Drake's Honor

by Madeline Martin

  Mayhap she could even locate the dungeon on her own and actually see Mac. Her pulse kicked up with anticipation, the rush of it so intense that it made breathing difficult. A month and a half had passed since she had last seen her brother. The possibility of being able to do so soon released the rush of emotions she had pushed down for so long, allowing them to rise forefront and making her eyes prickle with hot tears.

  “Are ye well?” Drake asked as he led her toward the open doorway of the keep.

  Greer wiped at her eyes, feeling suddenly foolish. “Aye, of course. ’Tis only a bit of dust.”

  He did not appear reassured but did not press her further as they entered the Great Hall.

  Greer swallowed her surprise at the magnitude of the massive room. In all the years she had lived on the outskirts of the village, she had never been inside the castle. Her steps slowed as she took it all in, awed by such splendor. The tapestries appeared glossy with their carefully stitched silk threads, the colors vibrant from dyes available only from distant lands and winking with precious bits of gold and silver thread. Flagons of ale were set upon each table with matching salt cellars and various bowls and platters. Even the trestle tables were lined with linen.

  How was it even possible for a man who wasn’t a king to have such wealth? To display such opulence while so many went without?

  Bean rushed over to them. “I was told we were having boar tonight. Come, yer seats are this way.”

  “Our seats?” Greer asked. “What of yers?”

  “I’m sitting with the other squires.” His grin indicated he was not at all put out by the prospect of him spending time with lads his own age. “But ye’re a guest of import.” He lifted his brows at Drake.

  As they walked farther up the lines of trestle tables, near the front where several knights sat, unease twisted in Greer’s stomach. She didn’t belong here, at the front of the room, garnering attention.

  If she’d realized she would be in such a place of observation, she might have tried to find a fresh kirtle or mayhap have done something more with her hair. Her cheeks burned as people turned to watch them pass until they were finally at their seats. Not at the front, but near enough to leave her nerves ragged.

  Drake did not appear upset by how very much she did not belong among such fine people. Once they were seated, those who had watched them appeared to lose interest and turned their attention to their meals and conversations.

  “I’ve no’ ever had boar,” Greer admitted sheepishly as a servant brought over a platter and lay it before them. Steam rose from the pile of roasted meat. The skin was cooked to a lovely, crisp gold.

  “’Tis quite good.” Drake sliced off a hunk and slid it on her plate. “I would like ye at the table with me every night if ye did decide to stay.”

  “I…” Greer bit her lip.

  Drake frowned and regarded her. “What is it? Are ye expected somewhere?”

  “I…” She folded her hands in her lap, hating this newfound uncertainty. “’Tis complicated.”

  A servant came by with a flagon of wine. The liquid that splashed into their cups was a deep crimson, the aroma rich. Greer took a sip, expecting the sharp vinegar taste she’d experienced before. The decadent spice of this wine rolled over her tongue like velvet and left a pleasant warmth as she swallowed it down.

  “Fifty marks?” Drake asked.

  Greer nearly upset her wine in her surprise. Though she managed to catch it in time, a bit of wine sloshed over the rim and dotted the white tablecloth. She guiltily edged the bottom of her chalice over the stain to hide its existence. “What did ye say?”

  “Ye asked me once for fifty marks,” he said. “While it might no’ have significance, I think it does.”

  Her heart hammered in her ears. Years of learning to maintain a calm façade, even as panic threatened to unravel her, her hand remained steady as she cut into the piece of roasted boar on her plate. “Why do ye say that?”

  The meat was juicy, briny with seasoning that seemed to intensify every time she chewed. There weren’t any bits of gristle or bone or even fat. Just lean, delicious meat.

  Drake glanced about as though ensuring no one appeared to be listening in on what he said. “I dinna think ye steal without purpose.”

  Greer lifted a brow in silent indication for him to go on.

  “Someone who can easily talk a merchant out of no’ one, but two pastries need no’ steal for her food.” Drake held his goblet but didn’t drink from the vessel. “When ye received coin for returning the gold belt, ye pocketed it. Except when ye saw the wee beggar, ye gave it up to the bairn without a second thought, which means some things matter more to ye than wealth. And then, there are yer hands.”

  Greer curled her hands in her lap. Drake lightly ran his touch over her clenched fingers with one hand and sipped his wine before returning the chalice to the table.

  “Ye’re no opposed to working hard for yer keep.” Drake’s brow furrowed. “Until now. Something happened to make ye need more than laundering could provide.”

  Greer’s heart banged about in her chest with an agitation that made it too hard to breathe. Too hard to think.

  How could he know her so well after only a few short days? How could he so easily read every aspect of her life when she had worked so hard to keep those parts of herself carefully hidden?

  “Am I wrong?” he asked.

  Greer didn’t answer. How could she when he was so unerringly correct?

  He moved her wine to place it in front of her, revealing the red stain on the white linen. “I want to help ye, Greer. I wish ye would tell me why ye need it, but I dinna want to force ye.”

  She drank from the wine, scarcely tasting it this time, merely wanting the numbing effect of the alcohol to calm her frantic pulse.

