The Thief's Countess (Border Series Book 1)

by Cecelia Mecca

  “Very good.” Peter needed no more prompting to move in that direction.

  “The man respects you,” Hugh said.

  “Aye.” He couldn’t understand it, but he’d counted on that fact earlier in the evening when he’d given him the order to apprehend the servant.

  They walked toward the keep, watching more people converge on the celebration that had broken out near the stables. No one was quite sure what had happened save that their lady had gone missing and now was safe.

  “It’s easy to see why,” his uncle said. “You’ve grown into a fine man, my son.” Hugh crossed his arms. “Now tell me what happened.”

  My son. It felt good to hear those words—to feel a sense of belonging.

  “I told you about the conversation between John and Lady Maude. It unsettled me enough to inquire after him.”

  “But how does that…”

  “John was Randolf’s man. It was he who filtered information out of Kenshire. And, I suspect, the one who planned to allow Randolf access ever since he arrived. I’d bet my life the other team of scouts will return with confirmation that the Earl of Covington doesn’t support Randolf’s claim.” He then amended, “Didn’t support his claim. The man is now dead.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “I’m not sure whether he came to speak to his traitor or merely signal it was time for action, but Randolf’s visit was nothing more than a ruse to put his treacherous plan into action. It seems my presence was a burden which needed to be overcome.”

  “If Randolf had no support for his claim and his intention was to murder Lady Sara, why not have John do the deed himself?”

  “I asked that very question before sending him to hell.” His hand rose unbidden to the hilt of his sword. He’d send the man to hell again if he could.

  “And?”

  “John was a coward. He was apparently afraid of the deed being traced back to him. The lackwit’s job was to ensure Sara was alone and possibly help Randolf escape notice.”

  “Which is why,” Hugh mused, “his men left their camp earlier this eve.”

  Geoffrey stopped short. “Why the hell are we standing here chatting like old maids if his men are unaccounted for?”

  “I didn’t say they were unaccounted for, only that they’d abandoned their camp.” Hugh’s tone implied he didn’t care for Geoffrey’s tone. “They were tracked down easily enough and are being questioned as we speak.”

  It was Geoffrey’s turn to be surprised. “Who gave the order to secure them?”

  “Eddard. When Sara went missing, it put everyone on high alert.”

  “But you couldn’t have made the connection. Sara was only ‘missing’ because she was upset.”

  “Your order to Peter to secure John did that. There are no coincidences, and her men know it well. Logic told us Randolf was involved, especially when he wasn’t found among his men.”

  “Somehow Randolf found his way to the bluffs not far from St. Oswald’s Gate. I suspect a secret entrance, which is most likely why he was alone. Bringing a retinue of men would have been impossible without notice. It would take just one man to do the job, and Randolf clearly thought he was that man.”

  “But he was not?”

  “Nay. I discovered Sara’s location too quickly for him. When I found them, he had her at knifepoint. At first I thought he awaited relief from his men, but then I realized John was the only one who knew Randolf’s whereabouts. Or,” he amended, “who had access to our position.”

  “And you already knew he had been obtained?”

  “Or hoped so, at least.” Geoffrey had trusted Peter to carry out his orders.

  As they reached the keep, Geoffrey finally asked his uncle the question that had been torturing him from the moment Randolf fell down dead.

  “What happens now?”

  Hugh misunderstood. “I imagine there’ll be an inquiry, though I’ve no fear you’ll be acquitted of wrongdoing.”

  Geoffrey could care less about an inquiry.

  “Kenshire is more secure than ever,” Hugh posited, “but until Lady Sara weds…” He paused, then seemed to come to a decision. “She’s still vulnerable. Perhaps she’ll agree to send a party to Elmhurst Manor to check on the children.”

  Geoffrey wondered what his siblings would think of being referred to as the children. Even the youngest of them was ten and six and could hardly be considered a child any longer. And thanks to the bastards who’d stolen their home and livelihood, they weren’t in a position to have Neill fostered or knighted.

