dragon archives 02 - pursued by a dragon (2 page)

For reasons she did not even try to understand, she did not want Favian Drake to learn that Geoffrey Beaumont was her betrothed. It was not, after all, a relationship to be ashamed of. Her betrothal to Geoffrey had been negotiated by her father and was based on a business partnership, and had little to do with personal affection. It was quickly becoming clear, however, that she was not to get her wish. Not only was Favian making no moves to leave her side, but another glance over her shoulder showed her that Geoffrey had finally seen her, and was pushing a path through the crowd towards them. A meeting was inevitable. Sighing, Cathryn turned to face Favian once more.

“You are about to meet my betrothed,” she said. For a moment Favian looked confused, but it quickly turned to a look of contempt as Geoffrey stepped before them.

“Cathryn, whatever are you doing on these ghastly streets?” Geoffrey gave her a quick glance before looking at the man at her side. Favian had taken a step closer, a strangely protective gesture that gave Cathryn a twist in her stomach. Before she could respond, Favian inclined his head towards the newcomer.

“Favian Drake at your service.” Standing so close to him, Cathryn could feel the heat rising from Favian’s skin, but his voice was cold and she shivered involuntarily.

“Favian Drake? I know that name,” said Geoffrey, his brows furrowed as he tried to place it.

“And you are …?”

Geoffrey started in surprise before his eyes narrowed in speculation. “Geoffrey Beaumont, Mistress Cathryn’s betrothed,” he said slowly.

Favian nodded, meeting his glance for a brief moment before turning in Cathryn’s direction. His eyes lacked the warmth they had held before, while his manner was decidedly aloof. He gave her a shallow bow.

“Good day, Mistress.” Turning on his heel, he walked away without a backward glance.

 Chapter 2 

Cathryn lifted her skirts as she stepped over the pungent piles of horse dung that decorated the street. Flies rose into the air, and she swatted at them in revulsion before they settled back down on the brown heaps. Up ahead she could see a pair of street cleaners leaning on their shovels and laughing over some joke. Cathryn returned her attention to the minefield ahead of her, remembering the accident she had escaped only a few days before. She smiled, her mind lingering on the memory of Favian Drake. The man was not easily forgotten, and indeed had made his way into her thoughts more often than was probably right for a woman betrothed to another man. It was not his size that kept him in her mind, although that was impressive; nor his looks, as handsome as they were. It was his smile she remembered, the concern he had shown for her in Geoffrey’s presence. The heat that emanated from his skin, the look in his eyes, the touch of his hands. She caught herself in her musings, blushing at where her thoughts had been taking her.

She pushed all thoughts of Favian Drake away from her mind as her father’s warehouse rose up ahead of her. Stepping without hesitation into the large brick building, she nodded at the men working on the floor before lifting her skirts and climbing the rickety stairs that led to Father’s office. This warehouse had been her childhood playground, and she had first learned to walk and climb within these walls. As she grew older, she had sat with her father as he explained the wool business to her. She learned her letters by reading contracts, and lessons in mathematics had been conducted when she carefully added the numbers in the ledger. By the time she was twelve years old she was learning the intricate subtleties of negotiation, sitting in on meetings with the exporters who sent the wool across the waters to be sold to foreign cloth merchants. And as a teenager, she had accompanied her father as he visited grand estates, austere monasteries and town markets, searching out the best supplies of wool and negotiating contracts. Now, at the age of five and twenty, she knew as much about the wool business as her father. She was well known amongst the workers in the warehouse and had earned the respect of other wool merchants. And although not a member of the wool merchant’s guild, or Company, as it was known, it was understood that she would step into that role when she took over control of the business from Master Forrester.

Cathryn greeted her father with a nod as she entered the bare office at the top of the stairs, seating herself at a small high table that stood opposite the large desk where he sat.

“Good morning Cathryn,” he said. “I have placed a missive recently received from our friends in Bruge on your desk. Please review it and let me know your thoughts. Also, there is a letter from our bankers which needs a response. I will leave that in your hands to reply as you see fit.”

