“I love you, Garrick,” she whispered, the words coming as easily as if she’d said them many times before.
“And I love you, Emma,” he said. “I will come to you,” he repeated.
She didn’t ask when. Garrick’s task was a difficult one. But he had promised, and she believed him.
“I must go.” With a final backward glance at the earl who had captured her heart, Emma walked from the room.
He’d asked her to wait.
And she would.
20
Nearly a week had passed since the council. Since he’d seen her.
Clave ran as smoothly as ever. Garrick’s men benefited from the tactics they’d learned overseas and trained hard despite the cold, making him proud to be their leader. And his allies had all communicated their praise and ready acceptance of him after the meeting of the council.
Better yet, news had arrived just this morn indicating one of the men who’d been captured following the attack on Garrick’s men had been turned over to the English warden, per Garrick’s agreement with Graeme. The man had finally started talking. He’d admitted to being sent to waylay Garrick specifically, though he claimed not to know who’d hired him. The warden intended to hold the man prisoner until the next Day of Truce, at which point he’d be brought to trial for his crimes.
Another messenger had arrived. Garrick had hurried back to the castle from the training yard, eager to see if it was a missive from his mother. But instead of seeking the steward out directly, he found himself drawn to the same exact spot where he’d last seen her.
He returned to this place each day to feel closer to her.
“Pardon, my lord.”
He closed the shutters. Mable had found him instead of him having to seek her out.
“A missive from the men you sent to Scotland.” She held out the letter.
He quickly read the message and glanced up at her. The eagerness in her eyes told him she’d be reluctant to leave until he relayed the message. He knew why—Mable and his mother were nearly as close as sisters.
“The men are on their way back.”
Mable waited.
“To England.” He tried not to smile. He really had missed teasing their steward.
“I know, my lord, to England. When? With whom?”
“Posthaste. With each other, of course. Why, do you believe any of them would stay—”
“Lord Clave, you’ve got too much of yer father in you,” she scolded.
He rather hoped so. “I would expect them within the week. And my mother travels with them.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Without another word, Mable snatched the missive from his hands. The edges of her mouth had tipped up just slightly enough to form a smile, though someone who didn’t know her would not have noticed.
The sound of footsteps preceded Conrad’s voice. “Mistress Mable, you are looking quite fine—”
“Save yer compliments for the ladies who think ye sincere,” Mable said to him as he turned the corner and walked into the room.
Garrick chuckled, delighted to see there was at least one person who would not fall prey to his friend’s charms.
“Mable is wise to your wicked ways,” he said, knowing full well she could still hear.
“The men said you’d left training early. After you knocked every last one of them on their arses. Their words, not mine.”
Garrick had seen the rider and hadn’t wanted to wait for the news. But if he told Conrad as much, his friend would chide him for a fool.
“So your mother’s coming?”
“God’s blood, is there nothing you don’t know about what happens around here?”
“You forget, great Earl of Clave and master of men, I know all. About everything.”
Garrick crossed his arms. “Do you now?”
“Aye, and more than you, to be sure.”
“What did the missive say, then?” Garrick asked.
Conrad didn’t hesitate. “Your mother is on her way to England, spitting mad and ready to box your ears for delaying the wedding.”
All likely true. “And the one from earlier this morning?”
“One of the captured men from the attack is squawking like a chicken now that you’ve turned him over to the warden.”
“Then it appears, my friend, you truly do know all.”
Conrad pretended to consider his words. “Nearly all. Except one thing.” He paused. “How does a man manage to fall in love at nearly the very same moment he pledges his life to another? The timing does seem rather poor, even to—”
“You are an arse, Conrad. And I do believe your own mother has written yet again, asking for your return. I’m highly tempted to send you home.”
“How would you know if Emma appeals when you hardly spoke to her—”
“Did I not tell you? I met up with the Waryns on their ride home.” Garrick’s look would have had lesser men cowering in fear.
Conrad merely grinned. “Nay, you did not tell me.”
“I see. Well, it must have been because I had hoped you would forget about the chit.”
“Conrad—”
“Woman. My apologies. The woman who will be responsible for your downfall.”
They’d avoided the topic of Emma thus far, but it would seem his self-imposed muzzle had been removed.
“In fact, if you weren’t in love with her, I would be very interested to—”
“I will kill you.”
“If, my dear Garrick. If. But of course you are, in love that is, which makes her very much off-limits. Will you give up Linkirk for her then?” his friend pressed.
“You believe I will need to?”
Conrad’s lips flattened. “It was very likely your uncle who was behind the attack. You know it as well as I do. Even if Magnus can be persuaded, or bribed, to let you out of the agreement, your uncle’s pursuit of the title will be relentless. That he even dared the attempt on your life . . . I can only assume he sent those men before learning the betrothal was made official.”
