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Emma smiled. “Geoffrey is the proudest father in all of England. But I suppose all fathers are that way.”

Not all.

“I’m so very happy for them, Geoffrey and Sara, and for you as well, Emma. Sara has told me so much about you in her letters, it feels as if I know you already.”

Two young boys ran past them, apparently chasing something, or someone. The open joy on their faces made her grin along with them. This was one of the reasons she’d always loved coming to Kenshire. Its occupants were pleased to serve Sara, just as they’d gladly served Richard before her. Her father was not a cruel man, but neither was he as nurturing as Sara’s father.

“Everyone is so happy here,” she said.

Emma nodded to one of the two boys who’d just run past them. His friend held a squirming rabbit in his hands. Apparently that was the prize they’d sought. The other lad now had tears in his eyes, and Gillian didn’t hesitate to go to him.

“Is something amiss?”

The boy pointed to his friend. “He catches ’em every time.”

“I see.”

The boy’s friend bent down and released the poor creature, which scampered away.

Gillian resisted the urge to wipe away the boy’s tears. Instead, she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Do you entice him with apples or clovers?”

When he shook his head, Gillian smiled.

“Next time, offer your wild hare a treat. It’s still cold enough.” At his puzzled expression, she clarified. “He’ll be hungry, so feed him. Even if your friend is faster, he’ll come to you instead.”

She stood, not sure if encouraging the boy to catch wild rabbits was wise, but they’d likely do so no matter what she advised.

“I bid you a good day, sirs.”

“We ain’t—”

“You very well may be someday.”

The boys glanced at one another and then fled, likely engaged in further pursuit of their poor prey.

“What did you say to him?” Emma asked as she returned to the path.

“I just gave him an advantage he didn’t have before today. You were telling me about the plans for this May Day celebration?”

“Oh! I nearly forgot. Aye, tonight, a feast in honor of the youngest Waryn. Tomorrow, a wagonful of flowers will be brought to make the wreaths and the May Day Queen will be crowned at dinner.”

“Have you been to a May Day celebration before?” she asked Emma.

“Nay, have you?”

“Oh aye, many times. The earl held one most years here at Kenshire, some larger than others. I’ve not always attended though. Some years, my father would not allow us to travel. But in times of peace . . .”

“Peace. Along the border. Could there ever be such a thing?”

“I believe so. As long as there are more who wish for it than those who seek to take advantage of instability. Look at what the last years have brought. Who would have thought the Waryns would form an alliance with Clan Kerr?”

“I certainly never thought such a thing was possible.”

When Clan Kerr took Bristol Manor, the Waryns’ holding, the two families had become bitter enemies, even more so because the Waryns’ parents had been killed in the raid. But Bryce Waryn had since married the clan chief’s sister.

“May I ask—” Nay. She should not have said anything.

But Emma’s open expression encouraged her, as did her words. “Of course you may. Ask.”