And so they waited, again, until they heard the distinct sound of horses on the march.
Catrina looked at Sara, who smiled. She felt a rush of warmth for her new friend. This was something she could never have accomplished alone. Without Sara, she would not have gotten past the guards. She would be eternally grateful to her—something she was about to tell her when the thunder of hooves and clanging of metal caught her attention.
Before long, they could see the retinue of men riding north. There were so many. Fifty men? One hundred? They moved so fast Catrina couldn’t tell. She couldn’t see Bryce, but he and Geoffrey would be riding in the front.
She shivered, but not for lack of warmth.
I must not fail.
Waiting until the men were out of sight, Catrina and Sara finally followed. The wide-open moors to the north forced them to put a distance between themselves and the men. Catrina wished to lag even farther behind; she knew the men were trained to sense danger in every direction. And while she and Sara didn’t pose any threat to them, the men would not know that. Sooner or later, they would be discovered. But Sara insisted on riding close enough from them to be heard at a shout.
Considering her close call on the failed escape attempt, maybe Sara was right. They couldn’t see the men any longer, but could hear them in the distance.
It’s working. It’s really working.
There was a chance Bryce could still send her back with an escort once she was discovered. But for now, they were free. For the first time since the raid, one of her plans was working.
Some time later, Catrina sensed, rather than saw, that they were being followed. But how was she to get Sara’s attention without alerting the others to their presence? Her heart beating fast, Catrina thought of the reivers who’d grabbed her off Davie. Sara finally slowed, thank God, and Catrina pointed behind them. Sara nodded. She felt it too.
The potential danger behind them could not be ignored, so in silent accord, she and Sara urged their mounts to a full sprint. Luckily, the ground beneath them was flat and solid. Speeding past the lush green landscape, Catrina and Sara fled toward the very men they had spent their morning trying to avoid.
When the mounted knights came into view, Sara called out and waved one arm furiously. She wanted them to recognize her, and they did.
Slowing to a canter, Catrina finally looked behind them and smiled. They had outrun mounted knights! As the small party approached, it became clear they were Kenshire’s men. And while the distance they’d closed was not a great one, it was still a fine accomplishment. . .
Even though it meant the ruse was at an end.
“What in God’s name are you doing here, woman?”
Geoffrey.
Catrina spun around to see two very large, very angry men riding toward them. The only time she’d seen Bryce this angry was when he saved her from the reivers. Neither he nor Geoffrey wore a helm. If they needed to intimidate their enemies, a helm wasn’t necessary. Both men appeared so…powerful. With the exception of the Waryn crest on their surcoats, they were dressed in black from head to foot.
“That’s a fine greeting, husband,” Sara replied.
“Greeting? That I should be greeting you here—”
He appeared too angry to continue.
Bryce had a more measured way of displaying his anger. Rather than raise his voice or bluster at her, he looked directly at her, gaze unwavering, and said, “You’re going back.”
“I will not.” She lowered her hood, and though she could sense everyone looking at her, she refused to back down. “I will accompany you to my family. This will end, Sir Bryce Waryn. One way or another. I will not be held captive any longer. I have more of a right to be here than any of these men.” She waved her arms in the direction of their…army? Aye, that’s what it was. These men were going to battle.
She gripped the reins, attempting to calm her shaking hands.
“You lead men into battle against my brothers.” She should not raise her voice in front of his men, but Catrina didn’t care. “Without so much as a word in parting? If I mean so little to you, then send me back.”
No one spoke. Bryce stared at her, his jaw set and eyes piercing, as if she had done something wrong.
She loved him.
Catrina wanted him to come to her, tell her he loved her too and that she meant more to him than vengeance against her clan.
But it appeared that was not to be. He only nodded.
Bryce turned to Sara and frowned. Before he could say a word, Geoffrey cut in. “You,” he spoke to Sara, “are returning to Kenshire.”
In response, Sara smiled. A brilliant smile that would surely melt the heart of any man. She really was quite lovely, and apparently her husband was not immune. He rode toward her, and they spoke a few words with their heads tipped together before Sara waved her hand in parting as she rode away accompanied by two men. Catrina had said her farewells to the countess earlier that morning. And when Sara had said with such conviction that they would meet again, Catrina had almost believed it.
Looking at Bryce right now, she wasn’t so sure.
21
Before Bryce could continue, a commotion drew everyone’s attention. The Waryn brothers rode ahead to speak with a man Catrina knew to be the captain of Bristol’s guard. He pointed toward a ridge in the distance, and after a few moments, Geoffrey and Bryce sped away. Within minutes, the entire riding party was on the move. She could barely hear the captain, who shouted to her over the noise.
“Come with me, my lady.”
He guided her outside the group, riding to her right, and another mounted knight rode along her left. What just happened? This was similar to how they’d ridden to Kenshire, one man on either side of her, but this time an entire army surrounded them. Whereas their earlier pace had been measured, steady, there was an urgency now. Watching the men’s faces, Catrina became convinced something was amiss. She wanted to ask the captain what had happened, but his grim expression stopped her.
