When she arrived at Bristol, the garden had lacked a woman’s touch. While bountiful in food to supply the kitchen—cabbages, onions, leeks, and medicinal herbs for the healer’s use—it had contained no flowers for pleasure. With her brothers’ blessing, they’d added azaleas and primula. Lattices strewn with roses now adorned the plain stone wall and hedging surrounding the area. It was her favorite part of the manor. A retreat she needed now more than ever.
Catrina had spent many hours in their garden back home when she was young, escaping the jeers of mean-spirited children who had reveled in taunting her for her mother’s absence and heritage.
“I understand you’re responsible for this.”
The burly man by her side reminded her of their clan’s tacksman back home. A warrior, to be sure, but with a certain amount of gentleness out of place among his peers.
“I’ve taken some responsibility, aye. But the garden existed before I arrived, and will continue to do so long after I leave.”
Sir Thomas stroked his beard, looking at her with a mixture of confusion and, mayhap, admiration?
“Bryce is in the training yard. He asked for me to stay behind until you awoke. You’re not an early riser, my lady.”
Typically she was. But thoughts of a certain kiss had kept her awake long into the night.
“Why am I here rather than locked up in—”
“You have free rein of Bristol Manor, including its gardens. But all else is off limits. You’re not to venture outside the walls, and you’ll be guarded at all times. You’re also not to speak to anyone except your guard, Elise, and myself.”
Despite his harsh tone and the harsher restrictions, Catrina was elated. It was more than she could have hoped for.
“Is that all?” She attempted to hide the excitement bubbling inside her. It wouldn’t do for Bryce’s man to think her too happy about the altered arrangements.
“Aye. And my lady.” Sir Thomas gave her a harsh stare—a warning stare—but she wanted to hug the man who’d just given her freedom. “Do not try anything foolish. It will only get you locked back up for good.”
She bowed her head, imitating the simpering ladies who visited Brockburg in the hopes of claiming Toren’s hand in marriage.
Sir Thomas seemed satisfied. He returned to the manor, and a guard appeared at the entrance. He stared straight ahead as if he didn’t see her, but Catrina sensed the faintest of smiles on the knight’s face.
She was free!
Wasting no time, Catrina braided her hair and tied the end with a ribbon she kept in an inside fold sewn into her gown. The garden needed tending, and she needed a new plan. She’d learned from Elise her old bedchamber was occupied by the steward, so retrieving her knife was not a possibility. And it seemed unlikely she’d be able to get word to Fergus anytime soon.
There was no help for it.
She would have to find an opportunity to leave, alone. With God’s own luck, she’d make the three days’ ride to Brockburg without encountering any of the reivers and brigands that roamed the Borderlands. It was a risky plan. Mayhap a foolish one. But it was the only one she had.
8
“That’s enough.”
Thomas helped the young knight to his feet, giving Bryce a look that clearly conveyed his displeasure. His old friend was the only non-relative who could talk to him that way and live to tell the tale.
Men trained all around them—experienced knights and young lads—some with bows and others honing their skill with the broadsword. The activity reminded Bryce of the many days he and his brother spent here.
Bryce knew he pushed the men hard. Mayhap too hard. But he firmly believed the training yard was not a place to relax your guard. As much as he had hated leaving Bristol to become a squire, his father had been right to force the issue. It was an honor to train under a man whose reputation as a fighter was unrivaled. Lord Huntington was so fond of fighting, he’d commissioned a list to be constructed near Huntington Castle with berfrois so grand they could accommodate as many spectators as the spectacle attracted.
As a leader, the lord was disciplined, if not rigid, and expected much of his men. He often said, “Every battle is real.” Whether in training, in a tournament, or on the battlefield, Lord Huntington demanded the same. No quarter was given on account of it being “practice.”
Bryce sheathed his sword, took off his helm, and handed it to his young squire. Though Bryce was sorry Reginald returned with Geoffrey, this lad had nearly as much promise.
“Come with me.”
He handed a cloth back to the squire after wiping his face. Thomas fell in step with him as they left the clanging of swords and shouts of men behind. They walked in silence toward the newly repaired wall, which enclosed the entire courtyard. Here, where the men had so recently hammered and split stone to fix the gaping hole, it was now eerily silent. Only distant shouts from the training yard and the occasional song of the curlew above them broke the quiet.
“What do you see, Thomas?”
His friend looked in every direction.
“I see mighty fine repairs on a wall that was very recently vulnerable to attack. I see your future. My future.”
Bryce remained silent.
“Knowing you, I also see a vulnerability.”
“Where?”
Beyond the jests and burly build, the man who could be his brother was also intelligent. Bryce had no doubt he would understand his concern.
“Everywhere,” Thomas said. He walked closer to the wall and laid his hand on a grey stone, knocking at it as if it were a door.
Bryce agreed. “What was vulnerable for the Kerrs will not be any more secure for us. Sara and Geoffrey’s men give us the kind of strength not seen in a manor this size, but we need more men of our own and a second wall built around this one.”
“A second wall?”
