Roger's Bride

by Sarah Hegger

  With a huge sigh, Kathryn sat up. “You are gentle.”

  “Eh?” He looked as if she had smacked him about the head.

  “With your sisters and your mother, you have a softer way with them.”

  He laughed. “You only say that because Bea has not yet told you tales of me pushing her in the lake, or when William and I stole Faye’s favorite poppet and hung it from the stable rafters.”

  “Those are boyish pranks.” Kathryn waved his words away. “I watched you from the moment we arrived at Anglesea. Even when your mother is carping on at you about something, you listen and then keep your response gentle.”

  “Hmph!”

  His disgruntlement made her smile. “And that day in the bailey when you stepped in and stopped my father from taking Striker from me. I was not your charge to protect and yet you did.” A hug seemed too intimate, so she patted his hand where it lay on the grass between them. “Then you taught me how to correct my balance, and you were the first to do so. This all tells me you have a good heart and would treat my sister well.”

  Secret amusement lit him from within. “It sounds as if you should marry me after all.”

  “God, nay!” His words struck her like a lance to the shoulder. “I never want to marry and besides you are for Matty.”

  “Matty does not want me, it seems.”

  “Matty does not always know what she wants. Not that she is tempestuous,” she said, quickly before he got the idea her sister might make a difficult wife. Matty could be a changeable and not always predictable, but with a bit of guidance from her, she felt certain Roger would grasp the knack of managing Matty. “When we find her, I will explain all of this to her. Then you will do your wooing thing, and all will be well.”

  He stared out at the manor, his profile rugged. “Your faith in my courtship skills may be misplaced.”

  “You worry for naught.” Kathryn nudged him with her knee. She wanted to make him laugh away his dark mood. “You are a comely man, well formed, and not stupid. And your way with a sword.” Kathryn thrilled at the image rising in her mind. “Sublime!”

  * * * *

  His way with a sword! Roger swallowed his laughter. He clung to the tiny piece of driftwood she flung his way. Perhaps he could run some sword forms in front of Lady Mathilda and render her weak with admiration. God knows, his courting had not done the job. He could not even form a very clear picture of Lady Mathilda. She and Kathryn shared the same coloring, and basic form, but her features remained a blur.

  Below them, the manor nestled in the waning spring sunlight. A groomsman released a small herd of horses into the meadow. Poor beasts that would benefit from the sort of beautiful bloodlines his brother by marriage, Gregory, worked on.

  Like their conversation with hen-witted Cecily, his conversation with Kathryn had revealed much. He did not know much of Sir Royce, and what he knew hinted at a hard, brutal man. With no sons of his own, Sir Royce sought to keep his demesne in his bloodline through marriage. Rumor also had him fending off debtors and leaching his people for taxes.

  Anglesea’s deep coffers could persuade many a lord to see past the family’s fragile relationship with the crown. The kingdom still waited to see how the young king would rule. Another disaster like King John could beggar them all.

  Kathryn crossed one long, slim leg over the other and sighed. Those shapely appendages could never belong to a man, and the sooner he talked her into keeping them under a skirt, the better. Too often he found his gaze strayed to her legs, her rounded hip, the apple-pert roundness of her ass. She might have him pegged as harmless as a neutered monk, but she had no idea the thoughts he kept hidden from her.

  In a different world, he might roll over and pin her beneath him. Kiss the elegant line of her throat where it emerged above her tunic, cup the full jut of her breasts in his hands. He needed to find her a man. A man who could have the right to do those things and more. His gut tightened around an angry roar of denial. He could not allow another man to befoul Lady Kathryn with his big, dirty hands.

  A nun, then! He could have her join the holy sisters.

  Except, she vibrated with raw, earthy life. To see that spirit cloistered away and hidden pained him near enough as much as another man.

  What in God’s name was he going to do with the blasted girl?

  * * * *

  Roger nudged Kathryn’s thigh. He’d left her to slumber most of the evening as he watched.

  She came awake with a sweet little sigh and rolled onto her belly.

  “Movement.” He jerked his head at manor.

  Her gaze sharpened, and she scrambled to her hands and knees. Her ass beckoned as she peered at the manor. “Who is it?”

  He pointed to a lone, cloaked figure scuttling down the road away from the manor.

  “It looks like a woman.” A post slumber flush still stained her cheeks, as if she woke in her lover’s bed.

  “Unless men have taken to wearing skirts with as much enthusiasm as you have taken to wearing chausses, it is a woman.”

  “Surely not Cecily.” She shaded her eyes and studied the figure on the road.

  “A maid would be my guess.” He rose, limbs a little stiff from being seated for so long. “Best we move our asses and get down there.”

