Page 57

“A toast,” she said. “To your future.”

Kathryn eyed the woman suspiciously. Was she always so tenacious?

Taking a sip, she blurted, “Neill and I . . . cannot be.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Sara’s eyes widened, a play of innocence somewhat undermined by the laughter she burst into moments later.

Once she recovered, she looked into Kathryn’s eyes and said, “’Tis quite simple. You like him.”

It was not a question, so she did not answer.

“And he likes you.”

Kathryn resisted the urge to ask why Sara thought that to be true. Although it was undeniable that Neill had kissed her, more than once, that only meant he desired her. If Kathryn had learned one lesson from The Wild Boar, it was that desire could exist without affection. Two people could be together, in that way, without any prospect of marriage.

She’d even considered the possibility of giving in to desire with Neill, although she’d quickly dismissed it.

“I believe,” Sara said, placing her goblet on the small wooden table in front of them, “this family was destined to find love through tribulation, and most unusual circumstances.”

Kathryn had no idea what she meant by that.

Sara smiled. “I’ll explain more on the morrow. For now, I bid you goodnight, Lady Kathryn.”

Staring down at her wine, Kathryn didn’t move at first. Why had her companion left without taking a sip of the wine she’d poured? Why had the lady of Kenshire, a countess in her own right, personally escorted her to her chamber?

She’d told Sara earlier she did not need a lady’s maid. The fine gown Sara had lent her, along with the ones from Brockburg, were nonetheless simple enough for her to manage on her own. Embarrassed to have borrowed them at all, Kathryn placed her goblet back on the table and moved to the bowl of rosewater.

How easily I’ve slipped back into my former life. Foolish Kathryn.

She had fine gowns again, fine food too, and no hands to grab at her as she walked by. Her chamber, one which five of her rooms at the inn could fit inside.

And yet she would trade it all for a chance to say goodbye to her father, to know what had truly happened that day she was forced from Edinburgh.

When a knock sounded at the door, Kathryn’s shoulders sagged. She’d prefer not to be fussed over, her mind at war with itself.

“I told Lady Sara . . .”

It was no maid. Neill filled the entranceway, his expression dark.

“You seem surprised. I told you that I would come.”

She peered around the chamber. “Surely not here? Your brother, Lady Sara . . .”

She swallowed. Her heart raced as he waited for her acquiescence. The old Kathryn would never have considered it. But she was not the same woman who’d blushed to her very core after allowing a baron’s son to sneak a quick kiss at court.

“I need to speak with you as well,” he said. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and it would be better done in private.”

Kathryn stepped aside, closing the door behind him. When she turned, Kathryn saw him looking at the two wine goblets.

“Sara,” she started, and then stopped.

They’d toasted, but Sara had never sipped the wine. And not because Kathryn had interrupted her.

It was not intended for Sara.

“Did you tell anyone you were coming here?” she asked.

“Nay, I would not do that.”