The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)(6)

“You scared me so,” Emma said, heaving out an unladylike sigh. “I look the same as I do each day.” She would much prefer to discuss another topic. “Edith, I wonder. Did Reginald give you that pin?”

Edith shrugged. “Mayhap he did.”

Emma moved toward her maid and lifted her chin so the younger girl had no choice but to look at her. “So you told him how you feel?”

Geoffrey’s squire had just celebrated a name day, and at eight and ten, he was beginning to take a more serious interest in courtship. Although gossip rarely reached her ears, Emma had been inquiring on Edith’s behalf. For an outspoken, sometimes bawdy young lady, she was quite reticent when it came to Reginald. Only Emma knew her secret: Edith secretly pined for Geoffrey’s squire. The young man had grown strong and handsome, but her maid liked most the qualities he shared with her brother. Kindness. Loyalty.

“You know as well as I do the boy is as stubborn as his master. Even if his parents want him to wed another—”

“I will tell him,” Edith said, but her words were as dismissive as Emma’s had been about her dress. She was far from convinced.

“Go,” Edith pressed. “My father will still be there if you hurry.”

Her maid clearly did not want to discuss Reginald, so Emma didn’t push her. Yet. Instead, she winked and picked up the folds of her gown, hurrying out into the corridor. Only when she was a good distance from the room did she belatedly realize she’d forgotten her cloak. Well, no matter. She would be outside but a short time.

Emma reminded herself to slow down. She could hear Aunt Lettie’s voice. Always running somewhere. You’ll hurry through life if you’re not careful.

Lettie had become her surrogate mother after her parents were killed in the raid on Bristol Manor, and she often reminded herself to listen to the woman’s teachings. Though Aunt Lettie and Uncle Simon lived simply, they shared an irresistible, contagious passion for life that was not diminished by their home’s perilous location near the border. They’d just come for a visit, as they’d done often, and it was her uncle’s love of horses that brought her to the stable now.

Exiting the main keep, Emma stopped to look up as bits of snow fell on her nose. Light had just begun to fade from the sky, giving the entire courtyard a peaceful glow, as if the daytime were being gently ushered away by nightfall.

For a long moment, she simply took in the beauty of the scene around her, but a deep breath of the cold air made her cough. Perhaps she could enjoy the new-fallen snow another time. Right now she had to ensure Nella’s condition had not worsened. This morning she’d been eating just fine, and as Eddard had reminded her, keeping a close eye on the palfrey’s appetite was the surest way to determine if there was a problem.

Kenshire’s stables housed as many horses, Sara liked to say, as Emma could reasonably care for. Their passion for the majestic animals was something they shared. Indeed, Sara even helped with the birthings from time to time, a highly unusual activity for a countess.

“Eddard?” she called out as she approached the stables.

Edith had mentioned he was nearly finished for the night, and indeed, when she entered the building, it appeared empty. The familiar and distinctive smell of hay assaulted her nose. Emma peered into each stall, but there was no sign of either the marshal or any stablehands. At least one typically remained and slept in the hayloft, especially if one of the horses was ill.

The emptiness of the space seemed markedly unusual.

She made her way to Nella’s current stall at the back and found her trusted palfrey lying down, her forelegs tucked beneath her. The horse was merely resting, so Emma reached out to feel her. The fever felt no worse, but she was still unnaturally hot. Nella moved her head toward Emma’s hand, her black coat in stark contrast to the brown-yellow hay upon which she lay. Emma couldn’t tell if she were simply content or if her sickness was progressing.

But one thing was for sure. She didn’t want Emma to leave just yet.



Garrick had ridden ahead of his men, impatient to arrive and wanting to send advance warning of their small retinue’s impending arrival. Admitted easily enough by guards who knew him well even after his absences, he assured them he could find his way without an escort.

Even after all of this time, Kenshire’s splendor still left him in awe. Unlike Clave, which had been deliberately designed to pack as many buildings and rooms as possible onto the island, Kenshire sprawled out like a cat who had just finished a hearty meal, intimidating enemies and welcoming friends all at once. One of the only features the two estates had in common was their location next to the open waters of the North Sea.

He remembered vividly the first time his father had taken him here.

“If you’re impressed by the castle, my boy, you’ll be even more so by the earl.”

Indeed, he had been impressed by both—and by Lady Sara, though not in the way a man was bewitched by the lass he’d like to marry.

Garrick remembered the day he and Sara had learned of the attempted betrothal, years after the king had rejected it, in this very courtyard. It had been a blustery winter day very much like this one. He and the future countess had just come back from a hunt, Sara as skilled with a bow as any man. His father overheard the compliment he gave her and rode up alongside them.

“A fine woman, Lady Sara, and you would have made an even finer wife.”