The Thief's Countess (Border Series Book 1)

by Cecelia Mecca

  “Why did you leave so early?” he asked.

  She’d be well within her rights if she refused to offer an explanation, but she decided to give him one anyway. One that skirted the truth while not embracing it.

  Leaning slightly on the balustrade overlooking the hall, she gestured to the activity below. “These people, Sir Geoffrey, many of whom who have been in our family’s service for years, counted on my father for their well-being.” Sara warmed to her topic. “The hundreds of knights sworn to service and those beyond these walls who’ve lived here for generations now rely on me.”

  She paused, noticing Faye had temporarily given up her search in favor of speaking to John, the cupbearer, and chanced a glance at Sir Geoffrey. He stood straight, his jaw set, waiting for her to continue. Sara temporarily lost her train of thought.

  Perhaps a dose of the truth was warranted after all. “I cannot afford any distractions.” This man was most certainly a distraction. “My duty is to be on guard, ensuring all is ready for Lord Lyonsford’s arrival.” She would be surprised if her cheeks weren’t at least slightly pink.

  “Which is exactly why I need to be moved closer to your personal quarters,” Sir Geoffrey said. “My uncle is in your father’s debt. As an extension of that debt, I’ll give my life, if necessary, to protect you.”

  Just as she was starting to think him noble, he added, “But make no mistake, I’m not happy about it.”

  “Be that as it may, Sir Geoffrey, perhaps it’s best you move on and allow Kenshire to defend itself.”

  For the second time that day, Sir Geoffrey grabbed her hand and forced her to face him. She should have pulled her hand back immediately—propriety dictated it—but she did not.

  “We are here to stay,” he insisted. “Unfortunately my uncle has asked I guard your person as he assists with the gatehouse fortification.”

  This was the closest she’d been to him. Closer than she’d planned to allow herself. He had a battle-hardened face, the evidence in a faint mark extending from his cheek to his lower jawbone, a scar she hadn’t noticed before. His hand, calloused and strong but also warm and protective, held hers tightly.

  “In that case—” Sara finally pulled her hand free. “We’ll make the best of a situation neither of us desires.”

  His eyes darkened once again, or perhaps the way they narrowed only made the light blue color appear shadowed. He might not desire the situation, but she could tell he did desire her. Sara nearly forgot herself as they continued to stand closer than was proper. She should be appalled, even nervous, but was neither.

  “Aye.” His voice was low, reverberating.

  “I’ll ask for your things to be moved to a chamber closer to my own.”

  “The empty one across the hall.”

  Startled, it was Sara’s turn to narrow her eyes at him.

  “I’d ask how you know the chamber is empty, but I have a feeling you’re privy to more information than I would like.”

  Why did he look guilty?

  “You’ve already made arrangements to sleep there.” It was stated as a fact rather than a question—she didn’t expect a response, nor did she receive one. Disliking the turn of their conversation, she nodded her head and quickly walked away. She’d speak to Peter, the traitor, in the morning. The high-handedness of men never ceased to amaze her.

  But Peter’s misguided loyalties would have to wait. For now, other thoughts occupied her mind.

  3

  Sara pulled the blankets closer when she awoke in her pitch-black chamber. Grief welled up inside her, filling her eyes with tears.

  She’d dreamed about her father again, about the conversation they’d had the evening before he left this world.

  Lord Kenshire had been desperate to make her to understand the precarious position his illness had put her in.

  “I raised you with more freedom than I should have,” he’d said. “Sara, the man you’re betrothed to is an honorable one. It’s rumored his first marriage was a love match, and he treated his wife well. He’ll do the same with you, and then Randolf will have no claim on Kenshire.”

  “But Father…”

  “Nay, save your arguments. I know them well. You have a claim, but a tenuous one. We’re lucky the king has agreed to the match instead of arranging for you to be a ward of the crown. In the eyes of the law, though not my own, you’re a mere woman. Randolf has the ear of the Earl of Covington. We need his support.”

