Braden woke first the next morn, pleased to find a safe distance between he and Ilisa. Despite how much he longed to have her in his arms, doing so when both their defenses were down would not be honorable. Yet the memory of holding her warm curves against him had him clenching his teeth.

One night behind him, far too many ahead. Surely if he could do it once, he could do it again. His reassurances to himself did not ease his worry.

He stepped out of the tent, breathing in the crisp air, noting Alec was still tucked under the blanket near the dying embers of the fire. Though the sky was overcast, the clouds were not heavy with rain but higher, lighter. Another good day to travel—neither too warm nor too cool. Based on the directions the prioress had shared, they should arrive at Graham’s on the morrow.

His shoulder was stiff and aching, a reminder that he was far from fully recovered. He could only hope he didn’t have to wield his sword any time soon.

Since Ilisa and Alec still slept, he retrieved the weapon then moved away a short distance to swing it in one hand, then the other, back and forth, thrusting and lifting. Any movement he could think of to loosen the tightness in his body, taking care to move quietly so as not to waken Ilisa and Alec. A fine sweat soon beaded his brow.

“That’s a big improvement over five days’ past.”

He turned to see Ilisa nearby, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. How long had she been watching him?

“It certainly feels better, but I fear I have a long way yet to go.” He took the sword in the opposite hand, easily maneuvering it whereas holding it with his weak arm was much more difficult.

“I can hardly lift it with two hands.” She kept her voice low, shaking her head as though truly puzzled. “Yet you do it so easily with just one.”

“Much of a knight’s day is spent training. A sword is just one of the weapons with which we practice.” Braden rested, more than willing to halt his training if Ilisa was speaking.

“Do you joust?”

“I do, though Chanse is much better at it than I.”

“The two of you train together?”

“As often as time permits. We practice combat of all types.”

“No wonder everything is a competition with you and him.”

Braden couldn’t help but smile. “Our constant wagering makes our mother crazed.”

That made Ilisa smile as well. “Do you have a warhorse?”

Alec had risen as they spoke, listening to their quiet conversation as he rolled up his bedding.

“Aye. A large black destrier.” His father was looking after him. No doubt Chanse would also ensure the horse’s good health while he was home, or he’d never hear the end of it from Braden.

“Does he have a name?” Ilisa asked.

“Dark Storm.”

“Oh, I like that name,” Alec said with a nod of approval.

“Was he born in a storm?” Ilisa asked.

“Nay.” Braden lifted a shoulder, somewhat embarrassed by the conversation. But if she knew more about him, mayhap it would remove some of the distance between them. Mayhap she’d see he was not only a knight but a person as well. “I just liked the name.”

Alec asked additional questions about their training, about his family, and his life in England, while Ilisa returned to the tent to prepare for the journey.

Braden answered each one, realizing he also needed to improve his bond with Alec so the boy could act convincingly as his squire. He didn’t know if Ilisa continued to listen but hoped she did.

“You’d like my father and mother, and they would like both of you.” Braden had no doubt. “My father loves to jest, much like Chanse, which is a good trait as my mother tends to be far too serious.” That was something he worked hard to guard against as well. Granted, the seriousness came hand-in-hand with the gift they shared.

“How did they come to be together?” Alec asked as he and Braden readied the horses.

Braden chuckled. “They didn’t meet under the best of circumstances. My father was charged with taking my mother to her new guardian. She didn’t want to go.”

“Why?”

“Because she believed he’d killed her mother.”

Alec’s hands slowed, and his eyes grew wide. “Was she right?”

“She was. But the man was a bishop, so my father thought it couldn’t be true.”

Ilisa peeked her head out of the tent, her hair neatly plaited. “How brave of your mother.”

Braden told them other stories as they packed up camp, loaded the cart and horses, and started on the road. Ilisa and Alec shared a few tales, though from what he could tell, their lives had been spent aiding their brother William in his duties as governor and seeing to the people of the city.

Why so many had turned on them after the siege was surprising. All those years of service by the Douglas family gone in a moment because of what some thought William had done.