When they finally slowed, she found herself surrounded on every side. Was she being protected? Or guarded?
Hot, dirty, and annoyed, Catrina had a mind to urge Davie forward and find Bryce, but there was no need. The circle around her parted and there he was. He motioned for her to follow, and she did. They climbed a slope and rode toward a thicket of trees. Davie expertly navigated a small stream. A freshwater source and shelter meant they were likely at their journey’s end for the day. Catrina was surprised they had stopped so soon, and this close to the border, but Bryce’s demeanor didn’t invite questions.
She’d seen him angry, passionate, and curious. But never like this. Determined was the best way to describe his current mood. And, as always, serious.
Bryce dismounted and helped her do the same. He led both horses to the stream without a word, and she found privacy behind a tree. Feeling a wee bit better, she approached her sullen Englishman—but she still didn’t say a word. For some reason, she didn’t want to be the first to speak. Instead, she knelt down to wash her hands and face. Catrina took out the braid at her back and shook her head.
“They injured one of my men,” he finally said.
Who injured one of his men?
She stood. And waited.
“Your clan. Your brother. They’re camped less than one day’s ride from here. A small scouting party returned with the body of one of Bristol’s fiercest warriors. According to the others, it was Toren himself who injured him.”
Her shoulders slumped forward as she bent back down to the stream, her legs unable to support her weight. Catrina’s cheeks tingled and her eyes filled with tears. She allowed them to flow down her cheeks. Covering her face with her hands, she didn’t think about being strong. She cried, harder than when she’d learned she was an Englishman’s captive. Harder than when her brother had refused to accept Graeme after she’d traveled all the way to England to beg for his approval. Harder than when her mother had left her just days after her fath
er’s death.
Catrina cried for the knight who was injured by her brother’s hand and for the loss of the man who stood ominously above her. She could not stop this fight. Not now. Maybe not ever. Bryce would avenge his men. His people. His parents.
He was lost to her.
After the scouts returned and Robert reported his injury, Bryce had momentarily forgotten about Catrina’s presence. He’d pushed the men hard, wanting to get closer to their destination, aching to come face to face with the man who had consumed his thoughts for five years. The man who continued to wreak havoc in his life.
Granted, he did hold the man’s sister captive, but she had not been harmed. Just the opposite. But that hardly mattered now. Nothing mattered beyond the battle that was to come between the Clan Kerr’s chief and the lord of Bristol Manor.
Nothing else could matter.
Bryce had brought Catrina here to tell her exactly what he thought of the man she held in such high esteem. To show her that her brother didn’t deserve her pity. No matter the cause of the incursion, Toren had injured a man after agreeing to a temporary stay before their trial. But she didn’t rail at him, excuse her brother or, surprisingly, curse any saints. Instead, he watched her dissolve into tears.
A woman who’d nearly died in a raid on her family’s home and who was being held captive by her enemy. A woman who’d attempted to traverse dangerous territory in England, alone. Who had smiled through it all, helped when she was needed, and showed more passion than he’d thought possible from an untried maid. This wasn’t the response he had expected from such a woman.
For some reason, it made him think of her body lying on a river bank, blood seeping from a scalp wound. She could have died that day. Would have, if he’d had his say at the time.
He shuddered and went to her, his anger melting away as quickly as the current that took bits of rock and dirt with it toward the south of England. He felt like one of those bits.
Insignificant. Powerless. Tugged by currents that had become bigger than him. More powerful.
He didn’t remember pulling her up against him and wrapping his hands around her. But now that she was in his arms, it felt right. Bryce squeezed as if to tell her what he couldn’t say out loud. “Please,” he begged. He didn’t know what he asked for.
Eventually her sobs became sniffles. He smoothed the wild tresses of her hair beneath his fingers, the soft locks like silk beneath his calloused hands.
“I apologize.” He should never have told her about Robert. Catrina was not at fault.
“Wh-what happens now?”
He pulled away and looked at her, beautiful though puffy and red. He attempted to measure his words. She would find out soon enough.
“We camp here tonight. Tomorrow, I meet your brother at Norham Castle, the seat of the Bishop of Norham. The constable there has agreed to designate it as neutral ground.”
That much, at least, was true. Before she asked the inevitable next question, he took Catrina’s hand and walked toward the horses.
“How did you leave Kenshire unnoticed?”
Luckily, Catrina allowed herself to be distracted. By the time they prepared to meet the others at camp, his lady even smiled as she described how she and Sara had conspired.
After learning of Sir Robert’s injury, Bryce had nearly reconsidered his plan and marched straight toward Norham that day. But although their men were prepared for battle, they would not engage in one. This was his fight and his alone.
He had never intended to be the lord of Bristol Manor. But he was, and he would earn that title. Prove to Geoffrey he was worthy of it.
By the time they reached the others, night had begun to fall. Camp was nearly set. Tents were erected across an open field. Fires burned and the clanging of swords could be heard even before they could be seen.
He found his brother at the center of camp speaking to a group of young knights. Not wanting to interrupt them, Bryce led Catrina to a tent with his crest emblazoned on it.
