Neill watched from the dais as his nephews were led away from the hall by Faye, his aunt by marriage. Faye had fussed over him quite a bit, for they’d not seen each other since soon after she had wed Uncle Hugh. It was clear Hugh had acclimated to life at Kenshire quite as well as Geoffrey—he was the namesake of Neill’s youngest nephew, the newborn babe who had kept Geoffrey from the council. Hayden held on to Faye’s leg as they left the hall. He had just started walking recently, according to Geoffrey.
It had been a good, satisfying day, which Neill and Geoffrey had spent talking and training. Kathryn had been absent from the midday meal, although Sara had assured them she was well. He’d pressed her, wondering why she had not joined them, but the countess had put him off, explaining only that she’d needed some time to herself.
Thankfully, she’d arrived moments ago looking more than well. Once again, her lovely hair hung down her back, drawing his gaze and making his hand itch to touch it. He was not sure if he should bless or curse whatever fate had seated him next to her. It would have been customary for him to sit beside his brother, but instead he’d been positioned to Kathryn’s left. So far, she had spent most of the meal speaking to Sara, leaving Neill to observe the activity in the hall. Luckily, they weren’t forced to share a trencher, courtesy of the individual bowls of stew that had been served.
His brother’s words from earlier echoed in his ear as he struggled not to stare at her.
“You understand your duty, brother?” Geoffrey had said.
Neill had told his brother everything. Though he was very close to his sister, Emma, and had always admired Bryce, it was Geoffrey with whom he shared the closest bond. After their parents had been killed, it was Geoffrey who had kept the family together. Geoffrey reminded him most of their father, and he’d always striven to make him proud.
His brother had said exactly what he’d expected—and feared—he would say. From the moment the king had set that second condition, he’d known his life was no longer his own. He would share it with Lady Alina. A small sacrifice for what he’d gained, or so he’d thought.
“Aye,” he’d told Geoffrey, “but I’ll not lie and say I like it.”
“You’ve not told her,” his brother had admonished. With those words, every excuse he’d conjured up for his reticence had been laid to waste. He told himself he’d not had the opportunity. On their journey to Kenshire, he’d even approached her once, intending to apologize for his behavior and explain the conditions of King Edward’s boon. But the maid had joined them, and he’d used her intrusion as a reason to put off his explanation.
He chanced a glance at Kathryn.
And damned if she wasn’t peering at him over her wine goblet.
She seemed very at ease here, sitting with his family on the dais. Geoffrey had mentioned Sara had convinced Kathryn to continue to dress as befit her status. To sit with the family who hosted her. The men who had come with him from the start already knew, as of earlier that day, the maid was, in actuality, a lady. Though her true identity remained a secret. But one thing had been bothering him.
“Your very diligent chaperone,” he said, before she looked away. “Does she not wonder about your transformation?”
He looked down, meaning to glance at her gown, but his gaze settled on her deep neckline. Trimmed in gold thread, it glimmered in a way that had caught his attention.
Recognizing that he lied, unsuccessfully, to himself, Neill attempted to ignore his body’s reaction.
“Sara has other ideas for how to keep the maid occupied while she remains here at Kenshire and is thankfully no longer my personal maid.”
“I see.”
Lifting his mug for a drink, he tried to keep his mind from remembering the times she’d melted into his arms, her lips a perfect fit for his.
Neill shrugged away the thought.
So . . . Sara and Kathryn had become fast friends. It warmed him to think of the two women getting on so well.
Wresting him back to the present moment, Kathryn frowned and said, “You do not believe I put myself in danger?”
“By dressing for your station?” Neill shook his head. “I trust my men. If they are confused by the situation, they’ll keep their thoughts to themselves.”
Kathryn placed her goblet onto the table, folding her hands quite prettily on her lap.
“I’ve been hearing tales of your childhood, you know.”
