Page 10

But Garrick had never before stood immobile as an awareness of another human being crept into his very soul. When Emma—Lady Emma, he corrected himself—had emerged from that stall, he’d thought two things at once, evident from her posture and expression.

This was a woman who, despite her station, was neither biddable nor docile.

And he wanted her.

He wanted this raven-haired beauty with an intensity that should have sent him running from the stable immediately. You are nearly betrothed to another woman. Yet here he stood, taunting his own instincts, moving much closer to her than was wise. Conrad would roar in laughter if he ever came to know how completely Garrick’s usual instincts for how to woo a beautiful woman had left him. For several minutes, he’d been completely tongue-tied, and when he finally introduced himself, he’d unaccountably shared his given name.

Why did I withhold my title?

She was small but well-endowed. He shouldn’t have noticed such a thing, but she’d lacked any kind of coat to keep her warm against the winter chill. He certainly shouldn’t have noticed her lips were made to be kissed.

When he moved in closer to wrap the cloak about her, Garrick was drawn in by her gaze. Those ice-blue eyes stood out in stark contrast to hair so black it shone. But it wasn’t the color of her eyes he noticed as he wrapped his cloak around her. It was the strange intensity of the moment, as if it were somehow significant.

Garrick wanted her, whoever she was, which was exactly why he took a step back after securing the cloak.

“Aye, thank you,” she said, the words seeming to come from deep within her throat, the simple thanks penetrating the icy chill he’d worn since leaving Clave.

The door to the stables creaked open behind him.

“My lord? My lady?”

The invisible net that had been cast around them was lifted as a stableboy ran toward them.

Garrick turned, watching as the boy stopped next to Bayard and took a step back. Not that he blamed him. The warhorse was massive, his head as wide as a tree trunk. He’d been bred for the kind of fighting he’d left behind in the Holy Land.

“He senses your fear,” Garrick told him.

“I’m not afraid,” the boy replied. He ruined the effect by taking another step back. “I just ne’er saw a beast so . . .”

Pulling his woolen cloak tighter around his shoulders, the boy cocked his head and looked at the long scar that traveled the length of Bayard’s neck. With a bow to the woman who’d so stunned him earlier, Garrick made his way toward his mount.

“There are others,” he said. “They should be arriving at any time.”

“The marshal sends his apologies, sir. ’Tis a groom’s naming day, and he gathered us all together to celebrate. We didn’t expect travelers so late. Not”—he rushed to continue—“that it is too late, of course. I’m glad to care for him and his companions.”

Garrick couldn’t decide what was making the boy more nervous, him or Bayard, but at least the lad had explained Eddard’s absence. The marshal cared for the boys who worked for him as if they were family.

Voices outside the stable announced the arrival of the other men. Garrick looked out through the open door to see they traveled with escorts from Kenshire. While his arrival had gone largely unnoticed thanks to his familiarity with the guards, his men had not been afforded such a boon. He turned back to take a final glance at Lady Emma. She nodded in parting, a quick, regal bow of the head.

Leaving Bayard to the boy who’d finally gained enough confidence to approach the enormous steed, Garrick joined his men as they dismounted and made their way across the expansive courtyard, now deserted for mealtime, toward Kenshire’s keep.

One night.

If she joined them for the meal, he’d have to endure the proximity of the woman for just one night. He was here to pay respects to Lady Sara, not to seduce one of her guests. Tomorrow, he’d best rise early and leave Kenshire, attempting to forget he’d ever met the undeniably exquisite Lady Emma.

5

Garrick, I’m pleased for you to meet my husband, Sir Geoffrey Waryn.”

Geoffrey was now the Earl of Kenshire, a position of equal ranking, so he and Sir Geoffrey nodded their heads in greeting. They stood just inside the entrance to the great hall.

“My apologies for not greeting you properly—”

“Nay, my lady. It is I who should apologize for arriving so late and just before the evening meal.”

Garrick watched as Sir Geoffrey gazed at his wife. Was he worthy of the good reputation that had reached Garrick’s ears? He was at least relieved to see a look of fierce love and admiration in the man’s eyes.

Knights and retainers moved past them and into the hall, but Sara seemed reluctant to do so just yet. She moved off to the side, and he and her husband followed.