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After they’d arranged where to meet and when, Lady Juliette had left to attend to “that poor woman.” Neill had spent the rest of the morning meeting with the other Englishmen in attendance, all of whom were anxious to hear firsthand about his interactions with the king prior to the larger council meeting with the Scottish wardens and border lords.

The whole while, his mind had been fixed on Kathryn. Only now it appeared he might not have the help he’d counted on.

“I can make some inquiries,” Toren continued, “but Bothwell is known for his neutrality. If Lady Kathryn had hoped to discern anything from him in a short discussion, I fear she would have been disappointed. None are privy to his thoughts, save the king.”

Neill fell in behind Toren as they made their way to the second floor of the great keep. They could not see who might be waiting above them, so they all ceased talking for fear of potentially being overheard.

Bryce fell in step beside him as soon as they reached the landing.

“I told my brother as much, Toren. But it seems he takes his role as knight of the realm quite seriously.” Then, to him, he added, “You’re not bound to save every maiden in the kingdom, brother.”

“Not all,” Neill said. “Just Kathryn. And I intend to help her, not save her. She can do quite well by herself.”

Bryce stopped, and so Toren and Neill did so as well.

“Kathryn?” Bryce asked.

“Aye.”

“Not Lady Kathryn or Mistress Kathryn?”

Neill realized his mistake immediately, but he would not discuss this matter in front of Toren. “They’re waiting on us,” he prompted, and Toren, at least, took his meaning. After looking back and forth between the brothers, clearly not understanding the problem, the chief pushed open the door.

Neill froze in the entranceway, but it wasn’t the large, well-lit chamber or colorful tapestries that caught his attention. Kathryn sat with Lady Juliette on the far side of the room. Moving toward her, he knew he had completely failed at his goal to conceal his feelings for her from Bryce.

But he hadn’t expected this—the lady of the house had given her a gown worthy of her station. Pale blue. He’d never loved a color so much before. She truly looked like an angel, her hair tumbling down her back in waves of brown and gold. He knew not where to look—at her hair, her face, or her perfect breasts, which peeked out from the low neckline of the gown. Their eyes met, and she held his gaze for a moment before he managed to look away.

He recovered quickly, but mayhap not quickly enough, judging from Bryce’s expression.

“My ladies,” he said, sitting across from them in a high-backed wooden chair with royal blue and yellow embroidered cushions. Toren stooped to kiss his wife on the cheek before he and Bryce also took their seats.

“As you know,” Neill said to the group, “I escorted Lady Kathryn here, unaware of her true identity.”

“And for that,” she cut in, “I am sorry. It was never my intention to involve anyone in my plan.”

“A plan,” Bryce admonished, “that could have gotten you killed.”

Without hesitation, she responded. “Aye, but I cannot apologize for seeking the truth. He was my father. And a good man who served his king and country well.”

Of that, Neill had no doubt, knowing Kathryn as he did.

“Tell us,” Toren said, “everything. Neill is our family, and he has pledged himself to your cause. You can count on us to do the same.”

Neill avoided looking at Kathryn as she shared her tale, knowing his brother was watching him closely. Instead, he kept his attention fixed on Toren, the man his family had despised for so long. He had a new understanding of why his siblings thought so highly of this man.

He had a council to host. A country to keep safe. And yet, here was the chief of Clan Kerr, one of the most powerful of the border clans, listening to the tale of a woman he’d never met. And he did not doubt Toren intended to keep his word and pursue the matter.

He was an honorable man.

It was what Emma had told him in a letter some time ago. At the time, he’d struggled to understand how his sister and brothers could set aside their hurt and anger to open their hearts to the Kerr family. But Adam and Cora had helped him understand the truth: his parents had been casualties of a war none of them could control, one that raged even now.

Neill finally gave in to the urge to look at her. He wished more than anything he could take away her pain.

He tried to tell himself he’d feel this protectiveness for any woman in Kathryn’s position, but he knew that to be a lie.

“Does anyone,” he said when she finished, “believe it’s possible her father’s death was an accident?”

None spoke up.