“You’re surprised?” he asked in response.
“Surprised? Were you listening to me when I told you about Graeme? Of course I’m surprised. It makes no sense.”
And then it dawned on her.
“You don’t believe me? You think what I told you of Graeme was a decoy to keep you from the truth?”
He answered with a frown.
“It wasn’t a lie, Bryce. Ask anyone. Our clans have been enemies since an incident in battle.”
“I’m asking you. And aye, it occurred to me you may have lied. Lord knows you don’t have a propensity for the truth.”
Her shock turned to anger. “I don’t remember making an oath to the man who captured me. I owe you nothing, Bryce.”
“Except your life.”
Well, maybe that. What an awful feeling, not having a retort.
“It hardly matters. We’re prepared, or will be, for any attack your brother may launch. But this isn’t what I expected.”
“Oh? How had you hoped my captivity to end? With Bristol’s coffers overflowing? My brother dead? How, Bryce? Pray tell me.” She didn’t care that she’d raised her voice enough that people were staring. She was tired of playing the part of the docile prisoner hoping for any bit of kindness.
“Lower your voice, Catrina.”
“Nay, I will not. Tell me, my lord. Is this not how a captive should act? Please instruct me on how best to behave. How exactly shall I speak to the man holding me hostage?’”
If he didn’t throttle her now, he never would.
Bryce did grab her arm with the pretense of escorting her from the table. Instead, he fairly dragged her from the hall. Most of the retainers they passed were unfamiliar to her, but a few had served at Bristol when Toren was lord. Catrina shrugged her shoulders at one man who looked at her as she “walked” away. Was that concern etched on his face?
Perhaps she had finally pushed him too far. Deliberately goading the man who held her life in his hands was, even for her, a tad dangerous.
Bryce shoved her into the solar. Well, maybe not shoved, but he certainly didn’t give her much room to navigate. He slammed the door closed behind them.
“I’ll tell you exactly how I want your captivity to end, Catrina.”
He was not happy.
“With you alive. I didn’t ask to be burdened with Toren Kerr’s sister in my home, but here you are. And, by God, I will see you safely through this ordeal, despite your best intentions.”
He sat down on an overly large, cushioned chair. Catrina watched as the man who hardly ever showed emotion—well, maybe he did get angry more often than not around her—put his head in his hands.
She was stunned. Had she found a crack in the lord’s armor at last? Could it truly be… her?
“Then let me go.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She believed him, but his logic made no sense.
“I can’t.” He lifted his head. His usually clean-shaven face had more than a day’s growth of whiskers. It made him look wilder than usual, less in control, especially since he was dressed in his casual outfit of hose and a linen shirt.
“Why?”
Bryce didn’t answer. Catrina walked to the wooden chair adjacent to him. Of all the rooms in Bristol Manor, this one reminded her most of Brockburg. Vibrant tapestries sent from Kenshire hung on every wall, and decorative woodwork made it the most ornate room in the manor. The stone fireplace was a perfect, smaller replica of the one in the hall.
Catrina listened to the wood crackle. Sounds of Bristol’s midday meal were quieted by the solar’s thick walls. The silence of this quiet corner of an otherwise bustling manor was strangely calming.
“You’re not going to answer,” she asked. Not that it mattered. She already knew his response. He wanted revenge. It was why she kept risking her life to get away.
“We’re leaving on the morrow.”
“Leaving? We?”
Bryce leaned back in the chair, more at ease. His controlled, emotionless expression was firmly back in place.
“Aye. You and I. And a small retinue of men.”
“Where? Why?” If she sounded panicked, it was with good cause. Unless they were leaving for Scotland, this did not bode well.
“If the rumors are true, and my sources assure me they are, your clan’s departure from Scotland is imminent. When they arrive here, I’ll give them no cause to attack Bristol.”
He watched her carefully. Was it a lie? A trick?
“Where will we go?”
“To Kenshire.”
“To your brother?”
“As I said, I will avoid another attack at all costs. I’ve no doubt Bristol Manor is well fortified and would not fall, but…”
She couldn’t help making a face. His eyes narrowed.
“You’ll abandon Bristol?” Perhaps it made sense for her to leave, but for him to come with her?
She sensed he objected to the word “abandon.”
“I will. I trust Thomas to keep it safe. I’ll take no chances with your care.”
“Bloody hell. Just say it, Bryce. What you mean is that you’ll take no chances letting the lure escape.” She stood and began to pace.
She could not leave. Kenshire was on the eastern coast, farther south and definitely more difficult to navigate alone. If she had the chance, of course. Which she wouldn’t. Because he would be watching her every move.
As he was now.
Catrina stopped and looked him straight in the eye. Bryce’s earlier anger seemed to have completely disappeared. For a man who was usually so measured, his mood was unpredictable this afternoon. She had to say something. Do something.
Or did she?
More than anything, she wanted her brothers to be safe. Would they attack Bristol if she wasn’t in residence?
Bryce was correct. They likely would not.
But they would come for her. She knew enough about Kenshire Castle not to be disillusioned about a victory there. Once the seat of Northumbrian kings, it was impregnable.