  “Papa, please—”

  “I will ask the same of you.” His eyes had looked so tired. It had clearly been a struggle to keep them open. “Please.”

  It had been impossible to resist him. She’d known all too well that her beloved father was dying. The physician had warned her it could be any day.

  “Aye, Father, I’ll obey.” She’d laid down her head so her father could stroke her hair. It was then she’d realized tears were streaming down his face.

  It was the first time Sara had ever seen her father cry.

  Before the next sunset, Lord Kenshire was gone and Sara’s life thrown into turmoil. She’d never known her mother, the woman who died giving birth to her, but her father…

  Peter had sent for Lord Lyonsford immediately, but a messenger had informed them weeks later that the earl was out of the country on crusade. In the meantime, Sir Hugh Waryn and his nephew would arrive to “see to her safety.”

  Her eyes heavy, Sara attempted to fall back to sleep, but thoughts of a strong hand grasping her own kept her awake. That simple touch had held so much sensual promise.

  She couldn’t sleep.

  Though it was much earlier than when Sara normally rose from her bed, she climbed out of the covers. The air was crisp and cool. The fire had died hours earlier since Faye didn’t sleep in her bedchamber. The arrangement was unusual for a lady of Sara’s station but wasn’t unheard of at Kenshire. Privacy, coveted in any castle, was a luxury her parents had insisted on, which had prompted the construction of additional rooms.

  Her thoughts heavy, Sara dressed herself simply since Faye wasn’t due for some time.

  Rather than leave the room, she made her way to the small glass window and stood watching the sky as it began to lighten. Sara always vowed to wake in time to see the sun rise, but rarely managed to do so despite the fact that most of the other castle inhabitants were up and ready to start their daily routine by the time the sun peeked its head above the horizon. She was grateful for the moment of peace this morning, but as she watched the waves crash on the nearby shore, she felt as powerless as the grains of sand being pulled out to sea. For once she wished she could be the wave, a powerful force to be reckoned with, rather than a speck on the beach waiting to be swept away.

  Her unconventional father was to blame for these thoughts. He had often warned her to understand that her independence may be seen as a threat to others.

  Reluctantly turning from the window after a time, she walked to the door, opened it, and

  nearly screamed.

  “What in God’s name are you doing?”

  Sir Geoffrey rose from the floor and gave her a slight bow, his expression inscrutable. “Waiting for you.”

  “And why, may I ask, are you waiting for me outside my bedchamber?” More than a touch shrill, Sara’s voice sounded matronly even to her own ears. To think, he had been sitting out here, so close, while she thought about his strong hands…

  “That should be obvious, milady, given my role here at Kenshire.”

  “Your role is to help protect Kenshire.”

  “Aye, but we both know treachery can take down a castle even this well-fortified,” Geoffrey said with a yawn.

  “Are you accusing my people of something?”

  “Nay, not accusing. Just stating a fact.”

  She took a deep breath, attempting to compose herself. She was a countess, not some silly shrew, tongue-tied when the conversation turned tenuous.

  “Be that as it may, sir…”

  Geoffrey’s hard
stare gave way to a small grin.

  That smile made her fumble her words. Sara could have kicked the man for making her feel so foolish.

  “As I was saying, Sir Geoffrey, guards do not simply station themselves outside my door. You’ll find a man at the top of the stairs, plenty close to protect me should something happen. This just won’t do.”

  Rather than reply, Geoffrey leaned back against the stone wall and crossed his arms.

  They stared at each other. But before either could break the charged silence, Sara’s maid came rushing around the corner. “My lady, I heard your voice and … oh!”

  Spying Geoffrey, Faye stopped in her tracks. She looked from Sara to her protector, hesitant to interrupt a private conversation. “Your pardon, Lady Sara.” Faye turned and began to shuffle away.

  “Nay, Faye, return to me. We’re finished here. Sir Geoffrey and I were merely discussing the terms of his protection.” She glanced at the man in question, trying to read his face. It was inscrutable.

