“You have spent so many years in royal service,” she said. “I can only imagine that was prestigious and interesting. Did you travel to many places?”
He had a mouth full of the old bread. “Not too many,” he said. “Henry remained in England the entire time I served him, but serving the man was quite active. He was still picking up the pieces from his father’s misery in many aspects.”
“Did you see battle with him?”
“Several times.”
“What about Alexander?”
He swallowed the bite in his mouth. “A few times,” he said. “Mostly, I managed his military courtiers. I gave men access to him or denied them. If the king needed something done, I would do it. May I be truthful?”
“Of course.”
“There were things about Alexander I did not like,” he said. “Both kings, actually, but kings are not perfect. They are politicians. They make decisions based on how well they will benefit and, at times, that was difficult for me to stomach.”
Catherine poured him more wine from the nearly empty pitcher. “Is that why you left royal service?”
He nodded as he picked up his cup. “I am a unique man in a royal court,” he said. “I have scruples. I am ambitious, but not brutally ambitious. I will not kill or destroy another man to achieve my ends. I like to think I am fair in all things and after fifteen years of serving two kings, I realized that it just wasn’t something I wanted to do any longer.”
“So you left.”
“I moved on,” he clarified. “I moved to the tournament circuit to make my fortune and, someday, I shall retire to Lynebank Castle, raise a family, mayhap even raise those silly black and white cows that command a good price, and help Henry manage his relationship with the Scots. I am in a particularly good position to do it.”
Catherine smiled. “I do not know anything about cows.”
He chuckled. “Nor do I,” he said. “But I intend to make money in something other than the tournament circuit or fighting the wars of kings, so I will turn all of that good land around Lynebank into cattle fields. I will be rich.”
Catherine lifted her cup to salute him. “I wish you well.”
“Wish us both well.”
“Both of us?”
“Absolutely. You are going to be by my side when I become the richest cattle owner in England.”
Her smile faded somewhat as she watched him down the rest of the wine, wondering if the drink had gone to his head just a little.
“You do realize that you have gone from courting me to marrying me quite fast,” she said, remembering something she’d said to de Luzie. She had assumed Ridge knew of her financial situation, but she wanted to be clear. “With everything that has happened, how can you be so certain?”
He looked at her. “So certain of what?” he said. “That I will marry you? Or that we will make good cattle owners?”
She chuckled. “Be serious,” she said. “I simply meant… you have seen how my mother treats me. You do realize that I have no dowry to speak of, nothing of value to bring to a marriage. We have only known each other a very short time and I want to make sure you know the truth about me.”
His brow furrowed. “I know everything I need to know,” he said. “You are kind, compassionate, responsible, truthful, and beautiful,” he said. “It does not matter to me if you only come to me with the clothes on your back. Catherine, I have spent more than half of my life around various kinds of women – queens, princesses, countesses, noblewomen, even cooks and servants. I’ve seen them all. But I have never seen a woman like you, one who can give me a simple look and make me feel as if I am the most important man in the world. You make me feel joy and contentment. I want to feel that way every day for the rest of my life.”
She looked at him in wonder. “How is it that I have such power?” she said. “You are surrounded by admirers all day long, women throwing things at you or demanding that you sup with their father. What makes me so unique?”
He smiled faintly. “Because you do not expect anything,” he said. “You were kind to me when you did not even know who I was. You do not look at that man from the tournament field and admire him because of his accomplishments. You are kind to me because of who I am, not what I am. I do not know if that makes any sense, but that is the way I feel. You are a rare and precious soul, Catie.”
She grinned when he called her by her nickname. “Catie, is it?” she said. “I suppose you’re most definitely family now. Only family calls me that.”
Reaching out, he took one of her hands, bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss. “I want to be your family, the one you love most,” he murmured. “Give me that privilege, sweetheart. Please.”
His kisses against her flesh were causing her to tremble. “Of course I will,” she said softly. “But you know how it is with my mother.”
“I know,” he said. “What about your father?”
She shrugged. “He will love you, but he listens to my mother too much. He is not a strong man.”
“He raised three strong sons.”
“That was their training. They fostered at Lancaster Castle and trained with the Sheriff of Lancashire.”
Ridge hadn’t known that. “A noble education,” he said. “Then they’ve learned something of law and order.”
“They have,” she agreed. “Charles in particular. He is meant for greater things, Ridge. I have always felt that way. He’s smart and experienced, but instead, he spends his days at a big fortress in the middle of remote land.”
“Keswick?”
“Exactly,” she said. “It is a beautiful place, but remote. I have always felt sorry for my brothers in that regard. They’ve built a big army, but it is all for show. It is never used and it sucks away all of the money we have. I probably should not have told you that, for they do not like to speak of it, but they create this illusion of a powerful fighting family… and the truth is that we are not.”
Ridge nodded in understanding. “A man’s pride is a great and fragile thing,” he said. “They will not know you told me, I promise. I have come to like your brothers a great deal, in fact.”
