Drake's Honor

by Madeline Martin

  “I asked her to have it sharpened, no’ sell it.” He gave her an easy smile that made the guilt inside her burn as hot as the blacksmith’s forge.

  “Will ye sharpen it?” Drake pressed the man.

  Greer turned around and regarded the blacksmith.

  The man looked first to Drake, then to her, his eyes narrowing perceptively before running his finger over the edge. “’Tis already sharp.”

  “I want it sharper,” Drake replied.

  Still, the man hesitated until Drake reached into the purse at his side and withdrew a coin.

  Greer could not help but let her gaze linger over the fat pouch of coins. What must it be like to always have ready access to funds? To never worry about where one’s food would come from or where one would sleep that night? The unfairness of it ached inside of her and filled her with a spiteful ire.

  Drake would never have to face a brother whose life could only be saved with thievery. He’d never known hunger or struggle.

  The blacksmith accepted the payment, took the sword, and pressed his foot down on a petal that set a large grindstone spinning.

  Greer didn’t know why Drake appeared to be helping her, but she had no intention of staying to find out. As soon as the blacksmith set the sword to stone and the scream of sharpening metal cut the air, she slowly stepped backward.

  “Beathan is waiting for ye outside,” Drake said in a casual tone. As if he had anticipated she would attempt to leave.

  Damn. No doubt she would receive her punishment in other ways. Would Drake insist she repay his kindness with servitude? With her body?

  Her stomach tightened.

  At least it would not result in her being locked in a dungeon where she would not be able to save her brother.

  She would bear anything to ensure she remained free to save him.

  Bean waited outside for her as Drake had promised, the flat of his hand braced against his brow to block out the glaring sun, his other hand possessively resting on the pony’s reins. As soon as she appeared in the entryway, he frowned at her from where he stood by his horse.

  “How could ye?” he asked, his face so full of hurt, it actually made Greer’s heart wince.

  “We canna all have an easy life, lad.” She reached to ruffle his hair, but he pulled his head back.

  His wounded gaze locked on hers. “How could ye take Brevis?”

  She lifted a brow. “Brevis?”

  “My horse.” He gently stroked a hand down the pony’s glossy brown neck. “He means so much to me and ye…” His jaw clenched, and he looked away, angry tears burning in his eyes.

  A similar memory of Mac in such an agitated state wound its way into her awareness. “Forgive me,” she said earnestly. “I dinna realize he means that much to ye.”

  “He does.”

  “Will ye tell me why?” she coaxed.

  Lads Bean’s age—probably only a summer or two older than Mac, but still so similar—liked to pretend they didn’t need to share their thoughts, but like anyone else, they simply wanted to be heard and taken seriously.

  Bean gazed up at her, the hurt narrowing in shrewdness. “Will ye tell me why ye stole from us?”

  His request took her aback, but she nodded, knowing she couldn’t be entirely honest with her reply.

  “I picked him out myself five summers ago.” Bean gave a little smile and rubbed his hand over the horse’s velvety nose. “I could have any horse I wanted. Even a destrier like Drake. But I saw Brevis, and he was small. Like me. Small but fierce, as my da says,” he amended with pride. He gave a sheepish shrug. “I’ve no’ had many friends, but I’ve always had Brevis.”

  Greer drew in a deep breath, but it did nothing to assuage the pain of her culpability. “I dinna know he was so dear to ye.”

  “And ye? Why did ye do it?” he asked, brushing aside her remark as if he had never been wounded.

  Bravado. So very like a lad around this age.

  So very like Mac.

  “Why did ye steal from us?” Bean asked again.

  Before she could answer, the crunch of footsteps in the hardpacked dirt came from behind her and Drake’s voice filled her silence. “I’d like to know as well.”

  She straightened and regarded Drake in his finery, his strong body well-fed. The unfairness of her lot in life came rushing back to her. It wasn’t his fault he’d had it all so easy, but she could not stop her reaction from blazing in her cheeks.

