Margo Maguire - The Bride Of Windermere

“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.