How could he do such a thing?
Perhaps he truly was the stoic, uncaring, heartless man everyone thought him to be. Glimpses of vulnerability? She must have imagined them. Only a monster could do such a thing.
But in the end, it didn’t matter that she hated Bryce. Or that she also loved him. She couldn’t bear for either him or her brother to die. She wasn’t even sure if he or her brother had the advantage. Both men were equally braw. Bryce had dedicated his life to proving a second son was not worthless. To proving to his brother, and everyone who worshiped Geoffrey, that he was just as strong.
Toren had his own demons that had driven him to train beyond the endurance of any ordinary man. He was one of the only warriors she’d match fairly against Bryce.
This is madness.
Catrina ran out of the tent and into the arms of the man who guarded her. She tripped, and the poor fellow had to catch her from falling flat on her face.
“Please.” She didn’t need to sound desperate. She was desperate. “Take me to Sir Bryce.”
He looked at her as if she were daft. And maybe she was. But she would not let them kill each other.
“I must get to Norham Castle. Immediately.”
“My lady, I can’t—”
She would not be refused.
“You will either escort me to Norham, or I’ll find a way there myself. I escaped Bryce once before, and I’ll find a way to do so again.”
She wasn’t finished.
“I have explicit orders from Lady Sara to relay a message that has not yet been received. Are you prepared to answer to your lady if you deny me?”
Although the young knight appeared slightly uncomfortable, Catrina could tell he would not disobey Bryce’s order, which was apparently to ensure she did not attempt to follow him. But the stakes were too high for her to give up now.
“Taking me to Norham may save Sir Bryce’s life.” Which was the truth. “He challenged my brother Toren, the chief of Clan Kerr and the most formidable warrior in the Borderlands.”
“No disrespect, my lady—”
“With the exception of Sir Bryce and his brother.” That seemed to pacify him a bit. “I don’t know what the outcome will be, but I do know this. One of them will die on this day.”
His expression softened as he looked at her.
Catrina embraced the startled young man. “Please. I beg you, sir. I must get this message to him. Please.” He coughed and stepped backward.
“I will regret this.”
“Nay, nay you won’t! I promise, you will not. Hurry.”
She wasn’t sure how long ago Bryce had left, but she knew from the talk around the fire last eve they were more than an hour’s ride to Norham Castle. Leaving her belongings, Catrina ran to Davie and began to untie him. She watched as the young knight spoke to an older man. He pointed at her, and for a moment, her stomach lurched. Would the other man stop them?
When the older knight slapped her champion on his back, she let out a sigh of relief.
But would they already be too late?
“You’re sure about this?”
Bryce gave his brother a hard look. He didn’t like having to explain himself. Again.
“We’ve discussed this all morning. How many times do you plan to ask the same question?”
“As many times as it takes. I agreed to this before I realized you and Catrina were—”
“Stop,” he bellowed. Bryce rarely raised his voice, and even fewer times at his brother. But the suggestion that he should marry Catrina—marry, for God’s sake—and allow her brother to simply ride back across the border was just not possible.
They waited with a small retinue of men who had accompanied them to Norham Castle. The bishop was not in residence, but the constable met them just inside the castle’s inner courtyard. Bryce couldn’t concentrate as the elderly man read the terms of their trial. He looked toward the gatehouse. They all awaited the arrival of the man who was responsible for arranging this judicial combat. Hugh would be arriving with Clan Kerr.
As if on cue, the piercing blow of a horn heralded the arrival of three men, the agreed-upon number, plus his uncle. He spotted Hugh at the rear, looking no worse for his travels. Bryce assumed the man in the lead was the chief, Catrina’s brother.
Catrina.
Bryce could not, would not, think of her. He had considered waking her before he left, but there was nothing to say. The events of this day would devastate her. She would either hate him or he would be dead.
Catrina deserved more.
