Gayle Callen (24 page)

B
efore the sun rose, Reynold awoke and lay still, savoring the feel of Katherine’s naked body entwined with his beneath the blanket. In the grayness of early morning, the birds began calling to one another, and the forest rustled to life. The peace and enchantment of such a day renewed Reynold’s determination. This would not be the last morning he awoke with Katherine at his side.

He turned his head and nibbled at her ear. She murmured in her sleep and batted at him as if he were a bothersome insect. Grinning, he pressed kisses to her ear and down her cheek. She shrugged her shoulders and slapped at the side of her head, only to freeze when her hand encountered his jaw.

Reynold could not help but laugh as she felt his face for a moment. He turned and pressed a kiss into her palm.

With a smothered gasp, she bolted upright and looked wildly at the surrounding forest. She
turned and stared down at him. The blanket slid off her breasts to pool about her waist.

Reynold groaned. “Fair maiden, do not tempt me.”

She did not even notice his state. “We have slept the morning away!”

“The sun has yet to rise,” he protested.

“We must leave at once.” She got to her knees and the blanket slid off Reynold and dropped to the ground. She stared wide-eyed at what his body obviously wanted to accomplish the first thing in the morning.

“Reynold, you’re still naked!” she cried in alarm.

He laughed. “So are you, my lady. Perhaps we should take advantage of such good fortune and—”

“Not now!”

She scrambled to her feet and Reynold was treated to a wondrous view of her backside as she bent to retrieve her garments. He groaned and threw his arms wide.

“Reynold, do not linger,” she said from beneath the folds of the smock dropping over her head. “The king yet depends on us.”

He sat up. “Wherever did you throw my tunic in the heat of passion?”

Her cheeks blushed, but she didn’t cease dressing. “By the bank of the river—I think.”

He enjoyed her discomposure with his nakedness. “Are you positive we must leave at this moment?”

“Reynold!” Katherine watched in alarm as he rose to his feet, his body intimidatingly large, familiar though it was. He limped by her, tossing a grin over one shoulder. She bit her lip and stepped back, not trusting herself where he was concerned.

He bent to pick up his tunic. Katherine caught her breath. He paused, looking out over the water, and promptly dropped the garment to stretch. Her wide eyes couldn’t take in enough of him. The first rays of the rising sun touched his muscled back, caressing it as she longed to. Hours of lovemaking had not tempered her passion for him.

Reynold took two awkward steps and dove into the river.

Katherine ran to the edge, hands on her hips, the spell broken. “Get out of there! We must hurry.”

He got to his feet, waist-deep in water, slicking his wet hair back. “Throw me the soap.”

She stamped her foot in outrage. “But last night we—I mean you and the water and…” Her words trailed off in confusion. She could scarce contemplate let alone express what they had done.

Reynold held out his hand for the soap. “Katherine, I smell like you. The people we meet today shall give us strange looks, but if that does not bother you—”

Aghast, she looked down at her body and let out a little scream. With a wriggle, she drew the gown and smock over her head and tossed them aside. She picked up the discarded soap and ran into the water.

Reynold waded near, his big body sending ripples in her direction. “Katherine, what a wonderful idea.”

She held out her hands threateningly. “Stay back, or I shall throw the soap as far as I can—and I will use my good arm!”

He looked suitably chastised as Katherine soaped her body in haste. He made no attempt to do anything but watch her with glittering eyes. She hurried, knowing the longer she lingered, the more precarious her situation. Reynold looked to be having trouble breathing, not a good sign.

There was only one last place to wash, and she was too mortified to finish, with Reynold’s glowering gaze heating her body. She rubbed her hands in the soap then tossed it high in the air in his direction. Startled, he reached to catch it, and while he was distracted, Katherine finished her bath. With a smile of satisfaction, she rinsed off and rose from the water.

Reynold gave her a thundering frown that would have, at one time, scared her into speechless cowering. She stuck out her tongue and flounced from the water, hips swaying.

With a roar he splashed after her. Katherine shrieked and raced for her garments, holding them before her like a shield.