  “If I gave ye fifty marks, will that help ye?” he asked when she set her goblet aside. “So ye dinna have to steal again.”

  She pulled in a deep breath.

  Fifty marks.

  Without having to lift it from people’s pockets or worrying about what being caught would mean. She and Mac could return to their quiet life in the hut by the loch, where she took in laundry from their neighbors, and he played innocently in the sunshine.

  Tears pricked her eyes.

  She nodded tightly, unable to speak past the knot in her throat.

  “I’ll get it for ye after the meal ends,” Drake said.

  She was quiet for a long moment, in awe not only of his assessment but the way he had ascertained the extent of her need. He not only respected her, but he also saw her as she truly was—beyond the façade that she put up. Whatever mask she wore for others, he saw through it. He knew who she was and understood why she did what she did.

  And he still wished to help. To protect.

  She glanced up at him, this handsome man whose heart was entirely pure and perfect—someone who had rescued her when no one else would have ever cared—and something inside her chest broke open.

  The amount of coin the king had given Drake for travel had been generous. With the expenses of travel, there were about fifty-five marks remaining. Giving Greer the fifty marks would not leave him much. However, Lord Werrick, whom Drake had spent years working for as Captain of the Guard, was not so far off over the border. Mayhap, if need be, Drake might get a loan to compensate for the funds he was offering to Greer.

  It made Drake’s gut knot even to consider having to ask to borrow coin, but the look of wondrous relief on Greer’s face lessened the stress of such a possibility.

  “Thank ye.” Her whispered gratitude was almost inaudible against the backdrop of noise around them, the various conversations and laughter, the scrape of eating daggers over the pewter plates and bowls.

  He wanted to ask then if she would stay in Lochmaben for good, but it was not his place. Not after he had offered her so much coin. If she stayed, it should be of her own volition and not because he had paid her to do so. He would not save her in one momen
t to make her feel as though he had purchased her in the next.

  “I’m glad I could help,” he said with genuine feeling. “I truly meant it when I told ye I want to protect ye.”

  She nodded and turned her attention to her plate once more, carefully eating, though he could tell from her distant gaze that her thoughts were far removed from where they sat in the Great Hall at Lochmaben Castle.

  Her reaction only further proved his suspicions about her need for that exact amount, and he was grateful he was able to give it to her.

  When they had finished eating, and the servants were collecting the last of the platters, Drake knew the night had drawn to an end.

  “If ye’ll wait here, I’ll go gather my purse,” he said.

  Greer shook her head. “I’d rather go with ye.” She glanced about, her cheeks reddening. “I dinna want them to think I’m a pauper who snuck into the castle and try sending me on my way.”

  There it was again, the evident discomfort she’d exhibited when they first entered the Great Hall. It made him ache to see how her confidence chipped away when faced with those of greater means than herself. As if she thought them better people simply because their purses were heavier.

  Drake hesitated. “If ye’re seen coming to my room—”

  “I dinna mind.” Her gaze flicked about them, and she gave a wry smile. “I’m sure most here would expect it.”

  That made him even more inclined to deny her request—at least until she put her hand to his forearm and said in a quiet voice, “I’d like to speak with ye alone as well.”

  “Aye,” he agreed reluctantly. “But follow several paces behind me.”

  She nodded in agreement, allowing him to rise from the trestle table and leave the room first. The corridor beyond the massive wooden doors was dark by comparison, only lit by several flickering sconces rather than the numerous candles that illuminated the large area within the Great Hall. He walked slowly to ensure she shadowed his path, not turning any corners or going up any flights of stairs until he knew for certain she was behind him. At last, he came to a stop before his bedchamber. His pause was intentionally long to indicate which door she was to enter. To be certain, he left it slightly ajar upon going inside.

  She entered behind him a moment later. Her cheeks were still flushed from the glass of wine she’d had, and her auburn hair curled elegantly alongside her face. She gave him a shy smile as she entered his room. Her apparent reticence stirred something within his chest.

  He closed the door behind her and lowered the bar to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted. She might not have a care for her reputation, but he did.

  The longer she remained in his bedchamber, the more at risk they were of having someone try the door. Especially when Drake hadn’t asked Bean where he was sleeping. Not wanting to waste time, Drake went to a drawer and withdrew his leather purse. He plucked a few coins from the top, knowing exactly how many overall were within, and offered the purse of the remaining coins to Greer.

  She stared at it for a long moment. Her eyes welled with tears, and her chest rose and fell with her frantic breath. “Are ye certain? ’Tis truly a great fortune.”

  It was a fortune. Even to him, who had acquired much wealth in the last few years. That she didn’t take for granted the impact of such coin, even for him, was appreciated.

  Rather than tell her yes, he took her warm hand in his and gently placed the purse in it.

  “I hope ye’re no’ in any trouble,” he said. “But if ye are, ye can come to me.” When she didn’t answer, he tried again. “Mayhap, that’s what ye wanted to speak with me about…”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “I know ye regret last night. I know I’m no’ a lady like yer friend Lady Graham, nor anywhere as—”

  “I regretted it because I dinna want to besmirch yer honor,” Drake said. “No’ because of who ye are. I like who ye are.”