Geoffrey was watching them as Sara spoke to him. He understood his brother’s discomfort. But there was no law preventing him from speaking to a guest. They were simply conversing. Nothing more.
“And you still wish to speak to me?” he asked with a small smile. “I am a lucky man indeed.”
Kathryn’s laugh was like the sound of some mischievous wood-sprite. He wished he could listen to it all day.
“I’ve heard naught but good stories, which is suspicious now that I think on it.”
“Mmmm.” He knew what she was going to say next.
“I’ve heard you were the quickest. The smartest. The most gallant.”
“And that was all before I left for Langford.”
“In fact . . .” Kathryn peered around him at his brother and lowered her voice. “It’s said the only tournament you have lost since becoming a knight was after you wrote to your sister saying, ‘None could possibly best me.’”
“Lady Sara has much to say about me, then?”
“Aye.”
“If I recall, by the time Emma received that very missive, Lord Blackburn of Anglewood had already bested me.”
“Aye, so Sara said.”
“But he was the last.”
“Until Bryce, of course.”
“My dastardly brother-in-law,” Sara said beside her.
“Aye, he is that.” Neill picked up his mug. “As Kathryn has so kindly reminded me, Bryce somehow managed to best me in training at Brockburg.”
“Somehow, eh?” Geoffrey interjected, addressing Kathryn. “A boy left for Langford, a man returned north. But—” he cleared his throat, “—I fear my brother still has much to learn. I suspect he forgot the lesson Blackburn taught him.”
“I left a pain in the arse,” he explained to Kathryn, “and returned to a pain in the arse. Aside from my brother’s beautiful wife and two strapping youngins, it seems all remains the same here at Kenshire.”
If Kathryn smiled that way every time he spoke, Neill would never stop talking.
“Does Lord—”
“Geoffrey,” Sara interrupted.
The two women exchanged a look, and Kathryn nodded and corrected herself. “Does Geoffrey have the right of it, then? Did your brother best you because he took advantage of your overconfidence?”
His brother burst out laughing, and Neill could admit, it was somewhat amusing how keenly Kathryn had assessed Geoffrey’s hidden meaning. Though he was not surprised.
“We shall see tomorrow in the training yard.”
“Aye,” his brother replied. “Aye, we shall.”
He relaxed then, knowing he needn’t fear for Kathryn’s well-being while they waited for word from Brockburg. In the meantime, he would do well to heed Geoffrey’s warning.
As Neill’s gaze strayed to her again, he reminded himself of what was at stake. Once King Alexander renewed his oath of fealty, King Edward would no doubt expect his other condition to be fulfilled. Neill would be required to submit to a formal betrothal. He was all but wed, which meant his delightful and very beautiful companion should be avoided at all costs.
Though he would have thought himself more disciplined, it seemed he had more weaknesses than the one Bryce had exploited. But succumbing to this weakness would be disastrous for his family and the borderlands, and that was if he kept his head for disobeying the king and queen.
And then she looked at him.
Chapter 18
“I must speak to you,” she whispered.
Kathryn had wanted to say as much all evening, but only now, just before the mea
l ended, did she finally get the words out. She had to make sure Neill knew she had not encouraged Sara’s matchmaking efforts. Because no matter what she’d said to the countess that day, she would not be waylaid. Sara was convinced she and Neill had feelings for one another.
Which was not entirely untrue.
Kathryn and Sara had enjoyed a pleasant afternoon together. So enjoyable, Kathryn could almost forget what was even now unfolding in Scotland. They had goaded the Earl of Bothwell, her father’s potential murderer, and in so doing, they might succeed in uncovering a larger plot.
Of course, Sara thought it wildly romantic. If, she argued, Bothwell was the murderer and had been secretly undermining peace along the borderlands, it was wildly fortuitous for Kathryn to have come across Neill, who had been on his way to the council meeting.
It was, indeed, fated.
