“Odd?”
“For some reason, it appears she’s taken it upon herself to—” She coughed. Kathryn was nervous. “To believe there is a reason for us. That is, for the two of us . . .”
He suddenly knew precisely what she was about to say, which was why he lifted his full goblet and downed the contents.
Sara did not know the truth about their situation.
But she would, as soon as Geoffrey told her, and then her attempts to throw him and Kathryn together would end.
He didn’t wish them to.
“’Tis silly, I know. But I did not want you to believe I’d encouraged it.”
“Why silly?” he asked, despite himself.
He took his empty goblet back to the table, returning empty-handed. About to sit down again, he changed his mind and stood instead at the foot of Kathryn’s chair. She looked up at him, unsure of what to do.
The way he felt for her . . . it was madness.
If only he were a stronger man. Neill had faced down opponents twice his size. Men hardened by a lifetime of battle. Men who should have bested him . . . but didn’t.
And yet, he was still the impetuous young lad his brothers had failed to tame.
He extended a hand to her instead. She hesitated, as she should, but only for a moment. When she lowered her goblet onto the floor and took his hand, it felt like the embers from the fire flitted toward them in protest.
Neill did not, could not, heed the warning.
“She saw what has been between us from the first time I took your hand in mine.”
He took her other hand, completing their connection.
“She saw my admiration for a woman who would travel across the dangerous border, intent on confronting the second most powerful man in Scotland.” His throat thick, Neill forced himself to continue. “What she did not see, because she could not know, was how deeply I offended you without intending to do so.”
“Offend me? Neill, you have done so much to help me, from the very start. You’ve caused me no offense.”
He hated the words he was about to speak. Hated what it would do to them.
“There was another condition to the king’s reward,” he forced out. “He will remove Caxton with a renewed pledge from Alexander, but I am also to wed Lady Alina deBeers, as decreed by King Edward.”
He didn’t have to wait long for her reaction.
Chapter 20
Kathryn pulled away so quickly she nearly stumbled backward. Her stomach hardened, a feeling of sickness welling inside her. Perhaps she had no reason to react so fiercely to his news. She had no claim on this man. Except . . .
“You kissed me.”
Kathryn was aware she sounded like one of those silly ladies she and her friends had giggled about at court, the ones who spoke of nothing except the handsome, well-positioned men in their circle.
But she didn’t care.
“More than once.”
She took another step back, which was when Neill’s hand reached out. Trying to avoid his grasp, Kathryn only realized at the last moment he was trying to save her from stepping too close to the hearth.
“Kathryn, I am so sorry. I never intended . . . I never intended for this to happen. Any of it.”
“You did not intend to kiss me?”
She was finding it difficult to breathe.
“No. I did not.”
“Then why?” She squared her shoulders. “Why did you?”
He closed his eyes, his jaw flexing as it had done the day they’d left for Brockburg. As it did whenever he was deep in contemplation.
“I have nothing but the truth to offer you.”
“A fine time for that,” she spat, aware her voice was raised.
“I deserve your anger. And although I doubt it will comfort you, I can assure you that you are no more angry with me than I am with myself.”
She waited, though surely he could say nothing to improve the situation. They were beyond hope. “You are betrothed—”
“Nay.” He shook his head. “Not betrothed. I am to return to court when the Scottish king’s pledge has been given. A formal ceremony for our betrothal will occur alongside the king’s decree to appoint a new warden. I’ve never even met the lady.”
“It matters not. You are to be married.”
“I am.”
Shoulders sagging, her stomach no longer in knots, Kathryn simply stared at him. Like a simpleton.
“But you deserve the full truth. I care for you, Kathryn, so very much, and desire you as I’ve desired no other woman. Nay, I did not intend to kiss you, but neither could I resist the urge. I crave the taste of you, even now, when I know I should not. That night when you lay so close I could have reached for you . . . I thought over and over again of how to break the agreement without incurring the king’s wrath. Because if I could ensure Caxton’s removal any other way, I would do it. I would trade every accolade I’ve earned for the chance to pull you into my arms without holding back. To make you mine, in truth.”
She would not be swayed by his words, no matter how pretty they were.
“You would make love to me,” she finished, wishing the thought did not make her near dizzy.
“Nay, Kathryn. I would make you mine, for life. I would wake up to your smile, tell tales of my wife’s bravery. I would cherish you above all others. I would love you until the end of my days.”
She froze. Had he said . . .
“Love me?”
“Aye,” he said, meeting her gaze and holding it. “And mayhap I am a fool. I’ve not been in love before and know nothing of it beyond what I’ve heard from my brothers and sister. I only know that whenever I look at you, I’m full of longing. I ache to touch your hair, your face, to worship your body, which will never be mine. To hear your thoughts and offer you comfort.”
He stopped.
And Kathryn understood his reluctance to keep speaking. There was no use for it. A hundred, a thousand declarations of love would not be enough.
He was to be wed.
