Until she spied Faye emerging from the back of the castle, near the kitchens.
“Faye,” she called. “Have you seen my brother?”
When the older woman looked up toward the balcony, Emma immediately knew. She didn’t wait for a reply but ran up the winding stone stairs into the solar. Opening the door without knocking, she gasped.
Her brother, and Sara, were indeed inside. But it was the room’s third occupant who caused her heart to skip a beat.
29
How did you . . .”
They all turned to look at her, but Emma stared straight at Garrick. Her heart was beating so rapidly, she feared it would fly out of her chest.
“When did you arrive?” That was certainly not the question she wanted to ask. But it would do, for now.
“Within the hour,” he said, getting to his feet. Garrick was not happy. “Your brother,” he said, his words slow and measured, “was just explaining why he is unable to accept my offer of marriage yet.”
Marriage?
“That you—” He cleared his throat. “Are to be wed to Graeme de Sowlis.”
Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed. He was no more pleased than Garrick.
“Wed?”
“I’d have spoken to you first, Emma. But I thought you’d readily agree. It seemed prudent to speak to your brother before seeking you out.”
Emma couldn’t seem to straighten out her thoughts. The room suddenly seemed too warm to bear.
“But when I left Clave, you . . .”
“Told my mother, and Magnus, I couldn’t possibly marry Lady Alison.”
Her eyes widened. “You did?”
“Of course I did,” he ground out.
“But what happened? What did they say?” She was so sure he would not fight for her. How could she have mistaken his intentions so badly?
“Does it matter?” Garrick turned to Geoffrey and spoke to him, ignoring her completely. “It seems we are done here. My apologies for having caused your family any distress.”
Then, without another word, he made for the door.
“Wait,” Sara called.
But he did not stop. Garrick moved past her without a glance, whisking so close she could almost feel his warmth, and walked away. It took her a moment to recover.
Emma looked around the room and then turned toward the door.
“Excuse me,” she mumbled. When a hand grabbed her from behind, she tried to shrug it off. “Nay, Sara. I must go to him.”
“Wait,” Sara repeated. The urgency in her voice stopped Emma from attempting to leave. “You may not be pledged to Graeme,” she said.
That got her attention.
“What?” both she and her brother asked at the same time.
Sara’s tiny shrug of her shoulders and tight-lipped grin could only mean one thing. She had done something she feared would displease Geoffrey.
Her brother folded his arms and waited.
“The messenger you sent,” she said to her husband. And then, more forcefully, “I stopped him.”
“What do you mean, you stopped him?” Emma asked, a spark of hope blooming in her chest.
“Just that,” Sara said. “I knew you”—she jutted her chin out to indicate Geoffrey—“were anxious to see the whole matter finished.” She turned to Emma. “Only because he loves you and despises seeing you in pain. But Sowlis was not the answer. At least, not so soon. When Geoffrey said he sent a message to the chief, I sent another to retrieve the messenger and am still waiting on word of his arrival.”
The look on her brother’s face should be one of shock. But it wasn’t. Instead, he appeared—
“Geoffrey?”
“You haven’t received word because your man will not be able to intercept the messenger.”
Emma was not the only one confused by her brother’s statement.
“I’ve already brought him back,” he continued.
She and Sara simply stared.
“I should not have pushed the match. But I hated seeing you like that, Emma,” he said. “I should have told you earlier today, but I wanted you to sort it out first before giving any definitive orders either way. But for now, the message to Graeme is safely within these walls.”
“Then why did you tell Garrick—”
“I said I couldn’t approve the match yet. I wanted to speak to you first. And,” her cheeky brother finished, “I thought he should know about Graeme.”
“You just wanted to see his reaction,” Sara accused.
“Perhaps.” He shrugged unapologetically. “This is my baby sister’s happiness at stake. I wanted to be sure he truly loves her.”
She couldn’t believe it. Geoffrey had stopped the messenger.
“I have to go!” she shouted, feeling so light she could float up to the ceiling.
She threw her arms around Geoffrey and squeezed, and then did the same to Sara. Perhaps a hug would help soften his mood. Then she ran as fast as her legs would carry her, down the stairs and through the hall. Garrick was just being handed his cloak when she called out to him.
“Stop! Garrick, wait.”
The hall was beginning to fill with servants preparing for the evening meal. Almost all of them turned to look at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Garrick.” She stopped directly in front of him. “We need to talk.”
He took the cloak and turned from her. “I don’t believe—”
“I am not getting married,” she blurted.
He froze.
“Please, just please stay. Listen to me.”
He didn’t look at her, but he didn’t leave either. It was something.
“I didn’t think—”
He spun around then, and the warrior, not the man, stared back at her. “Nay, you did not think.”
She’d planned to tell him that Geoffrey, and Sara, had stopped the messenger from reaching Graeme. To ask if he truly was here to ask for her hand in marriage. To find out what had happened at Clave.
