Page 65 of The Earl

“Terric, they’ve just returned,” Roysa interjected. “Are likely tired and hungry . . .”

“I am both,” she acknowledged, catching Conrad’s eye. “But I would speak to you now.”

Before she even finished, Cait found herself enveloped in her brother’s strong arms.

“I’ve not survived the journey for you to squeeze the life from me,” she teased. Despite her words, Cait returned her brother’s embrace. “I love you too,” she whispered, feeling his urgency—his need to know she was, indeed, well.

He let her go finally, turning toward the front of the hall, which had begun to fill during their reunion. With one last glance at the women who had helped her “escape” Licheford, Cait followed Terric just as Conrad, who’d been greeting Lance and Guy, reached her side. Though he did not look her way, his hand found hers, his fingers winding through her own.

For a simple gesture, it was telling—Terric knew it too, judging by the frown he gave them as he directed them to follow him into a small chamber just off the hall.

“Sarnac has given use of his solar for our purposes,” he said, leading the way inside. The dark interior began to illuminate as the wall torch Terric had grabbed just outside the door was used to light similar ones inside. The walls flickered with light, coming alive.

Sadly.

She could have lived a hundred years without seeing her brother’s scowl. It was one she knew well, having seen it many, many times before.

“Again, Cait? After you stowed away with Rory, I did hope you’d learned your lesson.”

“Terric.” Conrad never let go of her hand. “I was angry as well. And considered sending her back.”

“Considered. ’Twould seem a fine plan to me.”

She hated seeing them this way. At odds, because of her. “Speak to me, Terric. Not him. I was the one who left. I am your sister and can accept your anger as I know it will pass. But Conrad—”

“Is my brother.” Terric looked at their joined hands. “He has been so for many years,” he added, his voice thick, “but it seems our bond will only grow stronger.”

Cait had expected to beg and plead for her brother to be reasonable. She’d prepared many arguments. That his wife was here too. As was Idalia. That she was his elder. That he’d called Conrad the most honorable man he had ever known.

But it seemed none of the arguments were needed.

“Roysa and the others explained. Everything.”

When Conrad squeezed her hand, Cait thought she might cry. Terric’s approval was the last barrier to a story that had begun years ago. She hadn’t dared hope it would be this easy.

“I wish you had told me,” Terric said to her, “but understand why you did not. Although I cannot pretend to understand why you hesitated to come to Dromsley for so long, avoiding a man you clearly love.”

Cait rubbed her thumb along Conrad’s hand.

“I avoided him because I was scared,” she admitted.

And was even more so now to admit to the part she’d played in that awful, cruel day the brotherhood had been born. But it needed to be done.

“I asked him to meet me that day at the tournament.”

“Cait . . . ,” Conrad warned.

She ignored him.

“There was an instant connection between us. And as improper as it seems now, I felt bold that day. It was my first tourney. My first time away from home. The first time my entire body came alive at the mere sight of someone . . . and so I asked him to meet me. Alone.”

Before Terric could react, she continued. “You and Rory were always with me. And when you competed, father stood guard, never allowing me more than a moment alone. So, I asked him to meet me,” Cait repeated.

Her brother looked at Conrad.

“He refused. Said it was too dangerous.”

Clearly Terric was confused, and she did not blame him.