Cathryn nodded. “Very good, Father,” she said as she pulled up a seat and settled herself down to work.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Cathryn left the warehouse, leaving her father to continue working. The streets were wet from a recent spring shower but had, Cathryn was pleased to note, been cleared of the waste that littered the streets that morning. The streets were still uncrowded, and shopkeepers greeted her with a smile as she walked past. She glanced across the street, and almost stopped when she saw Favian Drake on the opposite side of the road, engaged in conversation with another man. His companion was also very tall, she noticed, but perhaps not quite as tall as Favian, nor as broad. He had golden brown hair that had been pulled into a queue at the back of his neck, and his hand rested on Favian’s arm in a gesture of familiarity. She glanced away again, picking up her pace, but not before she saw Favian lift his head and slowly turn in her direction.

“Mistress Cathryn,” she heard. Her heart quickened at the sound of his voice, and she looked up to see Favian Drake crossing the road as he came towards her, his companion having disappeared.

“Master, uh …”

“Drake,” he supplied. “Favian Drake.”

“Ah, yes. Master Drake.” She smiled sheepishly. Even she could hear the lie in her voice.

“Still walking unattended, I see,” he said, falling into step beside her.

“I don’t have far to go,” she explained.

“And no packages, either. I was hoping to offer my services, but it would appear you have no need of them.”

She glanced at him, flushing when she caught his amused smile. “You are laughing at me,” she said.

“Well, yes,” he admitted. This time it was his turn to look sheepish. She tried to frown at him, but her sense of humor got the better of her, and she laughed.

“That is very ungentlemanly of you.”

“Yes, I confess it is,” he replied, his eyes holding hers as he returned her smile. She pulled her gaze away, quietly drawing in a deep breath to still her racing heart.

“Do you often spend time at your father’s warehouse?” he asked.

“How did you —?”

“I asked some friends about you. I understand that you are quite involved in the family business.”

“You were asking after me? Why?”

“You intrigued me. I wanted to know more about you.”

“Oh. And what did you find out?”

“I found out that you are involved in your father’s business.”

“Well, that gives you an unfair advantage. You know something about me, while I know nothing about you.”

“I’m happy to share all my secrets with you,” he said. “Well,” he amended, “some of my secrets, at least for now. Will you allow me to call on you?”

“No,” she said, aghast. “I can’t allow that. You already know I am betrothed to another man.”

“Ah, yes. Geoffrey Beaumont. I’ve been asking about him, too.” He stopped, and she glanced around to see they were already outside her house. “I also found out where you live,” he said in response to her unspoken question. He glanced up at the house, his eyes lingering on the window on the upper floor. Like most houses in town, its frame was of thick oak, now darkened with age, filled with a mixture of wattle and daub. The upper storey overhung the street by a few feet, and it was here that Cathryn had her chambers, with the multi-paned leaded window overlooking the street.

Favian turned back to Cathryn. “I look forward to our next chance encounter,” he said. “Good day.” He nodded his head and turned on his heel before she had a chance to reply. She watched his retreating figure with a mixture of dismay and amusement.

“Hannah,” she said later that evening as her lady’s maid carefully brushed out her hair, “do you believe in love at first sight?” She regretted the question as soon as it left her mouth.

“Love at first sight?” Hannah repeated. “That is not a question I would have expected
you
to ask, Mistress.”

“I know,” she groaned. “I don’t know where it came from. Please pay it no mind.”

“You’ve met someone, haven’t you?”

“No,” Cathryn said. “No,” she repeated more firmly. “I am betrothed to Geoffrey Beaumont. I do not even believe in love, as well you know. All love does is lead you into misery. And all those romantic notions you hear of in tales and songs …” Cathryn shuddered. “Pure foolishness.”

“Hmm.” Hannah pulled the brush through Cathryn’s hair a few more times, making it gleam in the candlelight. “So, who is he?”

“No-one. He is no-one.” Cathryn closed her eyes when she saw Hannah’s raised eyebrows in the mirror. “He’s a man I met on the street. A nobody. But I cannot get him out of my mind.”

“Handsome, is he?”

