The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)(2)

“Well then, old friend, why are we standing here? You have a wife to claim. And a mother to console. And if you’re to be married soon, Clave’s village is waiting. I will stay here, but you should take James with you.”

James, the young knight who had been sent years ago to foster with Garrick’s father, much like Conrad, hadn’t left. James’s father had betrayed the crown by betraying Montfort in his rebellion against King Henry, Edward’s father. The knight had lost his inheritance, as many had because of the uprising, but Garrick did not hold the son responsible for his father’s transgressions.

“I do believe Clave can manage without you,” Garrick said.

“But can The Golden Fox? Which reminds me, do you think it wants patrons this early? Being that you’re to be married soon.”

“I did not say I was marrying the Scottish woman.”

Conrad pulled him toward the door. “You didn’t need to.”



“Sara, would you please speak to him?”

Emma looked from her beloved sister-in-law, the Countess of Kenshire, to her stubborn brother. He was arranging his wife’s pillows, as usual, fixing them into just the right position. If only Bryce and Neill could see the former border reiver fussing over his wife as such . . .

Emma looked down and smiled at the littlest Waryn in her arms, his face round and perfect.

“Geoffrey, I agree with your sister. There are plenty of men who could escort her.”

Emma could have kissed Sara. But Geoffrey still didn’t seem to be convinced.

“If she were traveling in England, I’d agree. But across the border? Nay, not without me. Or one of the boys.”

It was that very attitude that made Geoffrey so exasperating. He thought her very much a “girl” even though she’d been a lady for some time now. Nor would her brothers enjoy hearing themselves called “boys.”

“Well, neither of the boys are here, and you can’t leave Sara and the new babe, nor would I want you to do so. Which means I’ll not be able to see Clara when she needs me most.”

The twitch in Geoffrey’s jaw told her he was becoming impatient.

Good.

“Emma.”

Oh, that tone. It made her feel like a child all over again.

“You can see Clara in the spring, before the babe arrives. Why you need to go off to Scotland in the middle of winter—”

“Shh,” she said, rocking Hayden, whose eyes had just popped open. “We’ll speak on this later.” He would not relent at this moment, so prolonging the argument would not further her case. The best strategy was to talk with Sara. “Didn’t Peter say you were needed in the solar?”

The steward had interrupted their conversation twice in the lord and lady’s private chambers—a privilege afforded only to a servant of his position.

Her brother leaned down to kiss his wife on the cheek. Her smile reminded Emma of one of the reasons she adored the countess so much. For some unfathomable reason, Sara loved her brother mightily.

He then kissed Hayden, winked at her, and left the bedchamber.

Brute.

“Emma . . .” Sara chided.

“I didn’t mean to say that aloud.” Sara was looking at her with that combination of I understand he can be overly protective and be nice, he’s your brother and he loves you.

“I just don’t understand him. We have a large enough retinue of men to take all of Northumbria. Not, of course, that we would do such a thing. He trusts none of them on a few days’ journey north?”

Even so, Emma was finding it difficult to stay angry. Every time she looked down at her new nephew, she wanted to kiss him a hundred times. He slept peacefully in her arms, and Emma’s eyes welled with tears at the thought of leaving him. Though he was just a few weeks old, she loved her new nephew beyond reason.

“I’m sorry, Sara. This is my argument with Geoffrey, not yours.”

Sara swung her legs around, startling Emma.

“What are you doing? Geoffrey—”

“You are not the only one exasperated with your well-meaning brother.”

The birthing had been difficult, and although the countess did not credit the midwife’s admonishment to stay abed until she “healed properly,” Geoffrey did. Each time Sara attempted to move about, he seemed to sense it and swooped in like a mother bird to tuck her back into bed.

“I do adore Adele, but some of her methods are . . .”

The women looked at each other and smiled. They’d discussed this before, and neither of them was sure who had suffered more during Hayden’s birth: Sara or Adele. The midwife had prayed so hard and so often to St. Margaret that it was a wonder the saint herself didn’t make an appearance just to shush the old woman. When the babe’s head finally appeared, Adele broke down in tears of relief, convinced the combination of her prayers and rose oil had made it so.

Granted, the old woman had delivered Lady Sara herself many years earlier and loved the countess like her own, but Emma would have expected a midwife with so many years of experience to be more accustomed to difficult births. Luckily Sara had done so as well and knew she would be just fine.

Sara reached for her son. “Can you please tell Faye I’d like to dress?”

Emma reluctantly handed Hayden to his mother.

“If I have to stare at this canopy any longer . . . I’m quite ready to join the living once again,” Sara said.