The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)(4)

“In all of the world,” she clarified.

Emma noticed a pin in Edith’s cap as she bent down to place the lemon-scented soap next to the tub.

“What a beautiful pin. I don’t believe I’ve seen—”

Edith’s hand went to the ivory sticking out of her hair, its cream color pale against her sunshine-colored locks.

“I heard ye spoke with his lordship.”

For some reason, Edith didn’t want her to know about the pin. So be it. She’d tell her when she was ready.

“Again,” the maid corrected.

Emma watched as additional buckets were brought into the chamber.

“He refuses to allow the trip. And though I’ll never willingly admit it to him, it appears my visit will have to wait until spring.”

Edith arranged, and re-arranged, the soap and drying cloths. She liked to keep her hands busy, even if there was nothing to be done. Much like her father. The marshal seldom sat still and even more rarely took an extended break, even if ordered to do so.

“Why do ye need to visit now before the babe is even born? Wouldn’t ye rather meet the babe?”

Her brother had asked her the same question, but Clara’s fear of childbirth wasn’t for her to share. Her friend was so strong and brave. She’d survived the loss of her ancestral home and the murder of her father by escaping and posing as a boy, a squire, at times completely on her own. But Clara, who seemed so fearless, had once confessed to an almost “irrational fear of childbirth,” though perhaps it wasn’t so irrational given that her own mother had died that way. While she was overjoyed by the idea of impending motherhood, she would no doubt appreciate a visit now more than later.

Emma just wanted to give her comfort. Tell her of the many wonderful births Sara had witnessed while helping Adele deliver babies. Long ago, back when Clara was staying at Kenshire, she’d made a promise to her friend. She’d pledged to look out for Clara’s interests, now and always, although it seemed as if a missive would have to suffice for now.

She turned to give Edith her back. “When I am lady of my own—”

“Oh dear,” Edith interrupted as she unlaced her ties. “My father asked me for assistance after I finish helping you prepare for the evening meal.”

“And what, pray tell, does that have to do with me being the master of my own domain?”

“Just that it will be dark before long, my lady. And no disrespect, but when you begin such musings . . .”

Though she trailed off, Emma knew what Edith had intended to say. “You’ve heard it all before.”

“Many, many, many . . .”

“Okay,” Emma said, stepping from her gown. “But ’tis true. I’ll no longer—”

“Have a brother telling you what to do. Ye’ll have a husband for that instead.”

Emma made a sound that elicited a giggle from her friend. “The precise reason I don’t have one yet.”

At least it was one of them.

Although Geoffrey could be a mite protective at times, Emma was well aware that she had as much freedom at Kenshire as she was like to have anywhere. And she really did adore the castle and its grounds. It had not quite been two years since she’d moved from her aunt and uncle’s modest manor to one of the greatest castles in all of England. At first, she’d been intimidated by its size and grandeur. But now, this was home. And if the worst she had to endure was an overabundance of love from the man she was lucky to call brother, so be it.

Still, that didn’t mean she intended to give up just yet.

She smiled as she stepped into the steaming hot bath. She really should stop goading Geoffrey, but it was just so much fun. And she had a surprise ready for him this evening.



Garrick rode ahead of his men, with whom he’d begun to reacquaint himself over the past few weeks. Three years had passed since he’d sailed to Tunis with Edward after King Louis had failed to capture the city. Boys had become men. Clave had thrived under his mother’s leadership for the past few months until she returned to their holding in Scotland. Though his home was much as he’d left it, Garrick was not the same man he’d been. Years of training for battle and playing at war in tournaments had hardly prepared him for the carnage of war.

He shook his head to rid himself of the images. The war is over. You’re here riding through Northumbria, and it’s cold enough to freeze a pigeon’s nest. Though the cold winter day did little to slow their pace, it certainly made for a more uncomfortable journey. Garrick had become accustomed to the mild winters in Acre. At heart, though, he was still a Northumbrian, and the climate was no deterrent to reaching their destination.

“My lord,” one of the men called to him.

He turned, light just beginning to fade from the sky.

“I’m told we are to stop already?” James asked. The knight had a keen intellect, and the worry in his voice was reason enough to pause. As Garrick slowed, the eight men behind them did so as well. He’d not have taken so many retainers but for Clave’s marshal, who’d reminded him, as if he’d needed reminding, he was now an earl.

“Aye. Is something amiss?”

James squinted in the direction of Kenshire Castle. They were not far from Clave’s closest neighbor now, but they were not yet close enough to see evidence of it. On a clear day, perhaps they might have been able to see the castle from this distance, but a heavy fog lay across the ground, masking everything but their immediate surroundings.