The constable, who had not yet spoken, looked decidedly worried, and it was undeniable the men made quite a sight. Without armor, their only markings a crest on each of their tunics, they could have hailed from Southampton rather than the Scottish lowlands. As the group approached them, their faces became clearer. Bryce recognized the chief of Clan Kerr from the scouting mission he and his brother had conducted years earlier. The man to his left bore a strong resemblance to him, so it had to be another of her brothers. The third man he did not know.
Hugh made his way toward the brothers and slapped them on the back in greeting. Bryce couldn’t take his eyes off the Kerr leader. Although his hair was a different color, more brown than anything, his look reminded him very much of Catrina. It was the eyes, he realized, as Toren came to a stop just opposite him. Hazel with flecks of gold. And his expression too. Though he wasn’t smiling, there was a buried mirth behind the eyes that was very much reminiscent of Catrina.
He had to stop thinking of her. If he didn’t stop, he would lose, and the Waryns would have to forfeit their claim to Bristol forever. Bryce was determined not to let that happen.
Norham’s constable spoke. “Bryce Waryn, Lord of Bristol, and Toren Kerr, Chief of Clan Kerr, enter into an agreement decided by judicial combat for sake and soke of Bristol Manor, the caput, the village of Bristol, and all lands pertaining to it. Villein tenants and all present banalities including the demesne of Gouldsboro will relegate to the winner of the aforementioned trial. Lady Catrina Kerr shall be returned forthwith at the conclusion of the battle, surrendered no later than ten days from this date. The winner shall be declared—” he hesitated, looked up, and then back at his scroll, “—as the man not deceased at the conclusion of this trial. You’ve chosen to settle the dispute without armor, without shield. The weapon shall be a sword of your choosing. And this I do decree on the twenty fourth of May in the year of our lord twelve hundred and seventy one.”
Bryce nodded and Kerr did the same.
“Any man who interferes is subject to the charge of treason. You may offer last words and assume positions when you are prepared.”
He stood back, rolled the scroll in his hand, and handed it to the sheriff.
Bryce turned toward his uncle and brother.
“If I lose—”
“Toren—” Geoffrey started.
“Nay, Geoffrey. You entrusted me with your inheritance. This is my decision. If I lose, bring Catrina to her family straightaway. Ride immediately with my men to Bristol and apprise Thomas of the situation. Remember you promised to take in any man or woman who wished to leave, and I hold you to that promise, brother.”
Geoffrey, his face no longer neutral, nodded. Bryce could not stand to look into his eyes a moment longer, so he broke his gaze.
“Uncle, please speak to Geoffrey about his appalling lack of faith in his brother’s fighting skills.”
Hugh smiled. “Aye, my lord.” He grasped his arm. “You will be victorious.”
“No one wins this day,” Bryce said blackly. Turning back to face his enemy, he thought of Lord Huntington, who admonished his knights never to taunt an opponent. There was so much he wanted to say to the man whose eyes bore into him. He expected to have more hatred and bile in his heart, but he did not. Yet that did not make him any less determined for Toren Kerr to pay for his parents’ deaths.
“Positions ready,” yelled the sheriff.
Bryce had eyes o
nly for Toren Kerr, who stared back at him intently. He had never been more ready for a battle.
“Begin!”
The guards would not allow them entry. Catrina had a feeling she knew why. God, please don’t let them start fighting yet. Father Simon always told her the time to pray was before the time of need, not during. But she didn’t care. She was out of ideas.
She begged, pleaded. Invoked the name of every saint she could name, and there were many. All to no avail.
It was her companion, bless him, who finally got through to the mule-headed guards.
“There has been a mistake. We know a trial is taking place, but we have information that may sway the outcome. You say the terms were set, only three men from each side allowed entry. She—” he pointed at her, “—is not a man. Give her escort. Surely you don’t fear one woman will overtake anyone?”
It worked. Catrina was surrounded by three of Norham’s guards—she should be pleased they thought so highly of her fighting skills—and admitted into the gates. And the sound that greeted her as they made their way through the second set of gates nearly made her heart stop.