Though he had many questions about the days of the siege and what happened afterward, he held them. He didn’t want to put either of them through bad memories merely to satisfy his curiosity. He’d pieced together enough details during his stay in Berwick to know that many thought their brother William had opened the gates to the king and his knights.

That made no sense to Braden. But it was difficult to say what had happened. Had the king promised to spare the people who lived there if William opened the gates? Had William hoped to convince the king they had no issue with England by making the gesture of opening the city to him?

Or was it all false, a rumor started by those who resented William for some reason? Perhaps even Lord Graham?

William had lost everything—his position as governor, his wife and son, his brother and sisters. He might yet lose his life. As long as events were unsettled in Berwick and other areas near the border, his fate remained uncertain.

That was one more reason this mission was important. It might very well save the life of Sir William Douglas.

The day quickly passed as they continued talking off and on. The scenery was beautiful, giving Braden an even greater appreciation for Scotland.

Alec behaved perfectly, calling him Sir Hugh each time he spoke to him. Once again, Braden recognized the signs when weariness struck Ilisa, though not a word of complaint passed her lips.

When he called for them to halt for the night, Ilisa closed her eyes briefly as if relieved. She’d been sore the previous evening, so he knew she’d be in worse shape now.

He lifted her from her horse, noting the pain flickering over her expression as she moved her stiff legs. Rather than set her on her feet, he shifted so as to carry her in his arms.

“Oh, but—” She stopped her protest before it passed her lips. Though he knew it was only because she was trying to remember to act as though they were married, he was still pleased she didn’t demand to be set down. To his surprise, she placed an arm over his shoulder. “Are you certain this isn’t harming you?”

“You weigh little more than a feather.”

“Ha,” Alec said with a laugh. His sister glared at him in response, causing Alec to laugh harder.

Braden carried her to a nearby rock so she could sit and stretch her legs at her own pace rather than walking immediately. He set her down, giving in to the urge to rub her shoulders, testing her reaction to him.

He nearly scoffed. Now he lied to himself. He just enjoyed touching her. Admitting it didn’t make him feel any less guilty.

After a moment, her body relaxed under his gentle touch. “My thanks. That feels much better.”

“Rise slowly when you do. Walking will ease the stiffness as well.”

“I’m certain ’tis been many years since you’ve felt this way after riding.”

“Anyone who spends a long day in the saddle is going to be stiff.” He ran a hand along her back then forced himself to step away before he did something that pushed her too far.

He and Alec made camp while Ilisa eased her stiffness by searching for firewood. With few stones in the area, they dug a pit in the ground for the fire, making sure no brush was nearby. Wood was sparse as well but dried grass tightly bundled would help. Hopefully, the night wouldn’t prove too cool. Soon the tent was pitched, and the bedding spread out. If alone, Braden wouldn’t have bothered with the tent. But Alec needed the practice of putting it up, and Ilisa would appreciate the cover it offered.

“On the morrow, we’ll have a hot, filling meal upon our arrival,” Braden told them as they settled around the fire to eat dried meat and bread once again. Though the flames were small due to the lack of fuel, the cheery glow was welcome.

“How many guests do you think will be at this gathering?” Alec asked as he poked the fire with a stick, sending small sparks into the air.

“From what the prioress said, quite a few. Our goal will be to become acquainted with as many as possible.”

“Alec and I have never been to a gathering like this,” Ilisa said. “Since we lived in a market city, there was rarely a need to travel.”

“What activities will they have?” the boy asked.

Ilisa looked at Braden with curiosity as well. “’Tis hard to say. It might be much like a fair with vendors selling different types of food and others selling wares. The tournament will no doubt bring in many. The knights will fight with blunted weapons to avoid serious injuries. They might compete individually or be divided into teams. A joust could be included if Lord Graham has the place to hold it. Some lords have a permanent list field but not all. Have either of you witnessed a tournament?”

