“There’s someone at the gate with no invitation.”
“How does that concern us?”
Braden nearly smiled at the term. Us. Alec showed even more loyalty than a true squire. Braden appreciated it. “I have a suspicion, but we shall soon see if I’m correct.”
Those who’d come to see what the commotion was about had climbed the steps to the walkway on top of the wall to the right of the portcullis. Braden and Alec joined them to look down at the uninvited guest. The dark hair and wide shoulders, as well as the horse he rode, were all familiar.
Chanse.
Braden wanted to shout his name and run to greet him. He didn’t think he’d ever been so pleased to see his brother.
“Is that—” Alec paused as though afraid to say his name. His gaze flew to Braden.
“Aye. But we must proceed with care.” How were they going to get him in yet keep their identities a secret?
If Chanse had stated he was here to see “Sir Braden,” no one would know who that was. Yet his brother had to have stopped at St. Mary’s and spoken with the prioress since he’d known where to find them. Surely she had told him of their false identities. If only Braden could converse with him in private so they could align their stories.
Given the number of men surrounding Chanse, that appeared impossible.
“Alec, we must make certain his story matches ours,” Braden whispered.
“How?”
“Go below, and I’ll try to gain him admittance. As soon as the gate opens, run out and take his horse’s bridle. When he realizes ’tis you, make certain he knows what names we’re using, to follow my lead, and that I’ll explain later.”
Alec nodded and ran down the steps.
Now to convince the guards to open the gate. Braden searched the group of men on the wall for someone he recognized, pleased to locate Matthew. He made his way to where the knight stood near the portcullis, hoping his plan would succeed, only to pause.
Did Sir Hugh have a brother? To be safe, he decided to claim the new arrival was his cousin. He hoped Chanse hadn’t stated his relationship with Sir Hugh. There was a chance that the prioress had instructed Chanse to use a false name as well. Unfortunately, Braden had no idea what that might be.
“Matthew,” Braden called.
“Sir Hugh.” The knight appeared surprised at Braden’s appearance. “How is your lady?”
“Doing better than expected. She’s resting at the moment.”
“Truly?” The stunned look on his face made Braden nervous. The sooner he changed the subject, the better.
He gestured toward the gate. “Who is the visitor?”
“We don’t know as he has not given his name. Gaining a straight answer from the man is nearly impossible.”
Braden was pleased his brother was proceeding so cautiously. “I believe I know him. If you’ll allow me?”
Matthew frowned, his expression wary. “Very well.”
Braden moved to the front of the wall to look down below. “Greetings, cousin,” he called out.
Chanse looked up, and pleasure lit his face. “And to you, cousin.”
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
“’Tis a long story, but when I heard a tournament was being held, I felt compelled to make the journey.”
Braden shook his head for he knew Chanse’s words were true in part. His competitive nature would surely be his undoing one day. He hoped this was not that day. “Allow me to see if another participant would be welcomed.”
“He’s your cousin?” Matthew asked from Braden’s side.
“Aye. He doesn’t return to Scotland often.” Braden didn’t offer any further details. Not until he and Chanse could discuss them—if Chanse was allowed entrance.
“I can’t promise entry into the tournament, but I don’t think Lord Graham will mind another guest.”
“Excellent.” Braden walked down the stairs, glad he’d sent Alec ahead. Anyone watching would pay little heed to what a squire said to the visitor. With luck, Alec would be able to warn Chanse not to reveal their true identity.
He waited impatiently as Alec briefly spoke with Chanse then led his horse through the gate. Chanse’s gaze caught on Braden, and he grinned. Braden immediately did the same, thrilled he was here. He’d missed his brother more than he could say.
“Good to see you, cousin,” Chanse said as he dismounted and moved to stand before Braden, hugging him before studying him closely.
“And you.” Braden selected his words with care, aware that others watched and listened but smiled all the same.
“Life often takes unexpected turns, does it not?”
Braden nearly grimaced at that truth. “Come. I’ll show you to our tent.” He glanced at Alec, who smiled then led Chanse’s horse toward the stables.
Walking beside his brother, Braden couldn’t resist clasping his shoulder once more. “Damn, but ’tis good to see you.”
“Aye, Hugh. A true pleasure.” Chanse smiled as he returned Braden’s gesture of affection. He was slightly shorter than Braden but stockier, with dark hair and a closely trimmed beard.
“You know I’m here with my wife, Lady Cairstine?” he asked, uncertain how much Alec had been able to share.
“You dog.”
“What?” Braden asked.
“I leave you for nigh on a month, and you manage to find a way to pretend to marry one of the prettiest ladies we’ve ever met.”
Braden scowled, his stomach churning when he realized he’d have to explain that his marriage wasn’t exactly pretend. He still didn’t understand how Prioress Matilda had convinced them this was the logical path to take. He didn’t look forward to explaining the situation to Chanse. “We have much to discuss before you speak to anyone.”
“So I understand. Prioress Matilda shared most the details.” Chanse stared at him, a hint of concern in his eyes. “’Tis truly good to see you. You’ve fully recovered?”
