The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)(38)

“We were attacked.”

“I know you were attacked. Everyone knows. Who was it?”

“I don’t know. The enemy bore no markings of any kind.”

“But they knew where to find you. Knew who you were.”

“Aye.”

“Reivers?” Though Waryn was clearly angry his sister had been exposed to harm, his tone was evenly measured.

“Nay.”

“Trained?”

“Aye”—the door swung open unceremoniously, admitting Lady Sara—“and Scottish, or at least one of them was.”

“Was it Inverglen?” Lady Sara asked.

He bowed, but Sara dismissed his formality with a wave of her hand.

“Possibly. But my mother contends my uncle has accepted the title is mine.” At Sara’s arched brows, he amended, “Now that I’ve been formally betrothed to Magnus’s daughter.”

A look passed between Sara and her husband that Garrick couldn’t decipher.

“You must be thankful your mother arranged such an advantageous match,” Geoffrey said.

Thankful that my mother will not be forced to endure further disappointment after Father’s death? Aye. That the match should pacify my English-hating uncle? Aye. But thankful to be betrothed to a woman I do not know? Nay. I can never be thankful for that. Not now. Not since Emma.

“Aye, Sara. I am very thankful,” he managed to choke out.

Geoffrey began to pace, his fists clenching and unclenching as he circled the room like a caged animal. “She could have been killed. Whoever did this—”

“Will forfeit their lives for it when I find them,” Garrick finished. “I’ll hold a council of the border lords at Clave.”

The vehemence in his voice did not go unnoticed.

Sara leveled an assessing look at him. “Garrick—”

“My lady, I must apologize for—”

“Apologize? Garrick, you kept Emma safe.”

The earl very nearly growled. Spinning about on his foot to face them, he said, “Which would not have been necessary had she not—”

“Geoffrey.” Sara’s tone suggested this was not the first time they’d had this conversation.

“Fine. But I want to know who did this. If they were merely thieves . . .”

“They were not.” Though Garrick still didn’t know who was behind the attack, he was sure he and his men had purposefully been targeted. “They intended to kill me. If Sowlis hadn’t come so quickly . . .” Garrick refused to finish that thought. “I do wonder why they risked an attack so close to Scott territory.”

“What matters most is that Emma is safe. You are safe. Thank you,” Sara said. “Thank you for your escort and for all that you’ve done for her.”

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.