Page 41 of The Knight’s Reward

This time, the men’s laughter was so raucous it caught the attention of their host, who called out from the front of the hall.

“Behold, my English family,” Toren called out. “And the savior of the Day of Truce.”

Mugs pounded on the trestle tables as they became the center of the hall’s attention. Bryce was still laughing at the story he’d so kindly shared with the men. Neill was left shaking his head, enduring both the ribbing and the cheers.

A feeling of heaviness descended on Neill as the noise finally died down.

“I fear they celebrate too soon. Caxton is still warden,” he warned.

“But his days as such are coming to an end,” Bryce said, “and for that, we are thankful to you, brother.”

The look of pride on his face was a far greater reward than any prize he’d won in a tournament.

“And we’re thankful you eventually made your way to Langford,” Aylmer said. “And that the alewife’s thighs did not detain you permanently in their grip.” He lifted his mug and drank.

Neill was about to comment when he saw her. Finally.

Kathryn had entered at the very back, against the wall, and claimed a seat at a far table. To others, it might appear as if she belonged there, but Neill knew otherwise.

She should be with me.

His dismissed the thought as quickly as it entered his mind. He had no claim to her. Nor would he ever. But to see her sitting there, where she so clearly did not belong . . .

She spotted him, and their eyes locked.

He stared at her lips and could not help but think of their kiss.

Though they could not repeat it, at least Neill would learn her secrets that night.

But did he really want to know them? Or would it make it more difficult to do as he knew he must and walk away from her?

Chapter 13

She couldn’t do it.

She just couldn’t risk it.

Changing her mind, yet again, about how much to tell Neill, Kathryn stood from the table and fled the hall. She would lose herself for the night, until the meal was over.

Her plan was to sleep in the hall with the other servants, something she’d never done in all of her travels. As royal messenger, her father had been considered a member of the king’s retinue, treated as well as any other in his household.

She’d stayed in royal palaces, the finest castles in England, Wales, and France. But she’d also slept on makeshift pallets on the road, where such accommodations were not available. Thankfully, Brockburg Castle was extremely well-kept, the rushes clean.

Kathryn would sleep anywhere to get the answers she sought.

Rounding another corner, exploring the ground floor of the castle as she sought a spot to sleep, Kathryn reached a rather dark stretch of hallway, the last wall torch well behind her. Compared to the darkness of the woods, this corridor should not give her pause. But it did.

“Kathryn.”

She jumped, for she hadn’t thought he’d seen her leave.

“Why did you leave?” he asked as she turned to face him.

Why indeed?

She inhaled, the scent of sandalwood telling her what she’d already noticed when she had first spotted him sitting with his brother and their men.

He’d cleaned himself for the meal. But she hadn’t noticed his tunic earlier, it’s silver-embroidered royal blue marking him a man of wealth and importance. She’d known that, of course, but it was the first time Kathryn had seen him outfitted in such a way.