Page 3 of The Earl

Chapter 2

This was the moment Cait Kennaugh had been thinking about, dreaming of, for so many years.

Though two tall, well-built men approached the gatehouse, first on horseback and then on foot, she knew which one was Conrad before their faces came into view. She would have recognized him anywhere. The young man of ten and nine was now less than one year shy of seeing his thirtieth summer. But his features remained the same.

A slightly squared jaw and thick eyebrows, now furrowed in confusion. Even back then he’d approached her as if the entire tournament were his for the taking. She may have thought him the King of England himself if the king were but twenty years younger. Cait had never actually seen the man, or the Scottish king either, for that matter, but she had always imagined royalty would walk that way.

More than ten years later, his gait was still the same. As if he’d been given a divine right to rule over others.

Aye, she’d know him anywhere. Conrad had stopped to speak to her brother, but he was looking at her.

“Are you well? The color has gone from your cheeks.” Roysa said in an undertone after she greeted Terric and came back to check on her.

Cait could have lied, but there was no use for it. Her friend had only to look at her hands, visibly shaking even though they were gloved and gripping the reins, to know she was anything but well.

“Nay.”

“Oh.”

Tearing her gaze from him, Cait directed her attention to her sister-in-law instead.

“Of course. I had not considered . . .”

Trailing off, Roysa looked back to the men, who were now greeting each other like brothers. Which they were, of a sort. Friends bonded by an event that had forever changed their lives.

And hers.

Roysa had become the sister Cait had always wanted, having been raised with two brothers. She’d considered telling her friend the truth about why she’d come to England, but something had always stopped her. Even now, faced with his presence, she couldn’t find the words.

The hero who had saved her life.

The only man she had ever loved.

“Is that the mercenary with him?” she asked instead.

Roysa stood on her toes. “I cannot see whilst on foot.”

Cait had only met Sir Guy once, that same life-changing day, but from the warmth with which her brother greeted Conrad’s companion, she suspected he was indeed the fourth member of the Order of the Broken Blade.

“Roysa,” Terric called to his wife, motioning for her to join him again. But she stayed where she stood, staring at Cait with concern in her eyes.

“Go. I am fine,” she lied.

Roysa blinked.

“Nay, you are not fine. I will be back.”

She tried to argue, but Roysa had already walked away. Cait watched mutely as Terric introduced her to Conrad. They spoke for a moment longer and then all turned toward her.

Panic seized her throat and squeezed.

She’d asked, nay begged, to be here. Both of her brothers had wanted to keep her safe from the danger that danced around them, and yet she’d insisted on being here. She’d come to Licheford for one reason, and now that she was here, Cait simply could not do it.

She couldn’t speak to him just yet. Even seeing him from this distance . . . she struggled to control her own heartbeat. Struggled to breathe.

I should not have come.

When her brother mounted, preparing to ride through the gatehouse and onto the castle grounds, she assumed Roysa would do the same. Though she’d never been to Licheford Castle, it was obviously larger than most. It would be quite a distance yet to the keep.