Page 7 of The Knight’s Reward

She watched as he walked back to the table and sat. When he did, Kathryn could see his face clearly. This must be the youngest brother. She had heard he was handsome, but that was hardly an adequate description. Striking. Intense. Godlike with a face to make a woman forget herself. But handsome? Nay, he was much more than that.

And from his expression, he saw her clearly too.

Chapter 3

Neill was surprised to see the serving maid reach across the man who had just assaulted her and snatch the pitcher of ale from his table. He tried not to smile, knowing, as the reiver continued to glare at him, it would only inflame the situation.

He had noticed her the moment she’d stepped into the hall, as if a force beyond his control had pulled his attention to her. Or maybe it was that the other heads had already turned in her direction.

Either way, she was difficult to miss.

Two things had struck him about her at once.

She was beautiful. Brown hair fell down her back in waves, tied away from her face on both sides, giving him a clear view of her determined expression. As if she were preparing for battle, determined to win.

Second, she was no serving maid.

Shoulders back, head held high, this was a highborn woman if ever he’d seen one.

So what was she doing here, getting fondled by fools reliant on Magge’s reputation for a conflict-free inn? He may have been a young man the last time he and his brothers had graced her hall, but the innkeeper had changed little. As such, he let the matter go for now. She wouldn’t thank him for bringing conflict to this hall—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t retaliate later.

The reiver would be taught some manners before the night was through.

Though she’d taken back the pitcher of ale, the maid skirted out of view, presumably to fetch him a new tankard. Watching for her old, cream-colored gown to reappear, Neill finally spotted her.

As she approached, he noticed something else about the maid.

Despite the initial spark of interest he’d noticed in her eyes, her expression was now quite neutral. Where had she learned such a skill? Here at the inn? Or from whomever had trained her to walk with such grace?

“Sir,” she said, correctly guessing his title, “your ale. And a thank you for your assistance back there.”

Her correct speech and courtly accent confirmed his suspicions.

“It was my pleasure to serve you.” He paused and watched her carefully. “My lady.”

Though her shoulders stiffened, the maid gave no other indication his address disconcerted her in any way.

“Your ale, courtesy of Mistress Magge,” she said, placing both pitcher and tankard on the board in front of him. This particular table was set on two empty ale kegs, although sturdy enough to serve its purpose.

Her scent drifted to him as she leaned in close.

Lavender.

Neill breathed in deeply, the fragrance continuing to linger as she stood.

“May I serve you anything—”

“Who are you?”

Bold, perhaps. But Neill had never pretended to be anything but. Besides which, his time at The Wild Boar was limited. His eldest brother, Geoffrey, would be joining him at any moment, and once he did, they would leave at once for Bristol Manor to meet up with their other brother, Bryce. After visiting with his new nephew, all three intended to make their way to Brockburg Castle in Scotland to take part in a council there. Typically reserved for Scots border lords, their presence would be welcome as Neill planned to relay his king’s message.

This was, of course, if all went according to plan. Geoffrey’s wife Sara was due to give birth soon, which could alter his brother’s intention.

“I am—” she frowned, the tiniest of lines appearing on the edges of her very full lips, “—Kathryn.”

She’d deliberately misunderstood. Interesting.

“Kathryn,” Magge crooned from the other side of the room.