His squire had served him well. The tent was erected behind all of the others on the eastern side of the camp near a patch of trees.
It was not overly large, but he hadn’t known it would be used for two.
Bryce pointed toward the opening.
Catrina peered inside. The front flap was held open with two wooden poles. Its contents were sparse—a makeshift bed and his armor and weapons.
“But…this is your tent?”
Lord help him, he knew that. He considered all of their options. Traveling light to move quickly, each knight carried his own equipment. Driven by the need to move quickly, Bryce had allowed only two supply carts, which were filled with armor and weapons. There would be no extra accommodations. And while one of the men would undoubtedly sacrifice his tent for Bryce, the thought of Catrina sleeping alone less than one day’s ride from her clan gave him pause. Would she somehow try to reach them?
In the end, he had settled on his own tent, not trusting anyone else to guard her properly. This was, after all, the same woman who’d attempted to cross the border, alone, and who’d snuck out of one of England’s most fortified castles.
No, she would stay with him for the night. And Lord help him overcome the temptation he knew would consume him.
Catrina’s heart raced.
This was her chance.
Earlier, after he told her about Robert, she’d lost all control over her emotions. It had seemed inevitable that her plan would fail, which meant it was likely either Bryce or Toren would not walk away from this fight. Maybe both. While she didn’t know his exact plan, Catrina was no fool.
But then Bryce had wrapped his arms around her, and there was no denying the tenderness in his embrace. She knew, without question, that Sara and Emma were right. He loved her. But he didn’t want to admit it—not when loving her meant giving up his dreams of revenge against her family.
By the time they arrived at camp, Catrina’s mind had sped through all of the possibilities. He was allowing her to stay, but he’d said nothing of his plans for the morrow except that he would meet her brother at Norham. Which meant she had one night, one last chance to convince him to stop this madness.
Bryce left her at their tent, but a short time later a young knight, barely older than herself, handed her a lantern. He followed her as they made their way to a nearby stream. After splashing her face for the second time that day, she took out a sprig of mint from her pocket and chewed it. Braiding her hair, Catrina looked down at her dirty garment, wishing she’d thought to bring a gown.
As she followed the knight back to camp, Catrina marveled at the sight before her. Darkness enveloped them, but the landscape was dotted with light from multiple fires. A small army camped before her, and another waited just north of them. Tomorrow she would see her brothers…her clan. A few weeks ago, she would have already made plans to escape to them.
But not tonight.
They ate a modest meal of…rabbit? She hardly tasted it. Half-listening to the men around her, Catrina sat between Bryce and Geoffrey, who watched her throughout the meal. Did they expect her to say something?
Though it was undeniable the brothers looked alike, their demeanors were quite different. Geoffrey’s smile was quick to appear as he joked with the other men. But Bryce simply stared into the fire, glancing at her every so often. Not talking, just staring.
“Do you agree, my lady?” a knight asked.
Geoffrey and the others looked at her.
“Pardon?” She had not been following the conversation.
“John here—” he gestured to the young knight sitting next to him, “—plans to ask for his lady’s hand in marriage. He already has approval from her father. I told him to wait for May Day.”
John grinned.
“I think it’s a lovely idea,” Catrina replied.
John leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, a thinking posture, as if giving their advice serious consideration.
“I’ll be bringing in
the May, and something else besides,” John finally said. He laughed at his own joke, and the others joined in.
“An engagement is not a wedding.” She knew they were jesting, but felt it fair to point out that fact to the would-be bridegroom.
“Nor is a bedding an engagement.” All eyes turned to Bryce, who had made that curious proclamation.
Catrina had a feeling she was being goaded, and yet she couldn’t help but answer. “Whatever is that supposed to mean?”
Bryce took a swig of ale and looked at her. The hairs on her arm stood and the same fluttering feeling that had assaulted her at the inn returned in force. Bryce spoke to her alone and not the group.
“One has nothing to do with the other, my lady. Lovemaking, engagement, marriage…”
What was he trying to say? “Maybe so, Sir Bryce. But for some, they are intertwined.” She almost pointed to Geoffrey and Sara as an example but thought better of it with the man seated beside her.
Bryce snickered. “I doubt it very much.”
Sometimes she wanted to kick him. As undignified as that might be, it would give her immense satisfaction. “Well, ye’ll likely never know, will you, Sir Bryce?”
She realized her comment had more bite than was appropriate to a playful conversation when the laughter died and everyone looked at Bryce for his response. She hadn’t meant it that way.
“With any luck, I will not.”
“Churl.” Catrina looked away and was surprised to see Geoffrey grinning. “I apologize for my—”
“Nay, do not apologize, Lady Catrina,” Geoffrey said. “I quite agree. My brother is a churl, and more besides.”
The men laughed and watched Bryce stand. “Good evening, gentlemen.” He bowed to Catrina. “My lady.”
His mood darkened even further after her comment, and she was sorry for it.
Bryce walked away. The other men started up the conversation again as if it had never stopped, needling at John about his lady, discussing the wedding.
The Lord's Captive (Border Series Book 2) Page 20