The Bride Of Windermere. Margo Maguire
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Название: The Bride Of Windermere

Автор: Margo Maguire

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Историческая литература

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      Kit couldn’t sleep all night. She sat in the dark with a blanket around her and still she shivered, though she couldn’t really complain of the cold. It would have been nice to go out and retrieve her clothes, but she was afraid he would be out there waiting.

      “Wolf.” It suited him, she thought. He was certainly big enough to lead a pack of wolves and though he’d been gentle with her, she sensed that he could be brutal as well as kind. In the moonlight, she’d been able to see his wild mane of shaggy dark hair and light gray eyes that almost seemed to glow in the dark.

      She really needed to try to consider a feasible way to evade King Henry’s army in the morning, but all she could think of was Wolf. His lips, the way his tongue slipped in and out of her mouth, his hands touching her shoulders, sliding down her back, her bottom...

      Rupert had never even kissed her. He’d gone off with King Henry over three years before, without even the benefit of a betrothal, promising to return after the French territories were regained. But here it was, ages since the fall of Normandy and Rupert had not returned. How long did he expect her to wait?

      Kit could practically feel herself growing older by the day. Her stepsister, Margery, would be betrothed soon and Eleanor was likely to follow in another year or so. Kit longed to be off with Rupert to become his wife and the mistress of his home. And she yearned for more now, too.

      Feelings like the ones the knight aroused must surely be sinful. Just thinking about what had happened caused that hot, pulsing knot to tighten in her belly again, and she squirmed at the memory of Wolf’s touch. Rupert’s touch, she meant. It would be just the same with Rupert, even better, she told herself, when she was his wife.

      Just before dawn, Kit climbed out the narrow window on the far side of the cottage. She sneaked around the corner, straining her eyes in the predawn light to see if anyone lurked about in the dark. Wolf was gone, so she grabbed her clothes and quickly ran back to what she considered to be the safe side of the cottage. She dressed quickly, then hastened back to her stepfather’s house.

      Although Lord Thomas Somers’ house was large, Kit knew she would never be believed if she said she’d been inside all night. Not that her stepfather would care where she was all night; the only thing that mattered to him was that she keep his household running smoothly, and that she be there to take the blame when it did not. However, it would give him the excuse he needed to bring her to her knees, which seemed to be one of Lord Thomas’ favorite pastimes. Anyway, Bridget would have torn the whole house apart looking for her, and Kit experienced a pang of guilt for causing her cousin trouble and concern. Bridget hadn’t been in the best of health lately, though Kit was hard-pressed to put her finger on what was wrong.

      She ran through the yard and into the stable. There were plenty of likely spots for a youth to sleep, and it wasn’t the first time Kit had spent the night there with the horses.

      The sun was high when the ruckus in the yard woke her. It would be the man from King Henry, no doubt, and here she was with nary a plan. Her heart jumped to her throat when she recognized the angrily booming voice. It was the voice of Wolf, the man at the lake. “Explain yourself, Somers!” he demanded. “Where is she?” There was no gentleness to his voice now, she thought, though he had used it like a caress last night.

      Her stepfather staggered into the yard. Kit looked up toward the sun to gauge the time. It was not yet noon, but Lord Thomas had already imbibed too much. His clothes were rumpled and soiled, and he wore the stubble of the night’s growth of beard. His face had taken on that look of meanness so familiar to Kit, and he could barely stand. No wonder the knight was impatient. He probably hadn’t received an intelligible response from the baron since he’d arrived.

      “She was here, I tell you, and I will get the twit back.” Somers’ eyes narrowed, and Kit recognized the signs of drunken vengeance. She didn’t want to be caught by him while he was in this state.

      “I will return in one hour,” the knight said, his annoyance matching the baron’s anger. “At that time, I will collect young Kathryn and depart immediately. Have her here and ready or suffer the consequences of Henry’s wrath.”

      Wolf turned and moved away with a grace that belied his massive frame. He was every inch a soldier, and Kit had a quick opportunity to study his face and body before making her move. His features were sharply defined and altogether too pleasing. Even a ghastly scar which ran from the right upper corner of his forehead, slashing over his left eye and into his left cheek did nothing to diminish his powerful magnetism. His cool gray eyes were hooded by thick black brows, the thickness and darkness matching that of his unruly mane.

      Kit watched the man rake his hand through the dark hair in frustration and knew she had to move quickly. She was not about to be caught by any of her stepfather’s men, nor was she going to allow herself to be vulnerable to this Wolf and his soldiers. She would hide and wait for Rupert, and after he’d claimed her, only then would she deign to travel to London to please the king. After all, if she left Baron Somers’ holding now, how would Rupert ever find her? For he must certainly be on his way north to claim her.

      Kit slipped out the back of the stable leading Old Myra, a horse her stepfather had recently acquired from a neighboring estate. Kit hoped that with the proper encouragement, Old Myra would head for home, some seventeen miles east of Somerton, and Baron Somers’ men would follow the horse’s trail. In the meantime, Kit had no intention of accompanying the mare to her former home.

      Undetected, she led the horse down the hillside to the cover of trees, pointed her eastwardly and gave her a good crack on the rump. Old Myra took off as though she had a bee under her bridle. And Kit ran as if she had one in her britches as well, but in the opposite direction.

      When she got closer to the village, she stopped to scoop up a handful of dirt to smear on her arms and face. If any of the baron’s men happened by, she was certain she could pass for one of the villagers. If not, the baron’s retribution would affect not only her, but the people of Somerton as well. With a sigh and a prayer, Kit moved swiftly through the woods, hoping that her ruse with old Myra would keep the baron’s men off her track.

      Unfortunately, Old Myra had plans of her own. After tearing away in the direction of her former home, she ran into an obstacle, a small creek which had swelled with the spring rains, and it caused her to turn back much sooner than Kit had hoped.

      Without the diversion of Old Myra’s trail, the baron’s men found Kit easily. She thought she’d been so clever heading for Somerton village, never considering that the baron’s retainers would go there first. Why couldn’t Old Myra’s trail have fooled them? Why hadn’t she thought to climb into one of the trees and wait them out? They never would have looked for her in the high boughs that were so familiar to her.

      Kit was outdone, but only for the moment. It was a long way to London, she thought as they dragged her roughly back to the house. Plenty could happen before she reached the city, and Kit vowed to work out some plan that would enable her to rendezvous with Rupert.

      “Oh, my child, my wee girl,” Bridget wailed as Kit was dragged into the courtyard. The baron’s men were unduly rough with her, especially in view of the fact that she had acceded to them. “I’ve been so worried, not knowing—”

      “Hush, woman!” Lady Edith admonished angrily. This business with her stepdaughter had disrupted her life enough without having to listen to the rantings of Kathryn’s deranged cousin. She turned to Kit. “I see you’ve outfitted yourself as becomes your station, Kathryn.”

      Margery and Eleanor snickered behind their hands.

      Kit СКАЧАТЬ