Or his reward would be taken from him.
“The king would risk unrest at the border just to marry you to this woman?”
A woman she did not know but would never like.
“Edward, like his father, is occupied with France. If his coffers are being lined by Caxton above all others . . .” He shrugged. “Scotland is a nuisance to him. The borders, even more so. Had I not asked for the boon, I do believe Caxton would have remained as warden. And everyone along the border would continue to suffer.”
“Save he and the others who benefit from its unrest.”
“Aye. And likely Bothwell among them.”
“You should have told me.”
“Aye, I should have.”
They stared at each other, Kathryn still angry but also . . . something else. Her face flushed, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She had to open and close her hands to keep them from shaking.
The reason for her strong reaction to his revelation was simple. She felt the same way he did. The idea that she would never know his lips on hers again . . .
She’d wanted him to know Sara’s scheme was not hers. For him to understand she’d never presume to believe the disgraced daughter of a murdered man could ever wed the brother of an earl.
“You told me once to stop looking at you the very same way you are looking at me now,” he said.
What in the name of Saint Christopher was she doing?
“I cannot stop looking at you that way. Because despite what you’ve told me, despite my very real anger toward you at this moment, the thought of you leaving this chamber, of never kissing you again . . .”
He reached her in two strides.
That one look, the desire he had no right to see in her expression after what he’d told her, had done him in.
His mouth crashed onto hers. When she responded with the hesitant touch of her tongue, Neill relinquished every rational thought for the flood of heat that shot between them.
His mouth slanted over hers, giving and taking alternatively. When his hand crept along the nape of her neck, gently closing on the soft, welcoming tresses that tickled his fingertips, Neill had no other choice but to pull her closer.
Kathryn’s moans mingled with his, and he knew this time there would be nothing to interrupt them. No horse neighing nearby, drawing attention to them. No young chaperone.
It was up to him to stop this madness, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it. That moment of jealousy earlier, when he’d imagined her with another man, had gotten to him. His gut told him he could no sooner let that happen than he could refuse his king.
Shoving the thought aside, he decided something then. He might not be able to offer himself to her the way he wished he could, but he could at least make her feel good.
“Kathryn,” he whispered in her ear, pulling away for long enough to explain. “Let me show you how sorry I am for hurting you.”
She turned her head, her lips so achingly close to his own.
“Show me?”
“Let me pleasure you.” Before she could ask what he meant, he rushed to say, “You will remain a virgin.”
She blinked, the innocent gaze of a woman who’d never received such pleasure. And suddenly, he needed to be the one to show it to her first. Even if he would not be the last.
Nay. Never another.
At war with himself, one thought prevailed. He kissed the spot just below her ear and then tailed a line of kisses down her neck.
“Allow me this.” He kissed her again. “An apology, of sorts.”
He kept kissing. Waiting.
Lower and lower still.
As he pressed his lips to the top of her chest, Neill loosened the ties at each side of her gown. Still, she said nothing. When he turned his attention to the other side of her kirtle, she remained silent.
He stepped back then, lifted the offending garment over her head in one swift movement, and waited.
“I am still angry.” The comment was teasing, yet he saw the truth of it in her eyes.
“As you should be.”
When he pulled her back to him and kissed her again, the loose shift hardly presented a barrier. Without giving her time to think about the intimacy of what he was about to do, Neill slipped his hand under the fine material and pushed away the undergarments that covered his goal.
Despite her murmur of surprise, he continued, determined now. The fire crackled beside them as his fingers found the curls he would give his sword arm to see. When Kathryn instinctively pulled back, very likely embarrassed, he tore his mouth from hers and watched for a sign that he should stop.
“This is . . . wrong.”
But that was not his sign.
“Aye, very much so. For you are not mine.” The thought tore at him even as his fingers continued their exploration.
“And I am still very much angry with you.”
Her lips, swollen from his kiss, glistened, demanding his attention. Already hard, Neill attempted to ignore those lips. He had a mission to accomplish, and his personal release was not part of it.
“And I am still very much sorry for hurting you.”
He slipped a finger inside her.
Kathryn gasped.
“I am sorry for not telling you at the inn.”
He slipped in another.
“Or on the road to Brockburg.”
Neill moved both fingers, slowly, deliberately.
“Or when I kissed you behind the stables.”
He pressed his palm against her, waiting. Watching.
“I’m sorry for not telling you on our way here.”
He pressed harder.
“Or before Sara could see how taken I am with the most beautiful woman in the world.” He circled his hand and moved his fingers in and out.
Her lips parted and Neill resisted the urge to take a taste. He was enjoying watching her face as she took her first real pleasure.
At his hands.
“I’m sorry to be crippled at the behest of a king I do not like.”
Her eyes widened at the heresy.
He increased the pace.
“I’m sorry for the violent thoughts I had when I first came into your chamber and saw two goblets.”