“Yes, but that’s not it. There’s something about him; I cannot even say what it is. But his memory unsettles me and leaves me feeling very …” — it took a moment to find the right word — “… dissatisfied. Perhaps,” she continued, turning to face Hannah, “I should start planning my wedding to Geoffrey. We’ve been betrothed for, how many years has it been?”

“Three. But rushing your wedding won’t solve anything,” Hannah warned.

“Nonsense, it will be the perfect distraction. You will help me, of course,” she said, turning back to face the mirror.

“Perhaps you should discuss this with Master Beaumont before you post the banns,” Hannah suggested as she pulled Cathryn’s hair into a tight braid.

“I suppose you are right,” she said. “And Hannah, lay out my habit, please. I think I will go for an early morning ride.”

Chapter 3 

Cathryn sat in the small parlor that led off from the great hall, her back straight in the hard-backed chair, looking at Geoffrey as he sat across from her.

“I was thinking we should select a date in the winter,” Cathryn was saying. “Spring and summer are far too busy —”

“Why this sudden urgency?” Geoffrey interjected. “You have never shown any inclination to rush into marriage before. In fact, one of the reasons I was happy to enter into this contract with you is because you are usually so reasonable, unlike many others of your sex.”

“Why, thank you,” Cathryn said dryly, “but I would hardly call three years a rush.”

“No, of course not,” Geoffrey responded, “but you have to admit this is all rather sudden. I thought we were quite content to leave our situations unchanged for the present time. Both our businesses have already benefited from this alliance, and formalizing the marriage now won’t alter anything.”

Presented with this logic, Cathryn found she had no argument. After all, it was the success of the business that had directed every major decision she had ever made before now.

“Perhaps I just want to be married,” she said, aware that she sounded petulant. Geoffrey stared at her in disbelief, before bursting into a hoot of cynical laughter.

“Whatever the reason for this nonsense,” he said between laughs, “it is not because you want to settle into the tedium of married life. Before you start arranging this wedding, be sure that you really want to follow this route at the present time.”

“Fine,” she ground out as Geoffrey continued to laugh at her. She stood up, irritated, and turned to look out the window as the door opened and Father walked into the room.

“Ah, Cathryn, I’ve been looking for you, but I see you are presently engaged.” He nodded to Geoffrey before returning his attention to his daughter. “Please find me when you have a moment.”

“Yes, Father. Is it a matter of urgency?”

“Nothing that cannot wait a few hours. It is regarding our annual tour of suppliers, but we can discuss it later.” Nodding once more in Geoffrey’s direction, he exited the room.

Cathryn turned to look at Geoffrey. The humor was still evident in his face, but he had a roll of paper in his hand, which he was spreading out on a desk near the window.

“As entertaining as this discussion has been, my dear, I actually came here to discuss a matter of business. Come look at these figures,” he said, pointing to a column of numbers written with ink on the scroll of thick linen paper. “As you know, demand for our woolens and worsteds is growing, which means that we need to acquire larger quantities of both long-haired and short-haired wool.” Pulling her chair closer, Cathryn bent over the numbers with Geoffrey, the previous conversation giving way to the weightier matters of business.

The light was already beginning to fade when Cathryn found her father some hours later, bent over a pile of papers, on which she recognized the seal of a fellow-merchant.

“Come in, Cathryn,” Father said, gesturing her into the room. “Sit down.” Cathryn waited as he finished making some notes before carefully wiping his quill and placing it in a holder on the desk. “I need you to go on the road without me this year.” Cathryn nodded. This was not completely unexpected. “The king wants to raise taxes,” he continued, “and the Company will, of course, be sending a delegation to negotiate some concessions.” As a leading member of the wool merchant’s guild, it was to be expected that Father would join the delegation. “Perhaps we can negotiate a lifting of the current trade embargo, a benefit to us that will also further enrich the royal coffers,” he added wryly. “The delegation plans to leave as soon as possible, and I do not want to delay our tour of estates, since heaven only knows how long these negotiations may drag on for.

“Of course,” continued Father, “you won’t be traveling alone. Felix will travel with you, and you can take whatever personal staff you feel you will require.”