A Rogue No More - Lana Williams Page 0,92

encountered. “We had hoped to give you a scare.”

“Greetings, cousin,” Chanse said with a grin. He had lighter hair, was a bit shorter than his brother but stockier and far more charming.

That the two were related was undeniable, and both bore similarities to their father, Garrick’s Uncle William. Family resemblance ran strong in the de Bremonts as Garrick was tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair and blue eyes like his sire.

Garrick shoved aside his pang of regret at Braden’s words. He was well aware his second sight gave him an unfair advantage. Yet he had no way to halt the gift. It was like seeing or smelling for him. It simply was. Many times, he wondered where he’d be without it. In truth, he was afraid to find out, part of him fearing he’d be found lacking as though fighting a battle with no weapon.

“You didn’t think we’d allow you to take all the glory of fulfilling a mission for the king, did you?” Braden asked.

Chanse eyed him for a moment. “How long have you known?”

“That you were coming?” Garrick folded his arms across his chest. Though these men were his cousins, he was never certain how much to share with them. He well knew the less he spoke of his second sight, the better. His father had taught him that from the time he was old enough to walk. Yet he also knew Chanse’s question was asked with good intent. “Last night as I made camp.”

“Damn,” Braden said and tossed his brother a coin.

Garrick frowned in disbelief. “You wagered on it?”

Chanse scoffed. “You should know by now we’d wager on most anything.”

Garrick could only laugh. Though he’d wanted to complete this mission on his own to prove to himself that he was truly a man worthy of the title of knight, he knew his journey would be much more enjoyable with them at his side.

The brothers saw to their horses while Garrick built up the small fire he’d laid. He was traveling light, hoping to make good time. That meant he didn’t have much food to spare. He carried only enough for another day or two. He’d planned to find a town soon, where he might restock his supplies.

His destination was Berwick, a market city on the northern border of England. He was eager to reach it and begin his quest.

“We rose early this morn with the hope of catching up with you,” Chanse said as he carried a large leather bag to where Garrick knelt, adding wood to the fire.

“You must’ve left home shortly after I did.”

“We were a half-day behind you, according to your brother. You haven’t yet had your supper?” Chanse asked.

“Nay. Dried venison and cheese was all I had planned.” He couldn’t help but watch with hope as Chanse withdrew the contents of the bag.

“We can do better than that.” His cousin set several bundles on the ground then handed Garrick a small pot. “Make yourself useful and fetch some water.”

Garrick didn’t consider protesting. He’d traveled with Chanse before and was familiar with his cooking skills. The idea of a hot meal had him quickening his step to the small creek nearby. By the time he returned with the water, Chanse had assembled a metal stand with an adjustable pothook over the fire.

“Where did you come across that?” Garrick asked, shaking his head in amazement as Chanse hooked the pot onto the stand, suspending it over the fire before adjusting the hook to lower the pot closer to the flames.

Chanse grinned. “A man who’d been on a crusade had it at a tournament. I had our blacksmith make one that I could carry with me. Much easier than trying to find the right size sticks only to worry if they’ll catch fire.”

“Clever.” Garrick glanced over at Braden who rubbed down their steeds with dried grass. “Still tends his babes, does he?”

“He loves animals of any sort, but horses are his favorite. He treats them far better than he treats me.” Chanse continued his preparations, cutting dried meat and adding it to the pot. Then he opened another bundle, revealing dried, chopped onions, turnips, and carrots. He tossed those in the steaming water as well. The next pack he opened contained what looked like dried weeds.

“What is that?” Garrick asked.

“Rosemary.” Chanse lifted a branch and sniffed it, then handed it to Garrick.

Garrick smelled only to ease back at the strong scent. He couldn’t help but rub his nose as the odor lingered in his nostrils. “Smells