But his words—actually, his tone—stilled her stubborn tongue. Though she wanted all to be well, too much had happened in the last two days for that to happen so easily. They would need to talk, really talk, and that could not be done in the crowded hall. But she wasn’t letting him leave without explaining.
Apparently Sara agreed with her, for her sister-in-law had followed her into the great hall. “We would very much like you to stay for the evening meal,” Sara said. “And perhaps for the night, as you’d planned?”
They had obviously spoken before she arrived in the solar, and now Emma wondered exactly what had been said. She looked at him hopefully. Would he accept?
“I’d never refuse such an offer from the Countess of Kenshire,” he said. Spoken so formally, without a hint of wanting to stay for her. Only for Sara.
At least he was staying.
“Faye, will you have the earl shown to a private chamber to prepare for the meal?” Sara said.
The maid appeared from nowhere, as she so often did, and curtsied. Without another glance, Garrick walked away.
“He’s here to marry you, Emma.”
That much she understood. “Then perhaps he could stop glaring at me as if I was one of the unmarked men who attacked him.” And then she remembered what Sara had done. “You both really stopped the messenger?”
Sara grabbed her hand, and they walked back toward the stairs.
“I did,” she said. “Just in case. But had no idea your brother had already done so.”
“Garrick is furious, and I don’t blame him. I don’t even understand myself what I possibly could have been thinking.”
“I don’t believe you were thinking at all.” It wasn’t an insult, but a pure fact. Emma’s heart had felt as if it had been torn from her chest. Nay, she’d not been thinking. Only feeling. And she never wanted to experience such heartbreak again.
“What did he say? Tell me everything.”
“He only arrived a few moments before you did. He asked to speak with Geo
ffrey and me privately, and I must say, I was quite surprised to see him after everything you’d told me.”
“And?”
“And he said he was no longer promised to the Earl of Magnus’s daughter, and he’d be honored to have you as a bride. After the shock wore off, Geoffrey began to explain that Graeme de Sowlis had offered for you, and before I could stop him, he added that you’d accepted the suit. And then you found us.”
Emma stopped, remembering the horse. “He brought a gift for me.”
They’d reached the stairs, but rather than climb them, the two women remained at the bottom, their heads tipped together as if they shared an important secret.
“He did?”
Emma pictured the horse’s perfect white coat and sighed. “The most beautiful pure Spanish you’ve ever seen.”
“A wedding gift?”
That and so much more. “I suppose,” she said, not wanting to explain just now. “But I wonder what the earl said to Magnus? Is his army marching on Clave now?”
“I don’t believe Garrick would be here preparing for dinner if that were so.” Sara pulled on her hand, and Emma followed her sister-in-law up the stairs.
“I need to tell him about the messenger.”
“Aye,” Sara answered. “You do.”
“I should go to him now—”
“Nay. It won’t do well for you to be alone with him.”
“Uh, no. Of course not.”
“Under the watchful eye of your brother,” Sara finished.
Was Sara really suggesting she should go to him later?
Aye, she would. They needed time alone, away from prying eyes, to settle all the questions that remained between them. But before the night was through, there would be no doubt.
The man she loved would be hers.
Tonight . . . and forever.
30
Why was he still here?
He owed as much to Lady Sara after listening to his offer—nay, his plea—for Emma’s hand in marriage. For her friendship and their shared history.
Who am I fooling?
He was still here because of her. Could there truly be hope? Geoffrey had made it fairly clear there wasn’t any, and yet he couldn’t bear to accept that he was too late.
“Lord Clave.” Geoffrey Waryn strode through the hall to where he stood waiting by the mantel. “Come, sit with me.”
Garrick followed Geoffrey to the raised dais. His host indicated for him to sit next to him, and so he did.
“The ladies should arrive shortly,” Geoffrey said, then thanked the cupbearer for filling his goblet with wine, and Garrick did the same.
“I assume a toast will be in order?” his host said.
Though Garrick didn’t understand his meaning, he lifted his goblet anyway.
Which was when Geoffrey burst into laughter. “I can see they didn’t tell you yet.”
As they watched the hall continue to fill, a flash of green and blue peeked out from the crowd. Sara and Emma appeared on the opposite side of the hall.
The men stood.
Bloody hell.
It was her smile that he noticed first. She beamed as if she had not a care in the world. Her mood, coupled with Geoffrey’s odd comment, was Garrick’s first indication the situation was not quite as he’d thought.
“Tell me what?”
The ladies were halfway to the dais when a pleasant but indistinguishable scent announced the arrival of the first course. But Garrick didn’t look at the servants waiting at the side of the hall for their lady to sit. He didn’t look at Geoffrey for a response to his question.
He looked instead at Emma, who stared straight back as if she’d just been told a tantalizing secret. Her smile held both promise and desire, and his body instantly responded.
“That both my wife and I, independently, intercepted the message to Sowlis.”
It took him a moment to grasp Geoffrey’s words. “Intercepted?”
“Stopped him from delivering it. I wanted to speak to Emma first before I gave my approval. Which, of course, you have.”
She is not marrying Graeme. I have her brother’s approval.
