The Last de Burgh

by Deborah Simmons

  ‘Then, let’s be off,’ he said, moving towards the door. And when Emery remained where she was, blinking in his wake, he paused to wait for her, so that Guy could bring up the rear.

  There was no argument about her joining them, no talk of her staying behind or being deposited somewhere while they continued on, and no lecture on the morality, let alone the danger, of her garb. All the objections Emery had been preparing died upon her lips and the pain that had gripped her was forgotten.

  For now, at least, she would follow Lord de Burgh.

  * * *

  Nicholas watched her from a distance with a kind of wonder reserved for thunderstorms and conjurer’s tricks. ’Twas as though the cup he had thought empty was suddenly full of fine wine or the caterpillar he’d caught had turned into a butterfly before his very eyes. He shook his head as he thought back over their brief association and the odd connection with her that he’d felt from the very beginning.

  Perhaps now it was explained, but as what? The answer that came made him only slightly less uncomfortable than the one he had imagined before his recent discovery. At least now he knew what ailed him. Or what didn’t ail him. Whatever it was, he had no time for it, especially when he needed all his wits about him.

  Nicholas shook his head as he approached the horses. He put little faith in hunting down the name on the pouch, for Robert Blanchefort likely knew nothing about this business, his satchel having been lost or stolen or even passed on after his death. But Nicholas could think of nothing else to do and they needed to act.

  He should have chased down the Templar, he thought grimly. He’d set off in pursuit of the two armed riders, but he had been loath to leave behind his fallen companions, and the sight of Emery on the ground had immediately made him turn back.

  Nicholas tried not to think of those first moments when he’d found her lying amongst the undergrowth, still and silent, and assumed the worst. He’d seen his brothers react violently to a perceived loss, but had never experienced it himself. It had shaken him, stripping him of pretence and all the normal boundaries of correct behaviour.

  Which explained what happened next, Nicholas told himself, though he was unwilling to think too closely about the kiss, either. But who would have imagined that the person riding hard to Guy’s rescue was a mere girl? Nicholas shook his head again, though he knew better than to underestimate any female. Some of his brothers’ wives were as fierce as their men.

  The realisation gave him an odd feeling deep inside, a sense of recognition that he’d never known. And for a moment, he simply stood there, stunned, unwilling to admit to a possibility that hadn’t occurred to him before. But just as quickly he told himself it didn’t matter if Emery was like those women: a beauty who could hold her own, a partner, a fitting addition to the de Burghs...

  Nicholas lifted a hand to his head, as if to stop his very thoughts, for there was no point in telling himself it didn’t matter when the truth was far more painful: it was too late.

  Drawing in a harsh breath, he glanced towards Emery, who was taking her final farewell of her former servant and the family home, head held high. He had to admire her strength, her intelligence and her courage. And he could not ignore the connection that had been forged with what he’d thought was a boy.

  But it was too late.

  Shaking his head, Nicholas turned away only to find Guy eyeing him with a smug expression. His eyes narrowed. ‘Watch yourself with Emery,’ Nicholas said, with sudden resentment. ‘I’ll not have you bothering the girl.’

  Guy snorted. ‘Me? I’ve known her gender almost from the beginning.’

  Although Nicholas gave his squire a dubious look, he knew Guy wouldn’t lie. But if Emery’s sex was so obvious, why hadn’t Nicholas known it? Even the most thick-headed of his siblings wouldn’t have been fooled, so why had he been taken in? It was tempting to blame his current condition, to add decreased powers of observation to his problems.

  But Nicholas suspected the answer was far simpler: he hadn’t wanted to know. He had dismissed what he felt for the boy Emery as longing for family or a son or the desire to train a successor. And he had ignored all the signs pointing to it being something else.

  Because it was too late.

  ‘What do you plan to do with her?’

  Guy’s thoughtless words made Nicholas swing towards his squire. He could do nothing with her and Guy knew that full well. Yet the squire appeared oblivious to his poorly chosen speech, eyeing Nicholas with a dogged expression.

  ‘Are we taking her along?’

