courtyard erupted in chaos. All of the soldiers spoke at once, and Bryce had to strain to hear what was being said.
“The captain only,” he shouted above the noise.
“My lord, a band of reivers attacked the village. The damages are being assessed—”
“How do you know they’re reivers?”
Helm in hand, the captain walked toward him. “They stole at least six head of cattle before they were noticed. One of the locals said it was the Riley brothers.”
Bryce smiled. It was good to be home.
“They did no damage, I assume?”
The fierce, unmarried knight from Kenshire who had elected to remain at Bristol with Sara’s consent was not yet acclimated to the true border region. He appeared understandably confused.
“No, my lord, but how did you—”
He was cut off by another group of riders. Thomas answered the man’s question.
“The Riley brothers, and their ancestors before them, have been raiding Bristol for centuries. Am I correct, my lord?”
This would be as much enjoyment as he’d had since…he refused to think about her now.
“Aye, Sir Thomas. For centuries.”
Bryce addressed the group of men, some from Kenshire and others who had committed their swords while he and his brothers were on the run. Only a handful of knights remained from before the Kerrs’ attack—those who had refused to serve the new lord.
Most of them appeared confused.
“Get back on your horses, men. Thomas, get the hound.” He looked for his squire and found the boy who had followed him from Kenshire. “Light armor. Quickly.”
Preparations for the counter-raid were organized in minutes. Those foreign to Bristol continued to look uneasy. They would understand soon enough.
“Gentleman,” he called to the group of twenty or so riders. “We search with hound and horn for the thieves who dared disturb the peace of Bristol. We recover our cattle and take any man along the way to assist with our search or be named as a reiver. But above all, no one is to be harmed.”
He looked to the manor and watched the group of men and women peering out through its doors. Catrina was not among them, but he ordered Thomas to stay behind just in case this proved to be a ruse, though he doubted that was the case. More likely his long-time rivals and uneasy friends had finally decided to welcome him home.
With a nod to his steward, who looked none too happy about the arrangement, Bryce led the mounted men through the courtyard and out into the open moorland. With any luck, they would return before the first course of supper was served.
When Bryce and his raiding party did not return, Catrina asked for the meal in her room. She needed time to think. But Sir Thomas had convinced her to take supper in the hall, and now she sat beside him on the dais, struggling to concentrate on their conversation.
“My lady?”
“I’m sorry, Sir Thomas. You were saying?”
The steward eyed her warily. She must pay more attention.
“You seem distracted this evening.”
With good reason. “Aye, sir. I’ve much to think about with my home overrun by Englishmen and—”
Damn! She’d never learn.
“And?”
He didn’t seem to take offense.
“You’re very unlike your lord.”
“I hope that’s true, my lady.” Sir Thomas shoved a morsel of spiced meat into his mouth.
“You don’t wish to be compared to Bryce?”
Barely finished chewing, Thomas shook his head. “There is no comparison to that man.”
The pride in his voice reminded Catrina that he spoke not just as the steward but as Bryce’s best friend.
“How did you meet?” She was genuinely curious to know how two men, so obviously opposites, had become so close.
“At Huntington. We both squired there. It didn’t take a scholar to know Bryce was destined for greatness. I may be the fourth son of a baron with no prospects of my own inheritance, but my father is well-connected. He sent me there because Huntington only fostered the best. Even among the brightest and strongest knights, Bryce stood out.”
“Mayhap that is true. But he is always so stern.”
“He came to Huntington a serious young man. And after the incident with—”
Sir Thomas must have realized he’d said too much. His brows furrowed and he gave more attention to his food and drink than finishing his thought. Every attempt to pull the story from him was met with a grunt or a shrug.
“Shouldn’t they be back by now? I thought you said the raiders were more friends than enemies?”
A hot trod, or counter-raid, was both legal and expected. When only minor goods were involved, some raids even led to celebrations when the beasts were re-captured. While the mood had never been so light here at Bristol with her brother in charge, she understood the difference between a dangerous raid and one that was meant as a nuisance or for sport. They had similar relationships with border clans back home.
Home.
According to their king, this was her family’s home, the land theirs by right. And even though she’d spent only three years here to the twenty she’d spent in Brockburg, her heart tugged a little at the thought of leaving.
The sound of doors slamming open was replaced with shouts as a group of wet and muddy men entered the hall. The rain must have returned, along with the raiding party.
And Bryce.
She spotted him easily. The tallest among the knights who made their way inside, he was also the only one not smiling. The raid must have gone well if the others’ mood was any indication.