  Goddamn the Kerrs!

  His uncle seemed to warm to his decision. “The earl would have wanted me to stay, and so we will. Lord Lyonsford must be on his way. Hell, once he claims Lady Sara and the Caisers’ land, he’ll be among the most powerful men in England.”

  So they wouldn’t be leaving on the morrow as Geoffrey had feared. Or hoped. He couldn’t decide how he felt about the news. But Hugh’s next words stopped him cold.

  “And when he does, he’ll find a virgin bride waiting for him. Sara’s future, the future of her people, depends on it.”

  Of course he knew. Hugh was one of the most perceptive men alive. Even Randolf had suspected their feelings for each other enough to use their bond against them.

  And Hugh was right.

  “He will, Uncle,” Geoffrey agreed.

  “Damn right, he will, or I’ll cut your bollocks off myself, my boy. Now come inside, you’ve had a hell of a night.”

  After the initial excitement wore off, Sara called for a meeting in her solar. She knew it was important to take charge of her officers as she’d done the night before. As soon as all of the officers were seated, she ordered them each to give their account of the evening’s events.

  One by one, they told her about the diversion Randolf’s men had created by abandoning their camp. Peter relayed the order Geoffrey had shouted to him before pursuing Sara—and told them all how John had been captured while attempting to slip through the Battery Gate. Randolf’s men were less than loyal and the profile that emerged from the reports was that of a man desperate to claim a land and a title. One hired soldier admitted Randolf had failed to obtain the Earl of Covington’s support. Another particularly loose-tongued traitor had given up the same piece of information.

  “You’re confident the threat is contained, then?” she asked no one in particular.

  A chorus of “ayes” confirmed that fact.

  “As Countess of Kenshire and primary witness to Sir Randolf Fitzwarren’s death, I will personally speak to the sheriff about what happened. But consider yourself exonerated, Sir Geoffrey. There’s no need for you to remain at Kenshire for a trial.”

  Sara tried hard to appear composed, but she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her bedchamber and be left alone with her thoughts. Hugh and Geoffrey would be leaving, and there was naught she could do to prevent it. She thought she wanted them to leave, but it was difficult to imagine Kenshire without Geoffrey.

  Geoffrey started to say something, but he was interrupted when Peter agreed. “Aye, Lady Sara, you have the right of it. We’ve also to decide how to deal with Randolf’s men.”

  Not having committed a royal offense, their only crime had been their allegiance to a man without scruples or morals.

  “I will hear them on the morrow,” she said. “In the meantime, we have to confirm that Randolf truly acted alone.”

  “The scouting party should be back any time, my lady,” Eddard said.

  “And John?” Geoffrey asked. All conversation ceased.

  “Let the bastard rot in Kenshire’s dungeons,” Eddard suggested.

  Hugh agreed. “Allowing him to disappear would be the least he deserved for his treachery.”

  Sara seriously considered their advice. The man had conspired to put her in danger. She knew what her father would have done in the same situation, and she would do the same. Had he struggled to make difficult decisions, or had leadership come as naturally to him
as it had always seemed to?

  “I will hear his case on the morrow.”

  Geoffrey spoke up for the first time. “It’s been a long night. Perhaps we should reconvene in the morn.”

  Sara suspected his words were for her benefit. His arm must have been injured anew. A nasty red gash bled through the bright white of his shirt. Apparently reivers didn’t believe in much protection beyond a simple leather jack. It struck her that this might be the last night Geoffrey Waryn resided at Kenshire. She couldn’t bear to end the meeting, but the decision to retire was taken from her by her steward.

  “Aye, Faye is waiting to assist you, my lady,” Peter said. “Come.” And before she could think of a reason to stay, Peter led her from the solar as the men bid her a good night. She longed for a moment alone with Geoffrey, but Peter walked upstairs with her.

  It was a comfort to return to Faye—and her maid awaited her with a wooden tub of steaming water. Sara knew the effort that went into preparing a hot bath and was grateful for it. When she said as much to Faye, the woman waved her off and spun her around to help her undress.

