Page 16 of The Knight’s Reward

“We considered it before you chose to join us,” he lied, knowing she would not relent otherwise. Neill did not want her to feel badly about the decision. “And we have some time before the council,” he said, holding out his hand. That, at least, was true.

She took it and allowed him to help her mount the jet-black destrier that had been a gift from Adam to celebrate his elevation to knighthood.

Pulling himself up in front of her, Neill settled in and tried his best to ignore his body’s reaction to Kathryn’s arms around him. Just like he had ignored the feel of her soft hand in his as she mounted.

They’d spoken little, Neill afraid to care about her situation more than he did already, but his curiosity was too great to be ignored. As they traversed the open moorland that was northern England, the hot summer’s day giving way to a typically cooler evening, he allowed himself one question.

“How did you come to work at The Wild Boar?”

He hadn’t expected her to be truthful, or to say anything at all, but as his horse moved to his accustomed position at the front of the men, she answered him.

“My mother died in childbirth. My father . . . died suddenly. With no other family, I had no choice but to find my way there.”

“So far from your home?”

Most people Neill had met on his travels did not venture far from where they were born. He and his brothers and sisters were an exception, although they hadn’t left Bristol Manor willingly. They’d been driven out by a family of Scots—the Kerrs. It felt like one of life’s greatest ironies that the Kerrs were now tied to them by marriage, the greatest of alliances. “And you said you were accustomed to the open road?”

Another question. Damn if he hadn’t promised himself just one.

“Aye. Magge was very accommodating.”

Despite himself, Neill turned in the saddle just enough to see her profile. Kathryn raised her chin ever so slightly, and he could not help but smile.

She was not easily intimidated, his lady.

He turned back toward the road. They’d be forced to stop before long, and Neill wished to make good time.

Another question was on his lips, damn his curious soul, when he heard the distinct sound of riders approaching from around the bend in front of them. When they did finally appear, the strangers were immediately flanked by his own men, who knew without being told that Kathryn should be protected.

The men with him were knights, like himself, sworn to a conduct of honor Adam had insisted was more than a string of words. For him, and for Neill and the other men, gallantry was a way of life.

“Reivers,” he muttered.

“Take the reins,” he said to Kathryn as he dismounted. He’d not have done so if he’d been alone.

But he was not, and so a change of strategy was needed.

Looking back at her to offer a reassuring smile, Neill was surprised at her expression.

The lady had no fear.

* * *

Kathryn realized her mistake too late.

She supposed it would have been appropriate to show fear, but she and her father had met plenty of reivers on their travels. Three mounted men had come upon them, aye, and from the small hobblers they rode and their distinctive style of armor, she knew them for reivers. But she traveled with four seasoned knights—odds that seemed much better than the ones she and her father had faced, even if her father had worn the seal of the king. Sometimes a knight or two had accompanied them in their travels, but more often than not they had traveled alone, as was customary for a royal messenger.

Too late. Sir Neill was already walking away from her. The reivers’ leader had also dismounted, apparently not at ease with Neill making his way toward them so brazenly. As if he could not be run down at will.

Brave? Or foolish?

Her father had often told her the two were indistinguishable. Although she hadn’t known Neill long, she did know him and his brothers by reputation. The Waryns were brave—brazenly so—and the youngest brother was the most daring of all.

When one of the reivers skirted forward, so did the man Neill had called Aylmer.

They were preparing to fight.

She’d known this trip would be dangerous—journeys along the border were notoriously difficult. But since the Day of Truce had fallen apart, tales of increasingly violent acts had reached the inn. Even Magge had begun to worry. “An’ I’ve lived through the worst of these parts, mind you,” she had said many times.