A Lord For Haughmond Part 2

"So you keep reminding me." Rhys's irritation seeped into his sharp reply.

"Think ye'll wrest Myton Castle from Sir Geoffrey's clutches?"

Rhys punched the air with his fist. "Do you doubt it?"

"Well-his reputation in the lists-"

"Silence your maw!" His squire took liberties with his good nature. "I won't forego my vengeance. Just because I plucked you out of a miserable existence and gave you a future doesn't endow you with the right to beset me with your opinions." He vented an exasperated sigh and tried to rein in his growing ire. "And you'd best remember to speak the King's English, if you expect to become a knight."

Simon sliced him a sidelong glance at the rebuke. "'Tis a holy portent ta have stumbled upon Sir Robert's daughters." An unbidden smile tugged at his lips.

Rhys arched a speculative brow. "The younger sister has a charming face, do you not agree?"

His squire ducked his head in embarra.s.sment.

"One to inspire a new adventure, methinks."

Simon's chin jutted out in defiance.

He laughed aloud. Yea, his squire was indeed smitten.

Simon spied the loitering knights. "What are ye two b.u.g.g.e.rs gapin' at?"

His surliness prompted them to set off to search the miserable Welsh camp while trying, without success, to contain their mirth.

Rhys swung about and set spurs to his horse. But abruptly he reined in the destrier with an angry oath. The heavy hooves dug into the frozen turf as the stallion jerked to a halt.

"Stay, Zeus!" His arm slashed the air in a commanding arc. Beside him, the dog stopped in his tracks, his broad, s.h.a.ggy head lowering. He gave the hound a rueful look. "You've suffered ample abuse for one day. 'Tis unnecessary to purchase more."

A lop-sided grin played on Simon's face. "Come on, ye beggar." He withdrew a piece of dried venison from the leather pouch strapped across his shoulder and tossed it to the alan, who snapped up the offering. "Yer beloved master will have powerful trouble without ye addin' ta the fray." The dog's long, pink tongue lolled out at the side of his mouth. His lips drawn back gave the appearance of a smile.

Simon chuckled. "Ye agree 'tis a fool's errand." He threw Rhys a provocative glance. "Which is more wearisome, Zeus, the long days in the cold or challengin' Sir Geoffrey to the death?"

Clenching his teeth to prevent further comment, Rhys tapped his destrier's ribs and galloped off into the glooming forest.

"G.o.d's bones!" Sir Rhys's angry expletive echoed through the trees.

Hidden in a thicket of hemlocks, wanting naught to do with the ill-tempered knight, Katherine held her breath and prayed they had not left tracks.

The knight pa.s.sed them, examining the ground as he went, and disappeared from view. But presently he returned, his eyes yet on the ground as he leaned over his mount's withers.

Anne bolted from Katherine's grip. "Have pity, Sir Rhys!" Stumbling from behind the trees, she prostrated herself upon the frozen ground. "I beseech you, be merciful."

The knight flinched.

Katherine did likewise, self-condemnation welling up within her at the sight of her sister's anguish. Verily, she had muddled their escape. Filled with shame, she hurried to Anne.

But Sir Rhys brushed past her. Having dismounted, he lifted the weeping Anne in his arms and carefully deposited her into the high-backed saddle.

"By G.o.d's grace, we'll recover your lost courage," he said with a strained smile. Turning, he beckoned to Katherine and offered his interlaced fingers. "I have no pillion, but mayhap we can fit, if we sit tight."

Reluctantly she set a boot in his hands and gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder for balance. A jolt of heat surged through her at the contact. He was strong and young, with muscles developed for war. Gladdened when his boost settled her astride the horse, when she could remove her hand from the rugged shoulder that strained beneath his chain mail, she dared not venture a look in his direction.

Faith, when had the mere touch of a man been so nettling?

"'Tis not my wont to aggrieve fair maidens," Sir Rhys commented in a disgusted tone, c.o.c.king a frown up at her. "Natheless, I seem to have succeeded this day."

Katherine felt the heat rise in her cheeks. He had noticed her discomposure. She darted an embarra.s.sed glance in the opposite direction.

The knight swung up behind her, jostling her within his arms as he wrapped the leather straps around his gauntlets.

But as the steed was nudged toward the hillock, Katherine found the hard, chain-clad frame at her back not unsettling, but rea.s.suring. In truth, the knight's presence gave succor to her flagging spirits. For the first time in days she was not burdened with fear of the morrow. The mighty dread overwhelming her and the body-splitting weariness that was her constant companion since Aunt Matilda died in her arms, faded away. With a heavy sigh she relaxed against the stalwart chest.

"G.o.d's mercy!"

While the knight hauled on the reins, his bellow in her ear nigh deafened Katherine. The horse lunged to a stop. Betwixt Sir Rhys's long arms, she jerked upright and rubbed the back of her head where she had met unforgiving armor.

"Sit aright, else I'll be off my horse's ars-rump!" he commanded.

Katherine shifted her hips, trying to shimmy closer to the leather saddle. But with her legs dangling on either side of the destrier's haunches and her wounded hand useless, she found no leverage.