  Nicholas stared stupidly as he realised what Guy was saying, yet no other possibility had crossed his mind. ‘Of course we’re taking her along. What else would you have me do, with her uncle dead and the Templar on the loose?’

  Nicholas’s show of annoyance masked another, more violent reaction to his squire’s question. If he had been attached to Emery, the boy, he felt...much more strongly about Emery, the woman, and he was not prepared to part with her just yet. He’d given up so much already, his family and his future, and then Emery had appeared, with her quiet strength and her captivating gaze. He had so little and she had nowhere else to go, and he had sworn to her brother...

  But Guy hastened to object. ‘There are safer places than riding along with us.’

  Shaking his head, Nicholas turned towards his mount. Guy had resented Emery from the beginning, so, of course, he would want to be rid of her. But Nicholas wasn’t going to leave her at a nunnery or anywhere else where he couldn’t be assured of her protection. Perhaps he wasn’t at the best of his abilities, but he trusted no one else to—

  ‘What about your brother Geoffrey’s manor?’

  Nicholas’s hands, poised over his saddle, stilled, as did the rest of him, arrested by Guy’s words. He could not so easily deny this suggestion, for there was no safer place than with the de Burghs, any of them, yet he couldn’t do it. He refused to let her go, not before her brother had been found, not before the quest was complete and not one moment before he must.

  His back to Guy, Nicholas shook his head again and mounted his destrier. He told himself he was right to dismiss his squire’s proposal. Setting aside his own reluctance to see his family, there would be assumptions made should he deliver a woman to them, misconceptions that would lead to further difficulties. He would not have Emery subjected to them.

  He had already taken more liberties than he should, Nicholas thought, ruefully. Although he had warned his squire away from the young woman, Nicholas knew he would do well to heed his own words. More than once, he had seen a reflection of his own burgeoning feelings in Emery’s bright blue eyes and he would do well not to foster them.

  Because it was too late.

  * * *

  Emery turned away from her family’s manor without a second look, for she had bid goodbye months ago to the house and the life she had led there. Instead of lingering, she hurried towards where Lord de Burgh and Guy were waiting. And when she mounted her palfrey, Emery realised that she felt no sense of loss, only an eagerness to rejoin her companions, free from the constraints that had bound her.

  Perhaps now she truly was herself, no longer forced to act a boy, nor yet under the restrictions of a woman. It was as though the past few years had disappeared, leaving the Emery Montbard who had once joined in her brother’s adventures. Of course, her guise was partially responsible, for it gave her a freedom unknown by most females. And travelling played a part, for certain duties were always left behind upon the road, while new experiences lay ahead.

  But more important than anything else was the approval of her fellows. Not since the days she’d spent riding with Gerard had anyone accepted her as she was, recognising her wits and competence. For this moment at least, Emery felt a resurgence of her old confidence and an anticipation she had not known in years.

  She told herself that the anticipation had nothing to do with Lord de Burgh, yet her gaze drifted unerringly to him, so at ease astride his war horse, his
dark hair caught by the breeze. Had he grown more handsome or did he simply seem so because she had come to know and like him? Or was it because of the kiss they had shared? Flushing, Emery knew she must put that memory from her mind for ever, as well as her increasing admiration for her companion. She wrenched her gaze away from the great knight, only to find Guy eyeing her speculatively.

  ‘His hair needs cutting,’ Emery said, inclining her head towards Lord de Burgh, as though that small fact explained her breathless scrutiny of the man.

  Guy grinned at her knowingly and called to his master. ‘My lord, Emery would cut our hair for us.’

  ‘No, no,’ Emery said, dismayed at the suggestion. While she had trimmed her brother’s hair, touching Lord de Burgh in so intimate a fashion would be too unnerving. Too tempting. Too dangerous. She cleared her throat with difficulty. ‘I have no shears,’ she said, hoping to put an end to the discussion.

  But Guy appeared to be enjoying her discomfort. ‘Perhaps a knife would do?’ he asked, with an air of amusement.

  ‘Can you handle a knife?’ Lord de Burgh asked, gallantly rescuing her from Guy’s teasing.