“Enough to let them win tomorrow in the joust should you face them?”
She was grinning, teasing him, and he frowned. “Never,” he declared. “I will make them sorry they were ever born.”
Catherine laughed at him, knowing he wasn’t serious. Well, not entirely, but she knew he wouldn’t deliberately allow her brothers to beat him. This time, she reached out with both hands to grab his, squeezing his big, battered digits.
“Remember – only George,” she teased. “He is the only one who deserves it.”
Ridge snorted right along with her. “Poor George,” he said. “You saw what de Wolfe and the others did with him today, did you not? Tossed him into the air?”
Catherine nodded. “I did,” she said. “I am surprised he let them do that.”
“It was his suggestion.”
The wine was making Catherine giggly, giggling more when she thought of her brother sailing through the air at his own request, no less. Young, brash, reckless George was pure entertainment at times.
“We shall see how brave he is tomorrow,” she said. “My brothers have been practicing for this joust for months. They are hoping to do well. Geoffrey is quite good.”
Ridge held up a hand. “Say no more,” he said. “You are going to give all of their secrets away and then they will blame you when I crush them because I know everything.”
She was still giggling, but she yawned in the middle of it. “You will not really crush them, will you?”
“I will not hold back,” he said. “If they are strong enough to face me, then it will be a good match.”
Even though she was a little tipsy, Catherine didn’t push. She knew that Ridge would do his best, and so would her brothers, so tomorrow was going to be an interesting day. She was looking forward to it, but she was also growing increasingly weary.
It had b
een a long and momentous day.
“I know it will be very exciting,” she said, yawning again. “I’m very sorry, but I seemed to be losing the battle against my fatigue. It must be nothing compared to yours. Do not think you have to stay awake and entertain me.”
He nodded, but he was still holding her hands over the tabletop and he liked that immensely. He didn’t want to let her go but he knew, at some point, he had to. But this day, and this evening, had given him great hope that this wouldn’t be the last time he held her hands. He’d declared his intentions and she had agreed.
He could still hardly believe it.
“I am a slightly weary,” he said, rolling his eyes when she gave him a long look. “More than slightly, if I must admit it. But I don’t want this moment to end.”
She smiled, squeezing his hands and releasing them. “There will be time for hand holding tomorrow,” she said. “But we mustn’t look so attached to each other having only known each other a day or two.”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” he said flatly, rising unsteadily from his stool. “If I want to hold your hand, I shall. Charles says I can and you say I can. That is all that matters to me.”
Catherine was deeply pleased by the declaration. “If you do, then you are going to cause all of those adoring women to attack me when your back is turned,” she said. “It will not be you beating them off with a stick – it will be me.”
He grinned. “Then they are in for trouble,” he said. “You fight back and they will find that out soon enough. Are you sure your shoulder is well?”
He sobered very quickly with those last few words and she nodded. “Please do not worry,” she said. “I will be bruised but nothing more. Now, if it is not too much trouble, may I have some hot water? Just a little bowl will be appreciated.”
He shook his head. “It is not too much trouble,” he said. “Do you want a bath? I can find a tub or a pot or something big enough for you to bathe in if you wish.”
“Please do not go to the trouble,” she said. “A bowl of hot water will be quite sufficient.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am. Thank you.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment as if he wanted to say something more, or even do something more, but he held back. He had an unmarried maiden in his tent, and he was in charge of her for the night, so he didn’t want to violate that trust. Even if he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her again, he wasn’t going to do it. He had to show a little self-control.
Even if it killed him.
Quitting the tent, he found Tavis outside and had the man fetch a bucket of hot water. As Tavis headed off, Ridge saw Payne coming through the trees towards him.
“Well?” Ridge asked. “What is happening over in the de Tuberville camp?”
Payne cast him a long look. “De Luzie is quite unhappy,” he said. “What you heard was the man screaming threats at Charles de Tuberville, who promptly kicked the man in the arse and sent him to his knees. George and Geoffrey chased him away, but that’s not going to be the end of it, Ridge. What in the hell happened? Why was he so bloodied and beaten?”
Ridge drew in a long, steady breath. “He attacked Lady Catherine,” he said. “The woman has a mother who is a vile excuse for a mortal being and allowed de Luzie to wait, unchaperoned, in her daughter’s tent so that he could speak with her. At least, that was the story. However, when Catherine returned, he attacked her.”
Payne’s eyes widened. “With the mother’s blessing?”
Ridge’s gaze moved off towards the de Tuberville camp. “I do not think she condoned any attack, but the fact remained that she had the poor judgment to allow de Luzie in her daughter’s tent,” he said. “I happened to be nearby and punished him. It wasn’t the de Tuberville brothers who beat him – it was me.”
Payne shook his head in disbelief. “God,” he hissed. “Someone ought to do us all a favor and throw his lifeless body in the river.”
Ridge smiled humorlessly. “I thought about it.”
“What stopped you?”