Conrad was just getting started. “Your mother’s childhood home won’t be safe, and it might not be safe for her to return to Scotland. At best, your uncle will continue to plague you. At worst, Magnus will join his cause. Lives will be lost, your kinsmen caught in a battle between siblings, and you—because I know you well—will not allow it to happen. You’ll relinquish the earldom first. And aye, it will devastate your mother.”
Garrick wanted to disagree. To tell Conrad he was wrong, about all of it—or most of it. To explain how it could work, and under which conditions he could retain Linkirk for his mother.
But he couldn’t.
Edward had relied on him to win battles and save lives. He had sent for his mother for a reason. The plan he was about to set in motion would risk her inheritance, at best. Her life, at worst.
A vision of his mother bending over him to smooth an errant hair back into place crossed his mind. Then a memory of her pulling him off the training yard well after the others had finished, begging him to stop, to eat, to see reason. She’d always supported and loved him. And now he would repay her with this. After he’d already taken her husband from her.
Garrick was the worst sort of man alive, and when he looked into his friend’s eyes, he could see his own thoughts reflected there. This would not end well. For anyone.
And yet, what choice did he have? Would it truly be better to spend his life in misery? Bound to a stranger he did not love?
“Let her go, Garrick.”
Nay. Not that. Never that.
“Let her marry a man who isn’t on the precipice of war. One who can keep her safe in a way you cannot do if you break off this betrothal.”
The mere thought made him fist his hands at his side.
“If you love her,” Conrad said, “you need to let her go. This is no way for a young woman to begin her married life. And you know it, Garrick. You know it in your heart, which is why you’ve avoided me since sh
e came here. There’s no other way.”
Garrick frowned, wanting to deny his words.
But there was some truth to them.
Emma pulled her cloak tighter as she stroked Nella’s sleek black coat. She’d taken her out for a short stroll earlier, careful to avoid the patches of ice that had formed since the last snowfall. The ride had allowed her time to think. To reflect on her recent trip to Clave.
To consider Garrick and their predicament.
She looked at the spot where he’d stood that day. Emma could remember precisely how she’d felt when she had realized it was not some stablehand who’d joined her, but a strange knight. A wickedly handsome one who’d pulled her toward him without speaking. Who had captured her heart, assailed her senses so completely that she’d hardly had time to consider what it all meant.
That she loved him, there was no doubt. Sara had once told her that love felt somewhere between sheer bliss and utter fear. She and her sister-in-law had stood together on the bit of shore by Kenshire, Sara’s favorite spot, on the day Geoffrey was to return from Bristol. Though Emma had been convinced her brother was safe, the panic in Sara’s eyes had not failed to move her. She’d wondered that day if his wife could love him more than she, his sister, did. She’d concluded it was just a different love. One less rational. More desperate.
That was the way she loved Garrick. But would it be enough?
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Emma turned toward the entrance of the stables, expecting to see Sara bundled against the cold. Instead, her breeches peeked out from beneath a cape that was made for riding. Though fur-lined, it was a thinner cloak than she would have expected on such a frigid day.
“Have you already taken her out?” Sara asked.
Nella answered for Emma, the soft snort forcing a laugh from Sara.
“She’s still restless.”
Emma agreed. Perhaps Nella was reacting to her own mood.
“I did, but I’m not opposed to another ride. Nor does Nella appear to be.”
“Before we go . . .”
The stablehand had followed Sara inside, but when she turned to look at him, he fled, closing the great doors behind him. Though Emma hadn’t seen the look that had sent him running, she could well imagine it. This could only mean one thing.
“We’ve not had a chance to talk since you returned last week.”
Sara knew. Perhaps because Geoffrey had told her, or perhaps she’d known all along. Emma was only ashamed she hadn’t said anything earlier.
They spoke at the same time. “I would have told you—”
“You know you can talk to me—”
They both stopped. Sara walked toward her, stopping to greet Guinevere, her horse.
“Who told you?” Emma choked out.
“You did.”
Emma thought back to their conversations and was fairly assured she had not told Sara about her feelings for Garrick.
When Sara smiled, she conveyed both confidence and warmth. A born leader. Lucky that, since Geoffrey needed a partner who would stand up to him. One who was just as strong and self-assured as he had always been. So it would seem Sara had guessed after all.
“When?”
“Before you left for Dunmure.”
“But ’tis not possible. I didn’t—”
“You didn’t yet know you held an affection for him. But I could tell.”
Emma thought back to the dinner. She remembered being appalled by Garrick’s status, grateful that he’d agreed to look at Nella and . . .
“I knew how badly you wanted to see Clara. And also that Garrick was on his way to forge an alliance with the Earl of Magnus.”
“But how could you have known—”
“It was foolish,” Sara said, interrupting her, “of me to encourage you to go. I knew of Garrick’s reputation. And could sense the connection between you at dinner.”
Reputation?
“But I also know him to be an honorable man. One who would not lie with one woman when he was promised to another. And I also trust your judgment, Emma.”
There was no conjecture in her voice. Sara was simply stating facts.
“His reputation?”