Once all eyes were on their leader, Bryce put a fist in the air, and the entire hall erupted in cheers. Mugs slammed on the tables. Shouts quieted down only when Bryce lowered his fist. It seemed the somber mood that had followed the exchange of hands back to the War
yns was finally lifted. The only remnant of the last five years was her presence.
It was sobering, that.
Reminding herself of her new plan, Catrina set her mind on how best to proceed. Bryce was cunning. Even if she got him to agree to a ride the next day, she still needed to find a way to administer the sleeping draught to him. Evelyn had left just enough to put him down for a few hours.
It had been left for Catrina to use, of course, but she’d saved it, knowing it may come in handy.
Steeling herself for a long evening, she straightened her back and waited for Bryce to approach. After many slaps on the back and a whispered word to Thomas, he sat down beside her.
Her shoulder sank as she realized it would be the last formal meal they shared. Tomorrow would either bring her release from this English prison or have her locked back in the bedchamber.
Or worse.
“I take it the raid was successful?”
“Aye.” Not even a glance in her direction.
Concentrating on his meal, Bryce ate slowly. Everything he did was so deliberate. She couldn’t help comparing him to Toren. Fierce and frightening to their enemies, both men constantly took measure of everything around them. It was a trait she admired, but one she had never embodied.
Normally, she would ignore Bryce’s reticence. But not tonight.
“Does that mean it’s safe at the moment?”
His sharp glance told her it was the wrong thing to ask.
“It’s never safe this close to the border. You of all people should know that.”
His sharp tone was not warranted. She itched to tell him exactly that, but goading him into an argument would not do. “I do, but this confinement—”
“You’re my prisoner, Catrina. Not an honored guest to be entertained.”
Thomas looked up. The steward had shifted to Bryce’s right and, until now, seemed fairly intent on his own meal. He gave Bryce a puzzled look.
Lord, this might just kill her. “I apologize for angering you.” If her brothers were here, they would have choked on their ale at this display of submissiveness. “But surely if you accompany me on a short ride—”
He cut her off once again. “No.”
No? That’s it? She tried to slow her racing heartbeat. It could not be as simple as that. He could not say no! Her escape depended on it.
“Take her, Bryce. I will see to the training.”
Thomas. Bless the man.
“You can shut your mouth anytime, Thomas.”
The steward laughed easily, slapping Bryce on the back. “And why would I do that? ‘Tis much more fun goading you.” Ignoring them both, he grabbed a fistful of bread and ate like a man who hadn’t seen a meal in months.
Bryce closed his eyes and locked his jaw. Was a ride with her so abhorrent to him? Was there so much to be done he couldn’t spare a few hours?
“Very well.”
Thank you, Thomas!
Trying not to appear elated, she calmly took a sip of wine. Though she preferred ale, their best stores had been opened to celebrate the successful raid, and even she wasn’t immune to fine French wine.
“Splendid. I will pack a mid-day meal.” And before he could argue, she added, “Thank you. It will be a wonderful afternoon.”
He looked at her, eyebrows raised. Had she gone too far?
She met his gaze. He was angry at her, although she wasn’t sure why. But all that mattered was that he had agreed, thanks to Thomas. Tomorrow she would be free.
10
Today she would go home. Catrina didn’t have any delusions the ride would be an easy one. If she made it to Brockburg, her brothers might well kill her straight away for having attempted such a foolish thing. But there was no doubt her clan was mounting a counter-attack, one that would see more of her people, perhaps even some of her family, killed. And she didn’t wish for the people here to endure another raid.
Catrina didn’t have a choice.
Packing a small bag with the sleeping draught, she debated fetching her dagger for the hundredth time. On the one hand, if she were caught in Thomas’s room, her plan would be foiled. Bryce would have no doubt she was up to something. On the other, it would be madness to attempt to cross the border alone without a weapon.
Who was she kidding? It was madness even with one.
Davie was well-equipped for the mountainous terrain, and she had no fear of navigating the trickier sections. She was fairly certain she knew the path, having taken deliberate notice of the landmarks on her journey to Bristol. While it was some time ago, Catrina’s memory never failed her. She would find the way.
Which left the brigands. Knights looking for sport, border reivers without good names to uphold… She was a fool to attempt such a thing.
But she had a plan.
There was one thing men on both sides of the border feared.
Witchcraft.
