The Thief's Countess (Border Series Book 1) Page 7

  A jolt of lust reminded him of his earlier vow. He would not forget himself again; he could not.

  Sara drew a deep breath, feeling more like herself than she had in weeks. Putting aside thoughts of her impending marriage and the vile usurper, she walked to a nearby willow tree. Holding her hand high, she allowed it to brush the lower branches, which glided across her arm as if caressing her. She understood why some thought the weeping trees symbolized death, but this haven, which she had discovered as a girl, reminded her instead of life. Everything about this place comforted her, making her feel as if all were right in the world once again.

  And she was sharing it for the first time. The significance wasn’t lost on her. She could have easily taken William or Gillian, the daughter of a northern baron and the only girl she considered a true friend, to this place. But she never had.

  In truth, Sara could not say what had driven her to bring Geoffrey here. Upon leaving the castle, she had thought only about getting fresh air. But she’d turned toward her secret spot as they started to ride away.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  Geoffrey turned to her, detached. “I can see why you brought me here.”

  “You’re the first.”

  It was impossible not to stare into Geoffrey’s eyes as she said it. His face, a mask of indifference moments earlier, seemed to show a slight crack—the tic in his cheek gave him away. Saying nothing, he continued to stare at her. She stared back, shifting, waiting for a response. Any response.

  When he finally spoke, he said, “This is not a good idea.”

  Sara turned her eyes to the mossy ground beneath her feet. On a whim, she had brought him to this place she loved above all others, the place she had visited in the days of deep despair following her father’s death. Though his words were true, she knew it as well as he did, for some reason she had expected more.

  Geoffrey saw the hurt in Sara’s eyes before she turned from him, but he let her walk away. Lady Sara of Caiser was a fascinating woman, more so than any he’d ever met. And therein lay the danger—his lust for her, which had roared to life that first day and not abated since, was tempered by respect for her warmth and concern for the people of Kenshire. For her quiet strength. But it would not do to entertain those feelings. He had much to lose. She had even more so.

  Nonetheless, he could soften the blow.

  “Lady Sara,” he began. She turned to look at him and Geoffrey amended, “Sara, this is one of the most breathtaking spots I’ve ever seen. Thank you for bringing me here.”

  Sara’s smile barely touched her eyes, but it was more beautiful than a thousand weeping willows.

  “You’ve given me nothing but honesty since we met, so I’ll offer the same to you.” The words came tumbling out despite his good intentions. “You’re magnificent. This place,” he gestured with his arms, “pales in comparison to the woman who brought me to it.”

  As he spoke, Sara’s eyes widened. “Which is exactly why we must return. God is surely punishing me by putting me in charge of your safety.” He forged ahead, his tongue ignoring his better senses. “The only threat to your person at this moment is myself.”

  He watched her toy with a low-hanging branch, wondering how that delicate hand of hers would feel on him instead.

  “I can’t say I know much about border reivers,” she said, her voice throaty, “and I do know it’s not wise to be here with you alone. We hardly know each other. By all rights, I should be afraid.”

  Yet she met his gaze without flinching, lifting her chin in defiance as if to tell him she wouldn’t be the one to back down.

  “I would never hurt you, Sara,” he said, “but you already know that.”

  She continued to meet his gaze. He was hard as a rock, primed to take this woman of contradictions standing in front of him—to do what he knew he could not.

  He looked down at the loose opening of her shift, a ridiculous garment for a gently bred woman to wear out of her bedchamber. He watched as her chest rose and lowered and knew he had but to reach out to claim her. Geoffrey imagined her breasts freed from the restraints of the shift, bountiful and soft beneath his palms, and knew she would burn for his touch.

  That knowledge, and where it could lead, convinced him to turn and walk away. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  They rode back to the castle in silence.

  When they reached the gatehouse, Sara watched Geoffrey dismount and speak to one of the guards. How had he so quickly ingrained himself with the men? While he had only been here for two days, he seemed to know everyone.

  She rode past them toward the stables, anxious to distance herself from her protector, but he caught up to her in the hallway outside her chamber. Anger flooded her. Could she not be allowed her escape?

  “You needn’t accompany me to my chamber, sir.”

  “That may be so, Lady Sara, but I intend to join your guard at the top of the stairs if it pleases you.”

  “And if it doesn’t please me?”

  “Then I will join him anyway.”

  She let out a loud, impatient breath. “You presume much for a guest.”

  His blue eyes hardened—so different now from the heat she’d seen in them before—but thankfully he remained silent.

  She turned into her chamber, leaving Geoffrey in the hallway looking quite furious.

  Faye, who sat stoking the fire the chambermaid had started earlier, watched her with something like alarm. “My lady, if I may say so, I haven’t seen you so angered since learning of Sir Hugh and his nephew’s presence.” She paused. “And I have a guess as to the cause.”

  While Sara normally loved the intimacy she shared with her maid, at this moment she had no desire to discuss her feelings.

  “Faye,” she began, a hint of warning in her voice.

  “Aye, milady, this old maid knows you’re wanting to be tight-lipped on the subject. And you may be the countess now with an earldom at your feet, but you’re still a young woman—and an inexperienced one at that.”