  Kathryn scrambled to her feet, and gathered their belongings. They’d left the horses ready to go, and she leapt into the saddle moments behind him.

  He had yet to meet a woman with such a cool efficiency of manner. Even Beatrice would require a moment to straighten something or smooth another thing before she sprang into action. Kathryn moved as a trained man-at-arms would, but he had not sunk so far in self-deception as to believe he in any way confused her with a large, burly man.

  Nay, Kathryn’s femininity resided in her lack of affectation. The effortless grace she displayed in even the simplest gesture, like bending to pick up a sleeping blanket, held him annoyingly spellbound. The damnable snarl in his gut tightened.

  They took a circuitous route to the village, traveling overland as opposed to alerting the woman on the road. If he had calculated correctly, they would arrive slightly ahead of their quarry.

  Leaving their horses with a boy in exchange for a penny—which, of course, Kathryn deemed too much—they slipped into the village. Evening fell, leaving a few stragglers making their way home to their dinners. Overt hiding would merely attract attention so they stuck to the outside of a group of villagers who whiled away the pleasant evening outside the church. Again, Kathryn proved adept at being seen and not noticed.

  She gripped his forearm. “There.”

  From the church end, the young woman from the manor hurried through the villagers. Her clumsy attempts at subterfuge made her easy to track though the milling people. Glancing left and right, and tugging her hood over her head, the girl ducked into a side street with enough flourish for a guild player.

  Roger and Kathryn followed, staying far enough back not to alert her, but close enough to see her rap on the door to a house partway down the lane. The door opened and the girl slipped inside.

  Roger ducked beneath the open window ledge, and pulled Kathryn beside him. From within the low murmur of voices proved impossible to catch. Roger slid around the side of the house.

  A large mastiff darted around the corner. Large yellow teeth flashed as the dog snarled.

  Roger backed off.

  Kathryn tugged on his tunic. She slid beneath a large handcart.

  It took him precious moments to wedge his larger form in behind her.

  The tethered dog set up a warning to whoever lived in the house. Powerful jaws flashed large teeth as he let his displeasure at the intrusion be known.

  A man’s voice from within. “Blasted dog!”

  “Who is it?” A female voice, filled with apprehension.

  The door opened and a slim, dark haired man stepped out. He glanced about the yard, right past their hiding place. “There is
nobody there. Stupid animal!”

  He stalked to the dog.

  The dog flattened his ears and cowered as the man drew nearer.

  Kathryn tensed beside him. She jerked as the man kicked the dog in the ribs. A loud, pained yelp covered Kathryn’s gasp. “Whoreson.”

  Roger agreed. Men who raised their hands to anything weaker constituted the worst sort of scum. He pressed her hand to keep her silent.

  The door shut behind the man, and the voices grew distant. After a few more moments, the woman emerged. She glanced about her, and then tugged her hood over her head. “Make sure you get a message to Lady Mathilda,” she said.

  The man tugged on his waistband and spat. “I will take it myself.”

  “See that you do.” The girl made a pitiful attempt to sound fierce. “My lady pays you well.”

  They stayed put as the girl scuttled back the way she’d come.

  The man turned back into his cottage, and slammed the door behind him.

  “We should wait and follow him.” Roger eased out from beneath the cart. The thrill of the hunt coursed through his blood. They had called it right, and Lady Mathilda hovered inches outside their grasp.

  Kathryn stared at the dog. “Did you see what he did?”

  The dog eyed him with suspicion. Roger dearly wanted to get away before the animal recovered his courage. “Aye. Some men are brutes.”

  “That poor puppy.” Kathryn looked mournful.

  It hit Roger in the gut like a kick. “Come, Kathryn.” He crouched beside the cart. “We can do nothing for the dog, but we need to move before he comes out and catches us.”

  Fire kindled in her as she wriggled out. “There is something we can do.”

  “Kath…”

  Too late, he guessed her intention as Kathryn walked to the dog.

  The animal crouched low and growled at her.

  “Poor baby.” She dropped to her haunches just out of tooth range. Holding her hand out, she cooed at the dog.

  God’s Bones. The beast looked ready to take a piece out of her.

  “Stand back, Kathryn.” He stepped nearer.

  The dog’s gaze flickered to him and his snarl grew more menacing.

  Roger froze.

  “He is frightened of you,” Kathryn said.

  “What precisely is your plan for this animal?”

  “I am taking him with me.”

  Ballocks! He might have known she would say that. Any moment the man could appear, and they would have no explanation. “We cannot take someone’s dog.”