“We must go!” she pleaded, standing dripping wet and naked. “Please, Reynold, no more games.”

He lumbered to a halt, his glistening chest heaving, his obvious passion threatening to wipe every
thing else but him from her mind. She must not be swayed.

“Please,” she repeated, and sighed with relief as he nodded.

“Dress yourself,” he said hoarsely, and turned his back on her.

After Katherine securely wrapped Reynold’s thigh, they spent the day trudging down the highway with a weary line of travelers, all either displaced by the impending war or following it. Beggars trailed along beside the crowd, chanting for handouts.

After dark, they reached the bridge into Leicester, but the gates on the far side were closed for the night. Katherine was almost thankful they had to sleep amidst a crowd. She could not spend a night alone with Reynold at a comfortable inn.

At dawn, a horn sounded the opening of the gates. Katherine and Reynold packed their blankets into his magic sack, then joined their fellow travelers crossing the bridge and entering Leicester.

She searched the high walls of the town for the king’s banner. Disappointment made her shoulders sag.

Reynold drew her hand under his arm. “He has gone already, my sweet. Let me take you to an inn.”

“But—”

He led her across a muddy pit in the center of the road. “Katherine, I need information. The men
will not talk to you. And I will appear suspicious if I bring my wife with me on such a mission.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say she was not his wife, but she let it pass. It sounded like such a wonderful dream. To be the wife of someone like Reynold, a man who would cherish her for herself and not her money. She thought upon James’s image with loathing.

The houses crowded in on one another, seeming to lean over the streets in dangerous abandon. The streets grew filthier, and pigs rutted with delight. Katherine lifted her skirts as if they were made of the finest silk rather than coarse wool.

“I am sorry,” Reynold said, in an angry, formal voice. “We cannot afford a good meal, and as for staying the night—”

“Do not explain, Reynold,” she said gently.

He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

“We do not need rooms, as we will be following our king.”

“You have hardly slept,” he murmured, looking down on her with renewed warmth.

She blushed. “Neither have you. After we discover where the king has gone, we shall rest your leg then continue our journey.”

The common room of the Goat Inn rocked with bawdy laughter. The smell of unwashed bodies and greasy smoke brought a wave of queasiness upon her. Reynold hesitated in the doorway. Katherine swallowed a gulp of air, lifted her chin, and prepared to push her way inside. Instead, Reynold
caught her arm and drew her back into the heat of day.

“You shall come with me,” he said, turning to march the way they had come.

“But I thought you said—”

“I cannot leave you alone in such a place. Surely the market will have food to eat and pretty things for you to look at while I search for information.”

“Will you buy me silks, Reynold?” she teased, glancing at him from beneath her lashes.

He rolled his eyes. “You learn too quickly, my lady.” His gaze softened and he caressed her cheek. “Would that I could give you the world, Katherine.”

His wistfulness touched something within her, and she smiled sadly. “You have given me much, Reynold, do you but know it.”

A peculiar expression crossed his features and he frowned down at her body. “Do you speak of a child, Katherine? So soon?”

She gasped in shock and stepped away from his hands. “Reynold, do not say such things! I could never—my father would—oh!”

Katherine turned her back and strode away, slogging through mud. The nerve of him, bringing up such a sensitive subject, when he knew what it would do to their families should they conceive a child together. Though a tiny part of Katherine wondered if it were perhaps too late for recriminations, the rest of her refused to dwell on it. Just in time she came to her senses and jumped clear
as a horse and rider thundered down the street. If Reynold dared to lecture her—

Instead he gazed after the horse. “A soldier in armor, Katherine. Perhaps the king has returned.”

The market was in an uproar when they emerged from an alley. Foot soldiers in leather jerkins bartered for cheese and bread. Armored knights laughed over the quality of wines, but bought them anyway.

“’Tis not the king’s men,” Reynold whispered into her ear. “Katherine, I shall return in but a moment. Search out the nearest meat pie.” He placed a coin in her hand and melted into the crowd behind her.

