Kathryn Kramer (8 page)

Chapter Eleven

The moon glowed like a golden coin in the velvet black sky, shining its mist of light upon the horseman traveling up the rocky, pitted road.  Nicholas rode at a furious pace with the intent of reaching Biddenden by daybreak.  He was near exhaustion.  All that he had suffered since his scuffle with Lord Woodcliff at the inn seemed to be catching up with him for his body pricked and pained  in a dozen different places.  Even so, he was determined not to pause or rest even for a moment.

I will not be daunted
, he thought clenching his jaw. 
I will reach my estates or know the reason why! 

He had been riding hard, the flanks of the horse heaved in rhythm to the
hoof beats and he felt each pulsation.  The stallion was lathered. There was foam on the animal's neck and spittle dripping from its jaws.  This and not his own misery at last forced Nicholas to slow his pace.  He had never been one to ride a horse to death.

"All right.  All right.  I'll give you at least a rest, big fellow.  You've been a friend to me this night," he said at last, reining the horse towards a grove of trees.

It was deathly silent except for the howl of the wind and Nicholas gathered his cloak about him, only now aware that he was chilled.  Hot mulled wine would be a welcome boon when he reached Biddenden, but he could not afford to rest overlong.  A few hours perhaps and then he must be on his way again.  It would be risky business to travel during the day but he must take that chance if he wanted to reach his estates in reasonable time.  His own lands!  Oh, how they had been on his mind as he had traveled the roads.  He could nearly visualize the stonework and tall towers of his home as he closed his eyes.

Hoof
beats!  Nicholas thought he perceived the faint clopping sound as the wind hushed to a breeze.  He listened more closely.  Yes, he heard the sound distinctly now.  The thought that he might have been followed quickened his breath with alarm.  He knew well the dangers which lurked behind the bushes ere the dark of night, from thieves, robbers and the like.  Or worse yet it could be someone who had recognized him at the inn and thought to claim a reward. 

He would have to count on the element of surprise  to thwart  his pursuer.
  If he wanted to ascertain his own safety, he would have to strike first and ask questions later.  The hunted would become the huntsman with one fell swoop. Nicholas prepared himself for the inevitable meeting as he waited for the other horseman to catch up.

As
Alandra rode, she scanned the road ahead of her, seeing no sign of Christopher Nicholas. She had lost him. But how could that be?  Where could he have gone? He must have continued on down the path, she reasoned, for there were no other roads crossing this way.  Clinging to Pedant's mane, wishing now that she at least had a bridle, she put her heels to the animal's flank and urged the gelding on.

But the
horse was misbehaving again, used to pulling a wagon but not accustomed to having a rider on its back.  Alandra had to concentrate on controlling the animal, for he suddenly seemed intent on galloping back the way they had come.  Spiritedly, the horse reared up, its front legs pawing at the air.  "If you do not want to find yourself in a stew, you will cease such tomfoolery," she hissed in the horse's ear.

As if responding to the threat, Pedant raced like the wind across
the wide, marshy meadow toward the trees with Alandra hanging on for dear life. 

A satyr-like figure exploded into
Nicholas’s view as rider and mount raced over the grass-carpeted ground.  With a violent oath, he gave chase, anxious to rid himself of this nuisance who threatened him.  He'd find out just why he was being followed, BiGod. Digging his heels into the stallions side, he shot away after the disappearing horse and rider.

Ni
cholas's mount was more powerful in his strides, thus it was more than a match for the other animal.  Swiftly, the stallion closed the distance between the horses as Nicholas muttered curses beneath his breath, bemoaning each precious lost moment when he should have been traveling the road to Biddenden.

Alandra heard
the soft trod of hooves, and turning to look back over her shoulder, she recognized the rider.  She had caught up with Nicholas!  Or rather he had caught up with her.  As he rode up beside her, she started to call out but before she could even utter a squeak, a large, strong arm reached out to grab her.  Dodging his grip, Alandra started to tumble from her horse.

Instinctively
, she reached out, trying to grasp at anything that would shield her fall, but her hands caught nothing but empty air. Suddenly, the hard earth rose up to greet her.  The fall left her bruised and gasping for breath and as she lay upon the ground, she was suddenly covered by her captor's body, held immobile by his strength.   She could only lash out at the man whose bulk was nearly crushing her.

