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“What difference whether she waits or not? She’ll be mine,” replied Wolf with utmost confidence, and Kit’s sense of satisfaction vanished. How dare he assume she would fall at his feet when he arrived?
She gritted her teeth to master her irritation and refrained from speaking out. The conceit of the man was unsurpassed. Why, the man thought that because he’d kissed her once, he could begin to think of owning her. He didn’t even know her! And he wasn’t going to know her, either, she promised herself.
“And you say you don’t know who she is?”
“Nay, Nicholas, she would give me no name.”
“Mayhap if you described the woman, your little Lady Kathryn could name her.”
“Mayhap.”
His Lady Kathryn! How many women was this wolf allowed? Kit reined in an urge to slam her elbow into the man’s gut. But she knew he wore an iron hauberk, and she would only bruise herself.
“I think it best you keep your thoughts on Windermere and not on a prospective wife. Besides, there is Lady Annegret. When you wed her—”
“Wife?” Wolf laughed coldly. “I made no mention of a wife.”
Nicholas chuckled, and Kit was infuriated. When he found out she was the woman at the lake, he’d... Kit resolved never to give him half a bloody chance to discover who she was..
“Ah, Lady Kathryn awakens,” Nicholas announced as Kit moved restlessly. She was so angry, she was unable to pretend to sleep any longer. “Did you rest well, my lady?”
“Tolerably.”
“Your voice—it is difficult to tell much about you under that layer of dirt and those rags you wear—but your voice seems not to be that of a child. We thought we’d been sent to collect a child.” Nicholas looked at her more closely, trying to discern her features beyond the filth and bruises.
“You are correct. I am not a child.” She couldn’t mask an irritable tone as she gazed at the handsome warrior who rode alongside.
“And you expect us to believe you are fully grown?” Wolf asked in laughing disbelief.
“I don’t expect anything from you,” Kit shot back angrily. “Except an unwanted trip to London.”
“Ach, so the journey riles you?” Nicholas laughed.
“How is Bridget? She must be near to collapsing. She is unused to riding.”
“The old woman is weary,” Nicholas replied. “We’ll stop shortly for the night.”
“How do you intend to keep us safe the night through? It is said to be dangerous traveling these roads—”
“Please, my lady,” Wolfs tone mocked her, “nine of my men are here and would be loath to hear you malign their talents so.”
“Nine! You have only nine?”
“Our number will be sufficient. Now cease. Enough of this prattle.”
Kit bristled with the resentment of having this crass brute in charge of her person. He had no right to order her about. And she didn’t care much for the way he scowled at her, either.
A short time later, when they came over a grassy hill, they spotted the two men who had been sent ahead to seek a sheltered spot to camp for the night. They had already scouted out a likely area and a small fire was crackling merrily in the clearing.
It was with great relief that Kit dismounted and went to help Bridget. The old woman was bone weary and though she was not usually particularly quiet about her aches and pains, she was more circumspect than usual tonight. The two women wandered off to the trees to take care of their personal needs and while there, found a stream with cool, fresh water. They stopped to drink their fill.
“Ooch, yer eye, child,” Bridget said, taking a good look at Kit’s face. “Let me wash it for ye.”
“Nay, Bridget. I prefer to remain filthy as a vagabond whilst we’re in the company of these clods of Henry’s.”
“Clods ye say?”
“Clods, Bridget. Boorish clods.”
“Oh, of course. Ye, dearie, having been to France and to court and so many fashionable places, would recognize a boor instantly, I suppose.”
“Don’t tease, Bridget. It takes little experience and less brains to know this man—”
“Who? Sir Gerhart? The leader?”
“What do you know of him?”
“Well, Sir Clarence and Sir Alfred talked a wee bit,” Bridget said as she stretched her aching back, “to keep me awake and astride that beast, I think. They said a few things...”
“For example?”
“For example,” Bridget’s ire was up, and Kit knew she was testing the old woman’s patience, “Alfred said that Sir Gerhart and his cousin Sir Nicholas are the grandsons of some German prince—”
“Ha!”
“—though Gerhart also has some obscure English ties. The two of them have been invaluable to King Henry and ’tis rumored that they’ll be given titles and estates upon their return to London.”
“I can guess just who started that rumor.”
“’Tis not like ye to be so disrespectful, Kitty.”
“’Tis not like you to swallow such a yam, Bridget.” Kit started walking back to camp. “They’re naught but common soldiers, come to take me to London, and the reason why is the only obscurity here. The rest is perfectly clear.”