Katherine watched the people ebb and flow around her, ignored the occasional leer, and tried to discover what felt different. She knew she was perceived as no great lady now, and no one called for her to spend her coins. Yet she stood here alone in a crowded market and was not afraid. She did not search the ground for hidden obstacles to trip her feet, nor did she absently clutch her arm. Where had she gained such confidence?

It came to her with a warm glow she could not suppress. Reynold. Her partner in a hopeless mission, her support when things seemed bleak. With him behind her, she felt safe enough to seek her own strength.

Before she could think further on so wondrous a thought, a squire in red and white livery caught her eye as he bartered with a farmer over vegeta
bles. There was something about his manner which—

And then it hit Katherine with the coldness of a fall into a winter pond. That boy was squire to one of her father’s vassals. He was often teased for his tight-fisted ways with his master’s coin. Now red-faced, he leaned towards the farmer to press his point.

Katherine ducked behind a tented stall but could not seem to catch her breath. The army must be her father’s, on their way to join the king. She groaned and covered her eyes. Why hadn’t she thought to better conceal herself?

A sudden scream and the crash of a wooden stall brought Katherine out of hiding in time to see Reynold bearing down on her at a dead run, three mounted men giving chase as they wove between stalls and pigs and people.

“Run!” Reynold shouted, motioning her down an alley.

“Katherine!” cried a voice from farther away.

She froze at the sight of her father, towering on his warhorse above the stalls. Although he was yet two aisles away, Katherine had no doubt he would neatly divide the market in pursuit of her.

Reynold dragged at her arm but she shook him off. “It is too late,” she murmured, as she turned to face her father. “Let me speak with him, Reynold. Perhaps we need his help after all.”

“Katherine,” he said in a low voice, “forgive me, but we still do not know if your father is one of the traitors.”

“I have to believe in him, Reynold. If not, my life has been a lie.”

He said nothing more.

Horses surrounded them, hooves pawing, manes tossing, eyes rolling wildly with the excitement. The knights began to dismount and Reynold stepped in front of her.

Katherine pushed him aside. “’Tis all right. My father’s men will not hurt me.”

But she had forgotten what they all believed of Reynold, that he had stolen her from the home of her betrothed. Two armored men grabbed him by each arm and dragged him from her side. Reynold stumbled heavily in their grip.

Outrage and fear warred within Katherine. They were handling Reynold like a criminal. “Hold!” she commanded in the harshest voice she could muster.

The soldiers obeyed her at once then looked up to her father, tall and imposing on his horse. The Earl of Durham lifted the helmet from his head. His cheeks were ruddy, his hair plastered to his scalp with sweat. Yet he stared at her as if she were his foot soldier and not his daughter. Never had Katherine experienced his great anger, but she refused to allow her father to frighten away her determination.

“Father, we have much to discuss. You and I need privacy, and Reynold needs to rest. He was wounded while protecting me.”

Her father’s expression did not change, but at the tilt of his head, the soldiers reluctantly released
their captive. Reynold swayed, and for a moment, Katherine thought she would have to hold him up, regardless of her father’s cold stare. But Reynold righted himself and limped forward.

“Hold, monk,” the earl said in a dangerous voice.

Katherine realized her father no longer stared at her face, but at her body. She looked down and saw flashes of skin between the loose laces and torn garments. Her father’s face went white, and his horse pranced in agitation beneath him. He grasped the hilt of his sword.

“Father!” she cried, running to touch his boot. “’Tis not how it looks. I was attacked and Reynold saved me. He is an honorable man.”

Reynold lifted an impassive face to the earl. “And I am no longer a monk, my lord. I have given up the calling. I will not return to the monastery.”

Katherine winced at Reynold’s timing. She never thought her father could look angrier, but he succeeded so successfully that her heart faltered. She could not let Reynold bear the brunt of his wrath.

“Father, take us to your quarters,” she said, drawing the earl’s attention from Reynold.

Lord Durham tightened his grip on the reins. His warhorse danced and tossed its head, towering over her. “I do not have time for this, daughter. My men will break their fast, then we pursue the king.”

“We deserve your time, Father. ’Tis about the king.”