  5

  It was impossible for Drake not to notice the immediate change that fell over Greer when he joined her and Bean, his sword once more in place at his hip. Her shoulders stiffened, and her expression turned hard

  “I was hungry,” she replied simply.

  “Ye had just eaten,” Bean protested in an exasperated tone. “Master Fletcher fed ye a full meal at his own expense. We were only going to have a bit of bread and cheese near the stream and then have a full supper after we’d finish traveling for the day.”

  He opened his mouth to say more, but Drake shook his head to stop the lad. Bean closed his lips with chagrin.

  “I dinna mean I was hungry now,” Greer went on. “I mean, I’ve been hungry my whole life. Yer fine sword, yer well-bred horse—they would have brought me enough coin to eat for many months, mayhap a year. What I took, I thought ye could easily replace.”

  “Never.” Bean stroked his horse.

  Drake felt similarly about the sword at his side, its blade newly and needlessly sharpened. He had always been meticulous about his weapon, often gliding the whetstone over its length to ensure the edge was so fine, it could split a hair in half.

  “Ye dinna know what it’s like. To starve. To be cold. To no’ always have a place to sleep.” She angrily shook her head and strode away, her gait clipped with agitation.

  “Wait,” Bean called after her. “We want to help.”

  Drake put a hand up to stop the lad’s paltry attempt. “Stay here with our horses.” He didn’t wait to see if Bean complied before chasing after Greer.

  She hastened her pace as he closed in on her, clearly trying to get away swiftly.

  “Greer,” he called.

  She ignored him.

  He was near enough now to touch her, to let his hand skim over hers if he so desired but did not and instead called her name once more.

  She spun about with flashing green eyes, her cheeks bright with her fury. “Leave me be,” she said sharply.

  He knew that facade, the one of anger and contempt, the one that was an easier emotion to embrace than what it hid. Hurt.

  She had been caught trying to steal; she had been laid vulnerable for who she was in their eyes. And she didn’t like it any more than they did. For as much as she was trying to be strong and defiant, he knew her to be broken.

  “We want to help ye,” he said softly.

  “Because ye think I need charity.” She scoffed. “I can fend well enough for myself.”

  “Aye,” he said. “I know ye can. But we dinna want ye to.”

  “And ye mean to save me?” she asked bitterly.

  Aye. But he didn’t say that. Not when he knew she wouldn’t take his reassurance the way it was meant. But he did wish he could save her, that he could soothe the wounds she had experienced in her life and that he could protect her from everything else.

  “We mean to help ye home,” he said instead.

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Ye dinna think I can make it there on my own.”

  “I dinna doubt ye could make it there on yer own.” He offered a gentle smile. “But I want to ensure ye have food as ye do. That ye can travel faster and have a place to sleep at night that is safe.”

  “Because I’m poor, and ye think I’m bonny.” A strange expression moved over her face, almost a smirk. But before he could place it, it was gone.

  He let his smile drop so she could discern the earnestness of his next words. “Because I too know what it is like to go without food, no’ to know when I might have a pl
ace to sleep.”

  She stared at him for a long moment before giving a mirthless laugh and shaking her head. “Ye must think me a fool. No man offers anything and expects nothing in return.”

  “Ye have my word as a future knight that I will see ye to yer destination safely.” He held out his hand.

  Her dark lashes lowered as she regarded his upturned palm.

  “We go as far as Lochmaben,” he said.

  Her gaze flicked up toward him with a flash of recognition.

  “Do ye know of it?” he asked in surprise.

  “I’ve heard of it.”

  “Are ye traveling near there? Ye said ye were going south.” He was pressing too hard, he knew, and forced himself to stop talking.

  A breeze swept past them and sent a tendril of her auburn hair trailing over her face. She brushed it away absently. “Near enough.”

  That would be all the answer he would get. Vague. Inspired by a lack of trust.

  His sisters had him to protect them, but this woman undoubtedly had no one.

