Page 77 of The Knight’s Reward

“Nay, ’tis not blood. There is . . . resolve. And joy. Though I still can sense a great sorrow in you.”

Kathryn glanced at Sara and waited for more, but Greta dropped her hands abruptly as a wagon full of satchels creaked by. “It has finally arrived.” The woman offered them a quick curtsy, then ran off before Kathryn could ask her any of the dozens of questions on her lips.

“Grain,” Sara said. “Shall we?”

They walked toward the stables, Sara’s guards not far behind them.

“Three lions, a dragon, and a castle. In a sea of red.” Sara stood at the entrance of the stables, a boy no older than ten and two running inside with excitement to fetch their horses.

“Robbie,” Sara explained. “His father is the stable master.”

Kathryn looked down at the mud on the hem of her gown. Sara’s gown, to be precise.

“These—” Sara pointed to her legs, “—have many uses. You would find them quite freeing.”

Kathryn tried to imagine herself in the breeches and laughed aloud at the thought of the looks she’d get were she to ever wear them in court. “Perhaps . . .”

She and Sara mounted and rode along in companionable silence—the only sound that of the horses’ hooves sinking into the mud. They didn’t speak again until they were on the road back to Kenshire Castle.

“Any thoughts on what Greta said to you?” Sara asked at last.

“Nay, none at all. I confess—I’m troubled by it.”

“Her mother had a similar gift.” Sara looked up as a bird squawked loudly overhead. “My father often consulted her, although many cautioned against it. I’ve found her quite believable myself.”

“If only she’d given me a hint of how to proceed with Neill. I can’t make sense of what she said.”

Sara slowed as the guards in front of them did the same. It took Kathryn a moment to see what the men were looking at, but when she did, her heart leapt in her chest.

A party of Kenshire men riding toward the castle from the north. But it was the one who lacked the Kenshire coat of arms that interested her most.

More precisely, the black-haired one without a helmet.

Neill had returned at last.

Had Kathryn harbored any doubts about her feelings for the English knight, the sight of him confirmed what she already knew.

She’d fallen in love with the most skilled tourney knight in all of England. And although she had little hope for their future together, her spirits soared at the sight of him. Nothing mattered at the moment other than the fact that Neill was safe. She and Sara spurred their horses to move faster, both of them eager to learn what had transpired at Edinburgh Castle.

At least he had not been imprisoned by the Scottish king.

Or worse.

* * *

Geoffrey whistled. “You could have been killed.”

They sat in the lord and lady’s solar, Neill having just explained all that had transpired at Edinburgh. More precisely, Geoffrey sat while Neill paced the room, wanting to finish as quickly as possible so he could see his lady. His brother, who had been waiting for him at the entrance to the main keep, had brought him here straightaway.

“Aye. And I suspected I would be when Bothwell arrived.”

He stopped in front of the door long enough for Geoffrey to guess his intention.

“Go, find her,” he said. “Though nothing has changed, brother.”

He knew it well.

“I spoke with Clave,” he said. Geoffrey frowned, knowing the direction of his thoughts. Neill had already known, in broad strokes, the circumstances of his sister’s marriage, but he had not realized their situation was so similar to the one he and Kathryn faced. The matter had worked out to their advantage. Was he a fool to hope?