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“Has Sir Rupert ever seen your face?”
“What has that to do with anything? Naturally he’s seen my face. We grew up together. We—”
“I mean without that amusing coating of grime.”
“What coating of—? Oh.” She raised her chin a notch. “Rupert knows me as well as he knows his sisters.”
Another rude grunt.
“Rupert told me that as soon as he’s given leave from court, he’ll come for me. Don’t you see, Gerhart?” she asked earnestly. “That’s the reason I had to try to get back to Somerton. Rupert won’t be able to find me if I’m away from home. He’s the only reason I had for staying.” She turned to look at him and found his face only inches from hers. He was scowling again, but Kit couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his gray eyes were, framed in thick black lashes. The realization was unsettling. Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
“We’re going to the king, Lady Kathryn. Don’t you suppose you’ll see Sir Rupert in London?” Gerhart’s voice was harsh. He didn’t like having her unwavering gaze trained on him. She was too direct for a woman and her eyes, at least the uninjured one, were altogether too distracting.
Kit shook her head and looked away. “I don’t have any idea how to find him. By all accounts, London is huge and Rupert might even now be on his way to Somerton for me.”
At least it was an explanation for the previous night’s misadventure, although it riled him unexplainably. Somehow, it didn’t seem fair that Lady Kathryn should be fretting and risking her neck over Rupert Aires, a man who had some of the most beautiful, as well as the most faithless women in England at his beck and call.
If Aires had some commitment to Kathryn Somers, he had a fine way of showing it. Wolf knew that all of Henry’s guards had been given liberal leaves upon their return from France two months ago. Apparently Aires hadn’t seen fit to travel to Somerton to claim his bride. Perhaps if he had, Henry wouldn’t have deemed it necessary to send Wolf all the way to the north country to collect this naive chit of a girl.
“None of Henry’s guard are on leave now,” he offered. He wasn’t certain that was true, but if it reassured Lady Kathryn so that she’d quit trying to run back to Somerton, the small lie was well worth it.
“Are you sure?”
“Relatively.”
“That’s a relief,” she said. “Now I’ll just have to think of a way to find him when we reach London. If ever we reach London. You still haven’t told me why we are not heading south.”
“We’re not going directly to London.”
“We’re not? Where are you taking me?”
He was not accustomed to being questioned by anyone, particularly a ragged, impertinent, insignificant girl. He let out an irritated sigh and gave her a curt response. “Windermere Castle.”
“Windermere! But that’s in Cumbria! Miles out of our way!”
“Thank you, my lady, I am very familiar with the location of Windermere—”
“But that will take ages. And Rupert—”
“I’m beginning to see merit in Baron Somers’ disciplinary methods.”
“Why didn’t you go to Cumbria first and come for me last?” Kit’s exasperation, at the very least, matched Wolf’s.
“Because that would have contradicted my orders.”
“Why?”
“The king was quite specific. He wanted you in my custody as soon as possible.”
“But why?”
“Take a nap.” Kit didn’t mistake his gruff tone nor his now-familiar scowl, and knew their discussion was at an end.
“But, Sir Gerhart—” She persisted.
His gaze hardened, and Kit realized she’d have to leave her questions for another time. She had no interest in testing whether Wolf really thought Baron Thomas was justified in beating her.
Their timing was worse than Wolf thought. The group still hadn’t reached Windermere Castle and night was falling fast in the rain. It was easy to see that the old woman wouldn’t last much longer, so he sent a couple of the men ahead to search out a sheltered spot to camp for the night. The scouts rode quickly out of the soggy dale and over the hill, out of sight.
It was completely dark when Wolf and his company caught up to the scouts who had found a small inn called the Crooked Ax, at the edge of a tiny village. There were three rooms available, and Wolf’s men engaged them. There was also a hot meal to be had in the common room, for which Kit was grateful, since the dried meat they’d been eating did little to satisfy her hunger pangs. She also hoped that the roast fowl as well as the bread and cheese would help to cheer poor Bridget, who was definitely the worse for wear.
Kit’s ankle caused only minor discomfort when she walked, giving her to believe it was merely bruised, and not sprained as Wolf had said. The long day spent sitting in the saddle, off her feet, did much to speed the healing process. She was able to climb the stairs carefully after supper and get Bridget settled to bed. The old woman’s voice was raspy, and her breathing sounded congested as a result of the long hours exposed to the cold damp air.
“Wash the mud off yer face,” Bridget said when they’d reached their room. “If only ye could see yerself, lass. It’s runnin’ down in streaks. ’Tis unseemly for a lady of quality to go about in such filth.”
“I don’t want to look like a lady, Bridget.”
“And why not, I’ll be askin’?”
“The less everyone knows about me, the better.”