“Nay,” Ilisa said as she shared a look with Alec. “William participated in a few in his youth but felt his time was better spent serving the people of Berwick.”

“Why do they hold such tournaments?” Alec asked. “It seems like a waste of a knight’s time.”

“Tournaments keep knights in fighting condition, make certain their training has prepared them for battle, and give them the chance to earn funds.”

“Have you participated in many?”

“Several each year. Most are the friendly sort.”

“But not all?” Ilisa asked.

“It depends on the competitors. If your sworn enemy is one of the combatants, it changes the atmosphere entirely.”

“What else will they do at the gathering?” Alec asked.

“Often there is a feast along with music and dancing if the lord holding the tournament is wealthy.”

“Ilisa and Sophia are excellent dancers.”

“Alec,” Ilisa said, her tone full of doubt. “It has been many years since we’ve done any dancing.”

“The two of you should practice,” Alec suggested with a grin. At Ilisa’s questioning look, he quickly added, “Since you’re married, you would’ve danced many times, right?”

“He speaks the truth.” Braden rose, ignoring the voice in his head that insisted he only did this to have an excuse to hold Ilisa again. His dancing was far from perfect. Chanse was a better dancer. Better, in fact, with everything regarding the ladies.

The look Ilisa gave him—as though she thought him crazed—had his face heating. Normally, only his mother managed to bring out that sensation in him.

“There’s no music.” Her weak protest suggested that if he pressed a little more, he’d win a dance with her. He’d much prefer their first effort to be here with no one other than Alec watching than in front of Graham and all his guests.

“Alec?” Braden wasn’t about to back down now. “Can you do the honors?”

The lad stood with a grin then gave a bow. The expression he gave his sister made clear his joy at making her uncomfortable. “’Twould be my honor.”

Braden walked over to Ilisa and offered her his hand. “My lady?”

“Oh dear heavens.” She shook her head but placed her hand in his.

He led her away from the fire. “I’ve never had the chance to dance with anyone as beautiful as you.”

“Aren’t you the charming one.” To his delight, she laughed, the sound trickling along his soul like a cool, refreshing brook, both gentle and appealing. He stilled in surprise. “What?” she asked.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you laugh. You should do so more often.”

She only smiled in response, which was a treasure as well, for she offered few of them.

Alec began humming a song with a basic rhythm in an off-key tone. He swayed to keep a steady rhythm to his music—or rather, his attempt to do so.

Braden grasped her hand more tightly and lifted it high in the air. They both dipped, then stepped in a slow circle, paused to clap once, then turned in the opposite direction, repeating the steps. Next came quick, intricate footwork that moved them forward. They released hands, turned, then made the same pattern to return to where they’d started.

Her movements were graceful, performing the steps as though she’d done so just yesterday. Her kirtle swept around her body as she turned, adding to her appeal. The way she stepped forward then back captivated him.

As the dance continued, Braden became less self-conscious as to where he placed his feet and more focused on her. He held her gaze, something the dance required, and all else fell away. In that moment, he longed to know what her thoughts held. Did she still only see him as an English knight? Or did she see the man beneath?

“Sir Hugh?” she asked.

He stared at her, confused for a brief moment, only to realize Alec had stopped humming several moves ago. Ilisa stopped and slowly pulled away her hand, her expression unreadable. She was playing a role, the same as he. How could he have forgotten what he’d been lecturing them about for the past two days?

“Well done.” He turned away, rubbing his hand over his chest at the sudden pang there, afraid he’d reveal emotions he shouldn’t be feeling. “We should be able to fool them. Let us seek our beds. ’Twas a long day.”

Obviously, he was the one who needed to remember his place. They might be man and wife in the eyes of the world—and God—but Ilisa was not his in any way that mattered.

 

~*~

 

Ilisa breathed deeply as Lord Graham’s holding came into view shortly after midday, bringing panic along with it. When that did little to calm her nerves, she looked at Braden, wanting to be reassured this wasn’t a terrible mistake.

As though sensing her regard, he met her gaze, seeming to immediately sense her concern. “All will be well. We are prepared.”

