Page 22 of The Knight’s Reward

“DeSowlis,” he said, “is an ally to my family.”

“Aye, the Kerrs. I know them well.”

Neill realized he’d heard of this very man from his brothers. Although not a warden, he was well-respected along the northeastern border. And notorious for his temper.

He lowered his arm, and MacDuff turned to face him.

“You may be the younger brother, but you are no boy.”

“And you may be a friend to deSowlis, but you’ve insulted my king. As well as the owners of this fine establishment.”

MacDuff, a robust man whose beard hid most of his face with the exception of his bulbous red nose, laughed. “Not so fine as that.”

Neill glared at the insolent chief, his meaning not so subtle.

MacDuff rolled his eyes. “My apologies, sirs,” he said to Bo and Berit, “for any insult I’ve caused.”

Even though he’d silently demanded that the man issue an apology, Neill was surprised MacDuff had been agreeable. So too, apparently, were the Scotsmen’s fellows, who grumbled their displeasure.

MacDuff merely slapped Neill on the back. “Ale for the Waryn boy and his men,” he bellowed to Bo and Berit. “We were just on our way out.”

His men did not seem appeased, but they followed their clan chief out willingly enough. What were they doing this far south? He was curious, but the question would have to wait. For now, Neill wanted to ensure the men truly were leaving. The last thing he needed was for one of MacDuff’s men to retaliate for his treatment of their chief.

So while his men enjoyed more ale, courtesy of the Scotsmen, Neill found himself standing guard near the front of the inn, watching as MacDuff and the others entered the stable.

And that was when he saw her.

* * *

Kathryn couldn’t sleep.

She’d told Neill she wished to go to Dunbar, and now he aimed to bring her there. Soon. That would not do. She had to get him to agree to bring her to the council.

Noise from the inn reached her on the second floor, and rather than attempt to block it out, she did something quite foolish. She broke her self-imposed exile and left her room.

Although she had already damaged her reputation past saving, Kathryn absolutely did not wish to be accosted by drunk and inappropriate men—which was why she immediately began to rethink her decision as she made haste toward the hall. The stairwell from her room led directly outside, the lock on her door the only impediment to an intruder. Kathryn knew it was a typical arrangement for an inn but was grateful Magge’s was not similarly situated.

Hurrying along, eager to reach the relative safety of the hall, Kathryn came to a stop when a group of men walked out of it. Unfortunately, she’d caught their attention.

Kathryn knew their kind well. Far along in their cups. Eager for an argument. Magge always said when the sun went down and the moon rose high in the sky men lost themselves. Kathryn believed it had more to do with the consumption of ale than some ancient legend about men turning into beasts under the influence of the moon, but Magge was more superstitious than most.

“Kathryn?”

The men moved on.

Neill stood in the doorway of the hall. He looked just the same as when they’d parted ways earlier, but for some reason, he appeared foreboding now. As she continued her approach, she knew the reason for it.

He had been responsible for those men leaving.

Kathryn had witnessed more brawls than she’d ever thought possible, even though Magge expressly forbade them, and she’d come to recognize the telltale signs.

The men who’d left the hall were clearly drunk.

Neill clutched a dagger in his hand.

She couldn’t help but voice her observation.

“You?” She nodded toward the stables, where the men disappeared.