Page 39 of The Knight’s Reward

The bread she’d eaten hadn’t quite quelled her hunger.

“You’ll tell me everything?”

“Yes,” she lied, feeling poorly for doing so.

Neill, for his part, didn’t look as if he believed her.

“Then come.” He started to walk away, stopped and turned. “One more question.”

Kathryn groaned, eliciting another laugh from Neill. But he sobered as soon as she looked up to meet his eyes.

“Do you regret it?”

Aye, she’d pulled away. But no, she did not regret kissing him. Not even a bit.

“No.” And then, hesitantly, she added, “Do you?”

He was shaking his head before the question even left her lips.

“I should, Kathryn. I will tell you why later, although you’ll think less of me for it. But no, I do not regret it. I’d not let that thief steal this moment.”

He said the words as if they meant something more than they did. As if it weighed on him to admit that he did not regret kissing her.

But he began walking again, so she let the comment pass.

For now.

* * *

“Tell me,” Bryce said as they finished the best meat pie Neill had ever tasted, “how did the king react to your request?”

Surrounded by their own men, Neill and Bryce spoke freely as they ate with the one hundred or so other guests. They had been invited to dine on the dais, as family, but had opted to eat alongside their men instead. Just as Neill had expected, only a few Englishmen were present and the guests consisted of mostly men. With the peace at the border so tenuous, the clan chiefs and wardens had left their wives at home.

Most of the women in the hall belonged at Brockburg, with a few exceptions. Kathryn had agreed to attend the meal, but so far, he did not see her.

“Neill?”

He shifted his attention back to his brother. Though he’d written his brothers and sister straightaway to tell them of the king’s agreement to do away with Caxton, he’d told none of them yet of the queen’s condition. “He didn’t answer right away,” he said, “but he also did not appear overly disturbed by it. I do wonder if he’d been planning to remove Caxton anyway.”

It was Edward’s father who’d favored the crooked warden. The son had returned only recently from abroad to claim his crown.

Bryce shook his head, scowling. “With a war brewing in France, I’ve no doubt he’d have let the border languish.”

Aylmer, who sat across from them, interjected. “Rumors in the south would agree with your sentiment.”

“Aye.” No denying it. Neill lifted his mug, a fine-looking pewter piece in a hall that was both functional and resplendent. The tapestries on the wall were simple and tasteful, though of fine quality.

Neill had never imagined himself dining in Brockburg Castle. Time had wrought unexpected changes on his family, to be certain.

“Either way, ’tis done. And as much as I wish the plan had been solely mine, it was Sir Adam who first suggested the idea.”

“Do you remember that day?” his brother asked.

Neill groaned.

“Please, do not speak of it.”

Bryce turned to Aylmer, a touch gleeful. “After losing Bristol Manor, Geoffrey, as I’m sure you know, turned to reiving in order to support our aunt and uncle with whom we lived.”