Bridget shook her head dubiously.
“Also clear is the fact that Rupert will never be able to find me now, and I intend to remedy that situation as soon as possible.”
“And how do ye propose to do it?”
“I don’t know yet. Just promise not to worry about me,” Kit said.
Darkness fell slowly, by degrees. They’d eaten a meal consisting entirely of dried meat and when through, the men scattered about the fire to find comfortable places to spend the night. Wolfram backed up to a tree, wrapped himself in his cloak and closed his eyes. He could hear the regular, even snores of the woman, and he knew the girl hadn’t moved in ages.
As he was about to doze off, Wolf caught sight of a slight movement from the other side of the fire. It was the girl, and she had turned over. Now she was quiet. Too quiet. And her position didn’t seem to be an entirely comfortable one for sleep. Wolf could see that she was holding her breath. The idiot was going to make a move. He was completely alert instantaneously.
She eased herself up in stages, looking around to see if her movements disturbed any of the men. If they did, none of them, not even those on watch, showed any signs of it. Finally, she was on her feet, crouched down, near to the ground. She backed away from the campsite until she was completely in the dark, then stood and ran.
Wolf was up in a second. He couldn’t believe the girl’s foolishness. Where in blazes did she think she was going? He signaled to the men on watch to remain in place, then traced the girl’s path through the woods silently.
Wolf increased his speed when he heard a loud thud and a muffled shriek. He had orders to get the girl to London in one piece, and she seemed intent on making that simple task a difficult one. It was so dark that Wolf had a hard time seeing down the shallow gorge into which she’d fallen, even though he knew he stood on the brink, towering over her. Kathryn was definitely down there, still unaware of his presence, and he listened to the disparaging sounds she made under her breath. He couldn’t help being vaguely amused by her cursing.
“Ow!” She tried to stand, but her ankle wouldn’t bear her weight and she fell again. “Damnation!” the lady muttered. “By all the martyred saints, my eye, my lip and my bloody ankle are ruined. Now I’ll never—”
“Let me see your ankle,” Wolfram said as he stooped down next to her. She squealed and jumped half out of her skin when he spoke. “Easy, now. It’s only me.”
“Only you? You’re the last person I wanted to see,” she cried. He smiled at her blunt honesty. Not much like the ladies he’d known at court, he thought, but she was still young. She’d learn.
“Probably a sprain,” he said gruffly as he pressed the ankle. She winced in pain. “It’s already begun to swell.”
Kit groaned.
“What did you expect?” She was certain she heard irritation in his voice. He slid one arm under her legs and the other behind her back, then picked her up. She was a bit surprised that he didn’t just throw her over his shoulder like a sack of rags. “You can’t tear through the woods at breakneck speed in the dark and not expect disaster. Especially a woman, and one as obviously inexperienced as you.”
“Oh, really?” she remarked disdainfully, refusing to allow him to gloat.
Wolf felt the girl tighten her grip around his neck as he moved quickly through the woods. He realized he was intentionally showing her up, demonstrating how perfectly he could move in the dark without mishap. The girl had grit, and he admitted to a grudging admiration of her spunk in spite of the fact that, but for her, he would still be wrapped up warmly in his cloak, asleep. As her fingers moved around the back of his neck, the bizarre thought occurred to him that her scent was every bit as fresh and appealing as it had been earlier in the day as she rode with him. The thought nearly made him drop her.
“Slow down, Gerhart!” Kit commanded harshly. “I have no wish to sprain the other ankle.”
“As you command, my lady.” She was damned confident. And impudent.
No one spoke as Gerhart sat down where he’d been before, with his back against a tree, pulling Lady Kathryn into his lap. She turned to move away, but found his grip on her wrists like iron manacles. His silvery eyes bored through her, allowing for no further mischief.
“You will remain close to me for the night.”
Kit gasped, but kept her voice low. “You cannot be serious! It is entirely improper!”
“No less proper than allowing you to run off and kill yourself falling into a ditch somewhere.”
He gathered his cloak around them both and lay his head back. He pulled Kit’s head against his chest and let her bottom slide to the ground between his thighs. She was much softer than she had seemed before. Perhaps she really was full-grown as she’d implied, and not some hell-bent adolescent.
“By all the bloody saints, I’ll not stay here!” She tried to get up, but Wolf pulled her down by the waist until she was nose to nose and breast to breast with him.
“You will.” His teeth were clenched tightly.
