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A vision of Emma under him on the stairs of the storeroom flashed through his mind.

“No thanks are necessary. She is . . .” He had to be careful here. “A delightful young woman.”

Geoffrey’s lips quirked. “Delightful, aye.”

And also spirited. Full of life and humor and warmth. An amazing woman, he should have said.

“Speaking of Emma, I’m sure she’s waiting for us in the hall,” Sara said. “Garrick, you haven’t had time to refresh yourself. Come.”

She led him from the solar through a familiar corridor toward his guest chamber. He could not refuse to dine with them, which meant he would see her once more. One last time before he left at first light for Clave.

Thankfully, she would not be alone. What could possibly go wrong in the presence of her family?

* * *

Garrick already knew it would feel like both the longest night of his life and the shortest.

This is it. After you leave, you will never see her again. Or if you do, it will be as a married man.

Freshly dressed, Garrick walked toward the hall as if to the gallows, each step heavier than the last.

Kenshire’s hall was even more spectacular at night with dozens and dozens of candles lighting every crevice, their glow casting shadows on brightly covered tapestries depicting the Battle of Hastings, the stories of King Arthur, and other well-known tales.

“Pardon, my lord.” A young man, perhaps seven and ten, had bumped into him at the entrance to the great hall, forcing Garrick’s attention away from the high wooden beams overhead.

“Good eve,” he replied.

The boy beamed up at him, his expression familiar. It was the same look Garrick himself had once given knights bigger and more powerful than him. Though it was far from typical for a young man of his status, Garrick had not been sent away to foster. His father had personally trained him, just as he’d trained Conrad and several other men who were now earls, barons, or knights in their own right. Many prestigious men had sent their boys to train with the legendary Earl of Clave, and Garrick was glad for the friendships he’d formed because of it.

The boy bowed. “Reginald, my lord.” He stuck out his chin. “Lord Kenshire’s squire.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said. “You’re a lucky lad to train with such a man.”

Reginald was already nodding before Garrick finished. “Very much so. He is the strongest, fiercest, and bravest warrior in all of England.”

Garrick raised his brows.

“Beg pardon, my lord,” the lad said, his cheeks turning pink. “I am sure you are just as strong and—”

“Fear not, you’re within your rights to say such a thing. And I’m sure you’re quite right about the earl.”

Faced with Reginald’s puzzled expression, he explained, “Though Clave is a neighbor to Kenshire, I’ve just returned to England—”

“From fighting alongside the king in the Holy Land,” Lady Sara finished from behind him.

Reginald’s eyes widened.

“You fought with King Edward? What is he like? When will he return to England? Who—”

“Reginald,” Sara said. “Poor Garrick would like to—”

“Nay, my lady,” Garrick said. “I’m glad to answer this fine young gentleman’s questions. The king is quite tall, as I’m sure you’ve heard,” he said, grinning at the lad.

Reginald nodded vigorously.

“And strong. Edward fights as well as any knight I’ve seen.”

“He does?”