“I suppose by that ye’ll be meanin’ the grandsons of the prince?”
Kit rolled her eyes and turned away as the old woman washed her own face in the shallow basin provided.
“Grandsons or no, Rupert’s waiting for me in London.” She turned back to Bridget just as the old woman was seized by a coughing attack. Kit immediately felt guilty for riling her.
“I won’t be askin’ ye to put on any o’ the gowns I brought for ye, but would ye mind just cleanin’ up a bit and lettin’ me have a look at yer eye and yer lip? It’ll do ye no good to have either one festerin’ under all that filth.”
Kit gave up and gingerly washed her face. The gash at her mouth hardly bothered her at all but the eye still hurt dreadfully. It wasn’t swollen so much anymore, but the bruise had turned to a deep purple with an outer perimeter of green.
“Sure and it matches the color of yer eyes,” Bridget joked about the discoloration. She gave Kit a brief hug about the shoulders. “Ye don’t know how glad I am that we’re away from Baron Thomas and his wife. That man—”
“Yes, we’re away,” Kit started, returning the old woman’s brief hug. She wanted to talk about this trip to London and somehow sensed that her kinswoman might have an answer to her question. “Bridget, dear old mother, why do you think King Henry sent for me?”
Bridget looked directly at Kit and was about to answer, then turned away. “I...I’m not sure as I know, Kitty. Mayhap he knew yer parents, one or t‘other.”
“Why do I have a suspicion that you know more than you’re telling?”
“Ye’ve a suspicious nature is all, I suppose.” Bridget turned away, seemingly peeved with her young charge.
Kit had asked plenty of questions about her parents before, yet hadn’t ever received a satisfactory answer. She knew she wouldn’t get one now.
By morning, the rain had let up to a steady drizzle and Kit decided, with a shiver, that she would not proceed another mile until Bridget was better able to travel. The old woman had been up coughing most of the night, and Kit knew she didn’t feel at all well. Kit braided her hair tightly and pulled the old brown hat down low on her forehead, covering her hair completely. She ordered Bridget to stay abed, then she wrapped herself up in her short cloak and went out in search of breakfast.
Though she knew the men had split up between two of the three rooms they’d let, Kit saw none of them about now. The only person in sight was the innkeeper’s wife, who greeted Kit stiffly, obviously unimpressed with her rough appearance.
It mattered not. All Kit wanted was a bit of porridge for herself and Bridget and to find out where Wolf had gone. She needed to talk to him before he decided on his course for the day.
“Sir Gerhart is in the stables,” the woman informed her curtly. Her manner clearly indicated that if it had been her place, she would have advised the powerful knight to leave the ragged girl somewhere.
Kit paid no attention to the slight. She just wanted to talk to Wolf as soon as possible.
Wolf pulled Janus’ cinch tight and dropped the stirrup back over his steed’s side. When he looked up, he saw Lady Kathryn approaching. At least he thought it must be Kathryn, though he couldn’t be sure for her face was clean.
Except for an ugly bruise around her eye and a scab in the middle of her lower lip, it was an amazing face. Not a dainty or beautiful face by any means, but a fascinating face. A strong and willful face. Framed by rich, thick lashes, her bold green eyes, one blackened and more than a bit bloodshot, met his gaze with a directness that was unusual in a woman. Pale, shapely eyebrows arched gracefully over them. High cheekbones gave way to a well-formed nose and full lips. The slightest hint of a cleft dented her chin. When he realized he was staring, he turned back to Janus and let his breath out slowly. Where in hell was the ragged little urchin he’d left asleep at the inn?
Why couldn’t she have been the child he had expected to find, or more like the ladies he’d known at court? Either one would have been easier to deal with than this headstrong, disturbing girl they’d found at Somerton. She was too impulsive and unpredictable by half. He was never sure what to expect from her, and now with her face washed—
“Gerhart.” Her commanding voice was direct, as well as her gaze.
She was disturbing, all right, and annoying.
He wondered where the meek girl was who’d been beaten by her stepfather only two days before. He walked around Janus and picked up each of his hoofs to examine them in turn, trying to ignore her presence.
“We cannot go on today.” Her speech was direct and imperious, as usual.
“Oh?” He controlled his reaction, refusing to be riled by her. God knew she managed to have some effect on him every time she spoke. He had resolved to be immune to her as they approached Windermere Castle. He wouldn’t let her aggravate him, nor was he going to be taken in by any feminine wiles she may possess, scant though they may be.
“Bridget is ill. She cannot travel.”
“We leave in half an hour.” His voice was firm. “Several of my men have ridden on ahead. If you have not yet broken your fast, then I suggest you do so now, because you will not have another opportunity.”
The dolt obviously hadn’t heard her! “But Bridget is sick! She cannot go on in the rain!”