“Do you remember the Welshman you met at Bristol?”
Thomas nodded. “I do. A friend of Geoffrey's—”
“Aye. And he told Geoffrey and I about a new design at Beaumaris in Wales. An ingenious plan actually.”
Bryce began to pace. “An outer wall, lower than the inner, to give the watch a clear view of—and a clearer shot at—the enemy.”
They’d never seen such a construction, but a second line of defense could mean the difference between victory and defeat.
“I’ve been looking at the books,” Thomas said doubtfully. “The wool trade is still lucrative, but—”
“We have to make it work,” Bryce insisted.
His pulse raced, as it did every time he thought of his mother and father, lying dead among strangers. They had died alone. They had died because of him.
“What happened in the raid will never happen again here, Thomas.”
“Perhaps if the girl’s ransom—”
“He’ll never agree.”
“You don’t know that. It’s said Toren Kerr—”
“Is a strong leader and fair man,” Bryce finished. “From what I’ve heard, I’m not surprised at how quickly Bristol’s people acclimated to such a man.”
“Bryce, you’re making my head spin.”
He stopped and turned toward the manor.
“If what we hear is true, we can expect a surprise attack or an attempt at treachery. I do not believe he’ll be funding our new wall.”
“We have his sister.”
“Aye, which is why I want no visitors while Catrina resides at Bristol.”
“But you said— “
“I know what I said. Things have changed.”
“You mean Catrina now has the run of the manor.”
Thomas was one of the people who’d begged him to allow the lady out of her room for God’s sake. “You agreed it was the right thing to do.”
“Bryce, listen to me.” Thomas was rarely so serious. “I think you were right to allow her more freedom. And it makes sense for everyone to be vigilant. But we can’t just sit around and wait for her brother to attack.”
“What do you suggest?”
Bryce knew what was coming. His uncle had suggested the same. While taking Toren Kerr’s sister hostage had seemed like a good idea at the outset, as more time passed, it only made them a target. Hugh had argued that re-building Bristol should be the new lord’s priority. That a ransom was a much-needed, but unlikely, boon.
“Let her go. I know your brother—”
“No.”
“The manor is fully staffed, the wool trade booming. Repairs are complete. You’re talking about building another wall. Bristol is in a position—”
“To be attacked again.” He was losing patience.
“To prosper. Are there vulnerabilities? Yes. But holding Catrina Kerr hostage is not helping anyone. Send her back.”
“Thomas.”
Thomas’s voice rose in a rare display of temper. “Your desire for revenge will kill you, Bryce. And only you, if you’re lucky.”
“If you were any other man—”
“But I’m not. I’m the one you met at Huntington on the very first day you arrived as a squire. The one who watched you learn to fight and slay ladies’ hearts as fiercely as you did opponents on the battlefield. Who saw what that Huntington bitch did to you. The one who knows that, despite what you think, you’re as deserving to be lord of Bristol Manor as your brother.”
Bryce’s hands shook.
“And I’m the man who saw what happened to you after your parents’ death. The one who knows you somehow think it was your fault.”
What Bryce could see of Thomas’s face behind that bushy beard was red. It was the angriest he’d seen his friend off the battlefield.
“So yes, I know how much you want revenge. I also know you talk of peace, but with that girl here, with your need to destroy her family, there will never be peace at Bristol.”
He didn’t know what to say.
“I know you want to strike me, but you won’t. That’s the problem with you.” Thomas abruptly turned and walked away.
Bryce took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. He began walking the length of the curtain wall, trying with every step to get his mind off Thomas’s words.
There weren’t enough turrets for the lookouts to keep watch in every direction, which had allowed them to make their clandestine attack. That, and so many other fortifications, needed immediate attention. More men would arrive any day from Kenshire to begin some of the work, but they needed to sustain themselves without the help of Kenshire’s men or income.
He couldn’t get his friend’s words out of his head. Thomas was right, of course. But that didn’t mean he’d send the girl back. He knew the Kerr chief would have received his answer by now, which meant they could fully expect some kind of attack. To avoid any mistakes, watches were added where no lookouts existed. It was a temporary solution to the permanent problem of living so close to the border.
Then there was Catrina. He’d thought kissing her would solve that problem. He hated what she was. Who she was. But when he closed his eyes at night, it was her face he saw. It had likely been yet another mistake to allow her freedom of the manor. Or perhaps he gave her too much credit?
No, she had a determination, even ruthlessness, not typical of a female in her station. Raised by men—Kerr men—she was anything but typical, and he had to admit that her unconventional thinking was part of her appeal. Hell, who was he kidding? Nearly everything about her appealed to him, except her surname.
Could he do as Geoffrey and Thomas suggested? Just let Catrina go? Allow their parents to go unavenged?
Never.
He had watched his brother change since meeting Sara. But he would not go soft. He’d been trained at Huntington to defeat any man in battle, and no one had bested him in a fight since. He would not start turning tail now.
Catrina would remain at Bristol to root out her clansmen.
And then he would destroy them.
“I assure you, there is nowhere for me to go down here.”