  “I’ll fetch Anna to attend to your chamber, my lady.” Faye walked away quickly, prompting Sara to glare across the hall at her protector.

  “You frightened my maid.” This time it was she who folded her arms accusingly.

  “You give me too much credit.”

  Why is he smiling?

  “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  “It sounded like one.”

  “So, frightening maids is an accomplishment to a man of your station?” She hadn’t meant to sound quite so angry.

  Ignoring her question, he asked one of his own. “Why are you still unmarried?”

  “Pardon?” Her tone was as impolite as his question had been.

  “Most maids of your age at twenty and two are already mothers.”

  His impertinence was maddening. “As if the reason for my state of matrimony is any of your concern! I have nothing more to discuss with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be off to morning mass.”

  “I don’t take mass each morning,” the reiver said. Oddly, he appeared to be enjoying their verbal sparring, and his tone was anything but deferential.

  Sara was finished attempting any modicum of politeness.

  “I’m not sure why that should concern me.” Walking away, she felt rather than heard him follow. “And I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “Where you go, I go. But I’d prefer to dispense with daily mass if you don’t mind.”

  Sara whirled around, prepared to tell Sir Geoffrey her opinion on that particular request. She could not remember ever hosting a more rude and forthright guest at Kenshire Castle.

  Well, that might not be exactly true.

  They’d had their fair share of men willing to step outside the bounds of propriety to secure the hand of the fairest maid in Northumbria. Most ladies refused to reside along the tumultuous border, so Sara could only assume she’d earned the ridiculous title by default.

  “Then feel free not to follow me, sir!” Her breath quickened as she imagined Sir Geoffrey at her heels all day. The thought, and her reaction to it, only angered her more. “If you’re here to play lady’s maid, so be it. But if you think I’ll alter my routine simply because you’re a heathen, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  After she made this impassioned speech, she heard a gasp behind her and whirled around to find Peter.

  “My lady?”

  She refused to be embarrassed by her behavior. Peter hadn’t heard the reiver’s previous comments.

  “Good morrow, Peter. I was just excusing myself to mass.”

  Excusing? More like marching.

  Nodding to Peter, Geoffrey strode after the countess and prepared to wait for her outside the small chapel. He was looking around with a critical eye, taking in the sights and sounds of Kenshire’s inner bailey, when his uncle approached him.

  Looking into Hugh’s face, so similar to his own, Geoffrey decided to humor the older man. “Impressive, is it not?”

  “Not many days past you cursed me for bringing us here. Your mood seems much improved,” Hugh said. There was a twinkle in his eyes. At least someone had been able to get some sleep. Thoughts of a dark-haired countess had interrupted his own.

  The men sat in companionable silence as Geoffrey contemplated their role at Kenshire and waited for the lady of the manor to emerge. Sometime later, he broke the silence. “Uncle, mark my words, this won’t end well. I’ve asked around, and while Sir Randolf’s claim on Kenshire isn’t strong, he’s the only male relative. If the rumors bear any truth, he’s firmly in league with the Earl of Covington. He’ll be coming. She’s in more danger than she thinks.”

  “Aye,” Hugh said with a nod. “Her father knew it as well. With Covington’s support, he could very well take Kenshire by force. But we’ll do everything in our power to keep Lady Sara safe until Lord Lyonsford arrives. A marriage with a man that powerful is no small thing.”

  “But it will only protect her if the marriage takes place before Sir Randolf arrives. Why is she still unwed?” He hadn’t meant to ask that question. Some urge, perhaps to avoid his uncle’s scrutiny, drove him to his feet, and he began to pace.

  He watched as Hugh stared at the impressive structure that was the main keep of Kenshire Castle. Its position on a rocky plateau high above the Northumbrian coastline made for a spectacular sight from every angle.

  Forgetting his question for the moment—Hugh either didn’t know or wasn’t inclined to answer—Geoffrey inquired about their temporary home.

  “Peter told me a little about the earldom and this estate. It’s been in Sara's family since King Henry II bestowed it on her great-grandfather after they suppressed a revolt in Wales.”