Father Simon was oddly fascinated by the healing arts and had made them a study of sorts. Like his contemporaries, he believed in both white and black witches, but he did not agree that magic was an act of the devil or a crime against God. He believed it was nothing more than a heightened form of healing, though one that could be twisted for nefarious use or personal gain. And without any other defense, she would use that knowledge against any potential attackers. It was terrifying to think about being punished as a witch, but such a fate would be preferable to the possibility of rape. Or worse.
Dressed in a thin linen chemise and hose which stopped at her knees, Catrina waited for Elise to assist her. The tight-fitting kirtle she planned to wear for the ride could not be managed without the maid’s help.
As if on cue, a quick knock was followed by a creak as the door to her bedchamber opened.
“I’m sorry, my lady. The babe refused to eat this morn. ‘Tis the second day now.”
Elise rushed into the chamber, worry etched onto her young face.
As Catrina stepped into the kirtle Elise extended to her, she thought about the cook at Brockburg. Her first babe had become quite ill after refusing to eat. No wet nurses had been available, so she had searched for information on the babe’s condition. Finding nothing, she’d finally taken a cue from the stable master.
“Soak a rag in milk and feed the bairn that way. Bread will work too, but not as well.”
Elise stopped lacing her sleeves and stared at her.
“If she refuses to eat, she’ll die. Either find a wet nurse, or do as I tell you.” Though her words were harsh, her tone was gentle. The girl needed to understand the importance of following her instructions without questioning how she knew such a thing.
“A rag, my lady?”
“Aye, a rag. I may be Scottish, but I am not a fool.”
Elise continued to help her dress. Though she looked skeptical, Catrina thought it likely she would follow her directions. Sometimes a tone of confidence was all it took to sway people.
Finally prepared for her fateful ride—Bryce had told her to be ready after the morning meal, which she had skipped in anticipation—Catrina gathered a few belongings, but not enough to cause notice.
“Go home, Elise. I can manage myself. Feed your bairn.”
“Thank you, my lady. The meal you asked for is packed.”
Her stomach lurched. Bryce might think it odd that she’d insisted on packing a meal, but he couldn’t suspect anything. Too much was at stake.
“Thank you. Now go!” She wanted to say more, thank the girl for assisting her these past weeks. But saying goodbye to the wrong person the wrong way could raise suspicions.
With a bob and curtsy, the maid left her chamber. Catrina smiled, remembering how reticent Elise had been on her first visit. They’d come far together.
Catrina walked into the corridor and met the guard at the top of the stairs. With a nod, she walked past him, moving down the stairs and into the hall. Bryce stood there, watching her. Catrina could feel his gaze as soon as she turned the corner. Whether it was because she planned
to escape that day or for some other reason, she wasn’t sure. But there was no doubt Bryce affected her in a way that no one man had before him.
Even Graeme. The man she’d always planned to marry. Before their families’ falling out, she and Graeme had practically grown up together. All of the other girls had begun to notice him as a man before she had. To her, he was still the boy who used to pull leaves from her hair. She wasn’t sure exactly when she had decided to marry him, but he was everything a girl could want for a husband.
Graeme deSowlis was handsome. Honorable. And now a chief. And he accepted her wayward ways and wanted to have a family of his own too. But there was no denying he had never once made her feel warm all over the way she did in this moment.
In typical fashion, Bryce wore no chainmail or surcoat, just a simple, unadorned tunic and hose. His boots were higher than normal, perfect for riding. With a start, Catrina was mortified to realize she’d been staring.
He didn’t smile, exactly, but Bryce’s slightly upturned lips meant she had, indeed, been caught.
“I’m ready for our ride,” he said.
His double meaning was obvious. As she moved closer, the subtle changes in his face told her what she’d begun to suspect. Or what his kiss confirmed.
Bryce desired her.
She had spent her whole life around men, so she knew full and well what his look meant. But, if she were being honest, she’d never felt it for herself. Never quite understood what all the fuss was about. Of course she’d known handsome men, like Graeme. But this overwhelming feeling inside her gut, the sensations that assaulted her every time the English knight was in her presence, they were new for her.
“I can see that.” By God’s bones, that was certainly not the right thing to say!
“I’d return the compliment, but telling a Kerr she looks lovely would be akin to asking the King of Scotland to dine with me.”
Was he teasing her? If there was one thing her brothers had taught her, it was how to verbally spar.
“No need for a compliment. You misunderstand me. I spoke only of your servants’ apparent readiness. Not yours.”
The Lord's Captive (Border Series Book 2) Page 9