  “Fie. This dress was ruined by that swine.”

  “A torn dress is the least of my concerns.”

  Faye was immediately apologetic. “I’m sorry, my lady. You’ve been through a hellish ordeal and this old ninny is worrying about a dress.”

  “No need for an apology, Faye. I was teasing.”

  Sara had told Faye earlier about her encounter with Randolf—her mad dash to the beach and the final confrontation that had led to Randolf’s death. Oh, how maddening it had been to be in that man’s power…

  He’d never been particularly intelligent. His greed, apparent from a young age and finally resulting in his exile from Kenshire, was the only thing that had ever truly frightened her about her distant relative. Without the support of the Earl of Covington, Sir Randolf Fitzwarren had been nothing more than the son of a baronet with tenuous familial ties to her father.

  And now he was dead. She was the only remaining member of the small but powerful Caiser family. That realization made her feel lonely, but also free.

  Unclothed, Sara stepped into the tub and sighed. It felt heavenly. As she sank into the warm water, she thought of Geoffrey’s arm. Had someone tended to his wound? Where was he now? And, most pressingly, was he leaving on the morrow?

  He and Hugh would have no reason to remain now that the threat to her person had been eliminated.

  Should she go to him? The idea was both dangerous and foolish, but this might be her only chance to see him alone again. She couldn’t squander it.

  She told Faye she’d prefer to finish her bath alone, and asked that the tub be left in her chamber for the night. An abundance of reassurances were required of her, but her maid did as she asked.

  When Sara finished her bath, she dressed in the finest chemise she owned, a white silken shift embroidered with silver thread that shimmered in the candlelit chamber. After drying and brushing her wet hair as thoroughly as possible, she grabbed the closest candle, said a quick prayer, and opened her door.

  Nothing.

  Would he be in his chamber? Ruing the fact that the lord’s chamber was so close to the top of the stairs, she forged ahead.

  She dared not knock for fear of alerting the guard, so she opened the door as quietly as possible, stepped inside, and closed it behind her.

  The chamber was much darker than hers—only two candles flickered and there were no windows to usher in the moonlight. Even so, she immediately sensed she wasn’t alone. As her eyes adjusted, she saw Geoffrey sitting in a large chair adjacent to the canopied bed. His eyes widened but otherwise his expression was inscrutable.

  Would he welcome her presence or would his honor prevent it? He cared for her. She

  had felt the desperation in his embrace on the beach. Naive to the ways of men and women, she instinctively understood his kiss was not just one of passion. There was an undercurrent of something more. And this eve she was determined to find out what it meant.

  He rose and came toward her.

  Surely he was being punished for his all-consuming thoughts of revenge. Or maybe for the lives he had taken. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but Geoffrey knew it must have been very wrong, for it had brought the one person who could make him forget his duty into his bedchamber.

  After the meeting in Sara’s solar, he had returned to the sea path, just as he’d taken to doing every evening after Sara retired. He’d stripped naked and dived into the frigid sea, letting the salty water cleanse the innocuous wound on his arm.

  Though Sara no longer needed to be watched every moment of the day and night, Geoffrey had nevertheless returned immediately to his bedchamber after speaking to Faye, who’d assured him Sara was safe inside her own chamber.

  Geoffrey had reached for his sword upon hearing the door open, but quickly retracted his hand. His midnight guest was the very person he’d been thinking about.

  Sara stood as erect and proud as the day she glided down the stairs when he first arrived at Kenshire. There were two differences. This time she was even more assured.

  This time she wore nothing more than a thin chemise.

  Geoffrey himself was naked but for his braies and woolen hose, and he throbbed beneath them as the vision before him moved closer.

  God have mercy.

  Her hair was just wet enough to make him inhale deeply. Rosewood.

  Would she be wet for him?