"You'll think twice before following any other hapless victim!" Nicholas was murmuring.  "You young scoundrel."

Alandra opened her mouth to curse him, but words would not come.  She was too winded.  Her heart beat painfully in her breast, she couldn't breath, and for one agonizing moment she was certain she was about to die. Instead of weakening her, however, that fear brought forth an inner reserve of strength, and she struggled more fiercely.

"Stop fighting or I'll throttle you within an inch of your life.  You're lucky I didn't take a sword to your bloody hide, you sneaky little rogue."  Catching the pummeling fists with his hands, Nichol
as soon subdued his captive.  "Why even now I should...."  A glimpse of the huge brown eyes looking up at him  stunned him.  "BiGod.  You!"  he managed to say at last, gazing at the face reflected in the moonlight.

Alandra somehow forced herself to speak.  "Yes, its me!" she croaked hoarsely, staring defiantly up at him.

"What in the name of God are
you
doing upon the road at this time of night?  'T is hardly in good sense to take a midnight ride."  His face was dark and impassive, yet he set her wrists free and moved an arm's length away from her.

"I was following you!"  Quickly recovering her strength
, she sat up.  "That is Will's horse that you stole.  Did you think that no one would discover your foul deed?"

Her accusation took him by surprise, rendering him speechless again, yet he glared down at her.  How dare this chit of a girl speak to him that way.  It irritated him, particularly since Nicholas found himself  in a quand
ary as to what to do with her.  He was incensed that she had so thoroughly hindered his plans. 

"You, sir, are a thief!"  Alandra continued her tirade, thinking his silence was caused by shame.  Standing up
, she brushed herself off, trying to recapture at least a shred of her dignity.  "But I intend to see that you return to the inn to face your just punishment.  Will has great need of his horse."

"I am
not
returning!"  He couldn't.  Not now.  Not ever.  "And as to the horse, I would not have
borrowed
this stallion had I not great need of him."  Nicholas felt his temper flair and tried valiantly to control it.  Damn his intolerable temper, it would do little to aid him in this instance.  "When I resume my journey it will be to go north and not east."

Damn, why did her frowning little face so enchant him?  She was an infuriating, interfering, haughty little witch.  He tried not to notice the thickly lashed brown eyes, the delicate straight nose with a delightful tilt at the tip that was now thrust so piously in the air, nor the generously curved mouth that challenged him to taste its sweetness even though it was censuring him with each word she spoke.

"But you must return."  Alandra was incensed. "I will not go back without you."

Nicholas put his hands on his hips.  "You must, for most assuredly I won't go.  Besides,
for you to go back in defeat will teach you not to go meddling in another's affairs." 

Nicholas knew as soon as the words were
out of his mouth that he would not allow her to do such a thing.  It was much too dangerous for a young, pretty woman to ride about the countryside at night alone.  All sorts of vagabonds roamed the night.  That she had come this far without being molested was a blessing.  What’s more, he could not allow her to go back and tell the others what he had done.  Yet what was he to do with her then? 

"I ought to strangle you!"  At that moment he wanted to.

Alandra jumped back.  It was dark and they were all alone. Even so, she said with bravado, "Do and my father and the others will hunt you down like a dog.  Do not be fooled by my father's jovial nature, or by Shakespeare's calm.  Harm one hair on my head and you will rue it."

Nicholas grumbled beneath his breath.  The only alternative was to take her with him and that thought caused the bile to rise in his throat.  What a gallant fool he was when all was said and done.  It had been his chivalrous nature that had gotten him into one predicament when he had not wanted Morgana to have to wait alone at the inn. Now that same gallantry was about to be his undoing again.

A myriad of emotions coursed through Alandra's veins, yet she handled herself with a grace and behavior that would have made the actor's proud, masking her apprehension.  "You, Sir, if you have a thimble's worth of honor in your veins
, will make amends for all that you have done."

"I will not go back!"  Nicholas said again. 

"Then if you insist that I go back without you, I will do just that," she said softly. 

Oh, she would stir up a hornet's nest when she got back.  The entire countryside would be up in arms.  They would capture this noble ruffian and hang him for the horse thief that he was.  Slowly she walked towards where Pedant grazed  as peacefully as if the midnight collision had not occurred.