In the next instant, powerful hands encircled her waist, lifted her as though she were a feather, took her breath away as she was settled up against the high-backed saddle. Sir Rhys pressed behind her, his sinewy thighs cradling her b.u.t.tocks and legs.

She resented the pain where the saddle cut into her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, resented as well the disturbing apposition of the knight. "'Twas unnecessary to manhandle me," she muttered. Her skin tingled where his armor rubbed against her spine, while her cheeks flushed with heat.

He slapped the reins and his mount moved into a walk. "'Twas most necessary, Lady Katherine." His murmured breath tickled her ear. "A horse has a limited magnitude. You would not wish me to fall onto my-the ground. 'Twould be most ungracious of you when I have rescued you this day." His voice lowered all the more. "And 'tis possible more Welshmen do lurk hereabouts. You would not have me attacked and left for dead, would you? Particularly when I have been most chivalrous?"

Was he mocking her? Katherine bit her lip. She inhaled raggedly and winced in sudden pain, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s crushed betwixt hard leather and impudent knight.

"I'd have found a way to escape the brigands," she replied in a tight voice.

"Mayhap." Sir Rhys leaned closer so that his lips all but touched her ear. "But 'twas I who saved you from starvation, if you do recall."

Nonplussed by the taunting a.s.sertion, Katherine twisted an irritated glance at his profile.

He grinned and threw her a wink. "You are safe for the nonce, damsel."

"I am ever in your debt," she replied reluctantly, knowing he'd maneuvered her into the compliment.

"Ah, but what becomes of you on the morrow?"

She caught her breath. What, indeed? The knight baited her with her own fears, made light of their predicament. But she could not. On the morrow, would Sir Rhys pry the truth from them? Anne could not dissemble. It made them ever vulnerable.

The light of a campfire flickering through the trees whipped her fears higher. She felt like an ensnared cony. Mayhap they could flee during the night and she could rid herself of this disconcerting champion, who frustrated her and menaced her peace of mind.

Trembling, thoroughly vexed at her predicament, she feared her own misgivings forestalled such a plan. Though he seemed to amuse himself with their pain and the twinkle in his eyes belied a seemingly uncharitable bent, her shattered confidence in the wake of the day's events was more the deterrent. Dangers existed betwixt them and the king-wild beasts, outlaws, knights with deadly sabers. But mostly, Sir Geoffrey.

She trembled anew.

"What becomes of you, Lady Katherine?" the knight repeated, his warm breath stirring the loose strands of hair on her cheek, stirring her emotions into a frenzy.

Exasperated, she tossed out the first thought that came to mind. "By all that is right, you needs escort us to the king."

Chapter Three.

She did not trust these mercenaries. She had no desire to be in their debt. She intended to remain alert, to escape with her sister at the first possible moment. But Katherine didn't consider her own exhaustion or the warmth she shared with Anne beneath their bed of borrowed wolf pelts.

In the midst of the night, amid fitful dreams of rugged warriors pounding at the gates of Haughmond, the sound of a loud and snarling sound jolted her awake.

Sir Geoffrey had discovered them!

Sitting up with a gasp, convinced an attack was upon them, she swept the camp with a frantic gaze.

But 'twas merely Zeus, growling into the dark of the forest. With his s.h.a.ggy head lowered and bared teeth, one rumble followed another from deep in his throat. Beside him stood the three knights, poised for battle. Bareheaded, Sir Rhys crouched with his sword in hand, his blond hair glowing like spun gold in the reflection of the dying campfire. His hand swept the air and the hound raced away, his baying shivering eerily down the valley. When no threat was discovered, a whistle brought the hound back.

The piercing sound awakened Anne. She bolted upright with a frightened cry.

"Tush," Katherine soothed, wiping beads of sweat from her own brow. Feeling the bite of the cold, she eased herself back under the warm pelt and pulled her sister down with her. Yet she could not resist a fleeting glance toward the forest-and freedom.

The knight gave her a sidelong look. "'Tis far better to abide here with Zeus as guard than to flee heedlessly into the forest," he advised in a low murmur, carefully setting his unsheathed sword on the ground beside him. "'Twould not be long before Zeus would track you down. Rest well, Lady Katherine." Without another glance in her direction, he lay down. The great alan curled up beside him.

Faith, did the knight read her every thought? Katherine closed her eyes. But she could not relax, her mind made restless with broad shoulders and a brooding scowl, and by blond tousled hair, dark from the sweat of a metal helm. 'Twas confusing to be so discomposed by a man.

But such a man!

The night was half spent before she could thrust aside her roiling thoughts, and 'twas to the steady breathing of the knight-of-the-broad-shoulders that she finally gained her rest.

The following day Katherine found herself riding in the midst of an armed escort bound for King Edward's court. One knight rode at the fore, followed by Sir Rhys and the third knight. Simon and the pack mule trailed in their wake.

She couldn't help but be relieved at the turn of events, for Anne was more herself, bestowing a mult.i.tude of smiles upon her companions, as was her wont. They had awakened to bright sunshine and to the sounds of camp being struck. A chunk of bread and a flask of ale were thrust into her hands. By the time they completed their ablutions the horses were saddled.

