The Knight’s Reward: Border Series Book Ten

by Mecca, Cecelia

  He’d missed so much, but Neill was past regretting his time in the south. Being away from his family had enabled him to win that tournament. Gained him the ultimate prize.

  Regret was a bitter bedmate, and he’d sooner sleep with . . .

  Nay, not her.

  Kathryn had someone already. And he’d taken her right to him.

  Neill had lain awake the night before mulling over that bitter irony, only calming himself by remembering he was not free to think such thoughts.

  He was all but a promised man.

  Though there had been no time for a betrothal ceremony, he was right and stuck with Lady Alina deBeers. The queen’s lady-in-waiting. A woman he’d never met. But one who nevertheless played a vital role in bringing peace to the border.

  And yet . . .

  He’d done everything possible to distance himself from Kathryn. But somehow, at every turn, he found himself in her presence. Sitting beside her at the inn, her easy handling of his men a testament to the time she’d spent at The Wild Boar. Watching her race Burns with the skill of an expert horsewoman. Traveling beside her on the road as she attended to herself without complaint, leaving him with no doubt that she was indeed accustomed to life on the road.

  Despite himself, Neill wanted to know more about her. He wished to understand her, to know her secrets, and to play a role in her future.

  “Stay close,” he said to her now as she rode up beside him.

  As usual, her hair was tied back in a braid. Her well-worn though serviceable riding gown would not attract attention on its own, but he did not doubt she would be noticed. No ragged gown could conceal she had the face of an angel.

  They rode into the courtyard, already a flurry of activity with the council beginning in two days. Word of his arrival must have reached the castle, for the one man he most wanted to see strode toward him now.

  His brother Bryce strode toward him, an unapologetic grin on his face. He waited until Neill dismounted before pulling him into an embrace.

  He’d not seen his brother in years, the travel time and instability along the border keeping him “where you belong for now,” according to Geoffrey. He’d missed weddings, births.

  Neill had missed his siblings.

  And although he was a man full-grown, he felt more like a boy in the presence of his older brothers.

  “Thor’s teeth,” Bryce said, pushing back. “You are a man.”

  Neill laughed as the others fell in around them. “And you are . . . older.”

  In truth, he looked much the same. Maybe a bit thicker in the chest and arms.

  “Not so old to challenge you, youngling. What say you, brother?”

  “We’ve much to discuss. And the training yard seems a perfect place to do it. But—” He turned toward Kathryn, intending to see to her well-being.

  She was . . . gone.

  He looked at Aylmer, who held the reins of the horse she’d abandoned, and his friend nodded to the main keep. Had she truly left without a proper farewell?

  The man she came to meet. She’s gone off to find him. Your purpose for her has ended.

  “Neill?”

  He shook off the unease that had crept up his back. Bryce was here. He could not continue to distract himself with thoughts of Lady Kathryn. Their time together was apparently at an end.

  “’Tis nothing,” he said.

  Bryce peered behind them.

  “Where’s Geoffrey?”

  “He sent word to The Wild Boar, where we were to meet, that I should continue on without him. Something has held him at Kenshire.”

  Bryce frowned. “Hmmm.”

  “The young pup returns.”

  Toren Kerr, chief of Clan Kerr and Brockburg Castle, approached him.

  The man looked as ferocious as he remembered. But by the look Toren and Bryce exchanged, their bitter enemy truly had become an ally.

  “Chief.” He extended his hand, but Toren took his forearm instead, a more intimate gesture signaling they were more than simply allies.

  They were family. Bryce had seen to that.

  Speaking of which . . .

  “I hear we all have news to celebrate,” Neill said, pulling his arm back. “I am remiss in my congratulations, Bryce. I had hoped to stop at Bristol Manor to see your son, but I was delayed.”

  This time, it was he who initiated the embrace. It had been far too long since he’d seen his family, and although Neill already missed Adam and Cora, he could not deny he was glad to be back in the north. Back where he belonged.

  With luck, Lady Alina will have no qualms living in Northumbria. As long as the border was secure . . . he pushed aside the vision of a future with Kathryn. It was not to be, for many reasons.

  “Come,” Toren said. “Most are already here in the hall.” He greeted the other men, raised his hand for a stable boy to take their mounts, and began to guide them toward the main keep, but Bryce shook his head.

  “We go to the training yard first.”

  “Tell Lady Juliette,” Toren said to the boy who’d followed them. A squire, presumably. “I will be along soon. First—” he turned back to Neill, “—I shall test my skills against the man they say cannot be bested in the joust.”

  “Or,” Bryce added, looking more than a little proud, “with a sword. Your reputation has reached the border, brother.”

  “I wonder how that came to be?” he said, one corner of his mouth inching up. His sister, Emma, wrote to him often, and she’d told him that their brothers bragged of Neill to nearly every person who’d listen.

  Bryce shrugged. “You were always the quickest of us, brother.”

  As they walked the length of the courtyard, servants and guests alike stopped to stare.