  The unbidden thought was the one that broke him. Closing the remaining distance between them, he grabbed her head and pulled her toward him, claiming her mouth. Unrelenting, he slanted his head to give himself greater access than ever before. Sara met his tongue thrust for thrust. He reached for the candle she held and placed it on a nearby table.

  A low groan escaped his lips as he allowed his hands to roam free. Cupping Sara’s backside, he pulled her closer, allowing her to feel his need for her. A mewling sound told him she was pleased, though he had never doubted it. Gripping the soft fabric of her chemise with both hands, he pulled it swiftly above her head, disposing of the offending garment.

  Sara instinctively crossed her arms over her chest in the dim candlelight.

  “Nay.” She had nothing to be ashamed of. “Don’t hide yourself from me. You’re too perfectly formed for that.” Taking in the sight of her luscious breasts, narrow waist, and perfectly rounded hips, Geoffrey had to remind himself to breathe. He wanted to touch every bit of her all at once. Reaching out, he cupped one breast, flicking his thumb against the pink nipple. He couldn’t resist.

  Frantic with need, he allowed his hands to explore. Her waist, hips, buttocks … he couldn’t get enough.

  She stopped his exploration. “I want to see you.”

  Groaning, wanting nothing more than to feel her soft hands on his throbbing cock, he began to loosen the drawstring at his waist. Sara pushed away his hands. He stood deathly still, staring into the depths of her deep brown eyes, not trusting himself to move as she loosened the fastening at his waist.

  He pulled down the last barrier between them but was distracted by the sight of her pink, hardened nipple. Pausing, he couldn’t help but cease his own undressing to pull the taunting morsel into his mouth. Sara’s hand gripped the back of his head as he suckled and nipped her, and he was so flooded by desire he nearly forgot her earlier request.

  “Please,” she begged. He quickly dispensed of his clothing, and his manhood sprang to life. A gasp told Geoffrey she’d likely never seen a man naked before, or at least not one standing so close to her. He stood erect, towering over her petite form.

  “Is that … normal?”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “Nay.”

  Evidently her curiosity overcame shyness. “May I?”

  He was, as always, brutally honest.

  “Sara, if you touch me, I will explode.”

  He realized belatedly she was ignorant as to what that meant.

  How innocent
she was. What was he doing? It didn’t matter that she had come to him, this could not be.

  Perhaps sensing the shift in his mood, she explained the reason for her late night visit.

  “I can’t let you leave on the morrow without knowing you.” She quickly amended, “All of you.”

  So that was it. As they stood blissfully naked, Sara now attempting to cover herself, he felt compelled to admit the truth.

  He did it while caressing her bare shoulders, his hands trailing a path down her arms. “We stay at Kenshire.” For this moment at least, he was quite glad for it. “If you’ll have us, Hugh believes it best we stay until your betrothed arrives.”

  “That changes nothing,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You’ll leave before long, and I’ll never forgive myself to not have known you.”

  Why was he surprised at her forthrightness? Sara had been raised by an earl who’d encouraged independence. Decisiveness.

  But she deserved better than a landless reiver.

  “Do you have any idea how much I’d give to throw you on my bed and show you how this—” he gestured down toward his erection, “—will very easily fill you?”

  “Then show me how to please you.”

  She was making it very difficult to remain honorable.

  “Nay, I can’t let you do that,” he choked out. “You’re innocent of such things.”

  “You’ll not decide for me. You’ve given me pleasure, and I will do the same for you this eve.”

  She meant it.

  He couldn’t fight it. Didn’t want to. He grasped her soft fingers and guided them toward his hardness. He jerked when her hand first touched the sensitive flesh. He’d dreamed of this but never imagined it would ever come to pass. He clenched his jaw, trying with every muscle in his body to remain in control.

  Sara knew she pleased him and felt strangely warmed by the knowledge. He guided her to move her hand up and down. She remembered the way he’d teased her with his finger, fast and then deep and slow. She mimicked the pace, pausing to wrap her palm as fully as she could around his manhood. It felt strangely soft for something so hard.