Catrina rolled her eyes at the guard who had started to follow her into Bristol’s buttery. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the best one she had at the moment. She knew from Mary they’d been low on ale before the attack. If they needed more, perhaps she could convince Bryce to allow her a visit. She really did not want to try riding to Brockburg alone, but time was running out.
For a moment, she thought her guard would follow her into the cramped space. Catrina walked by dozens of wooden wine barrels and hundreds of candles toward the steps at the back of the small storage room. Her oil lamp gave just enough light to help her navigate the staircase that led to the beer cellar below. The cold room was so much smaller than the one in Brockburg. She was actually scared the first few times coming down here. Dark and cold, it was a room built purely for function, not comfort.
But in a manor the size of Bristol, everyone had multiple roles to play, including her.
Back home, at Brockburg, her brother Alex told everyone who would listen that she could master any craft after the first attempt.
Alex.
She missed her brothers so much. They must be frantic with worry.
She lifted the lamp to count the wooden barrels. Just as she’d suspected.
What was that?
Muffled voices, she realized, just above her. Catrina turned toward the entrance as the voices gave way to a pinpoint of light. Someone was coming. Her guard? Catrina’s heart raced. There was a reason she hated it down here.
“Catrina?”
Bryce. He ducked through the entrance, and soon the face she hadn’t been able to exorcise from her mind was staring back at her. The candle he held cast a soft glow on him that made him appear less fierce, almost human.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Until he opened his mouth.
“Well, being that I—”
“A straight answer, please.” The ceiling of the small beer cellar just inches above his head made Bryce appear even larger. And he didn’t sound happy.
“I’m counting beer barrels. We need a new supply. Perhaps I should—”
“We have people to take care of our ale supply.” His eyes narrowed. “What are you planning?”
Had the cellar smelled damp, like moss, just moments before? Because now it had the distinct smell of sweat. And sandalwood.
Nay, that was Bryce’s smell.
Lord help her, she needed to get out of here.
“Excuse me, I—”
“What…are you planning?”
He stood at the entranceway, blocking her exit. He must have come from the training yard.
“Were you training to kill my brothers?” she snapped.
His grimace deepened. “Aye. And every other Kerr who dares step foot at Bristol.”
“I am a Kerr. Do you plan to kill me? If Toren doesn’t pay the ransom?”
She knew the answer. Or thought she did. But why tempt fate by asking?
She tried to remember to breathe. His eyes were so light, they looked almost translucent.
“What shall I do with you, Catrina?”
She did not want him to kiss her. Bryce Waryn was her captor. Not her suitor, for God’s sake. She did not want him to kiss her.
“Answer me.”
“You are the most arrogant, insufferable—”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him.
“Watch your tongue, wench. Remember who you are.”
She was forced to look up. “Oh, I know exactly who I am.”
A slight movement in his jaw was the only indication he heard her.
“I would appreciate if you could decide between locking me back in my chamber or allowing me freedom. Your suspicions are tedious.”
“And warranted.”
That much may be true, but she certainly couldn’t say so. If she gave him any indication she planned to escape, Catrina had no doubt she would be locked up quicker than a wee fairy spotted by a human.
She backed up. It was too hard
to think when standing this close to him.
“I know you think I plan to escape. But I’m no fool. Even if I could manage to smuggle Davie from Bristol unnoticed, I’d never make it alone without being set upon by reivers. Or worse.”
Bryce switched the candle he held from one hand to the other and cocked his head. “What’s worse than a reiver?”
He didn’t smile exactly, but his face softened. Was he teasing her?
“Do you tease me?” Catrina was surprised to feel herself grinning from ear to ear, but then she had no apprehension about showing pleasure.
“I don’t tease.”
“Why are you always so serious?”
“I’m not having this conversation in a beer cellar.”
“Ah, but you are.” She lifted her lamp to reveal the wooden barrels sitting on the shelves as quiet witnesses to their conversation.
This time she was sure a hint of a smile revealed itself.
“Because I find conversations with my captive, the sibling to our family’s greatest enemy, somewhat…difficult.”
“Rubbish. You are the same around everyone. As if you’re preparing to chop off someone’s head at any moment.” Lord help her, she actually enjoyed teasing him. It was so easy. And to her utter surprise, he actually answered her question.
“It is my role. To be the serious one.”
She assumed he meant among his siblings. Comparing himself to his older brother appeared to be one of Bryce’s favorite pastimes.
“But why?”
He actually seemed to consider her question.
“As a child, I’m not sure. Geoffrey was raised and knighted at Bristol. I was the first son my father could afford to have fostered. The wool trade business did well, and as my father’s influence continued to grow, I was sent to Huntington.”
“What happened at Huntington to make you so suspicious?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
Catrina wasn’t sure. She’d tell her brothers it was to find a weakness she could exploit. But she was afraid that wasn’t the real reason—or at least not the only one.
“Tell me, why does the lady of the manor assist the alewife? Advise the gardener and assist the healer in a home that isn’t even hers?”
The Lord's Captive (Border Series Book 2) Page 8