“She can and she will,” Wolf replied with controlled calm. “She will ride with Nicholas, as she did yesterday. The alternative is that she remain here at the Crooked Ax.”
“You do not understand! I am responsible for her. I—”
“You? I thought it was the reverse. I thought your nurse came along to see to you.”
“Of course not! Bridget hasn’t been able to do anything for me these last few years other than patch up my—”
Wolf’s fierce look stopped her.
“—well, that is to say, Bridget is getting old now and cannot possibly work like she used to. She has been with me since I was a baby and as my mother’s distant cou—”
Gerhart held up one hand to stop her. “Enough!”
“—cousin, I will not allow her to—”
“Halt!”
“—travel in her con—”
“According to the innkeeper, Windermere is a mere two hours’ ride from here.” His annoyance was clear in his voice. “I will see the woman myself and judge whether she is fit to travel.” He started to walk away, but hesitated long enough to chide her. Turning and raising one finger to punctuate his statement, he said, “You would do well to consider curbing your argumentative nature. It would make life a lot simpler.”
His remark was enough to make Kit want to give him a good kick as he walked past, but then the man did the unthinkable. He patted the top of her head as he would a dog and further remarked, “You ought to wash your face more often, too, Sprout. It isn’t such a bad one.”
“Why, you overbearing, black-hearted, thick-skulled—”
He didn’t stay to acknowledge her indignation at being so treated.
Wolf found Bridget in the room she’d shared with Lady Kathryn. The old nurse had a steaming bowl of porridge before her and Wolf paced the room, asking questions regarding the woman’s health. She did look pale and had a terrible, rattling cough. For a moment, Wolf considered giving in to the girl’s wishes. He did not want to cause the woman undue discomfort, nor did he wish to be responsible for the worsening of her condition. However, the old woman insisted she was fit enough to travel. That is, if she could ride with one of the soldiers.
Since it was to be a short ride, Wolf deemed her capable of making the distance. But he cursed the fate that made him responsible for two women. What did he know of the silly creatures? He was a man of war, not a nursemaid.
“Sir Gerhart,” Bridget said tentatively as the knight started for the door.
He stopped and turned, giving her the opportunity to continue whatever she wanted to say. He hoped she’d be quick about it so they could be on their way. Windermere was only hours away.
“About my Kit—she’s a good lass. Never meant to trouble nobody.”
“No,” Wolf replied, turning to leave. He found the old woman’s statement somewhat at odds with his experience.
“Ye don’t understand,” Bridget said. “She’s had to be strong. Independent. She’s, had no one to look after her and there’ve been times...”
“Somers?”
The old nurse nodded. “He’s come close to killin’ her twice. Only things stoppin’ him were the fact that he couldn’t run the estate without her. And the baron never knew when one of them knights would come from King Henry to check on her.”
“Knights?”
Bridget nodded.
“From Henry?”
“Baron Somers never could figure the reasons for those visits. Seemed to be just social calls but the baron was always suspectin’ they came to see Kit for some reason. Never failed to ask about her...”
“When was the last time Somerton was visited by one of these...knights?”
“Well, it’s been some years now. I don’t believe our new King Henry has sent anyone himself, though.”
“And what about the estates? You say Lady Kathryn helps Baron Somers run his estate?”
“No. She doesn’t help him,” Bridget replied.
Of course not. He had just misheard the old woman before. Wolf turned to leave, but stopped dead at Bridget’s next words.
“She does it all herself. She’s used to takin’ charge, like.”
There couldn’t be any doubt that Lady Kathryn was concerned about her nurse. During the entire two-hour journey; she looked back every few minutes to see how the woman was managing, and Wolf sensed her impatience with the time. Not once, however, did he anticipate the hellion who deftly slipped out of his grasp and off Janus the instant they reached the inner bailey of Windermere Castle. She went immediately to Nicholas, who was still mounted and supporting Bridget.
“Come, come now! I’ll need help with her. Just slide her down...” Kit took charge immediately. Nicholas glanced over at his cousin, who watched with puzzled amusement. The older woman came down, and Kit supported her. “Easy now...” She looked up at Nicholas, then at Gerhart. “Well?” she asked impatiently. “I don’t suppose one of you could lend a hand?”
Nicholas dismounted at once and helped Kit to support Bridget who was now wheezing audibly.
“All will be well now, old mother. Have no worry,” Kathryn cooed to her nurse, reversing their appointed roles. Bridget was quite obviously ill and needed warmth and rest. Kit was also of a mind to find the local healer or herbalist, but before she was able to inquire, two of the men sent ahead by Gerhart approached them. Hugh Dryden and Chester Morburn came from the yard, having waited for Gerhart and the others to arrive.