Sara rolled her eyes heavenward, as if trying to grasp a distant memory before it floated away. “He and Conrad have broken many hearts between them.”
“Sir Conrad Anstead?” Emma had met him briefly. A knight who knew his own appeal.
“Aye. A second son known more for conquering women than enemies in battle. And Garrick’s best friend. He’s rarely left Clave since moving there to foster with the old earl.”
Garrick had spoken little of Conrad. In fact, there was much they had not spoken of. She hardly knew him at all, really.
“I didn’t worry, though I should have. When you avoided talking about Graeme—”
“Sara, I’m in love with Garrick.” She blurted it out, knowing it would be easier to admit to all at once.
“I know.”
“How could you possibly—”
“You’ve not been yourself since returning from Scotland. And I must say, I’m surprised. An earl?” A small smile quirked her lips.
Emma should have known there would be no censure from Sara. She should have confided in her earlier.
“I didn’t intend for it to happen. I didn’t even know the purpose of his trip, at first. By the time I’d learned . . .” She shrugged and looked up at the timber crossbeams above them.
“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Except being in love with a man promised to another. One who will very likely start a war when he—” She stopped. The look of alarm on Sara’s face reminded her that her sister-in-law was also the Countess of Kenshire.
“What does he intend to do? Have you—”
“Nay, we have not,” she said, though not proudly. It was not exactly her doing that she was a virgin still. “And I don’t know exactly what he intends. Just that he asked me to wait for him. And for me not to encourage—”
“Graeme de Sowlis.”
Emma nodded.
Sara began to pace, just like her brother, fresh rushes crunching under her feet as she walked.
“If he breaks the betrothal, Magnus will be furious. And his uncle . . .” She stopped and looked at her.
“Aye. Precisely.”
“We need to find out if his uncle was truly behind the attacks. How far is the man willing to go to secure a title he thinks belongs to him? To Scotland?” Sara seemed to be talking as much to herself as she was to Emma. “I’ll take care of Geoffrey. He asked just this morn if we should send for Graeme.”
“What?” She hadn’t meant to yell, but the word had burst out of her. “Sara, he can’t come here. Please—”
“We’ll make an excuse. If I simply tell him you are not interested in pursuing the Scots chief, Geoffrey will invite him anyway. Your brother still believes he can sway your thinking as easily as he did when you were a child. But neither do I want to lie to him. Perhaps a dose of the truth will do.”
The implications of Sara’s words began to penetrate.
“Are you saying . . . do you believe I should encourage Garrick then?”
Though she couldn’t stop thinking of him, imagining a life with him, Emma had begun to doubt such a thing was possible.
“Of course.” Sara’s posture was that of a proud warrior about to head into battle—a battle on Emma’s behalf. She actually looked offended. “What did you believe? That I would attempt to dissuade you?”
Emma declined to answer. She had not the first idea of what to say.
“Emma, I trust you to make your own decisions. Know your own heart.”
“But he’s betrothed!”
“Yet not married.”
“To a woman whose father is a powerful man. A man who—”
“Is just that. A man. Nothing more.”
“But his uncle. The earldom—”
“Garrick is not stupid. You’d not
have fallen in love with him if he were. He can work it out.”
Emma didn’t know what to say. After a moment passed, she added, “He is an earl. You know how I feel about that.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself that Garrick is not the one? Because I’ve seen the way you look at him, and he at you. You say you’re in love, and I can only assume he’s said as much to you.”
Emma nodded.
“Then if he’s a man worth fighting for, he’ll find a way to make it work. Otherwise . . .” She didn’t finish, but Emma thought she understood. “I will ask just once more, before we decide what to tell Geoffrey. Are you in love with Garrick Clave? Is he the man you want to marry?”
Emma didn’t hesitate. “Aye.”
Sara smiled. “You’ve made a fine choice. I’ve always wished a good woman would find a way to his heart. ’Tis a shame he didn’t come to Kenshire before agreeing to marry Magnus’s daughter.”
With that, Sara walked away, presumably to get the groom.
For the first time since her return from Scotland, Emma felt confident about her future. Thank goodness Geoffrey had possessed the good sense to fall in love with Sara. How lucky they both were to have her in their lives.
Garrick would find a way. Their love would be enough.
In the meantime, it was a great day for another ride.
21
Emma was ready to scream.
She couldn’t wait a moment longer. Another week had passed without word from Garrick. In some ways, life felt much the same as it had before her fateful trip to Scotland. The days were monotonous and long, except for her joyful rides with Nella. She’d headed out to the stables with the intention of taking a long ride, but the cold wind had rendered the day so frigid even her fur-lined hood made little difference. Perhaps she should rethink her afternoon, but Hayden was asleep and Geoffrey and Sara were locked in the solar, purportedly to make their way through a scroll of tenant disputes.
She’d planned to speak with her brother but hadn’t the nerve to tell him the truth. Sara had spoken with him about Graeme, but otherwise, they waited for word from Garrick.
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