Emma began to follow Sara around to Geoffrey’s left, but the countess stopped her.
“I do believe you have a new seat this eve,” she said. They both looked at the empty seat next to Garrick.
Emma simply smiled as she made her way to the chair. She stepped up, thanked the servant who held the ornate wooden chair for her, and sat.
When a trencher was placed between them, Garrick peered around Geoffrey to greet Sara. “Good eve, my lady.”
“Lord Clave.”
It seemed everyone other than him was smiling and in good cheer. Perhaps if he’d learned about their change in circumstances before sitting down to the meal, he’d feel the same.
When Sara leaned in to say something to her husband, Garrick took advantage of their distraction and turned back to Emma.
“Why did you not tell me?” he whispered.
Her smile faltered, likely at his harsh tone. “I had hoped for the chance to speak with you, alone.”
“So it seems you are free to marry once again?”
Garrick hated that she’d accepted Graeme’s proposal, even though they had parted under less than ideal circumstances. He was not happy with her decision, but neither did he pretend the outcome would be anything other than Emma belonging to him.
And he to her.
“Aye, my lord.”
He ignored the herring and herbs that had been placed on their shared trencher.
“And you’re sure you are not wanting to send that messenger back to Scotland?” he pressed.
Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re sure you don’t want to find another Scottish heiress to secure your claim to Linkirk.”
The mood shifted. Despite the tone of their words, the very air around them seemed lighter, less oppressive than it had been just moments before.
“There is only one thing I want, Lady Emma. And I believe you know what it is,” he whispered.
She held his gaze, boldly and with more promise than he deserved. “What, may I presume to ask, is that, my lord?”
“You shall find out soon enough.” With that, he gave his attention to their hosts. “Lord—”
“Geoffrey,” the man corrected.
Though he’d known Sara since childhood, he could not say the same for her husband. The earl’s easy request for Garrick to use his given name confirmed the words he’d said before.
“Garrick Helmsley. Brother-in-law.” Sara’s broad smile was infectious enough for him to stop thinking, for the moment, of Graeme de Sowlis and Emma’s ready acceptance of his offer.
“Pardon me,” Emma interrupted.
He’d been deliberately indiscreet, and though this was hardly the proper place for it, Garrick did not wish to wait. “Aye, my lady?”
He tried not to smile, unsure of why he felt the urge to tease her when his mood had been so dark just moments before. She was simply too easily incensed, and the thought of doing this for years to come was one that filled him with happiness.
Her eyes widened. “Did you not wish to include me in this particular conversation?”
At least they would never be bored.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” He pretended to see the meal between them for the first time, and pulling out his knife, he cut a portion of the fish, the best portion, and slid it to Emma. He then took a bite for himself. “You know, my father attempted to steal Cook away from Kenshire many times. She—”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying the meal,” Emma said.
She was up to something.
Taking the portion he’d cut for her, she picked it up between her thumb and forefinger, popped it into her mouth, and then proceeded to lick both fingers just enough for his cock to respond—though not enough for others to take notice.
“Emma . . .”
She did the same with the second portion, this time licking
her lips when she was through. It had been too long since he’d tasted those lips.
Of course, that thought led to another.
Outside of his dreams, he’d tried not to imagine taking Emma as his own. Every time his thoughts wandered that way in the past, he had stopped them.
But now he gave his mind free rein. Continuing to watch her deliberately entice him, he could think of nothing else. He had to remember where they were. Who sat next to them.
And though Sara and Geoffrey carried on a conversation between themselves, the four of them were on display in a room full of retainers. They were not yet alone.
But she’d won this battle.
“Stop,” he insisted.
She looked at him questioningly.
“I want you,” he said. “I need you.”
Emma turned serious.
“Will you be my wife, Emma Waryn?”
She reached for his hand, only to pull it back. Her eyes shifted to the crowded hall before returning to him.
“’Tis so difficult not to touch you,” she said.
Oh God, she had no idea.
“Aye, Garrick. I will be your wife, gladly.”
When she reached for her goblet, he took advantage, placing his hand over hers and pretending to help her guide it to her lips.
Pulling his hand away, he made a promise he intended to keep. “I will love you, Emma Waryn, every day for the rest of our lives.” And then lower, to ensure they were not overheard, “Starting this evening.”
She blinked, understanding creeping into her expression.
And before he lost himself completely, Garrick turned and attempted to converse with his hosts.
It would be a long meal indeed.
Emma had not been nervous all evening.
She should have been before the meal, before knowing how Garrick would react. Whether he would, indeed, forgive her. Or mayhap when she’d pulled Geoffrey aside after the scene in the solar and begged him to accept Garrick. Or the moment when she’d pledged herself to him, forever.
Nay, she’d not been nervous then, but she was very much so as she stood in her chamber with her lady’s maid, preparing for the night ahead.
“Yer poor fingers,” Edith said, standing back to look at her as if she were a prized horse. “If ye keep doin’ that to ’em, you’ll have old lady hands.”
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