“For the most part.” He looked away, aware of how closely Chanse studied him. Though younger than Braden, he’d been watching over him for as long as Braden could remember. His overprotective brother knew him well enough to note any changes in his appearance or his demeanor.
Chanse’s gaze narrowed. “You’ve healed someone. Who?”
Braden sighed. As tired as he still felt, no doubt the signs marked his face, from shadows under his eyes to paleness. “Lady Cairstine was shoved down the steps of the tower stairs.”
“What?” Chanse’s immediate outrage had Braden hushing him.
“Do not give away anything as many eyes are upon us. We will tell you all anon,” Braden said.
“I should’ve been here from the start.” Chanse shook his head. “I was delayed in England, delivering what news we discovered thus far along with Garrick. Then Garrick’s contacts requested I delay my return until they decided how to act upon what we told them.”
Garrick, Braden’s cousin, had been sent on the mission by a lord with ties to King Edward. Braden knew how much time it took for messages to be delivered, meetings to be held, and decisions to be made on the best course of action. In truth, it was amazing Chanse had arrived as quickly as he had.
“And? Do we have instructions?” Braden asked.
“Only to gather more information.”
“I have little to add at this point other than the name of one ally of Graham’s and a few possibilities,” Braden responded. “They trust no one here.”
“Then we’ll have to find another way to uncover the truth.”
“If only it were as easy as setting your mind to it. You will soon see the difficulty.” Despite the challenge ahead of them, Braden smiled at his brother. “I’m pleased you’re here.”
“I missed you.” Chanse grinned. “No one will wager with me except you.”
“Well then, we must search for something upon which to do so.” Braden gestured for Chanse to wait then lifted the tent flap and stepped inside, anxious to share the news of Chanse’s arrival with Ilisa.
He was taken aback to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, her face pale. “You shouldn’t rise yet,” he admonished her.
Her guilty expression proved him right. She obviously wasn’t up to the task. Yet she lifted her chin, prepared to insist she do so anyway.
“Your stubbornness is showing.” He kept his voice light, hoping to tease her into doing as he requested. The uncertainty he now felt around her was difficult to hide. Did she view him differently now that she knew about his ability?
She’d asked him to trust her, but that was no simple task. So many times in the past, he’d learned to trust no one.
“I was hoping that rising would quicken my recovery further.”
“Resting is best. We have an unexpected visitor.” He knew Chanse would only wait outside a few moments before barging in.
“Oh?” She frowned at him, obviously puzzled as to who it might be.
He pulled aside the opening to allow Chanse to step inside.
Ilisa’s face broke into a smile. Her joy at seeing his brother pleased Braden for reasons he didn’t care to examine.
“Lady Cairstine,” Chanse greeted her with his usual grin as he bent to hug her. “’Tis good to see you. From what I hear, I’m lucky to be able to do so,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes at his remark, telling Braden how much the event troubled her. Did she remember more of it than he’d thought? Or was she still in pain? Her pale face made him worry ’twas the latter. He wanted to examine her for additional injuries, but that would have to wait until she slept. He didn’t care to do it while she watched. She might know of his ability, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to know more.
“’Tis good to see you as well. Do you have word from Sophia?”
“She sends her love to both you and Alec. I would venture to guess that while she’s happy, she misses you both terribly. She and Garrick hope to return well before the harvest.”
Ilisa nodded and blinked back tears. “That is good to hear. She is missed as well.”
“We should share the details of what has occurred before our time together is interrupted.” Braden sat on the bed beside Ilisa.
“I stopped at Hilda’s cottage,” Chanse said as he reached for a stool, “but she said you’d left and sent me to St. Mary’s to find out the details.”
Braden told him that Prioress Matilda had suggested he come to Lord Graham’s posing as Sir Hugh. “A few of the older men knew Sir Hugh’s father. Luckily, Hugh has been in France for years, so no one here has seen him for some time.”
“And you have enough knowledge of France to be able to speak intelligently of your time there. That works well.” Chanse nodded.
“Lord Graham has a daughter whom Ilisa has befriended.” Braden looked at Ilisa to see if she’d prefer to share what she knew.
“If the right man wins the tournament, Arabela will be offered to him as wife. She isn’t pleased with that. She’s also told me her father has high expectations of her marriage, and he has plans not only for her and her soon-to-be husband but Scotland as well. Beyond that, she knows little.”
Chanse scoffed. “She lives with Lord Graham. She must know more than that.”
“I’m not certain,” Ilisa said. “She’s in a difficult position and has my sympathy. At any rate, I intend to continue speaking with her. She visited me earlier this day to see how I fared and seemed very upset that I fell. I have to wonder if she realizes it wasn’t an accident.” Her gaze met Braden’s.
“What did you tell her?” Braden asked, surprised Ilisa hadn’t mentioned that earlier.
“I said I remembered little. That I left her chamber, and the next thing I remember was waking in the tent.”
“Good,” Braden said. “If we share that we know you were pushed, whoever did it might feel pressured to try again in case you realize their identity.”
“I agree,” Chanse said. “We don’t want them to return to finish what they hoped to accomplish. Who do you suspect? Could it have been Arabela?”