If only she shared his confidence.

The holding sat on a low rise in the distance. The view from the parapets would be incredible. Those watching the walls would be able to see anyone approaching from all directions for a far distance. No doubt their approach had already been noted. That only unsettled her further.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation struck her hard. This was the holding of the man who wished her and everyone in her family dead. He’d gone so far as to order their murders. She’d never met him. He’d never met her. He only wanted her dead because she was William’s sister.

How ridiculous was the idea that she was coming here as his guest?

“Hugh?” She pulled back on her reins, staring at the keep as fear spread cold fingers along her spine.

“Aye?” Braden drew to a halt alongside her then reached out to place his hand over hers.

“I thought I could do this, but now...” She glanced back at Alec, the idea of putting him in harm’s way inconceivable. What had she been thinking? Her breath became more rapid as panic filled her.

“Cairstine.”

She turned to Braden again.

“All will be well. I promise you.” His steady gaze and warm touch held her. “We’ve practiced. Even as upset as you are, you answered to Cairstine.” He looked over his shoulder at Alec. “Your brother is well prepared also. Graham won’t recognize you as you’ve never met. Nor has he ever seen Alec.”

His reassurances calmed her more than she could say, but fear still clawed at her chest.

“We will try this for a day or two and see how we fare. If any of us feel we’re in danger, we’ll feign some ailment and take our leave.”

The notion eased her panic as well.

“Think of our success,” he bid her, a small smile curving his lips. “We will return to Berwick and send a message to Garrick with the details. Both he and your sister will be pleased.”

“Aye.”

“I have no doubt your family is not the only one in Graham’s sights.”

She nodded, certain that was true. She liked the idea of doing something that would make a difference, hopefully saving many. But that didn’t allay her concerns. Worrying her lower lip, she turned back to Alec. “Are you ready?”

“Aye. I am.” His expression was solemn, telling her she wasn’t the only one worried about this venture. Mayhap that was a good thing. He’d tread carefully rather than treating it lightly.

Her gaze swung to Braden’s, and she lifted her chin. “Then let us see if we can gain entrance.”

He squeezed her hand then released it. “Excellent. I have no doubt they will welcome Sir Hugh de Grasse and his lovely wife, Cairstine. And of course, Sir Hugh’s faithful squire.” His comment garnered a chuckle out of Alec. “Shall we?” His watchful gaze held hers, but he didn’t move.

Her heart tilted at his question. He was making the final choice hers, making certain she was comfortable before they proceeded. How many knights would do such a thing? Why didn’t he simply tell her to go as many men would?

Reminding herself such thoughts were not helpful when she already struggled to keep her emotions under control around him, she studied the holding. “Aye. Let us proceed.”

As they drew closer, they could make out tents visible above the wall pitched in the outer bailey.

“Many have already arrived,” Braden said. “’Tis good as we will draw less notice.”

“True.” She hadn’t thought of it like that. She’d only worried that she’d have to perform her role in front of more people. Braden had a different way of looking at situations.

“We’ll present our invitation at the gate and ask where we should place our tent,” Braden said. “Once we’ve settled, we’ll take a look around.”

Thinking of such details eased her worry. Her gaze narrowed as she studied her temporary husband. Did he realize that? Did he say such things for that reason? His thoughtfulness seemed endless. She’d never realized that about him.

Then again, a good share of their time together had been spent with her aiding him. Now, their roles were reversed. That had to be the reason for her imbalance.

The portcullis of the keep was raised, but the gate was well guarded.

“Relax,” Braden bid her. “We’re not doing anything wrong, remember?”

“Aye. We belong here.” She attempted a smile though she knew she did a poor job of it. “We have the invitation to prove it.”

“Indeed. This is a joyous event. We’re here for the celebration. Nothing more.”

If only that were true.

“We’ll meet some of the other guests. Become acquainted with them.” The quiet rumble of his voice continued, keeping her from panic, as they rode toward the soldier guarding the gate. “And see if anyone hints at the fact that Lord Graham is up to no good.”

