Lady Sara (from The Thief’s Countess)

Her husband laid a hand on her shoulder as Sara watched her sons ride from the courtyard. When Haydn returned, he would be bringing his betrothed. Soon after, he’d be married. And their wedding would not be the cause for celebration she’d thought it might be.

“We’ve no choice, Sara,” Geoffrey said. “He must do this.”

She stepped into him, turning, his arms wrapping around her. How many times throughout the years had she leaned on him this way? Hundreds, or more. He was everything she knew him to be those many years ago when the stubborn man refused to leave Kenshire Castle, even when she’d made it clear she did not want him here.

How wrong she had been to mistrust him because he and his family had turned to reiving after they lost Bristol. Some of those men were now their closest allies, and her husband was Sara’s world. She peered up at him.

“I am sorry for it,” he said. She reached up and pulled a strand of grey hair off his face, the mix of it and some still-black strands lending him a more handsome visage than ever.

“As am I.”

“Pardon me, my lord. My lady.”

Sara stepped away from Geoffrey and reached out a hand. Her lady’s maid had been ill recently. And though Faye’s coloring appeared much better today, Sara still wished the woman would rest. Nearly eighty years old, she refused to give up her duties as Sara’s maid, saying the idleness would surely kill her.

“Why are you not abed, Faye?”

She waved away the question. “I am worried for the boy,” the maid admitted.

Sara’s heart would surely break, her own worry for Haydn set aside for the moment. Faye loved all of their children as her own, but it was Haydn to whom she had a special affinity. The two had always got along well, her son treating the woman as if she were the queen herself. When Faye’s eyes filled with tears, the words that came from Sara’s mouth were not her own but those of her father. The earl had kept both the English king and the northerners at bay even when every other part of the border was ravaged.

He knew more than most about strife, and how to come through the worst of times intact.

“It is in our darkest hours we discover the true strength of the light within us that can never, never, be dimmed.”

Faye wiped away a tear. “He would have adored young Haydn.”

“Aye,” she said as Geoffrey moved away to talk to the steward. “My father would have loved and adored each of them. But Haydn. . .” She smiled, understanding. “He is most like him, isn’t he?”

Faye sighed. “There are times, when I look at the boy, I forget it is not Richard that I see.”

Some might think it unusual for her maid to use the given name of Sara’s father, but Faye was not a maid. Not in Sara’s eyes, at least. She was a companion. A confidant. A friend. Faye was family.

“They are very much alike.”

“But a wife,” Faye sighed. “There are turbulent times ahead, and he will need someone by his side to love. Instead the king forces him to marry a woman who can do naught but cause trouble for poor Haydn. And for the family.”

Geoffrey rejoined them. “There have always been turbulent times ahead. We are a buffer between two lands, have made our position more tenuous for our ties with Toren’s family. This family has lived with strife, has overcome it, time and time again. We will do so, our children will do so, for many years to come.”

Her husband had the truth of it. If these past three years had taught them anything, it was that troubled times were just beginning. “We’ve prepared them for this,” she said. “We have raised all four of our children to be strong, but compassionate. To accept no slight against the family, and to retain their honor always. Haydn. . .” she said, feeling better than even a few moments ago. “My father would have found a way to deal with the king’s latest blow, and his grandson, ” she looked at Geoffrey, “our son, will do the same.”

Her husband nodded in agreement. “He will endure, as will we all.”

Of that, Sara had no doubt.

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A CLAN OF HER OWN: BROTHERHOOD OF THE BORDER, BOOK 2