Wolf forced his attention on her dirty, bruised, misshapen face because a pair of unmistakably, disturbingly mature breasts were pressing into the soft wool of his tunic. He could actually feel her nipples harden against his chest. His body threatened to mutiny against his better judgment, so he forced himself to concentrate on her obstinate, unpleasant temperament.
He was a man of discipline and discerning tastes. He was certainly not in need of this unruly, undisciplined, unappealing, filthy urchin. He had never been one to take a woman just for the sake of having one, and he knew he could do much better when he returned to find the woman of the lake. And soon, he supposed, there would be Annegret. Certainly, he had no need of this overdeveloped adolescent who was determined to cause herself harm.
Kit slid back into place. Her face hurt, her shoulder and hip throbbed from her fall and now her ankle felt as though it was on fire. She lost all interest in having it out with King Henry’s knight. Besides, the damnable brute wouldn’t loosen his grip. In spite of him, and to his surprise, Lady Kathryn pulled her hood over her ragged hat and fell asleep.
Chapter Three
Wolfram slept little. Lady Kathryn managed to curl herself up like a kitten and sleep soundly through the night. However, her movements, her little sighs and groans and the way she pulled at his cloak all night prevented him from sleeping much. What was it the old woman had called her? “Kitty?” It suited her. He could almost hear her purr in comfort as she tangled herself up on his lap. No, he hadn’t slept much at all.
It started raining around noon and Wolf’s mood, which was already foul, didn’t improve any. Wolf paced the troop so the old woman could easily keep up, but he saw that she was having difficulty nonetheless. “Nicholas.”
Wolfs cousin was drawn out of his own sodden thoughts and looked up.
“See to her.” Wolfram gave a nod of his head indicating the rear of the train.
Kit moved so she could peer around Wolfs back and saw Nicholas take Bridget up with him on his mount. He settled her in front and pulled his cloak over them both, so she could ride as comfortably as possible. Kit would have thanked Wolf for his kindness toward Bridget except for the fierce look in his deep gray eyes. The man certainly was moody, and she didn’t want to set him off. As it was, she was grateful to be securely situated in front of him with his thick cloak covering them and enough heat generated from his body to warm them both. The all-pervading smell of wet horse, wet wool and wet leather was strangely quieting.
The light drizzle turned to rain and still they went on through the hills towards Cumbria. Kit had difficulty understanding why they were veering west since she knew the direction to London was to the south and a bit east.
“You realize you’ve been taking us in the wrong direction for hours, Gerhart?” She used the name all the men called him and not “Wolf.”
His reply was merely a rude grunt
“I thought you were taking me to London,” she said. “Had my stepfather known of this detour, I doubt he would have permitted me to come traipsing around the entire countryside with you and your soldiers.”
“He’s a good one for seeing to your welfare, isn’t he?” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Kit. However, she had her pride and refused to allow him to think that she had been raised as anything less than a lady.
“He promised my mother he would care for me like his own daughter. He has provided well for me—”
“He beats his own offspring as well, then?”
Kit refused to allow him to humiliate her, so she shrugged and did not answer.
“How old are you?”
Kit hesitated before replying. She was somewhat advanced in age to be unmarried, and it was embarrassing. She wanted to lie but couldn’t bring herself to sin outright.
“Twenty,” she finally admitted.
“Why aren’t you wed? Or at least betrothed?” He had no doubt that Baron Somers would have difficulty finding anyone willing to take on this unkempt urchin who probably had no feminine skills at all. Nonetheless, he couldn’t see the sense in keeping her around Somerton manor when she obviously irritated the baron to the point of violence.
“I am betrothed! Well, nearly so, I mean.”
“What, some local swain has begged for your hand?” The incredulous sound to his voice angered her. He acted as if she were completely unmarriageable! What did the big oaf know of it?
“It just so happens that he is one of King Henry’s guard!” she snapped angrily.
“Who?” Wolf demanded. He knew all of them.
“Rupert Aires.”
Wolf laughed out loud. Rupert Aires was a young, handsome knight in Henry’s service, well known for his amorous adventures with the ladies of the court. He was always embroiled in one escapade or another. Surely Kathryn was mistaken about a future betrothal to him. His loyalty to Henry was unquestioned, but otherwise the fellow was a scoundrel. An unprincipled skirt chaser.
“I don’t suppose you know him?”
“Of course I know him.” His voice was irritable again.
“Well...?”
“He is a competent soldier.”
“Is that all?” Kit’s voice rose with indignation. “A competent soldier? We’ve heard tales in Northumberland about Rupert’s bravery in battle, his prowess with—”