  The knowledge that she was right did little to ease the blow. Finishing her task, Faye rose from the hearth and approached her.

  “I know the woman who stood proud by her father’s side holding court for some of the greatest men in the country.” Reaching out to grasp Sara’s hand, she continued, “I also know the girl who was coddled by her father as if she were a piece of precious glass. The girl who has very little experience with men.”

  Sara squeezed Faye’s hands, plumper than her own but achingly familiar.

  “Be careful, my Lady Sara. Lord Lyonsford will return to England anytime now. When he does, you’ll marry and secure Kenshire. There’s no place for Sir Geoffrey, as virile and handsome as he may be, in your life.”

  She knew Faye spoke without malice. And she was right—a fool could see that. Her duty was to the people of Kenshire, to her late father and to her future husband.

  Who cared if Sir Geoffrey had snubbed her in her secret hiding place? He was not her priority, and soon he would be gone.

  She would not give another thought to kissing that high-handed, devilish rogue.

  7

  Sara looked forward to her discussion with Sir Hugh. Once dressed for supper, she sought out William, who had spent much of his afternoon in the village gathering goods for his return trip.

  They walked the battlements facing the sea, the quiet punctuated by calls from the distinct orange-beaked puffins that congregated along the coast this time of year. Her sandy-haired companion, whose chiseled cheeks made the ladies swoon, brightened her dark mood despite the awkwardness between them earlier in the day.

  “I’m so glad you came, William.” She meant it. Her sometimes training partner and constant cohort in mischief was the closest thing to family she had left with the exception of Faye and Peter.

  “Do you remember the time we stole the fresh crispels and brought them up here?”

  “Aye, and we bribed the guard with pastries to ke
ep him from revealing our hiding spot.”

  She could almost taste the honey, remembering the time before their relationship had become complicated. Or at least complicated for William. For her, the boy who had been sent to them to squire was the same one she walked with now.

  “If I recall, it was the same guard who told my father about our crossbow lessons.”

  Unhurried, they continued to stroll side by side. William’s grin told her he remembered as well as she did.

  “He was more upset that I was your instructor. You’ve always been treated more like a son than a daughter.”

  “If that were true, I would have been left to fend for myself. My father would not have foisted some southern lord on me.” The words sounded bitter even to her ears.

  “Sara.” William stopped, turning to face her. “I despise the thought of leaving you. Are you sure you’ll be well?”

  “Aye, we’re safe. With any luck Randolf will wait to pay a visit until after Lyonsford comes to claim Kenshire.”

  “And you.”

  “We’re well-suited,” she said, forcing the words out. “And with Randolf at my heels, the partnership can’t come soon enough.”

  “Marriage, you mean.”

  She had a hard time saying that word. “Yes. Marriage.”

  “I don’t agree, you know.”

  She glanced up, not understanding. “Don’t agree with what?”

  “Your father, God rest his soul. Or Peter, who is convinced Lyonsford will come riding in on a white stag to save the day.”

  Sara rubbed her neck, trying to figure out how to defend a decision she didn’t particularly agree with either. “You don’t think Lyonsford will secure Kenshire?”

  He almost responded but then stopped himself.

  “What is it?”

  After a long pause, William finally answered her question. “I think he will. But I don’t think it’s your only answer.”

  Finally someone who agreed with her.

  “But the marriage is sanctioned,” she said, knowing all too well what solution William would prefer. “The betrothal final. Even if there was another way, it’s too late.”

  Worse, she had given her word. When the physician had told her father his illness was worsening, the earl’s appeals had become almost panicked. What could she do but relent? After all, even without Randolf’s claim to worry about, there would be others to challenge her. She shuddered to think what would happen to Kenshire, to her, without Lyonsford’s support.

  “Enough about me. Tell me how you’ve been. How is Camburg?” Sara asked.

  He clearly didn’t want to change topics, but hers was hopeless.

  “Not without its own troubles, but all’s well … for the most part.”

  They talked of his life along the Welsh border, and for a while Sara forgot about her blue-eyed protector. Until she spotted the area where they had shared a kiss. She still couldn’t believe she’d allowed it! And yet the memory of his lips moving over hers sent a wave of heat through her.

  “Do you agree?”

  “Agree?”

  William gave her a peculiar look, then placed his hand on her back, guiding her toward the narrow stairs that led inside.

  “Come. You’re distracted and rightly so. Let’s see what masterpiece Cook has dreamed up for us tonight.”

  Distracted, indeed. But not for the reasons her friend probably assumed.

  On the way down to the great hall for supper, William excused himself momentarily. She stopped at the entrance. An odd sensation assaulted her. It was as if she was being watched. Sara looked in every direction but saw nothing.

  She continued into the great room. Hugh and Geoffrey were in their new seats on the dais, and she felt the need to apologize to both of them for their prior seating arrangements. At least Hugh’s response was more akin to a refined gentleman than a lawless reiver.

  “Please don’t concern yourself about it, my lady.”

  Acknowledging his greeting, she glanced to her left. Had it been a bad idea to seat Sir Geoffrey and William together? She had to wonder, especially since the nephew was less than gracious about his altered seating arrangements.