  Something pulled in his chest, and he was hit with a sudden need for her to join them, so he could at least offer her protection on the two-day journey to the English-Scottish border.

  “We can take ye as far as Lochmaben and ensure ye have food and are protected on the journey.” He smiled again to put her at ease. “As ye’re well aware, ye’ll get south faster with horses than on foot.”

  Her gaze narrowed again with skepticism. “Why are ye doing this?”

  Drake glanced over his shoulder at Bean, who was stroking a brush over his horse’s coat. “The lad likes ye. He was worried about ye.”

  A smile quirked the corner of her pretty mouth. “I thought he was angry with me.”

  “He was hurt.” Drake lifted a brow. “Anger is easier than admitting as much.”

  Her stare slid away from his in quiet understanding at his words. After all, she too had fallen prey to the transference of emotions.

  “Ye’ll come then?” In truth, he shouldn’t offer at all. He ought to walk away from her, leave her to her thieving.

  Everything he had ever wanted was in Lochmaben. The king was counting on him.

  Drake was a fool to want her to join them. And yet, he regarded her with a rare prickle of impatience, wishing she would accept his offer.

  Greer’s focus went past him to where Bean continued to brush his pony, and finally, she nodded. “Aye, I’ll join ye.”

  The anxious tension drained from Drake’s shoulders. At least while they traveled, he could help her. And after all, it was only two days. And how much of a distraction could she possibly cause on a two-day journey?

  Greer had learned long ago not to accept help. Already a twist of unease drew tight in her lower stomach for going against everything she knew.

  Except that Drake had appeared so earnest as he regarded her with his dark eyes, his square jaw set with determination. As if he truly did mean to save her.

  The idea was laughable. No one ever meant to save her. Only to lead her into a trap.

  She’d been fool enough to fall prey in her youth. But she was not some doe-eyed lass. Not anymore. Aye, she’d be going to bed that night with a dagger tucked under her pillow. It had saved her before, and it would doubtless save her again now.

  She would have declined the ridiculous offer to accompany them. Except for Bean. Damn him, but the lad recalled thoughts of Mac so viscerally that she couldn’t shake the endearing connection to him. Especially knowing that she had caused the lad hurt when she’d taken his pony.

  It was true too—she would arrive in Lochmaben far quicker by horseback than by foot. And every day was precious.

  Drake regarded her for a long moment, unspoken questions drawing his otherwise generous mouth into a line of tension. She didn’t wait for them to emerge and instead made her way past him and toward Bean.

  “I hope ye’re no’ too displeased with me.” She reached out and ruffled Bean’s thick hair. “I hope ye and Brevis can forgive me.”

  “So long as ye promise never to do it again.” The lad raked his fingers through his hair to set it back in place.

  “I’ll be traveling with the two of ye,” she added. “If ye dinna mind.”

  A flush crept over his cheeks, and he ducked his head to hide a broad grin. “I dinna mind.”

  His mood immediately elevated as he prepared Brevis for their departure with measured care that Greer had missed before. Now that she knew of his affection for the creature, it was incredibly evident by the gentle tone he used and the tenderness with which he held the reins.

  “I should like to ride on until it grows dark.” Drake helped her onto the saddle before swinging up behind her. “Then we’ll find a place to rest.”

  Once more, he kept his body rigidly held away from her, his arms framed out to the sides to avoid brushing against her. They rode like that for some time until the sun began to descend in a wash of golden light that set the clouds aflame with reds, yellows and oranges amid the backdrop of a purple sky.

  “If ye’re tired, ye needn’t worry,” Bean said to her. “We’ll be stopped soon. Aye?” He glanced to Drake, who must have nodded from behind Greer, for Bean shifted his focus back to the trail.

  “And anyway, we willna be traveling for any real length of time,” the lad continued. “’Tis only two days to Lochmaben. My da says travel is good for one’s constitution.”