From atop his mount, Sir Rhys donned his coif of chain mail. She felt the loss. His sheared locks, shining like strands of gold, were his best feature.

"'Tis our pleasure to await you, ladies," he said, settling his sword in place and eyeing her with a narrowed gaze.

His sweeter-than-honey tone set her on edge, made her feel less charitable toward the knight and his golden pate. He feigned politeness, yet impatience cloaked his every word.

Vexation blossomed anew when the knight beckoned to Anne and hefted her up one-handed onto his horse's broad rump. Katherine recognized the slight to herself, but she could not blame him. A waspish tongue was never appreciated.

Alas, she found herself relegated to his squire's escort. Stuffing her hair into the grimy hood and with a wary eye on Simon's unsavory mount, she climbed up behind him. Sitting astride, she squared her shoulders and gripped the leather thong tied about the squire's waist.

At midday they chanced on a cottage near the road. Sir Rhys pulled rein and dismounted. Approaching the old woman who scrutinized them from behind the cracked doorway, he withdrew a silver coin from his purse and negotiated payment for whatever fare she could offer.

She set her teeth to the silver coins then gave them a black-toothed grin and bade them enter. Soon the six of them had crowded into the small hovel, where bread baked on a hot stone and a simmering pottage sent steam curling up to a thatched roof rotting from past leaks. Amid the humble surroundings, they shared bowls of pease porridge, sopping up the broth with chunks of warm brown bread.

Though the peasant woman most likely went hungry this mealtime, she and her family would feast on the morrow. They left her counting her newfound wealth and marveling aloud at G.o.d's grace.

Katherine grit her teeth and mounted the old cob once more. Throughout the afternoon she ate dust at the rear of the troupe and silently cursed sweeter-than-honey speeches.

Clearly feeling secure, Anne grew verbose as the hours pa.s.sed, laughing often and chatting amiably with her escort. Straining unsuccessfully to catch her sister's conversation, she prayed Anne would not impart their troubles. Sir Rhys, for all he appeared kind and good, was a stranger and should not be trusted with their tale.

"Do not fret, sister," Anne said in response to Katherine's concern that evenfall after they had set up camp. "'Twas Sir Rhys who did more the talking."

Anne's growing peace of mind shone in her dark eyes and her happy smile. "He shared tales of his days as page and squire. He was entertaining. I like him, Katherine. His eyes are kind."

With a frown, Katherine unwound her b.l.o.o.d.y bandage to inspect the gash on her palm. 'Twas deep and painful and would be slow to heal. How vexing that one nick so constricted her movements. Sir Rhys's eyes were not merely kind. She frowned. They were-what? Biting her lip, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then suddenly rounded on her sister.

"Whenever someone is nice to you, you think him kind," she scolded.

"Not everyone." Anne's dark eyes lost some of their sparkle. She bent and gathered up the long b.l.o.o.d.y cloth.

The wound irritated Katherine, for she couldn't grip a thing without stabbing pain and more bloodletting. Her backside smarted as well. Maintaining her seat throughout the day had been a daunting task. Her whole body ached from the effort. But for her sister's sake she felt she must endeavor a pleasant humor, lest she deserved the appellation of shrew.

"I like Simon and Sir Rhys. I feel safe with them." Anne began wrapping her hand with a clean strip of linen.

Katherine held her tongue. Were they indeed safe? Could these knights be trusted? She doubted their purpose in befriending two women. Most people expected reward for their efforts. Fears of Sir Geoffrey and their vulnerability brought renewed caution.

"Then we shall be ever kind and repay them for their chivalry," Katherine replied with sarcasm, letting a moue form on her lips at the unsavory notion.

Anne threw her an anxious glance. "You will be polite?"

Knowing it would gratify her sister she nodded.

Simon's arrows had brought down three conies. Gutted and skinned, the rabbits had been tossed into a small iron cooking pot and set over a fire to cook. Eyeing the insipid fare, Katherine quickly set about improving it. She found flour in a satchel, added ale and turned the mixture into dough. Dropped by spoonfuls into the boiling broth, they soon swelled into plump dumplings. The air filled with the tempting aroma of a veritable feast. The four men devoured the pottage with relish.

She was annoyed to realize she'd been watching Sir Rhys out of the corner of her eye, seeking his approval. It was automatic to look for a sign of affirmation. Aunt Matilda had always been generous with her compliments. But the knight ignored her. Katherine glanced away, chiding herself for caring about his good opinion.

The second day she was invited to join Sir Rhys on his warhorse. Surmising that he sought to ply her with questions, she gained her seat with a sour expression. The knight bestowed her with a frown.

She mustn't care about his precepts. These men had no province knowing their affairs. Doubtless, Sir Rhys was eager for secrets, what with that bold gleam in his blue eyes-eyes that dazzled, that set her nerves aquiver.

As the morning progressed, the pale winter sun little warmed the bitter air as the horses pounded the turf and chewed up the miles.

"You are taciturn this day," Sir Rhys commented over his shoulder. "How fare you?"

"I am well." So surprised was Katherine by his unexpected kindness her answer was out of her mouth before she realized she had spoken.

"Does your wound distress you much, Lady Katherine?"