Nicholas had to admire her pluck and spirit as he watched her approach the mount.  Most females would have been shaking in their shoes, or using tears to get their own way.  He thought suddenly that there was much more to this pretty young woman than he had first realized.   But he read her thoughts in her expression and cried out,  "oh, no!"  In just a few steps he caught up with her. "I will have to take you with me.  It is the only way." 

Perhaps she would be a blessing in disguise.  Yes, he thought, she might make his jour
ney a less harrowing one.  Stafford would not have alerted the surrounding countryside to
two
travelers.  They could pretend to be man and wife. Yes, that was what they'd do.  It would be a most clever ruse and one that could prove amusing.

"You think I would go with you?  Ha! You might well be far more dangerous than any miscreant I might encounter."  How did she know he wouldn't carry out his threat and strangle her along the way.

His eyes were unrelenting.  "You have no other choice.   If I have to tie you to the horse or drag you behind me, you will accompany me, Alandra."

So, now he had added abduction to his list of crimes.  "Drag me then."  Planting her heels firmly in the dirt she refused to budge.

"All right!"  Taking off his belt he looped it over her wrists, then tugged her towards Shakespeare's horse.

Alandra was astounded that he would actually carry out his threat.  "What a vile bastard you are!"

Nicholas shrugged her insult off.  "You leave me no choice, Madame!"  As he yanked at her bonds, he heard a jingling clank and looked down to see his money pouch at his feet.

"A thief twice over!"
Thinking he had robbed the money from the troupe, she was even more determined to bring the wrong-doer to justice.

Nicholas  quickly retrieved the money pouch.  "The
money is mine,” he said, showing her the pouch.

"
That may be,” she said sarcastically, thinking the worst of him.   He was still a horse thief, kidnapper,  philanderer and what else?  Murderer?             

"But if you come with me willingly, you have my word  that you will come to no harm."

Alandra reassessed the situation.  Clearly he was determined to make her obey.  If she did not, then she would obviously suffer for it.  So be it then, she would pretend to give in to his wishes, at least for the moment.

"I'll go with you," she said softly, even going so far as to manage a smile.  Oh, yes she would go, but he would  regret taking her with him in the end.

Nicholas was pleased that she had conceded to his wishes so easily.  "Good!"  Loosing his belt from her wrists, he  reached down to encircle her waist, helping her to mount her horse.   "Come we must hurry.  Already I am behind the schedule I have set for myself." 

"Of course.  We must hurry......"  she echoed, her mind whirling with schemes and plans. 

"But remember that if you are going to travel with me, then you must learn to keep pace."

Without another word
, he slapped Pedant on the rump, sending the horse galloping down the road,  guiding his own horse to follow close behind.

Chapter Twelve

Biddenden was a beautiful village sleeping in the sun, with weaver's cottages and a fine medieval guild hall with seven gables. Yet by the time  Nicholas and Alandra reached it a few hours after daybreak she hardly noticed its appeal.  She was having second, nay third and fourth thoughts about the wisdom of what she had done.  Where had her boldness brought her to now?  Her foolish bravery?  She was being abducted.  He was not her prisoner as she had desired, but she was his.  For no matter what could be said about her situation, that was exactly what she was.  Though she had tried several times to cleverly escape, she had been caught up with again and again.  Clearly Christopher Nicholas had eyes in the back of his head!

The journey had been grueling at best.  Alandra's backside ached,
and every muscle in her body throbbed when at last they reached the door of the inn.  She had traveled for longer periods of time, it was true, but not upon a horse's back.  Now, after over nine hours of clenching her thigh muscles to Pedant's ribs, she was in agony.  Though she had longed to rest along the way, Nicholas had forced her to go on. 

Sleep and worry clouded her brain.  What would her father be thinking now to find that she was not in her room?  He would be fitful, frantic, overcome with worry and concern.  How could she have ridden off without at least leaving him a note?  Had she but scribbled at least on
e brief line, her father would have  attempted to find her when she didn't return.  As it was,  Murray and the others would have no idea as to where she had disappeared.  But then in her bravado she had never envisioned that she wouldn't be back before dawn with Christopher Nicholas in tow.                

Silly fool that she was, she had really expected him to return with her when she had set out upon the road. So much for being the hero of the day! But that was water under the bridge
. She still had not figured out  what Christopher was up to. Just where was he going?  And what did he intend to do once he got there?  Would he take her back to Boughton Monchelsea when he had accomplished his goal?  She had to believe that he would, that everything would turn out aright, or face the danger of breaking down in a fit of disappointed and angry weeping.