  “All true,” Hugh replied, looking back to him. “I was just a lad when the secondary keep was constructed. Richard and I had never seen anything like glass windows or a chimney,” he said. “His father, the second Earl of Kenshire, was a most impressive man, very accustomed to being in command. He was appalled by the idea of windows, even small ones.” Smiling, Hugh continued, “But if he was impressive, his wife was even more so. She knew proper defenses could mean life or death in a castle situated so close to the border, but the windows were non-negotiable.”

  So Sara wasn’t the only Caiser woman with strong opinions.

  “You speak of my grandmother?”

  Geoffrey turned in the direction of the voice and saw Sara walking toward them as graceful as a queen.

  “Aye, Lady Sara, I was telling Geoffrey about your grandfather’s renovations to the keep.”

  She looked curiously at Hugh. “You were here when it was built?”

  “I was,” he answered, looking pleased with the memory.

  Lady Sara smiled. She obviously found Hugh’s company more pleasant than his own. He watched the two as they spoke of times long since past. Their talk couldn’t help but remind him of his own history. His grandfather’s feudal barony was no earldom, but it had been earned in battle. It was honorable, but unlike Kenshire, which had obviously flourished through the years, Bristol Manor was now in the hands of his enemy.

  Meanwhile, he sat here playing lady’s maid, as the countess had so neatly pointed out. Scowling, he caught a question which piqued his interest.

  “Sir Hugh, you speak intimately of my family, but we’ve only met on a few occasions.”

  “A long, boring story,” he smiled gently, moving toward her. Geoffrey was all too familiar with that soft yet firm tone, “My lady, we’re here to protect you. I know you feel you don’t need protection, and Kenshire is indeed impressive. If attacked by Sir Randolf, I’ve no doubt your men would be victorious. Your father and grandfather saw to that. But my nephew and I are here at your father’s request. He saved my life, and I’ll not leave until you’re safe.”

  Geoffrey considered intervening but knew his uncle wouldn’t appreciate it.

  Better to remain silent when you have nothing of value to add.

  His father’s advice.

  Both he and Sara
waited patiently for Hugh to continue. He studied the hard lines etched into his uncle’s face, which were a stark contrast to Lady Sara’s smooth complexion. She may have momentarily forgotten Geoffrey’s presence, but he had not taken his eyes off her.

  “I should have made myself clearer yesterday when we arrived,” Hugh said. “Sir Randolf may come to lay claim to Kenshire not only with a retinue of his own men, but also with the backing of someone more powerful.”

  Geoffrey broke his silence. Lady Sara needed to fully grasp the threat Randolf posed. Hugh was being too delicate.

  “If he brings support of his claim from the Earl of Covington,” Geoffrey interrupted as Hugh and Sara shifted their attention to him, “you’ll be fighting a political battle as well. One which could see Sir Randolf as the next Earl of Kenshire. And you in his service, at best.”

  Sara straightened her back as though she meant to take on Randolf and an army herself. If she had forgotten his presence earlier, she remembered it now. Lady Sara stared at him as though he was the one trying to wrest the earldom from her.

  “I will never—” She paused and narrowed those big brown eyes. “Allow that to happen.”

  He believed her.

  4

  The infuriating man actually intended to follow her everywhere she went. Sara walked from the chapel back to the keep with a mixture of excitement and foreboding, determined to go about her day as normally as possible.

  However, the situation she had found herself in was anything but normal, and she wasn’t stubborn enough to believe otherwise.

  Perhaps she should simply accept the reivers’ presence. After all, their goal was the same as hers. To keep Kenshire. Once she was married, she knew it was unlikely she and her southern husband would spend much time in the borderlands. But at least her people would be safe. It was the only thing that truly mattered.

  Still, the thought of marrying that man…

  Growing up, Sara had always known she would one day marry for advantage. The Caiser family was one of the most powerful in Northern England. She was the fourth generation to inherit the earldom, her great-grandfather having secured the title from England’s king.