Although speaking openly about Lady Sara’s scheme would mortify her, Kathryn knew it had to be done. Lady Sara did not appear to be the kind of woman who would give up easily. Geoffrey would likely soon know of her plan, and the count might well decide to share the news with his brother.
Before that happened, Kathryn had to be sure Neill understood it was not her doing.
Neill watched her so intently, without answering, that Kathryn thought he must not have heard her. She was about to repeat the question when he said, “I’ll find you.”
What did that mean? When would he find her? After the meal?
She had assumed he might simply pull her aside here in the hall. Her chaperone, after all, was no longer watching them. Surely they could speak privately for a moment?
When Geoffrey and Sara stood, they did the same, as was custom.
“I will see you to your chamber,” Sara said, smiling at her husband and taking Kathryn’s hand. The gesture was highly unusual, much like everything about this remarkable family. Though Sara wore a gown now, she certainly acted like no countess Kathryn had ever met. It was to her credit.
With a final glance back at Neill, who stepped off the dais with his brother, Kathryn followed Sara to the same comfortable chamber where she’d been installed earlier in the day. It was in a separate building from the main keep, one obviously reserved for the guests of Kenshire. On their way, Sara stopped a serving maid and whispered something to her, although Kathryn didn’t overhear enough to guess at her latest kindness.
The chamber itself was a kindness. Stone walls encircled the room, a large burgundy tapestry covering one entire wall. A canopied bed sat in the center with a wooden chest on one side of it, a hearth on the other. The maid Sara had whispered to entered the room behind them with a pitcher and two wine goblets. Another maid followed with a bowl of rosewater and a cloth, which she placed on a stone step near the sole window in the room. Although it was currently shuttered, Kathryn knew the view from the small opening was spectacular. They were at the rear of the castle, and when she’d looked out earlier, sand and sea lay beyond.
“I hope you do not mind,” Sara said, “I had the hearth prepared. Even in summer months, it can get quite cool here.”
“Thank you. You are too kind.”
The maids left the room, and Sara poured them each a goblet of wine.
“A toast,” she said. “To your future.”
Kathryn eyed the woman suspiciously. Was she always so tenacious?
Taking a sip, she blurted, “Neill and I . . . cannot be.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Sara’s eyes widened, a play of innocence somewhat undermined by the laughter she burst into moments later.
Once she recovered, she looked into Kathryn’s eyes and said, “’Tis quite simple. You like him.”
It was not a question, so she did not answer.
“And he likes you.”
Kathryn resisted the urge to ask why Sara thought that to be true. Although it was undeniable that Neill had kissed her, more than once, that only meant he desired her. If Kathryn had learned one lesson from The Wild Boar, it was that desire could exist without affection. Two people could be together, in that way, without any prospect of marriage.
She’d even considered the possibility of giving in to desire with Neill, although she’d quickly dismissed it.
“I believe,” Sara said, placing her goblet on the small wooden table in front of them, “this family was destined to find love through tribulation, and most unusual circumstances.”
Kathryn had no idea what she meant by that.
Sara smiled. “I’ll explain more on the morrow. For now, I bid you goodnight, Lady Kathryn.”
Staring down at her wine, Kathryn didn’t move at first. Why had her companion left without taking a sip of the wine she’d poured? Why had the lady of Kenshire, a countess in her own right, personally escorted her to her chamber?
She’d told Sara earlier she did not need a lady’s maid. The fine gown Sara had lent her, along with the ones from Brockburg, were nonetheless simple enough for her to manage on her own. Embarrassed to have borrowed them at all, Kathryn placed her goblet back on the table and moved to the bowl of rosewater.
How easily I’ve slipped back into my former life. Foolish Kathryn.
She had fine gowns again, fine food too, and no hands to grab at her as she walked by. Her chamber, one which five of her rooms at the inn could fit inside.
And yet she would trade it all for a chance to say goodbye to her father, to know what had truly happened that day she was forced from Edinburgh.