"It's a decent inn at least," Nicholas said as he le
apt off his horse and came quickly to her side to help her dismount. 

He was always the perfect gentleman, she could not fault him the
re. Polite, charming and as wily as a fox, no doubt.  "We'll eat, rest a bit and then take to the road again."

Before Alandra could protest
, he had caught her around the waist and lifted her down from the horse's back.  Such a simple gesture yet she was so startling aware of the heat of his hands.  Her breath caught in her throat and her whispered "thank you" sounded hoarse and strangled.  If only he wasn't such a blackguard!

"Are you all right?"  His voice sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yes!"  It was a lie, for her heart was pounding so erratically that she thought surely it was about to take flight.   Hastily, she surveyed the scene, hoping to alert someone as to her plight.  Alas, she saw but one old man, and he ignored her frantic waving.

"Oh no!  We'll have none of that!" Angrily Nicholas wrapped his arms around her, hold
ing her struggling body.  "I'd hate to have to harm someone because of your foolishness," he hissed in her ear.

She hadn't thought of that.  Her efforts to enlist aid would have to be more subtle.  "I was merely being friendly," she countered, thinking fast.  So far there was one thing that worked to her advantage.  Christopher did not know that she knew about the old lord's murder, nor that she suspected him of having done the deed.

"Well don't be too friendly!"  Nicholas wasn't fooled, but he didn't want to press the matter.  Still, it emphasized to him how diligently he would have to keep his eye on her.

 
Alandra jerked away from him only to find that her legs would not support her.  Her knees buckled, and she would have fallen if he had not reached out to steady her.  She had to clutch his arms for balance, absorbing his hard, warm strength.  It was a clumsy embrace but an embrace just the same, and as he bent his head, she was suddenly aware of how vulnerable she was to a kiss.  Would he be such a rogue as to take advantage of the situation?  Her hands trembled at the very thought.   But the kiss did not come.  Instead, Nicholas cupped her face with his hand and looked deep into her eyes.

"I know this journey has been difficult for you, Alandra.  I'm sorry for your discomfort.  Perhaps someday I can make amends." 

Her hair was a mass of tangles as it fell in wild abandon about her shoulders, framing her oval face with haphazard curls.  Her unforgettable beautiful brown eyes stared back at him with obvious apprehension and he found himself wishing that things could be different.  Another time, another place and he might well have tasted her sweetness.  But his survival was all he could allow himself to think about now.

"My...my father...." she breathed, her dark eyes opening wide as she thought once again of how worried
Murray would be.  More so had he known the danger she had thrust herself into.

"It is most regrettable that I cause him concern, but there are things in this life, Alandra, which can not be helped.  I would not wi
llfully have caused him to worry had there been another way." 

Despite his resolve
, his eyes caressed her face, lingering on her mouth which held his rapt attention.  Poised only inches from his own, it was enticingly inviting, but he was not the kind of man  to dally with a young woman who was probably a virtuous maiden.  He had caused Murray  Thatcher enough trouble without  bedding the man's daughter.  It would be a treacherous way to repay the old man's kindness.  Nicholas pulled away, though his gaze rested on the rise and fall of her breasts.  

"You will allow me to send a message!"  She had to let
Murray know that she was safe.  The players would have to continue their tour without her, and hopefully if she was clever, they could read between the lines. 

"No!"  Messages were often intercepted.  He could not t
ake a chance on her initiating his capture.  "There will be no missives allowed!"

Alandra was
adamant.  It was her only hope.  "But I must!"

"You will do as I say." Nicholas was brutally reminded that his life was in danger.  This was no casual horseback ride through the weald, no lov
er's tryst.  He was wanted for murder  and faced a gruesome fate if he were caught.  There was much more at stake than a father's concern for an unruly daughter.  "You should have thought of your father before you followed me!"

Alandra was stung by his rebuke.   How dare he act as if she were at fault for this vile situation.  He was the one who was the wrongdoer here.  Was it any wonder then that she was angry and defiant.  "And you should have considered the kindness you had been shown by my father and the others before you turned thief!"

"A man does what he must do!  I had to have that horse." 