So what happens next?
Toren would be forced to capitulate.
Bryce stared at her, his expression inscrutable.
Dear lord, why must he be so handsome? She hated herself for thinking about him in any way other than as her captor. But when he looked at her like that, she thought of the kisses they had shared. The feel of him underneath her fingertips.
Catrina thought of the few times he let her see the real Bryce. He was no uncaring, unforgiving monster. She’d felt the caress of an honorable man. A man of deep feeling.
She would have to talk him out of it. Toren, too.
Her brother believed the truth of his claim. Bristol had once, long ago, belonged to her people. And while her brother would never disregard his sovereign's wishes, perhaps she could convince him of what she’d come to realize—the Waryns’ claim was at least equally strong, and Bristol Manor was their home. Besides, backed by the Countess of Kenshire, they were unlikely to be defeated. If she could talk sense into both Bryce and her brothers…
She knew it wasn’t likely. But damned if she wouldn’t try.
Catrina met his gaze.
“You are remarkable,” he said.
Her heart lurched. That was not at all what she had imagined he would say. And, by God’s bones, she wished it were otherwise, but she wanted him to kiss her again.
She nearly said, “So are you,” but stopped herself. He was not a suitor or a friend. He was the man who refused to give her freedom. She turned away. Lord, it was so hard. Catrina stood instead in front of the fire, listening to the crackles and hisses, trying to pretend she didn’t feel the weight of a presence behind her.
“Come here, Catrina.”
Bryce had spent a week trying to convince himself to stay away from her. To focus on making Bristol stronger. But then the news about Clan Kerr’s army had arrived.
Clan Kerr would be coming to Bristol to end their feud once and for all. That Toren had recruited Clans Scott and d
eSowlis was unexpected, especially if Catrina had told him the truth about her broken “betrothal.”
But it didn’t matter. Bristol had more men, thanks to Kenshire. The wall had been repaired, and with a recent sale of wool thanks to Thomas’s negotiation skills, work on a second curtain wall would start as soon as new workers arrived. It would not be completed, of course, for a battle with the Scots, but Bryce was happy with the progress they’d made in such a short time.
But then there was the girl.
Or woman, as Evelyn had so kindly pointed out on that first day. Though he had tried like hell, Bryce could not get her out of his mind. In the wake of his fading anger over her failed escape attempt, there was a respect for the indomitable will of a woman desperate to return home. The cunning she had displayed by saving the sleeping draught to use at just the right moment. The bravery it had taken to actually ride across the border alone, however misguided. And damned if Catrina didn’t know, well, just about everything. She picked up skills the way a hawk picked up its prey. Surely and swiftly.
She really was remarkable.
But then, he reminded himself, she was also the sister of the man who had killed his parents. Taken his brother’s birthright and forced them all to live, for five years, with relatives who could barely support their own family. Forced his brother and uncle to become reivers in order for them to survive.
He couldn’t separate Catrina and her brothers.
“Thank you.”
She said it with her back to him, responding to his earlier compliment but ignoring his request. He stared at her back and the waves of hair that looked more brown than red indoors but just the opposite in the sunlight.
Being this close to her was torture. Perhaps she was right. Did he really need to travel with her? Thomas was pleased that Bryce was entrusting Bristol to his care, but wouldn’t Catrina be just as safe on the three to four-day journey to Kenshire without him?
No. Catrina was right. She was the lure, and he would not lose her.
“Catrina, would you please come over here?”
Geoffrey and Thomas would be on their knees with laughter if they could hear him now. But this woman was beyond stubborn, and she did not take well to commands. Even—no, especially—from her captor.
She turned.
He had told her once there were gold specks in her eyes. He couldn’t see them from this distance, but that didn’t stop his memory from summoning them up. Little windows to her soul. Tiny reminders that Catrina was always ready to smile at any moment.
He envied that about her.
“I know this has been hard for you, and I’m sorry for it.” He almost wished she had not turned around. “Catrina, leave the scowling to me. You’re much more beautiful when you smile.”
Shite. The second compliment that day.
“What I mean to say is that my earlier anger was not directed at you.”
Her laugh was unexpected.
“I appreciate the sentiment,” she said, “but that was hardly a display of anger. You should witness my brothers when they explode. Especially Alex.”
“Perhaps we should not talk about your family.”
“Why were you so angry?”
He couldn’t tell her it was because he had promised himself not to send for her. He’d sworn to himself the first time he’d see her again was on the road to Kenshire. But the control he’d spent years honing continued to abandon him where she was concerned.
“More importantly, why are you taking the news about Kenshire so well? I assumed you wouldn’t want to leave Bristol.”
She lifted her chin, a sure sign he was right. Although it didn’t take a scholar to surmise she was up to something. Catrina schemed more than a falconer attempting to lure back his bird. And Lord help him, it was another thing he admired about her.
“Do with me as you will.”
His cock instantly hardened. Of course she didn’t mean it. In fact, she was clearly agitated by the turn of the conversation. He could appreciate her position…couldn’t imagine feeling so powerless. But, by God, he wanted nothing more than to misinterpret her words, tear off her gown, and run his hands over every curve of her beautiful body.
