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He considered the question. “I think it depends, my lady.”

Everyone waited for him to expand upon his answer. “My good friend Conrad came to us at one and ten. Had he stayed with his family, I do believe his mother would have coddled him. She does so even now that he is fully grown.”

Sara frowned. “I understand a mother’s desire to protect her own.”

“I mean no offense. His mother is quite unusual. I mean to say, I understand why most parents choose to foster their children. But as you know, I myself was trained by my father.”

“You were?” Emma asked.

“Aye.” He spoke to all three of his hosts. “He was one of the most skilled knights in all of England. He fought by King Henry’s side on more than one occasion.”

“And his reputation was only overshadowed by yours once you came of age,” Sara said generously.

“I agree with you,” Geoffrey said. “My own father fostered me as well, but out of necessity. Only after the sheep trade turned Bristol from a poor baron’s holding to a property with a lucrative income did we have the funds to send my brother Bryce to Huntington.”

“Has Neill discussed wanting to come back north? He’s said nothing of the sort to me,” said Emma. She seemed disappointed, hurt even.

“Nay,” Sara was quick to answer. “But he was just knighted this past year. Give him time.”

“And Sara has taken it upon herself to worry for him—” said Geoffrey. His words were said with an indulgent smile.

“Only,” Emma interjected, “because we continue to hear whispers of his name. I don’t believe there’s a single tournament he’s not entered.”

“A worthy activity for a man in training,” Garrick said.

“And nearly as dangerous as battle,” Emma said in a quiet voice. In those few words, she revealed all of her worry about her brother, her twin.

“I can understand your concern, but every match ensures he is more skilled. Protects him for when the broadswords are not blunted.” Garrick looked straight at Geoffrey. “Mayhap Emma could attend the next Tournament of the North to see for herself what Neill is facing?”

Emma stared at him in shock. Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed, and Garrick knew he had overstepped. But he didn’t care. The way she’d spoken about that horse race she’d never seen had stayed with him. Despite what he’d said to her, he wanted her to see that race. Was attending risky? Perhaps. Especially after their attack. But a life without risk was a life not worth living at all.

“We shall see,” Geoffrey said, turning his attention back to his food.

Garrick caught the conspiratorial look between the two women and tried not to smile.

He actually relaxed for a moment until he remembered his earlier conversation with Emma.

I’d speak to you one last time.

What had he been thinking? And what would he possibly say to her that had not already been said? He would find out soon enough.

15

Emma hated the dark. Every time she was forced to face it, she felt the need to run and run and run, as if something terrible would materialize behind her. Somehow the stables didn’t qualify. But these abandoned secret passageways that hadn’t been used since . . . well . . . since she’d used them to smuggle a cat inside the year before.

Little had she known the animal was about to give birth. Her brother had never loved cats, so she’d hidden the mama and babies in her chamber. After trying, and failing, to care for four newborn kittens unnoticed, she’d finally informed Geoffrey of their new addition.

She continued through the passageway, careful step after careful step, until she arrived.

Though Garrick had seemed to regret the hasty invitation moments after issuing it, she could not. She’d been trying to conjure a way to speak to him just once more before he left. Though there was nothing further to say, she could not imagine waking up to find him gone without a final goodbye. Or a “thank you” for all that he had done.

Aye, that was it. She would thank him for escorting her to and from Scotland.

She had not finished knocking when the door opened.

She stepped into the chamber and placed the lantern, its single candle flickering, on a nearby stool. The sparsely furnished room was warm thanks to a fire in the corner.

“I’ve never been in here—”