“Nay,” Ilisa said. She held up her hand as Chanse began to protest. “She doesn’t strike me as an impulsive person, nor a violent one. If she didn’t want to answer my questions, she could’ve easily refused to do so.”
Chanse didn’t appear convinced but relented. “Who else?”
“Sir Matthew. Monroe,” Braden said, wondering if Ilisa had seen who’d done it but forgotten.
“Arabela’s maidservant. Lord Graham. Lady Graham. I’m certain there might be others,” Ilisa added. “But Monroe is at the top of my list.”
“Who’s he?” Chanse asked.
“Graham’s steward,” Braden supplied. “Intelligent man. Excellent at his duties. An entertaining fellow.”
Ilisa scoffed at Braden’s description. “He’s as false a man as Sir Gilbert’s steward was.”
Braden couldn’t help but rub his shoulder where the man had stabbed him. “My money would be on Sir Matthew.”
Chanse’s eyes lit. “A wager, eh?”
Ilisa shook her head, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. “You two are incorrigible.”
Chanse chuckled. “We may be here for a specific purpose in mind, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.”
“I can be of no help sitting in this tent,” Ilisa said. “Which is why I wish to rise.”
“Give it one more day. You’ll be the better for it. That will allow us time to form a plan and make certain all our stories align,” Braden suggested. “One misstep and our efforts will be for naught.”
Chanse nodded. “Excellent plan.”
“Very well,” Ilisa agreed.
Braden drew a deep breath, shoving back the tiredness that pulled at him. Another day would aid him as well. He needed his strength so he might do all in his power to protect Ilisa from further accidents. After what she’d been through, he had no intention of allowing her to take any further risks.
Chapter Eighteen
“Sir Hugh.” Braden turned at the name, pleased to find the Earl of Rothton walking toward him the next morn.
He’d been watching Chanse as he took a practice pass at the quintain on the lists. Though Chanse had arrived too late to enter the full competition, he intended to participate in the joust and the melee. Alec watched over Ilisa while she rested.
“I heard about the terrible accident. How does your wife fare?” The older man had dark grey hair, an impressive beard, and a proud bearing.
“She’s improving. We’re lucky her injuries weren’t worse.” Though tempted to share they didn’t believe it had been an accident to see the lord’s reaction, Braden hesitated. Such a move would have to be a last resort—used only if necessary and close to their departure. Hopefully, Ilisa would be recovered and feel up to the long ride home by the time the celebration was over.
“I’m pleased to hear it.” The earl’s gaze cast over the lists where other men took turns running at the quintain.
“I’ll tell her you asked after her.” Braden waited, wondering what else was on the man’s mind.
“I knew your father, though ’tis been years since I last saw him. Mayhap decades.”
Braden breathed a sigh of relief. The longer the better as far as he was concerned.
“You and your cousin look remarkably alike,” Rothton added as he glanced at him.
“Aye, we hear that often.” Braden’s nerves stretched taut, but he offered nothing further in case the earl knew Sir Hugh’s family better than he implied.
“Your father was a Scot through and through.” Rothton turned to face him in full. “Are you?”
Braden tensed, hoping the man would clarify what he was asking. When the earl held his silence, obviously waiting for an answer, Braden said, “My heart is with Scotland.” He could say that much with honesty as he certainly didn’t want anyone in this country to endure what had happened in Berwick.
“The future of our country is uncertain. King Edward sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“What he did to Berwick was unfortunate.”
Rothton’s lips tightened. “Tragic. We will not permit such a thing to occur again.”
“We?”
“Those of us with Scotland’s best interests at heart have banded together. We are forming plans to keep England out of our business.”
“Not an easy task. King Edward seems to have his fingers in everyone’s pie.”
Rothton snorted. “An apt description. The man would rule the world if he thought he could get away with it.”
Braden held his silence. While he didn’t agree with all of the king’s decisions, there was no question where Braden’s allegiance stood.
“Our intent is to make Scotland strong, which will prevent the opportunity for him to interfere.”
“How do you suggest such a feat can be accomplished?” Braden asked. “Several different opinions exist as to the path the country should take.” He knew the earl had a reputation for being a man of action, but to what lengths was he willing to go?
“That is an issue of great concern. With no royal line, we must choose wisely and unite behind one person.”
“Aye, but if I don’t agree with the man chosen, I would have difficulty supporting him.”
“Not all can have a say in the selection.”
“But some can? What makes those more qualified than others?” Braden felt certain Rothton would respect him more if he had an opinion rather than simply agreeing. And if Sir Hugh had half a brain, he’d be of the same mind as Braden. Who were these men that they knew what or who was best for Scotland?
Rothton smiled. “Excellent questions. I will be certain to pass them on.” Without further comment, he nodded then turned and strolled away.
Braden frowned, uncertain what the earl thought of his response or what the purpose of the conversation had been. If he’d agreed with all Rothton had said, would he have told Braden more about their plans and who was involved? Braden hoped he hadn’t just made a terrible mistake, but what could he do except follow his instincts?
Chanse galloped to him soon after the earl had taken his leave. “Are you certain you don’t wish to take a turn?” he asked as he dismounted where Braden now stood alone.
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