  Emery nodded, grateful for the change of topic.

  ‘Where did you learn to wield a sword so well?’ he asked, his dark brows lifted in query.

  Emery felt a surge of pride at the compliment. ‘My father taught me,’ she said. ‘He trained us both, for Gerard and I are twins, and ’twas easier for him to include me since he knew naught of female tasks.’

  Few had looked kindly upon her instruction and, from Guy’s shocked expression, Emery expected to hear the usual outcry. But when the squire spoke, ’twas not about her skills with weapons.

  ‘Twins!’ he said, his eyes wide. ‘If you are a twin, you should be able to sense where your brother might be. Can’t you communicate silently with him?’

  Emery shook her head. Since she and Gerard looked no more alike than the usual siblings, she rarely was subjected to the rumours surrounding twins, and she was glad of it.

  Guy’s disappointment was obvious. ‘But you must try!’

  Emery shook her head. ’Twould be far easier if she could locate her brother through some mystic connection, but the bond they had shared in younger years had frayed as they took their separate paths. Now their worlds were vastly different, Gerard taking up arms in the Holy Land, while Emery laid hers down. Yet, surely, she would know if something...happened to him.

  As if aware of her unease, Lord de Burgh again came to her rescue. ‘You may have noticed that Guy has steeped himself in superstitions and lore,’ he said, with a wry glance at his squire.

  ‘Twins are rare, my lord,’ Guy said. ‘I simply thought—’

  Lord de Burgh stopped Guy’s words with a subtle glance, perhaps to prevent him from mentioning other legends associated with twins, and Emery was grateful. She did not care to hear that if one twin should die, the other not only grew stronger, but might be able to heal the sick or injured.

  ‘Perhaps every bit of lore is not based in truth, but you can’t dismiss all of it, either,’ Guy protested. ‘Why, look at your family’s gifts. You can’t deny that you are wasting your own abilities.’

  ‘I? I have no abilities,’ Lord de Burgh said flatly.

  Although Emery did not understand what Guy was talking about, there was something in the great knight’s tone that belied his words. Or perhaps he simply had grown impatient with his squire’s banter.

  Guy did not argue with his master, but turned to Emery. ‘All the de Burghs have abilities,’ he said. ‘’Tis an open secret that the Earl of Campion is possessed of a certain...prescience.’

  Emery glanced at Lord de Burgh in surprise, but instead of disputing the claim, he simply rode ahead, refusing to listen to his squire’s chatter. Emery was tempted to follow rather than engage in gossip, yet she was curious and would learn more about the renowned family.

  And so she let Guy extol the virtues of the clan, from the venerable Campion and his third wife to his seven sons by the wives who had gone before her. Guy described the famous castle with its golden towers and Emery felt a sudden longing to see it with her own eyes. She could not imagine living in such a grandiose home, though Guy claimed it was full of warmth and laughter.

  ‘The family must make it so,’ Emery said, a bit wistfully, for she’d had no one except Gerard and her father. What would it be like to live amongst a bustling brood, with a loved one always at hand to share a conversation or a meal or an outing—or even the more onerous duties of life?

  ‘The earl makes it so,’ Guy said. ‘He rules the household with kindness and wisdom and generosity. And while his children and grandchildren visit often, none actually live at Campion these days, for they have homes elsewhere, throughout the land. All are married now, most with children of their own, except Nicholas.’

  Nicholas. The great knight had introduced himself at their first meeting, but Emery savoured the reminder. Nicholas de Burgh. The news that he, alone, of the brood was not wed made her feel funny inside and ’twas only through great force of will that she did not glance towards the man’s broad back.

  ‘Simon’s wife, Bethia, was trained in the battle arts, just as you were,’ Guy said. ‘In fact, when Simon met her, she was an outlaw who waylaid him upon the road. And he is probably the most able knight, except perhaps for Dunstan, the eldest.’

  Emery blinked in surprise, for she found it hard to reconcile such a figure with a member of the august family. Surely Guy was exaggerating, yet Emery wished she could meet this woman and find out for herself.