  “Are they always so reverent of their chief?” Neill asked as they skirted the stables. He glanced inside. No sign of Kathryn.

  He hadn’t realized both Bryce and Toren had stopped. He turned and cocked his head at their shared expression of disbelief.

  “Does he really not know?” Toren asked.

  “Apparently not. Though Neill was never one to boast, like other Waryn men.”

  “You mean like you,” Toren teased.

  Teased.

  It was odd to see the two like this. They’d gone from bitter enemies to brothers-in-law who had obviously forged a close bond. What else had happened while he was away?

  “I was talking of Geoffrey,” Bryce said.

  “I know.”

  Neill cut in. “Will someone please explain what the two of you are going on about?”

  “They aren’t looking at their chief, Neill,” his brother said. “They are looking at you. I told you, your reputation has reached the borderlands. I assumed you would be accustomed to such a reaction.”

  He sighed. In truth, he was, though Neill had not expected it this far north. Which meant he would be challenged at every turn. He’d been hoping to avoid that.

  Immediately contrite, knowing he should be grateful for his skills and the respect they afforded him, he smiled at the pair.

  “Shall we see if I can uphold my reputation, then?”

  Bryce slapped him on the back.

  “I’ve no doubt you will do so, against all others. But I know your weakness and mean to exploit it. Come.”

  This would be interesting.

  Chapter 10

  Brockburg Castle was large, though not large enough she could escape notice for long. With so many guests, most would assume she traveled with another party. But avoiding Neill, his men, and the Scottish lord warden was another matter. Even though it had been nigh on two years since she and her father dined with Douglas, he’d no doubt recognize her.

  Her plan was simple.

  Find Bothwell and interrogate him about her father. Although she had no notion of what she’d do after that, she meant to focus on her goal until she saw it through. Would he have seen someone from the English court, perhaps, that may have raised suspicion? Was that why her father had advised her
not to return there if something happened to him? It seemed the last person to speak to him would have as many answers as any.

  Sitting on the hay bale behind Brockburg’s handsome stables, Kathryn tore at the piece of bread she’d received from the kitchen. Luckily, it was a separate building from the main keep, and acquiring the food had been a simple matter. She’d asked for a piece of bread for “her lord,” and none had thought to question her. She looked very much like a servant, of which there were plenty mulling about for the council.

  You are a servant.

  Kathryn forgot, at times, she was not playing a part. This was her life now, at least until she could learn more about her father, and she’d best become accustomed to it. Only then would she consider making her way south to her only surviving relatives. Though distant, her father’s instructions had been clear.

  Except . . . he’d not accounted for his own murder. And she would not leave the north until she learned what had happened to him.

  It took her a moment to realize the space was eerily empty. Earlier, there had been people everywhere—now, she saw only animals grazing on patches of grass and a stray servant or two milling around. In the distance, cheers and shouts went up. The others had gathered to watch something, and her impulsiveness bade her to make her way toward the distant sound. At least she took care to walk near the buildings in case she spotted someone who would force her into hiding. Silently thanking her father for the many times they’d slid in and out of castles such as this one, Kathryn followed the noise.

  When she made it past the armory, the sound of hammering steel a familiar one, she finally understood. Although she could see only the gathered crowd from this vantage point, Kathryn could tell there was a large open space between the east bailey and the chapel to her right. Aside from the courtyard, the only area that large without buildings was typically a training yard of some sort.

  Making her way through the crowd, Kathryn edged to the front.

  And stared.

  She had lived among kings and queens.

  She had traveled further than nearly every person she’d ever met.

  But she had never seen anything quite so extraordinary as Neill Waryn dueling with his brother. They were so evenly matched, Kathryn was sure the contest would go on for some time. Though it wasn’t their skill with swords or the way each ducked and whirled in between clashes that had her enthralled.

  She’d seen many well-built men, and indeed, Bryce was as fit as one would expect of a knight. But Neill. Was he even human?

  The greatest knight in all of Christendom.

  She supposed the moniker had been earned, and the discipline needed to fight as he was now, to look the way he did . . . where did it come from?

  Kathryn was much too interested in the answer to that question. In the man who fought his brother, drawing a crowd that likely included every man, woman, and child at Brockburg.

  “’Tis a sight, for certain.”

  As was the lady who’d appeared next to her.

  Though her own hair mixed light and dark, never certain of its true shade, this woman’s hair was like pure gold—a stark contrast to the navy blue kirtle she wore so elegantly.

  “Indeed, it is,” she agreed, looking away from the very beautiful Englishwoman back toward the yard.

  “Who do you believe will win?” she asked.

  Kathryn thought carefully. “The younger brother, I understand, rarely loses a contest.”

  “I’ve heard the same.”

  “The knight is sure to win,” a man blurted from beside them.

  “Aye. Neill Waryn,” another agreed.

  The blonde woman smiled. “I believe you are correct, gentlemen. His reputation precedes him.”

  Kathryn watched the contest more carefully, attempting to ignore Neill’s physique and determine the best answer. She would agree, except . . .