Ridge sighed heavily. In truth, he didn’t really know except that maybe it had something to do with him killing the Earl of Pocklington at Durham two years earlier. He didn’t want to get the reputation as a killer because it would dog him on the tournament circuit. “I am not a murderer, although considering he touched the woman I am going to marry, I will not make that mistake again,” he said. “If he does not move on from her, the next time, I really will throw his lifeless body in the river. There will be no hesitation.”
Payne believed him.
Tavis returned shortly with a bucket of steaming water he’d borrowed from a nearby camp and Ridge directed him to take it in to the lady, which he did. As Ridge and his men sat around their big cooking fire, trading stories as the night deepened, Catherine washed with the hot water and changed into a lamb’s wool sleeping shift and the heavy robe she always wore. She waited for Ridge to return for a nominal amount of time, but when he didn’t, her exhaustion had her moving over to the only bed in the chamber.
She didn’t want to take the man’s bed, not when he’d spent the entire day pummeling men, so she dragged the coverlet off and pulled it next to the brazier. Wearily, she lay down next to the dogs. Between the heat and the wine, she was asleep in no time. When Ridge entered the tent sometime later, the first thing he saw was Catherine on the floor.
But she wasn’t alone.
Odin had managed to make it over to her and, somehow, her head ended up on his dog’s hairy belly. The little dogs had gravitated to her as well and were curled up against her torso, all four of them sleeping quite happily and peacefully in front of the brazier. Ridge stood there for a few moments, watching the scene with a contentment in his heart he couldn’t begin to describe.
He’d never seen anything sweeter.
Collapsing on his bare mattress within arm’s length of Catherine, he slept like the dead until dawn.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“He attacked my sister and injured her,” Charles said. “Surely you cannot allow a man like that to compete. For the safety of the competitors, you cannot endorse his participation.”
It was before dawn on the outskirts of the tournament arena, at the stall where the field marshals were preparing for the day. There were seven of them in the stall when Charles, Geoffrey, and George came marching up with tales of Renard and his ambush on a helpless woman.
Things were going to go from bad to worse for de Luzie.
At least, that’s what Charles hoped.
But the reality was quite different.
“That is not what we were told, my lord.” The man in charge was a subordinate of the Bishop of Durham. Hobart de Vries was a scholar who had risen to power under the bishop’s tutelage and had a reputation for being a fair man. He faced Charles with some regret. “De Luzie was here about an hour ago, telling us a tale of being attacked by you and Ridge de Reyne. I will admit, he looks as if he has been badly beaten.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “Because he was,” he said. “I have witnesses that will tell you he attacked my sister and was beaten in response. Must I produce these witnesses? And surely you do not think Ridge de Reyne would attack a man for no reason?”
Hobart held up a hand to ease his growing irritation. “My lord, if I believed de Luzie’s word, then both you and de Reyne would be out of the competition,” he said. “I do believe you. I know Renard de Luzie and his unscrupulous ways. But no one other than those involved saw this attack and unless I have a witness who tells me that de Luzie was seen attacking your sister and you beat him to protect her, I am afraid I cannot remove anyone from anything. De Luzie will compete, as will you all.”
Charles couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But you said yourself that you know how de Luzie is. The man is going to kill somebody with his dirty tactics if he is not stopped.”
Hobart sighed faintly, lowering his voice. “I could ban him,” he said. “But he would sho
w up at another tournament. I have no control over that. But if he tells his father, a powerful count, that he was banished from Durham, it could bring shame or even the count’s anger down upon us. I am in a difficult position. I am sure you understand that. And after what happened two years ago with the Earl of Pocklington’s death, by Ridge de Reyne no less, if Renard’s lies take flight, it is possible that it will not reflect upon de Reyne very well at all. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Charles did. Very well, in fact. Renard would go around telling people that Ridge attacked him and given the man accidentally killed the Earl of Pocklington two years ago, it could very well cast doubts on Ridge’s character.
Nay, Charles didn’t want that at all.
“God,” Charles muttered, running a hand through his hair. “This is all so frustrating. All of you know that de Luzie is a man of terrible character, yet you let him get away with his deeds. When is someone going to have the courage to stop him?”
Hobart wasn’t unsympathetic. In fact, he was extremely sympathetic. But, as he’d said, his hands were tied. In fact, all of their hands were tied. He took a couple of steps towards Charles and lowered his voice.
“He is a monster,” the man muttered for Charles’ ears only. “I have watched him injure many good men in the name of competition and every move the man made was deliberate. He’s a hunter who injures for pleasure.”
Charles didn’t feel better about the situation. “Then what can you do to remove him? He is a threat everywhere he goes.”
Hobart shook his head. “I cannot do anything unless he is fortuitously caught in such horrible acts and we can prove there is not a shadow of a doubt in his intentions,” he said. “But… men are killed accidentally all of the time, my lord.”
The Black Storm (De Reyne Domination Book 4) Page 15