Faster and faster he moved his hand, knowing by her expression she was close. The hem of her shift teased his arm as it lay limp, the opposite of him. Neill would do well not to think of it. The feel of her under his hands, the sight of his hand under her shift in such an intimate position . . . he had to look away for a moment.
The knowledge that Kathryn felt for him what he did for her nearly tore him in two.
Neill looked back up, this time into her wide, surprised eyes, and held her gaze as he brought her to climax. She clenched around him, her nails digging into his undertunic.
“Neill,” she breathed.
And then she shattered.
Kathryn’s eyes slammed shut as she came apart in his hand. A victory as sure as any, Kathryn calling his name so much sweeter than a herald declaring him champion.
Though he slowed his movement, Kathryn did not yet relax around him. He watched, waited, and then smiled when her eyes flew open.
Reluctantly, he pulled away his hand, letting her dictate the next move.
In answer, she stepped away from him, letting her shift fall back into place.
“I’ve heard, but never imagined.”
The moment was perfect, until an ugly thought intruded. If he did as he should and left her, another man’s hand would be pleasuring his Kathryn someday.
No. As God was his witness, no.
He could not allow Caxton to remain in power, but neither could he allow the sun to rise and set each day without seeing Kathryn’s face.
“What is it?” she asked, her shoulders rising up and down as her breathing returned to normal.
How could he put into words that everything, his world and hers, would never be the same?
He simply couldn’t.
“Nothing,” he lied. When he reached for her, Neill was relieved she didn’t pull away. “All is well.”
In fact, the very opposite was true. Neill wasn’t sure anything, after tonight, would be well again.
Chapter 21
She knows.
One look at Sara, who sat alone on the dais, and Kathryn realized her husband must have told her Neill was a promised man. There was only one way to describe her expression.
Troubled.
There was no sign of the boys. Likely they were with Faye and Hugh as they tended to eat earlier than the others.
As she made her way toward the dais to break her fast, Kathryn was sure her own expression looked the same. She’d not slept much the night before, with good reason. After Neill had left her chamber, she’d stared into the darkness, her mind turning over the events of the evening again and again.
His revelation.
His parting kiss.
But mostly, she’d thought of his ministrations—and her response to them. Never had she felt more out of control, and happy to be that way.
“Come, sit next to me,” Sara said, pointing to the ornate chair next to her. “Geoffrey is already with Neill in the training yard.”
She did as she was bid, her curiosity over Neill’s whereabouts satisfied.
Not that it should matter.
But it did.
Though it was still early, the sun having risen not long ago, the hall was already abuzz with activity. Servants refilled pitchers as Kenshire came alive.
“How was your evening?”
Kathryn could feel she was blushing.
“So the second goblet was needed after all.”
Sara took a bite of bread and lifted her hand in greeting to a woman who had just walked into the hall. Kathryn believed her name was Faye, and she seemed to be Sara’s favored lady.
“Sara,” she started, unsure of where to begin. Surely the countess was disappointed that her matchmaking efforts were for nau
ght. “Neill told me about Lady Alina last eve.”
Just as she’d expected, the countess had been told.
“As did Geoffrey. I will admit to being quite surprised, but—” she shrugged, “—no matter.”
She cocked her head to the side, ignoring the meal, and simply looked at Lady Sara. She couldn’t possibly mean . . .
“We will find a way—” Sara smiled, “—for you to be together.”
Kathryn stared. Did Sara know all? If she did, how could she possibly hold out hope for a love match between Kathryn and Neill?
“I will admit to having feelings for your brother-in-law,” she said, for there was no use denying it, “but that hardly means we could, or should, be together.”
Sara laughed, the sound eliciting glances from below.
Picking up a piece of cheese, Kathryn nibbled on it, not really hungry but knowing she should eat. When she worried, as she’d done often of late, her stomach turned and turned inside until she couldn’t breathe.
Her current situation? Most definitely worrisome.
“I apologize for laughing. But I’m certain most everyone who sees the two of you together already knows you have feelings for each other.”
She groaned. “He’s promised to another.” Although she hated saying the words aloud, she needed to remind herself of them. And often.
“Not yet.”
Kathryn made a face that had Sara laughing again.
“Without a formal betrothal, or even with one, there is always still hope.”
She did not agree. If the situation was as Neill had presented it to her, quite a lot hinged on his marriage to Lady Alina.
“If you’ll permit,” Sara said, “I’d like to tell you a story.”
Relaxing slightly, Kathryn picked up a piece of bread. “Of course.”
“When Geoffrey and I met, I was betrothed,” she said, smiling. “You’ve heard of Lord Lyonsford, Earl of Archbald, I presume?”
“Of course.” The earl of Archbald had been a favorite of Edward’s father, and the new king seemed to value him as much as the old.
“A powerful man whom I was to wed. My father had recently died unexpectedly, and a distant kin of mine with no real claim to Kenshire tried to take it away. My marriage to Lyonsford would have ensured that could not happen.”
The Knight's Reward (Border Series Book 10) Page 13