Their bickering threatened to cause a stir
, and Nicholas cast a wary glance over his shoulder.  The courtyard was deserted now, but he knew from experience that it would soon be swarming with servants.  He could not take the chance of angry words being exchanged between them again, lest they arouse suspicion.  Likewise, he had to get her inside before she willfully attracted attention and brought someone swooping down on him.

"No matter what you think of me, hold your tongue."

Nicholas could not take the chance of leaving Alandra alone.  Though he was exhausted, he knew he would have to sleep with one eye open, lest this small slip of a girl decide to do something foolish.  She could bring the whole countryside down about his ears.  Imagine Owen Stafford's delight if he was cornered by some over-zealous sheriff and imprisoned for being a horse thief.

He
took  Alandra firmly by the arm and led her  to the stables.   He kept her safely in his sight as he cared for the horses.  Two days, he reasoned, then he would be upon his own lands.  He would have his brother, James, escort this comely wench back to her father, and then he would be done with her.  As to being a thief, as she called him, he'd send a bag of gold with her to more than compensate for the use of that
play-wright's
flea-ridden horse.   Nicholas Leighton always paid his debts.

Silence stretched out between Nicholas and Alandra
, each lost in their own thoughts.  Alandra called herself a fool a dozen times over for coming this far with Christopher Nicholas.  She should have tried harder to get away, even if she had to thump him soundly on the head again.  She fantasized about having him at her mercy.  What she wouldn't have given to have him slung over  Pedant so that she could bring him back to Boughton Monchelsea.   

Just what is this man capable of, she wondered?  How did she know he would not strangle her if she proved a nuisance?  Because he gave her his word that she would not come to harm?  Ha!  What good was the word of a thief and a liar?

Alandra at last broke the silence. "I'm tired and thirsty."  Slowly Alandra worked her way towards the door.  "I'll go on ahead and meet you inside the inn." 

Nicholas was on her in an instant.  "Stay here!  I'll be finished in good time, mistress."  He bowed mockingly.  "I don't want you going anywhere without me, Madame."

"I can well imagine!” 

Turning up her nose
, she held her head aloft.  Angrily, she walked back and forth, nearly wearing a hole in the earthen floor.

Lifting the saddle from his mount's back
, he flung it to the ground.  "I never trust a woman's anger, and you are perilously peeved with me right now.  That makes you doubly dangerous, you know."

"I have reason."  Her tone was curt.  Why even try to be civil?  He didn't deserve politeness after what he had done.

"Yes, you are justified," he conceded.  He hated strong-arming a woman, but he had to keep her from sounding an alarm.  "But so am I.  I have reasons for doing what I do."

"I know how to keep a secret
,” she said firmly.

Oh, no.  He wasn't going to tell her, though just like all women she was as curious as a cat.  "I suppose you can keep
a secret, but you will not be privy to mine!"  Taking note of the stubborn manner in which she stiffened her back, he added, "I can not tell you." 

How could he when he wasn't really certain about what had happened himself?  It had occurred so fast.  All he knew was that Lord Woodcliff had goaded him in to a fight
, despite his vow not to draw his sword.  There had been a clash of swords, then suddenly the old lord was dead.  To save his soul, Nicholas couldn't even remember dealing the death blow.

"You
mean you won't tell me!"  His very silence only deepened her suspicions

“If
I did, I would involve you in something that you are far better ignorant of.”             

"Oh?"  Then he was guilty of the worst
, she thought.

“
But do not judge me too harshly.  Things are not always what they seem."  Brusquely, he rubbed the two horses down.

"No, indeed not," she countered. 

She was about to tell him just what she thought of the whole situation, throw her suspicions in his face, when she noticed a large piece of parchment nailed to the stable door, which she had not noticed before.  Slowly, she walked towards it, hastily scanning the large letters.

It was a broadside announcing Lord Woodcliff's death and offering a reward for any information about his murderer.  The description matched to the lacings and buckles what Christopher had been wearing when she had first seen him in the back of the play wagon.  The gray eyes, the dark hair, the beard he had worn,
his height, proclaimed Christopher Nicholas to be the wanted man.  Now, she knew why he had been so anxious to leave London.  He
was
a murderer!

Waiting until Christopher's back was turned, she yanked the missive from the door and quickly folded it up, but not before the large letters of a name registered in her mind. 
Nicholas Leighton.
Sir Nicholas Leighton.  Sticking the paper down the front of her bodice so that she could show the broadside to the others of the troupe, she knew it to be a name that she would not forget.