  Greer sucked in a quiet breath. “Ye do?”

  “Verra much,” he admitted. “I canna stop thinking about ye.”

  “I’m just a peasant.” She looked down at her feet. “A thief.”

  He caught her hands where they cradled the purse in his own. “No’ anymore. Ye dinna need to steal. Ye can have an honest life.”

  “Do ye love Lady Graham?” she asked abruptly.

  Her question took Drake aback, and he found himself scrambling for what to say. He didn’t love Anice. He knew that now. But for several years, he’d thought himself very much in love with her.

  “Nay,” he answered with certainty.

  “Ye hesitated in replying.” Greer folded her arms over her chest, appearing suddenly uncomfortable. “She’s verra beautiful. I dinna know a woman could look like her.”

  As transparent as Greer was to him, so too was he to her, apparently.

  “She is lovely,” he confessed. “I used to think she was the bonniest lass I’d ever seen.”

  “Used to?” Greer’s brows lifted. “Ye’re telling me there is a woman even more stunning than her?”

  “Aye.” Drake grinned. “Ye are.”

  Color bled into Greer’s cheeks, and her fingers went to her braid, nervously twisting it. “I’m nothing compared to Lady Graham.”

  “Anice is her own person.” He gently pulled Greer toward him, gazing down at her.

  She came to him easily, her eyes locked on his.

  “And ye are yer own person,” Drake said. “Ye could no’ ever be ‘nothing.’ Especially no’ to me.” He caressed her soft cheek, and she turned into his touch. She needed the truth, no matter how foolish he felt saying it aloud. “I regretted what happened last night because I care about ye too much—because I’m afraid I’ll somehow lose ye.”

  “Drake.” She reached for him. He did not draw away. At least not until her eyes closed as her mouth lifted to his.

  He backed away then, fearful that if he kissed her, he might not be able to stop. Not when his body still roared with desire for her after the night before. He’d seen to his lust, his body so primed, it had taken only several hard, fast pumps of his fist before his release overtook him. Now though, he was as randy as an adolescent, his cock already swelling at the prospect of kissing her.

  She looked questioningly up at him.

  “I should go secure a room for ye in the village.” He moved toward the door.

  “Or ye could stay here.” She followed him to the door. “And I could stay here as well.”

  13

  Greer realized she had been wrong about so many things.

  Drake had regretted the previous night out of respect for her, out of fear he’d lose her. Then there was Lady Graham and her impossible beauty—yet he thought Greer was lovelier. Such a thing did not even seem possible, but he’d said it with such sincerity and affection in his dark eyes that she couldn’t not believe it.

  Certainly, she could not allow herself to long for him as she did if his heart belonged to another.

  But it did not.

  Quite the opposite, it seemed.

  The prospect of such a thing left her feeling heady.

  But not so much that she forgot her original purpose for requesting to come to Drake’s room. Being in the castle was an opportunity she could ill afford to squander, especially with the fifty marks resting in her purse. It would be far easier to approach the guard while she was within the thick stone walls. The last time she’d entered the castle, she had to use deceit to gain her admittance—a story about looking for a fictional husband who had gone to see the earl and had not returned. This time she wouldn’t have to try to convince someone to let her in.

  Her location inside the castle was half the battle already won. Having the coin was the other. Such weight for such a slight bag!

  But then, she imagined it was fitting for a purse of such heft to be worthy of a lad’s life, of his freedom.

  If she could somehow find the soldier tonight, the dark-haired man named Tavish, she and Mac might wake up the next morning in their own
beds, in the small hut beside the loch. They could have their life back, pretend as though none of this had ever happened.

  Except that she would never forget Drake. Her heart tugged at the thought of leaving him. Of never seeing him again.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about her brother. Except Drake was there to train soldiers and surely that did not include instruction on accepting bribes. She couldn’t do anything to jeopardize the one guard who could guarantee Mac’s liberation.

  A knot of tension squeezed at the back of her throat, but she forced it down. Now was not for crying. Now was for celebrating this incredible man, for cherishing the incredible gift he had given her. It was a night for him.

  For them both, together.

  “Drake.” She went to him, blocking the door this time. “Let me stay with ye tonight.” Her hand went to his chest, stopping him even as she reveled in the strong warmth of his body under her palm.

  He didn’t move from her touch, and she remained where she stood, savoring the feel of him. A true warrior. One who looked at her now with the soft gaze of a lover.

  “I’ve never been in so fine a room,” she said shyly.

  It was true. The chamber within was far more luxurious than any room she had ever seen outside of the Great Hall of Lochmaben Castle. Not only was the room itself large, but so were the furnishings, with two carved chairs set before a fire, and a bed whose posts stretched up to the ceiling where a canopy draped over the structure. Those heavy, crimson curtains that hung on all four sides would cradle them in obscurity, so their entire world would be only one another.

  “I’ll sleep in the village,” Drake replied, as obdurate as ever.

  “Nay, I want ye to sleep here. With me.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, recalling the sensation of his mouth on hers. “I havena been able to stop thinking of ye.”

  His gaze flicked to her mouth, and his nostrils flared slightly. He knew exactly what she referred to.