Page 37 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

E vie adjusted her gown, as she’d done many times already. She looked down at the stone bench, completely cleared of moss. She had come one day, Gareth waiting for her already, to see it cleared.

It was small things like that, or the way he looked at her, that had endeared her so quickly to him.

Perhaps knowing he’d been tested by Lord Stirling and Eamon had opened her heart to him, allowing Evelina to trust him more readily than she might another.

Either way, she had fallen in love with the man and hoped dearly their plan would work.

A twig snapped.

He was coming. But this would not be like their reunion from the night before.

One Evelina woke up remembering, her hands covering her own breasts.

They were a poor substitute for him, and though she’d not given it much thought before, it seemed Evelina’s mind was occupied often these days with a strong desire for him to touch her. Kiss her.

Two men emerged from the thicket.

“Go ahead,” Eamon said to Gareth.

He strode to her in so few steps that one moment Gareth was far away, and the next she was in his arms. One tight squeeze, and he released her, but Gareth did not release her hand.

He would not hide his affection for her from her father, and the fact that Eamon allowed it endeared him to her all the more.

“I do not have much time,” Eamon said.

Gareth brought her to the bench, where they sat. Her father leaned against a tree, crossing his arms and looking even more serious than usual. Some said the man never smiled, but she knew otherwise. This morn, however, he was contemplative.

“Gareth has a plan that I’m skeptical will work. Already his exploits are being circulated around Castle Blackwood, and your father?—”

Evelina cleared her throat.

“Lord Ashcroft,” he amended. “Is unlikely to be swayed. Even so, it is worth trying.”

“Especially given Gareth could have gotten himself killed in the effort.”

Eamon glanced at Gareth. “Likely he’d have been on that mission either way, given his skills.”

She’d considered as much. “Though I agree ’tis unlikely to sway him. If that plan fails?”

“I could retain the Guardians’ attorney and gain guardianship over you. Lord Stirling can bear witness that I am your rightful father, and as the feudal lord of Castle Blackwood, he has enough influence that I’m certain we could be successful.”

“However,” Gareth added, “such a thing could take years.”

“Indeed,” Eamon said. “Which means,” he said to Evelina, “as I explained to Gareth last eve, the threat of it will have to suffice. Lord Ashcroft cares deeply about his legacy. As his only daughter, he would see you inherit over his brother’s son and has said as much many times.

A legal battle for your guardianship does him little favor.

It is possible the mere threat of it will be enough to make him relent. ”

“If he does not?” she asked. “If he decides it would be preferable for my cousin to inherit rather than see his hopes of my betrothal to the queen’s son dashed?”

“I would remind him,” Eamon said, “the queen is not yet on the throne. And by the time she is, none can say where my case for your guardianship will stand.”

She looked at Gareth. His expression could only be described as resolved.

As was she.

“I will be his wife,” she said to Eamon. “No matter the means.”

“As I am aware. And I would prefer to see you do so and retain your inheritance.”

Her eyes widened. “He told you?”

“Gareth told me nothing. Running off and marrying in secret is what I would have done had your mother been unmarried.”

Gareth squeezed her hand, and she understood. If it came to that, they would do it. Yet, she did not wish that for Gareth.

“He has worked hard these many years to bring honor to his family. I’d not take that from him if there is another way.”

Evelina had thought much about Gareth’s path, his desire to see the Claymore name vindicated. A secret marriage to the illegitimate and disgraced daughter of a powerful baron would not meet such an aim.

“Gareth has proven his worth,” Eamon said, “which is why I stand here, now.”

“I will ask for an audience this day,” Gareth said. “And pray your father does not force us down another path. I’d not see you involved,” he said to Eamon, “if it can be avoided.”

“I am already involved, most willingly. She is”—he looked to Evelina—“my daughter. All I’ve ever wished for is her to be protected and happy. For far too long I’ve watched as the latter was forsaken for the former. No more. I will make this right,” he vowed. “You have my word.”

“One I know you will honor, as you’ve done so for as long as I can remember.”

She and Gareth stood. “It seems we have a plan,” she said.

“God willing, you and Gareth will be betrothed soon. I need the man back on the training field with his mind fully engaged on something other than my daughter.”

Gareth laughed. But it was not a joyful or carefree sound.

To Evelina’s ears, it was strained. A sound of hesitation, which she understood well.

Their fate was in the hands of a man who cared little for love, only power.

And if Evelina knew anything about power, it was that, for some men, the loss of it was not nearly as horrible as the fear of its loss.

What her father would do when faced with such a possibility, Evelina could only guess.