“Hold.”

Guards flanked them on either side.

“State your purpose.” One of the men strode forward, looking them over carefully before settling his gaze on Braden.

“Sir Hugh de Grasse.” Braden held up the invitation for the guard’s perusal.

Ilisa did her best to keep her expression calm despite the pounding of her heart. Her gaze fell to the sword strapped to the guard’s side. The idea of it raised and directed at them had her swallowing back panic. She managed to force her gaze away to study the bailey which bustled with activity.

The ringing of a blacksmith’s hammer, the scent of roasting meat, chickens squawking—all seemed normal and helped to calm her once again. Somehow, she had to gain control of her fear. Yet her mind wouldn’t step beyond the fact that the man who lived here wanted her dead. The thought nearly made her shudder.

“Proceed,” the guard said, interrupting her thoughts. He pointed to where they should place their tent, giving Braden a few other instructions, none of which Ilisa heard as she tried to control her panic.

“My thanks,” Braden said then led the way inside.

Luckily, her mare followed Braden’s steed without any direction from her. She felt numb, her thoughts racing. With effort, she glanced around, attempting to take in more of their surroundings.

Already a dozen tents were lined up in the outer bailey, large and small alike. The atmosphere was festive. Obviously, the guests were prepared for a celebration.

Braden nodded at several people as he continued to the end of the row then halted. Alec quickly dismounted, taking the reins of their horses. Braden moved to Ilisa. “Ready?”

She nodded. “Let the lies begin.” Her quiet words made Braden smile.

“Mayhap it won’t be as difficult as you think.”

“One can hope.” She placed her hands on Braden’s shoulders as he grasped her waist, doing her best to ignore the sparks such ordinary contact lit inside her.

He easily lifted her to the ground, keeping his hands around her waist for a long moment. “Smile,” he whispered.

Her lips curved upward.

“That’s better. I would ask that once we’re settled and you’re comfortable, you find a lady you think you might like and befriend her. The sooner we begin our mission, the sooner we will finish.”

“Right.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, sending those sparks flying.

No matter how often he made such gestures, she didn’t think she’d ever become accustomed to them. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy his attention. Doing so took little effort. Her smile was genuine as he drew back.

“That’s better,” he declared as he studied her. “We’ll meet as many of the guests as we can and note anyone who acts out of the ordinary.”

“Like us?” she asked, brow raised.

“We are acting completely normal, remember?” He brushed a finger along her soft cheek. “Just continue to smile, and no one will notice how you act.”

She frowned at him, not understanding his comment.

“Your beauty will distract anyone from suspicion.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words even though she knew this was just pretend. If only it felt that way.

“Alec and I will remove our bags from the horses then he’ll locate the stables.”

“Very well.” As he stepped away, she clenched her hands into fists to keep from holding tight to him. Instead, she offered her opinion on the details of settling them into their temporary shelter.

He and Alec made quick work out of raising the tent. Though not as elaborate as some, it matched many others in size and design.

In a short while, she and Braden strolled around the outer bailey, stopping briefly to speak with several of the other guests who lingered nearby. As she realized she didn’t recognize any of them, her nerves settled. Most came from the north based on their strong accent.

The bailey felt much like market day in Berwick with carts parked selling wares, food, and other treats.

What would it be like to be husband and wife in truth, here to enjoy the celebration with the other guests? For a heartbeat, she wished her life were that normal, that this marriage were real, and that Braden were hers. But nay. Graham wanted her and her family dead. There was work to be done.

She forced a smile to her lips, determined to fulfill her purpose here.

“Haven’t seen Lord Graham or his daughter as of yet,” confessed one of the other guests to whom they introduced themselves. “They must be waiting until additional guests arrive before joining us.”

Ilisa thought that unusual behavior. From what little the other wives had shared, none of them had been invited into the keep. That truly seemed odd for someone hosting the celebration.

What might Graham be up to? An even better question was how could she help find out?