  “The older brother,” she finally said, garnering looks of surprise.

  They continued to watch as Neill and Bryce clashed swords, the afternoon air stifling. The discomfort did nothing to disperse the crowd.

  Suddenly, it was over.

  Kathryn hadn’t seen it happen, but Bryce held his sword to Neill’s side. If the weapons had not been blunted, it would have been a disabling blow.

  Neill raised his hands, conceding.

  Kathryn was about to make a comment to the Englishwoman, but as quickly as she had appeared, the lady was gone. Likely for the best. Kathryn was supposed to be hiding, after all.

  Making a quick retreat, Kathryn returned to her hiding place, the walkway behind the stables that led to the curtain wall, a perfect place to finish her midday meal and bide her time until darkness fell. Until she could go about more easily without being noticed.

  “Pardon,” she said to one of the stable boys. “Has the Earl of Bothwell’s party arrived?”

  He startled, obviously caught off guard by the directness of her question.

  As was her goal. A lesson she’d learned from her father, who had dealt with sensitive information most of his life.

  “I . . . I do not believe so.”

  She inclined her head and walked away, cutting the conversation short. The longer she spoke with him, the longer he would have to study her face.

  Kathryn nearly laughed aloud at her own absurdity as she found the walkway, choosing to sit on the concrete slab rather than the hay bale from earlier. Bits of hay still clung to her dress from earlier.

  She wasn’t sure what made her look up as she pulled the remainder of the bread from her pouch, but when she did, Kathryn’s heart thudded in her chest—so loud she could hear it in her ears.

  “Hello, Kathryn.”

  Oh dear. His shirt hung loose, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

  “Hello, Neill.”

  She wanted to demand how he’d found her, but from the look on his face, Kathryn reminded herself she was not in a position to make demands.

  “Didn’t take you long,” she said instead.

  “’Twas easy enough to find you.”

  It wasn’t possible he’d noticed her in the midst of his fight with his brother. Curiosity overcame her. “How?”

  “When MacDuff sought me out to congratulate me on my win—”

  “Win? I saw your brother . . .” She stopped talking. For every word she said, Neill took a step toward her.

  “Before Bryce.” He smiled. “The Scot cared little for a match between two Englishmen. Clearly, you did not see me best the chief of Clan Scott before I fought my brother.”

  No, she hadn’t. But Kathryn assumed he’d been more successful that time.

  “I don’t know this MacDuff.”

  He took another step toward her.

  Kathryn looked around, not because she needed to be rescued from Neill Waryn, but because she was accustomed to looking for an escape whenever she felt even slightly uncomfortable.

  Unfortunately, this spot was private and darkness had just begun to settle in.

  They were very much alone.

  “But he knows you.”

  Another step.

  Kathryn stood, not wanting to be in such a vulnerable position with Neill towering above her.

  “How?”

  A final step and he was nearly upon her. If he reached out, he could touch her.

  “He saw you at the Anvil Inn. He noticed you near the stables earlier and wondered if his eyes deceived him.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  She really did need to be more careful.

  “That I knew not where you’d gone to. I made no mention of escorting you here. I assumed you left to find the man who lured you here?”

  His jaw flexed, reminding her this was no soft knight of the realm. She’d seen the power behind every swing of his arm, each flex of his muscles. Tingles washed through her body.

  “Would he care that you look at me this way?” he prodded.

  Her head snapped up. Kathryn hadn’t even realized she’d been staring at
his chest.

  “Pardon?”

  His expression took on a harder edge. “You heard me,” he insisted.

  Jealousy? Could it be?

  “Nay. He would not be pleased.”

  She should have denied his claim—part of her wished to assure him that he was the only man who’d ever drawn her attention in such a way—but then she would need to share everything with him. She was not ready to do so. Not yet. Kathryn was still unsure who she could trust.

  “Who is it?”

  Aye, he was jealous.

  “I cannot say.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  Kathryn’s heart raced. Could he tell she was lying? It didn’t matter. She was deep into her story now and had no real way out. Aside from the truth.

  Which she’d do best not to tell him.

  He took one final step toward her, standing so close she could almost feel the heat from his body.

  Kathryn wanted him to kiss her.

  It wasn’t the first time the thought had popped into her head. But as he stood there, scrutinizing her as openly as she’d looked at him earlier, she wanted no more than to span the distance between them.

  “What is he to you, then?”

  The words dripped from his mouth like liquid honey. Slow and deliberate.

  She could not tell him what he wished to know, so instead she described the man standing in front of her.

  “A savior, of sorts.”

  He didn’t move. Or even blink.

  “Gallant and kind. And not just to his own kin.”

  “So a gentleman, then?” He ground out every word, not even attempting to hide his displeasure.

  “Aye. A knight.”

  The glimmer in his eyes told her she’d said too much.

  “As I’m sure you have a lady?” Kathryn blurted, diverting his attention from her words lest he realize she spoke of him.