Page 27 of The Knight’s Reward

Kathryn gasped.

“Apologies for saying so, my lady.” But those words had been accompanied by a grin that said the very opposite.

“Kathryn,” she corrected. “And when we . . .” She’d almost said, when we get to Brockburg. Although their current situation was admittedly awkward, their privacy did afford her the perfect opportunity to do what she’d been avoiding and discuss her final destination with him.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“I would like to discuss something with you . . .”

“Neill.”

She’d not yet called him by his given name.

“Neill.”

He smiled. This one was not a mocking or teasing smile. It was intended to put her at ease.

“I worry taking me to Dunbar may delay your arrival to Brockburg.”

He seemed surprised by her observation, as if he’d expected her to say something else.

“I will have you escorted there by Aylmer, so you need not be concerned.”

Hm. She had worried he might say that. Unfortunately, she could think of no other reason for him to take her to Brockburg. Kathryn had thought of many excuses, but none seemed viable.

She was left with just one possible approach:

The truth.

Or part of it, at least.

“I wish for you to take me to Brockburg with you.”

There, she’d said it.

Just as she’d expected, Neill shook his head. “’Tis not possible, Kathryn. Men from both sides of the border will be at the council, but their wives will not.”

“I am not your wife.”

Although the thought had occurred to her. She’d never seriously considered marriage before—the men she’d met at court were vapid and uninteresting—but it would be a wonderful thing to marry a man such as Neill Waryn. Whomever he did marry would be a lucky woman indeed.

“A companion, then.”

Suddenly, the very air around them changed. She wondered if their relationship was something he’d thought of as well.

There are no relations between us. He is my escort and that is all.

“What are you hiding?” he asked, putting words to the dance between them—one based on concealment and pursuit.

Kathryn sighed. “There is a man there I would like to speak with.”

Neill tensed. She could see it in his shoulders, the hard line of his lips confirming he had interpreted her words very differently than how she’d meant them.

Kathryn had intended to tell him about her father. Not his occupation or the circumstances around his death, but the fact that he had been murdered—enough truth that he would agree that it was harmless enough for her to speak with the man who’d last seen him alive.

But instead, he thought she meant . . .

Kathryn’s cheeks flushed with heat.