When a knock sounded at the door, Kathryn’s shoulders sagged. She’d prefer not to be fussed over, her mind at war with itself.
“I told Lady Sara . . .”
It was no maid. Neill filled the entranceway, his expression dark.
“You seem surprised. I told you that I would come.”
She peered around the chamber. “Surely not here? Your brother, Lady Sara . . .”
She swallowed. Her heart raced as he waited for her acquiescence. The old Kathryn would never have considered it. But she was not the same woman who’d blushed to her very core after allowing a baron’s son to sneak a quick kiss at court.
“I need to speak with you as well,” he said. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and it would be better done in private.”
Kathryn stepped aside, closing the door behind him. When she turned, Kathryn saw him looking at the two wine goblets.
“Sara,” she started, and then stopped.
They’d toasted, but Sara had never sipped the wine. And not because Kathryn had interrupted her.
It was not intended for Sara.
“Did you tell anyone you were coming here?” she asked.
“Nay, I would not do that.”
For the sake of your reputation.
He didn’t say it, but the words were there.
So that meant . . .
Kathryn stared at the goblets in bafflement. How could she possibly have known?
I believe this family was destined to find love through tribulation.
Kathryn still did not understand what that meant, but she did know that Sara had suspected Neill would come. Somehow, she had guessed it. More than that, she’d encouraged it.
Which was exactly what she needed to speak to Neill about.
Chapter 19
“Sara?”
When he’d seen the two goblets, he’d imagined for a brief moment that another man had been here, in Kathryn’s chamber. Though he’d immediately dismissed the thought, the burning sensation it had spread through his chest remained. The idea couldn’t be set aside so easily.
Perhaps because she would be with another man. Someday, someone other than him would slip off that gown, discard the shift under it . . .
Nay.
Never.
“Sara brought them here.” She frowned. “In fact, that is precisely why I wanted to speak with you.”
Neill sauntered over to the table, picked up the goblets, and extended both to her. She took the one that was apparently hers and he took a sip of Sara’
s wine, though it appeared untouched. Nodding to the velvet-covered chairs by the hearth, he sat in one and watched as Kathryn lowered herself into the seat across from him.
She sat with as much grace as any highborn lady. Hair streaming around her shoulders in glorious waves, her chin held high. Though he’d known from the start she was very much a lady, Neill chastised himself for harboring even a moment of doubt.
“You are not the same woman who left The Wild Boar with me,” he said, unable to keep the thought to himself.
“I am.” She took a sip of wine, her lips wrapping around the rim of the cup.
“Nay, you are the daughter of a royal messenger now.”
“Just as I was that day.”
“But you were also a serving maid, and there’s no sign of that woman left in you now. The transformation is . . . remarkable.”
He didn’t voice the other thoughts that whirled around his head. Ones he should not be having, lest he forget his role in this dangerous game played by the border lords.
“’Tis the problem, I suppose,” she said with another sip from her goblet. “I know not who I am.”
The red wine slipped down his throat, a welcome companion in an impossible situation.
“I am so grateful for Magge and what she has done for me. She allowed me to remain close to the border, kept me safe. And yet . . .”
“And yet, here you are.”
“I’ve no choice but to accept this may be my new life for some time.”
Neill stood and made his way to the pitcher of wine. Filling both of their goblets, though hers was not yet empty, he thought about her words. The decision was easy, and immediate. As sure as he knew he was the son of Sir Thomas Waryn, Lord of Bristol Manor, he would not bring Kathryn back to that place. She was meant to be here.
“You could stay here.”
“Here?”
“At Kenshire. My brother would protect you. And you would still be close to the border.”
I would protect you. God, this woman was in his blood.
“Nay, I could not,” Kathryn said, dismissing the possibility at once. “Neill, I wanted to tell you . . . Sara seems to have some odd notions of our relationship.”
The Knight's Reward (Border Series Book 10) Page 12
