The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)(46)

After his discussion with Conrad, Garrick did what he’d always done growing up on an island that wasn’t an island. He waited until the water receded and walked the path from the castle gates to the shore, over and over again, taunting the rising tide as if conquering it meant conquering life itself. Every time he made it safely to the rocky beach at the foot of the castle, Garrick felt renewed.

His mother hated the practice. Especially now, during the winter months, when the frigid waters could kill a man as easily as a sword in the gut. But the tactic helped him think. And while the castle housed only his knights and sworn swordsmen, their wives and children, and Clave’s servants, some of whom had been with the family since his birth, it still felt too crowded to suit him.

When Conrad had left the solar, delivering him a final pat on the back on his way out, Garrick had allowed himself a moment of pity before shrugging it off. His father would have faced this challenge as he had faced any other.

Audentes fortuna iuvat.

Those words were inscribed on the wall behind the lord and lady’s table in the hall and engraved in both his shield and his father’s. It was more than a family motto. His father had lived by it. Garrick had sought to do so as well.

And if fortune truly favored the bold, he would make Emma Waryn his wife.

When he finally made his way to the great hall the next morn, weary down to his bones, Mable immediately told him, “My lord, if I might say such a thing, you look . . .”

She rarely held back her words.

At two and fifty, Mable was everything her husband had been before her, and more. Her husband had served Clave as steward under both his father and grandfather. They’d all been shocked when the much older man had married Mable, a serving woman who’d already been widowed once. Ten years later, she’d become a widow once again. But his father had taken a chance and named her steward, and she’d never given him reason to regret it.

Garrick would do anything for this woman and her two sons. Despite her surly disposition, which his mother pardoned as the natural result of “doing the job expected of a man,” she was a woman of deep loyalty and feeling. He would never forget that she’d comforted his mother after his father’s death.

Though her hair had gone gray, Mable had an unwavering gaze that was unaltered by age. Most of the residents of Clave were either terrified of her or adored her as if she were their own mother.

“I need to send a message,” he said, sitting down, alone, for the morning meal.

In his youth, he’d wanted to sit among his men, but his father had never allowed it. Even though the high table was raised less than an arm’s length above the others, it was set apart from Clave’s retainers as clearly as if it were in a different room altogether. Today he was grateful for the distance.

“To whom, my lord?”

He handed her the missives, not wanting to wait until after the meal when they typically conducted business of the day. “I’ve called a meeting for ten days from today. Clave must prepare.”

Mable, who could read and write courtesy of the same tutor who had instructed Garrick as a boy, looked at the outside of each scroll.

“Nine lords and their families,” he said.

“Aye, my lord.”

“The attack I mentioned. This is a small council to discuss it.”

“And establish yourself as our new earl,” she correctly surmised.

Most of the men on that list would accept his new role with ease. At least two of them, hesitant allies of his father, would need to be convinced.

“At once, my lord.” Mable did not move to leave.

“Is something amiss?”

“There are rumors.”

“Of?”

“’Tis said by some of the men that you’ve changed the wedding, that you’ll not wed till spring.”

“That is correct,” he said without clarifying. Though he’d hoped the envoys he’d sent back to Scotland would refrain from sharing the contents of the message with others, it had perhaps been too much to hope. He should have known better.

Mable was waiting for him to elaborate when their attention was drawn to the entrance of the hall.

Conrad had made his entrance. He’d have some company at the dais after all.

“’Tis said the Lady of Brookhurst is wanting her son home at once,” Mable said, looking at his friend and shaking her head.

“Curious,” he said. “Would you be anxious to have such a man at your side?”

Mable’s cackle followed her as she walked away, leaving him in the company of the only brother Garrick ever had. An imperfect one, to be sure.

“Speaking ill of your best friend again, Lord Clave?”

“’Tis an early morning for you,” Garrick said. “You’re just in time to help me plan a council meeting.”

“At Clave?” He popped a morsel of cheese into his mouth.

“Aye.”

“And invited Kenshire, I assume?”

“Aye.” He tried to ignore the sound of Conrad loudly chewing.

“And kept the invitations to the lords and ladies of each family, I assume?”

He forced himself to look directly at his friend as he said, “Nay.”

Conrad sighed. “You invited their families.”

“Aye.”

“Including Lady Emma.”