Metal on metal. The fight had indeed begun.
“Quickly!” She tried to run ahead but was stopped by one of the guards.
“You stay with us.”
Was he daft? They knew she was there to stop the fight, and Bryce or Toren could be killed at any moment.
As they approached, Catrina forcing the guards to keep up with her frantic pace, her heart beat faster and faster. The clanging became louder and she could see the outline of men standing to either side of…
Holy St. Stephen, they were going to kill each other! She began to run, not caring about the guards. Or her own safety. Or anything other than saving the lives of these two men she loved.
“Stop! Stop!” she screamed…yet no one seemed to hear her or heed her. Toren swung his sword to kill. Tears began to stream down her face as she watched Bryce evade the thrust.
“Stop!” One of the men watching the fight noticed her. And then another. Everyone but the two whose attention she needed most. Then the witnesses began running toward her. She couldn’t see what was happening. She screamed again and continued to run. Catrina didn’t register who’d grabbed her, but suddenly she was being held by one man. And then another. She clawed at them and continued to scream.
“What in bloody Christ do you think you’re doing? Let go of me!”
She kicked blindly, and then a voice penetrated the haze of her blind fear. “Catrina, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself. Stop it.”
Hugh? It was Bryce’s uncle.
“Sir Hugh, make them stop. Please, I beg you. Let me go. Make them stop. Please.”
Tears had blinded her. The blurry vision of her brother kneeling in front of her made her cry even more. Alex. Oh God, and her other brother was going to be killed.
It was Geoffrey who held her. He was so strong. But she would be stronger. She hoped he’d forgive her later, but she’d do what she needed to stop this fight. She’d do anything. Catrina went limp as if she were defeated, but as soon as Geoffrey loosened his hold, she used her knee as hard as she could the way Toren had taught her. She took advantage of his surprise—and his pain—to spring up and away from him. Then she ran as fast as her legs would carry her.
It was only when she reached the combatants that she realized there was no longer a fight to stop. Both Toren and Bryce stood with their swords at their sides. Their blood and sweat was a testament to the fight they’d already weathered. She had the urge to grab one of their swords and kill them both for being fools.
Knowing the fight was ended, at least for the moment, Catrina sank to the ground and buried her head in her hands, her sobs loud and uncontrollable.
It was all too much.
She heard voices but didn’t know what the men were saying. She didn’t care, so long as they weren’t fighting. They had nearly killed her. Catrina had thought she would die when she’d heard the first sounds of clanging metal.
Bloody hell!
She stood and wiped her face. On the ride to Norham, she had thought about nothing else but what she would say to make them stop. But now that the moment had arrived, every word she’d prepared was forgotten.
“How dare you.” She turned to Bryce. “How dare you.”
“Catrina—”
“Nay, do not speak my name. Do not ever speak my name again. You will turn around, get back on your horse, and ride back to Bristol. You will never look at me or speak to me again.”
She wasn’t finished.
“And you.” Catrina turned on her brother. On Toren. God, how she had missed him. As tall and muscled as Bryce, he was every bit as intimidating, but neither man would sway her resolve. She simply would not allow them to murder each other.
“It is done. Bristol is theirs. I will speak to the king myself and tell him as much. But you will not ever…” She walked toward her brother and stood so close she could smell the stench of battle on him. “Ever attempt to raid their land again.”
“Catrina, I didn’t—”
“Nay.” She was done listening.
“You will not kill each other. Do you hear me? I will not bloody allow it.”
“Sister.” He reached for her, but she backed away.
Toren looked at Bryce, his eyes narrowing. “This bastard stole you. Refused to return you to us.”
Damn stubborn men.
“Stole?” As usual, Bryce kept his composure, even though she knew he wanted to take his sword and run it through her brother’s gut. “You mean rescued? Brought me back from the brink of death after you lost me.”
