Page 55

“Aye, lad. And he’s quite intelligent too. As for when he will return? That I cannot tell you. When I left, he remained in Acre—”

“Why did you leave?”

“Reginald,” Sara warned.

“My father was killed in battle. I returned to ensure my mother’s safety.”

“And to claim the earldoms of both Clave and Linkirk,” Sara finished.

“You are a Scottish earl too?”

“Aye, Reginald. Sir Garrick is one of England’s finest warriors. And comes from a family as dear to the Caisers as any.”

Her last comment was directed at him, he knew, not the boy.

Long, long ago he had been as impressionable as young Reginald. If only life were still that simple. Back then, his biggest worry was whether or not he’d be able to remain on his feet in the training yard the next day.

Garrick had planned on saying something, either to the lad or to Lady Sara, but the words escaped him. Emma had just walked into the hall, emerging like a wood nymph from the corner of the room.

He’d become accustomed to her modest travel gown, but there was nothing modest about her this eve. Resplendent in a bright blue velvet gown, its sleeves nearly hitting the floor, she sauntered toward him. Her hair was as wild and untamed as ever, a delicious contrast to her courtly dress.

Garrick forgot to breathe.

He abruptly remembered Sara stood by his side and held his arm out to her. “My lady.”

Sara took it and allowed herself to be led to the table on the dais. If the Fates were kind, he would not be seated next to Emma this time.

The Fates were not.

Garrick continued to stand until Emma reached him. Holding out the cushioned chair she’d been assigned, he tried to avoid looking at her. But as she sat, he could smell the scent that was uniquely hers. His cock stirred, reminding him, as if he needed a reminder, of their meal the previous evening.

Garrick ate and drank in silence.

“You’re quiet this eve,” she said finally.

A trencher of roasted meat and carrots was placed between them.

“Your brother watches us.”

She turned her head just slightly before glancing back at him. The blue of her gown made her eyes look darker tonight. Though still very blue, they looked more serious than he was accustomed to seeing them.

“He knows nothing.”

“Emma—”

“I will never say a word, Garrick. You know that, I’m sure.”

He concentrated on his drink. It had never occurred to him that she would. But something about the finality of her words stirred him.

“I would speak to you one last time,” he blurted.

She didn’t hesitate. “I will come to you.”

“Nay, ’tis too—”

“Garrick.” She gave him a look similar to the one Sara had given Geoffrey in the solar earlier. The kind that said, I know best, and you well know it.

“Do you not agree, my lord?” Sara interrupted. “Geoffrey believes his brother should remain in training even after he is knighted. I think he should come home to Kenshire. Where do you think a young knight belongs? Fostering or with family?”