When she finally understood the implications of her hastily uttered words, Catrina bit her lower lip. A plump lip he wanted to claim with his own.
Bryce forced himself to look away. He had brought her here for a reason. He struggled to control his voice. His thoughts. “Pack a bag for an extended journey. And be ready to leave at sunrise.”
“Fine. But you need to answer a question first.”
“Need? Are you sure about that?”
He chose to ignore the fact that she rolled her eyes.
“What’s your question?” This game of questions reminded him of the afternoon they’d spent stranded at Bristol Sprout.
“You told me not to scowl, but your smiles are so rare that I can count the times I’ve seen them.”
“The nature of—”
“Yes, yes, you’ve made it quite clear that I’m your prisoner and you need not answer to me. No need to repeat that nonsense. I’ll have the truth, please.”
He owed her nothing. And much needed to be done before they left. But the stubborn chit would continue to ask. . .
“I told you once before. I’ve never been quite as jovial as my brothers. My mother called me the serious one.”
“And?”
She was relentless.
“And smiling serves no purpose.”
Catrina’s look told him what she thought of that answer.
“Before I fostered at Huntington, it felt as if the whole world awaited me. As I told you, I was the first in our family to serve a great house. We enjoyed as much peace as could be expected along the border. I was to be knighted. Would someday marry. Serve my brother, perhaps, or find my own way in the world.”
He paused, thinking.
“Tell me, Bryce. I need to know.”
He didn’t stop to think about her words. Something inside him wanted to tell her. What the hell? What could it hurt?
“For four years, I served my lord well. Learned much and benefited from training for endless tournaments. Huntington had built his own tiltyard for the purpose of holding as many such events as he fancied.”
Bryce had participated in no less than thirty jousts and half as many tournaments at Huntington, first as a squire and later on his own.
“When his eldest daughter Elena returned—she’d been fostered by the Earl and Countess of Ramsey—I…”
Had he ever truly loved that scheming bitch?
“I fell for her. Lady Elena was beautiful. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel, they said. And it was true. Everyone was half in love with the lord’s daughter.”
Catrina frowned so deeply, he reconsidered the wisdom of finishing the story.
“And?” she pressed.
“Much to my surprise, she followed me around everywhere. Because she was the lord’s daughter, I was properly hesitant. But Elena was persistent.”
He had to be careful here.
“We…”
“You pleasured her?”
“Catrina!”
“You forget, I have three brothers.”
He had indeed forgotten. But her bluntness was, at times, quite jarring. Endearing, but unexpected.
“Aye, I suppose you could say that. I fancied myself in love with her. Appealed to my father to ask for her hand in marriage. She assured me our stations were not so mismatched that her father would object. But I set out to prove myself to him.”
“And that is why you’re known as the Slayer. The champion of tournaments? The man who cannot lose? In the joust, hand-to-hand combat.”
Bryce was unsure how to answer.
“Who told you that?”
“Evelyn. Before she was banned from seeing me—” another scowl, “—she took it upon herself to tout your finer qualities.”
“Ahh, Evie. I suppose some of that is true.”
“I’m not sure my reputation in tournaments is responsible for that particular name.”
Her eyes widened.
He refused to say more. Why tell her this story? Only Thomas knew the tale. His brothers had surmised the truth since he hadn’t, after all, come back from Huntington with a bride. But he’d always refused to talk about it.
Catrina raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows.
“Very well. One day, after giving me her ribbon in a tournament commissioned by her father as a show of peace for the lords of the north, she asked for it back. Because Geoffrey was in attendance.”
He could tell she was confused.
“Elena realized I was not a first-born son. Somehow it was never discussed. When we talked of marriage, I assumed she knew of my family. And I guess she assumed a second-born son would not be so bold as to court a wealthy baron’s daughter.”
But her father had known the truth, and he’d still granted Bryce’s request to formally court her. He loved Lord Huntington like a father. The man was strong, patient, and noble. Bryce had seen these same qualities in the daughter, but only because he’d wanted to see them. Expected to see them. The truth was a different beast.
“I’d just won the joust and dismounted. I assumed Elena wanted to congratulate me. Instead, in front of a half dozen knights and as many ladies, she asked for the ribbon back, angry that I had never told her about Geoffrey.”
“That’s terrible!”
Aye, it was.
“I kept them away from each other. Was mortified that I could have fallen for someone so shallow. Geoffrey would have—”
“Understood. And told you she didn’t deserve you. Ungrateful bitch.”
He did smile then. Even though it was years ago, his anger long since buried, it amused him to have Catrina so vigorously defend his honor.
“Perhaps. More importantly, what would Father Simon say about your choice of words for the Lady Elena?”
Catrina laughed, her eyes bright.
“He would have quite a bit to say, I suppose. But until he chastises men who speak thusly, saying ‘I’m sorry’ would be a lie.”
She had the strangest ideas. “Your brothers?”
The Lord's Captive (Border Series Book 2) Page 12