Toren had the good grace to look embarrassed. “You refused to ride with anyone and took the closest mount yourself to ride. When we saw your horse unmounted, we feared the worst but were unable to find you.” Toren turned to Bryce and raised his voice. “Her rescue is not at issue. You tried to ransom her. Trade her like a piece of livestock.”
Well, that was true. But Catrina had no desire to stand here all day and negotiate.
“Enough, both of you.” She was proud of how strong her voice sounded. Truly, all she wanted to do was dig a hole and crawl into it until this entire ordeal was over.
“Toren, let’s go.” She took his hand. “We’re going home.”
Although she tugged as hard as she could, he didn’t move. Instead, he continued to stare at Bryce, whom she refused to look at.
“I am willing to negotiate according to Catrina’s terms,” Toren finally said.
Catrina wrapped her arms around her brother. “Thank you, Toren. Thank you.” Her eyes began to water again, but she had cried plenty these past two days. She’d had enough of it. Catrina willed the tears back and managed to remain strong.
No one said a word. Finally, she looked at Bryce. She shuddered. His pained look almost made her run to him and throw herself into his arms. She knew he still blamed Toren for the death of his parents. But his eyes weren’t guarded as they usually were. They were filled with an emotion she couldn’t identify. Almost as if…
Nay. If he cared for her, they wouldn’t be standing here now. This day could have been avoided all together.
“Go.”
That was all he said. He didn’t try to fight for her. Didn’t profess his undying love or ask for her to stay with him. Just ‘go.’
But she would take it. Both men were still alive.
It would have to be enough.
Catrina ran back to Alex, embracing her brother.
“What in the devil’s name are you wearing, Catrina?”
She looked down at Sara’s breeches. With a pang, she realized she would never again see the woman who had given them to her. “Excuse me, Alex.”
Catrina turned to Geoffrey. “Please thank your wife for me…for everything. And if I ever have an opportunity, I will return these.” She gestured toward the unusual garment.
Geoffrey leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Tell her yourse
lf. Don’t give up on him, Catrina.”
She threw her arms around him. “Thank you. For everything. And please tell Lady Sara the same. I…will miss her. And my apologies for the. . . injury.” Before she could break down again, Catrina walked back toward her brother. Only then did she notice that her brother’s second witness was someone she knew well.
“Graeme? What are you doing here?”
The man she’d once wished to marry took a step toward her. Still handsome, always smiling. “It’s good to see you, Catrina. We’ve all been worried.”
“That is Graeme?” She heard Bryce’s voice behind her but refused to turn around.
“Your stubborn brother finally admitted he needed me. When it looked like there would be a battle, he agreed to an alliance.”
She looked at Toren. So it was true? She honestly hadn’t believed it possible.
“We’re finally to be married, Catrina.”
Her head snapped back toward Graeme.
“The chief agreed to honor our betrothal as a show of good faith between our clans.”
He looked so pleased. Of course he would. They had wanted this for so long. At least, she had thought it was what she wanted. How could she marry him now?
What did Bryce think?
Did it matter? He had made love to her and then ridden off, without even saying goodbye, to do battle with her brother. Whereas Bryce had never, not once, fought for her, Graeme had never stopped seeking her hand, even when it had seemed hopeless. She allowed him to take her arm.
“Graeme…please take me home,” she said.
She walked away with him and didn’t once look back.
24
Catrina’s hands were shaking.
She sat on her bed at Brockburg, staring down at the letter in her hands. It had been delivered to her earlier that day, and she’d nearly dropped it at the sight of the seal. The contents had not changed. Nor had her indecision.
Her homecoming had gone exactly as expected. Not much had changed in Brockburg. Alex and Reid continued to wage war on neighboring clans—at times for amusement and other times in earnest. Father Simon continued to chastise her for her swearing. It wasn’t her fault she’d been so excited to greet him she’d nearly fallen flat on her face while running toward him. The epithet that had accidentally escaped her lips had caused Father to exclaim she was the “very same Catrina who left us.”
The Lord's Captive (Border Series Book 2) Page 22