  ‘Geoffrey’s wife, Elene, also had a reputation for being quite fierce, though she is long settled these days. And Brighid, who married Stephen, comes from the ancient Welsh family l’Estrange, some say with powers of their own,’ Guy said.

  Emery was puzzled by Guy’s recitation, for she thought the sons of an earl would seek advantageous marriages to gain political influence, land or titles. Yet it sounded as though the handsome de Burgh brothers had made love matches. ’Twas too bad that her own family had never encouraged such possibilities, she thought. But who could she have loved? All too quickly she glanced at Lord de Burgh, only to flush and turn her attention more firmly back to Guy.

  ‘All the de Burgh women are strong, able to hold their own with the knights,’ the squire said, giving Emery a look that she couldn’t decipher. Then he leaned closer to speak in a low voice. ‘You would fit right in, mistress.’

  With a grin, the squire rode on, leaving Emery blinking in his wake. Apparently, he had not finished teasing her.

  Chapter Seven

  Nicholas looked over the neat chamber with its white painted walls and realised it was not that different from the one in which they had slept the night before.

  Yet everything was different.

  Now that he knew Emery was no boy, his perspective on the sleeping arrangements had changed, and the walls closed in as if to make the space more intimate, especially at this hour. The sight of the bed made him feel warm and he drew in a sharp breath, suddenly uncomfortable. As though sharing his unease, Emery withdrew, muttering about the garderobe.

  In her absence, Nicholas walked to the small window and looked out into the darkening sky, both to feel a cooling breeze and to search the growing shadows one last time for any signs of pursuit. He had been unwilling to dare the main roads, where they would be more visible and their enemies less so. Instead, Nicholas had kept to the narrower pathways between manors, hoping to avoid notice while finding safe shelter.

  If he had been reluctant to sleep out of doors or in the crowded accommodations of most inns because of Emery, now he refused even to consider such possibilities. His concern for his companion, already heightened, had increased tenfold with the discovery of her gender. Unfortunately, so had his awareness of her.

  The interest Nicholas had dismissed or excused when he’d thought her a youth had become so pronounced that at one point he’d ridden ahead, lest his attention wander t
o her slender form in its boy’s guise. Even that garb failed to deter him, for he wanted to remove it, piece by piece, slowly revealing her woman’s body to his gaze, his hands, his lips... Nicholas blew out a shaky breath and tried not to think of the bed that stood behind him.

  When he heard soft footfalls approaching, he tensed, waiting for the gentle brush of a slender hand, eager for something he knew he had no business wanting. Touch me, he longed to say, and when the silence stretched out too long, he turned, impatient, only to face Guy watching him with a knowing expression.

  ‘’Tis just me, my lord,’ Guy said. ‘Emery is still in the garderobe, though I can call her back to witness your ablutions, if you intend to bathe.’

  Nicholas winced as he realised how he had stripped to the waist the night before while Emery looked on, wide-eyed. No wonder the girl had fled the room.

  Nicholas frowned at his squire. ‘Very amusing,’ he muttered. He turned towards the bed, only to turn away, flustered. He would sleep on the floor tonight—and in his clothes.

  ‘She’s probably not so bad when she cleans up,’ Guy said. ‘Perhaps she’s the one who should be having the bath.’

  Nicholas’s mouth went dry at the thought before he realised just what his squire had said. ‘What do you mean not bad?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  Guy shrugged. ‘Well, she has been able to pass as a boy, which doesn’t say much about her beauty.’

  ‘She doesn’t look one bit like a boy,’ Nicholas answered sharply. Her thick, dark lashes and smooth skin would give Emery away to anyone except the most slow-witted, which apparently included himself.

  But Guy appeared unmoved. ‘Still, she manages to wear the clothes convincingly, easily hiding her feminine shape.’

  Nicholas nearly sputtered in outrage. Emery was slender, strong and lithe, and infinitely more desirable than those who boasted more rounded bodies. ‘Surely you cannot prefer a fleshy form to one such as hers,’ he protested.