  “How quickly I seemed to have moved up in the world.”

  She glowered at him. The lighthearted banter they had exchanged yesterday was a thing of the past. “If only it were so easy to do so, Sir Geoffrey.”

  Sara had hit her mark.

  “Lady Sara.” The glint in his eye put her on edge. “It appears I have you to thank for the favor. With any luck, Lord Lyonsford will be as grateful for his elevation at your hands.”

  Did she dare? Spending time in the practice yard had its advantages. She often heard things that would have shocked her poor father.

  Sara lowered her voice. “To which elevation do you refer?”

  Somehow she managed not to blush while making the most forthright comment she had ever made to anyone. While still a maid, Sara was not ignorant to the ways of mating. To her father’s chagrin, her unconventional ways had given her an education not deemed proper for a lady.

  Having gained the upper hand, she turned away.

  Geoffrey was anything but pleased. He doubted Sara knew what her ribald comment implied. Nevertheless, it immediately evoked thoughts of her stroking him to an elevation of his own. He nearly groaned aloud. Lady Sara appeared more like a proper countess this eve. Her breeches had been exchanged for a light blue gown in stark contrast to the dark waves of hair cascading down her back. A gilded cord sat below her hips, which had swayed evocatively on her approach to the dais moments before. She made mention of her father’s insistence she not adhere to the custom of mourning clothes. Geoffrey wished it were otherwise.

  Sitting back, he found himself looking down at the table where he’d sat much more comfortably. Though Geoffrey was more than happy that his uncle had been given the honor of sitting at the dais, he didn’t know if he could endure sitting next to Sara. She was close enough for him to smell a musky floral scent he couldn’t identify.

  He shifted in his seat.

  Geoffrey had thought nothing of being seated among the other knights, and now, elevated above them, he felt like a fraud. The last time he’d sat in front of a room, he had deserved to be there. His mood didn’t improve when Lord Thornhurst arrived offering his apologies.

  “I’m sorry for my late arrival,” the man said to Sara. “I had to speak with Peter about transporting some items.”

  “No apologies necessary, William. Come sit with us. Tell us what you’ve heard of the king’s health.”

  As they spoke about King Henry III, speculating on how long it would be before his son, Prince Edward, rose to the throne, Geoffrey silently ate his meal.

  While his actions at the lake and subsequent coolness to Sara were necessary, Geoffrey knew she was upset with him. Being at Kenshire Castle was dangerous—for him and for Sara—and he couldn’t wait to leave, but he also couldn’t imagine leaving Lady Sara unprotected. As hardened as he’d become since the day his parents had been killed and their land stolen, Geoffrey still sympathized with the lady’s position.

  And he wanted her.

  He wanted Sara more than he’d ever wanted a woman before. At the lake he’d envisioned crushing her to him, wrapping her legs around him, cupping her bare buttocks as he lifted her onto him. Which was exactly why he had avoided being alone with her since then.

  Well, as much as it was possible to avoid someone whilst guarding them.

  Despite himself, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the countess’s careful handling of every situation she encountered. From her visit with the blacksmith’s daughter, who was ready to give birth any day, to her meticulous inspection of the castle’s food stores and her ready answers to Cook’s questions about the menu, it was clear Lady Sara was entirely capable of managing a massive estate.

  “You appear deep in thought, Sir Geoffrey,” said Lord Thornhurst, who, blast him, was sitting right beside him.

 
; “Aye.”

  “And not prone to conversation?”

  He narrowed his eyes, not relishing the thought of conversing with a man who held such obvious affections for Sara. He might respect the man’s skills, but he could do without William’s presence.

  “Not usually. I take it you are?”

  William’s smile appeared to be genuine. “I’m rarely in dour company at supper, Sir Geoffrey, so it’s hard to say.”

  Pleasantries be dammed. It was his custom to get to the point. Ensuring Sara was deep in conversation with his uncle, Geoffrey lowered his voice. “You’re in love with her?”

  To his credit, William didn’t flinch. Instead he leaned forward, glancing at Sara, and answered quietly, “Yes.”

  The two men stared at one another, neither saying a word, neither backing down until Lord Thornhurst ventured, “You are as well.”

  Geoffrey laughed at that, the deep sound attracting more than one stare.

  “Nay, never that. I hardly know her.”

  Thornhurst pressed. “It’s clear you desire her then, which is more dangerous in my mind.”

  Geoffrey had no wish to fight someone else’s battles.

  “Stand down, Lord Thornhurst. I’m here to protect Lady Sara, which I will do until her betrothed arrives. Nothing more,” he assured.

  Thornhurst refused to back down. “See that you do. I leave in the morn. If it weren’t for Sir Hugh’s presence, I would stay despite my charge.”

  “So kind of you to place your faith in our skills.”

  “The skills of Sir Hugh and the men of Kenshire. You, I’m afraid, are as much of a threat to Lady Sara as Sir Randolf is.”

  Geoffrey ignored the barb, which had an edge of truth he did not like. “As you were before Sara’s father had you removed from Kenshire?”