  “Why are ye going to Lochmaben?” Greer asked casually, knowing she was likely to get more from Bean than she would from Drake. For while Drake claimed to be honorable, she would remain suspicious until he’d proved otherwise. After all, he was not the first to make such a claim.

  Drake shifted slightly behind her now as though uncomfortable with the question.

  “We go to the castle there,” Bean answered without hesitation. “The guards were so overwhelmed from the constant attacks; they’ve had to send fresh men down south to help defend the border should the English return to attack again. We’re being sent to train the men, to make them proper warriors.” At this, his chest puffed out. Indeed, even Brevis seemed to stand a mite taller with pride.

  “Are ye as good as all that?” Greer asked with a smile, knowing it was Drake’s skills being sought rather than that of the lad.

  Still, it was Bean who answered. “One does what one can, my lady.”

  Drake remained silent.

  If nothing else, at least the man wasn’t a braggart.

  But still, their reason for traveling to Lochmaben was all the more proof why she ought to keep her purpose to herself. If they were venturing to the castle to aid the guards, no doubt they held the same beliefs as those who had captured Mac.

  Mayhap they might be able to help, but if they believed the earl over her—as they were surely wont to do—she would be taken prisoner along with her brother.

  Nay, it was not worth the risk. Her affairs were best left unspoken.

  The world around them had gone from the fiery notes of sunset to the darkening of dusk. The sun took longer to set in the summer, which meant Greer had been in the saddle for quite some time. Though she would prefer to pretend she did not feel any discomfort, she could not help but acknowledge the low ache in her back and grind of hunger at her stomach.

  While she refused to say anything, she hoped they would stop soon. If nothing else, for a respite from the way she sat forward to avoid Drake, whose back surely must also be causing him pain.

  No sooner had she thought these words than the thick forest of trees gave way to a clearing with a village at its center, seemingly out of nowhere.

  “I dinna even see this in the distance.” Greer looked back over her shoulder.

  “When ye travel as often as I do, ye know what to look for,” Drake replied.

  He guided his horse to the village center and toward the nicer of the two inns available. Her stomach swirled with anxiety as they dismounted before the establishment. She knew what to expect.

  No d
oubt Drake would return and swear there were only two rooms, one for Bean and one for her and Drake. He would offer to share the room but vow not to touch her. At least until they were alone, and the door was bolted shut.

  She clenched her teeth, suddenly wishing to be back in the saddle, enduring the trail a little longer.

  “Beathan, tend to the horses,” Drake ordered.

  The lad nodded and strode away with their steeds, his crooning voice drifting on the breeze as he spoke softly to them.

  “Are ye coming?” Drake asked her.

  Greer startled, sure he’d meant for her to wait outside while he secured the rooms. She nodded and followed him inside.

  It was an inn like any other, spotted with people and barely lit by dull candlelight from tallow candles, their bases pooled with the melted fat whose odor permeated the thick air. A few people stopped and turned their way, some with interest as they fell on her. She ignored them, as she always did and shrank into herself, eager to disappear from their view.

  A harried innkeeper with an armful of folded blankets regarded Drake with his brows lifted in obvious impatience. “What can I do for ye?”

  “Three rooms, please,” Drake said.

  Ah, here it was. This was most likely someone Drake knew well, one he’d used this trick on often enough in the past that there need be no discussion beforehand on the façade of only two rooms being available.

  “Three?” The innkeeper repeated, his brow furrowed as he appeared to be considering in his head.

  Greer swallowed down the urge to dash from the stuffy inn.

  The innkeeper indicated to the upper floor with a jerk of his head. “First three on the right. Will ye be supping as well?”

  Greer blinked in surprise, but Drake did not notice as he nodded in response to the man’s question.

  “Una will aid ye.” He lifted a pile of blankets a little higher. “I’m a bit taken at the moment.”

  Drake waved in understanding and led Greer to a table where they sat opposite one another in companionable silence before Una, a slender woman with dark hair, approached the table for their order.