  “We can if he does not treat it right.” The intractable line of her jaw assured him she marked not a word he said.

  “What will we do with a dog while we search for your sister?”

  “I do not know yet.” She dug in her waist pouch and took out a piece of meat. “But I am not leaving him here. So, you can either help me or stand there and glower.”

  Standing and glowering sounded about right to him.

  She dropped the morsel a few inches from the dog.

  The dog’s lip quivered as if it had not yet decided what to do with the woman in front of him.

  Roger shared the beast’s pain.

  “Come on, sweeting,” Kathryn murmured.

  The dog sniffed the piece of meat, snapped it up and retreated

  Kathryn dropped another piece of meat.

  He did not have time for this. Roger marched to the cottage door and hammered his fist against it.

  Kathryn hissed at him. “What are you doing?”

  The door yanked open. “What do you want?”

  “Your dog.” Roger jerked his chin toward the dog. “My lady has taken a powerful liking to him. How much for the dog?”

  “He is not for sale.” A calculating gleam entered the other man’s gaze.

  “One crown.”

  The man rubbed his chin. “He is a very good dog.”

  “Two crowns.”

  “You could get a good cow for that,” Kathryn said, and came up beside him.

  “But that dog was my sister’s, and I am very fond of my sister.”

  “Five crowns.” Roger wanted to pound their heads together. “Or we leave the miserable cur here.”

  “Done.” Greed won out and the man held out his hand.

  Roger dug in his pouch, and slapped five crowns into the outstretched palm. “Get your dog and let us go.”

  Roger stormed away and headed for the horses. Behind him Kathryn negotiated with the messenger about a stringy piece of rope to tie around the dog’s neck. Roger needed to walk off some of his ire. He had just made damn sure they couldn’t reveal themselves to Cecily’s messenger again. All because Kathryn had those big, melting brown eyes that looked at him and silently begged him to make her world perfect for her.

  Dullard! He’d never encountered a more capable woman than Kathryn and here he leapt into the fray on her behalf, and now had a dog to show for it.

  Kathryn fell into step beside him shortly after. “See, Roger, he really is a very good dog.”

  The dog grinned at him, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. No dignity or pride, the beast was hopeless.

  “Why are we running?” Her breath came out in pants.

  Roger slowed his pace. “I want nothing more to do with that sorry animal.”

  “Indeed.” Kathryn beamed at him. “You will not even know he is here.”

  Chapter 11

  Of course, his destrier took exception to Kathryn’s dog. It cost Roger precious time to introduce horse to dog and dog to horse. Fortunately, the dog appeared to have met horses before and desisted from barking at their mounts.

  They rode out of the village to the open amusement of the boy who had watched their horses. Confused by the change in his fortunes, the dog sat in the middle of the road and watched as Kathryn rode away. Several times Kathryn had to backtrack, whistle to the dog and ride a few paces forward before the dog would stop, whine and stare over his shoulder at his former home.

  Impatient to be hidden well within the treeline beside the crossroads before the messenger set off, Roger solved the problem with a steady trail of meat. The dog followed that happily enough.

  He selected a denser pack of thicket and tethered the horses a little way from the road. From here, they would need to mark which direction the messenger took. Dog at their heels, they crept closer and watched as full dark fell.

  Dog proved himself useful. One whiff on the breeze of his former master and he slid behind Kathryn’s legs with a whine.

  The man appeared on foot, so they stuck to leading the horses, and the bloody dog, from the safety of the trees.

  The messenger took the lower road. He kept a swift pace, but stayed in the open and left an easy trail.

  This thing with Lady Mathilda nagged at Roger. Granted, his ire could very well be a result of his dented conceit, but he thought not. Cecily had spoken of ‘all her secrets.’ Roger had sisters, two of them, and knew feminine whispers and intrigues well, but this felt different. Even Cecily would surely not be employing this level of caution over some wounded female sensibilities or an aversion to his tunic.

  Enamored of her new pet, Kathryn trotted on beside him. A large dog with a full, powerful chest and shoulders that tapered to a slim waist, he stuck to Kathryn’s heels with a besotted grin. Roger had to concede the dog was a handsome, if smelly, beast.

  Males of all species it seemed, bent to her will with a smile after a glance at those eyes.

  “What will you call him?” The messenger remained far enough ahead to make conversation possible.

  Kathryn glanced at her pet with a fond smile. “I have been thinking on it. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Garrett.” Roger couldn’t resist a grin at the idea. “Garrett is a good name for a dog.”

  Kathryn stopped and jammed her hands on her hips. “I have never known a dog named Garrett.”

  “I have.” He
chuckled. Bea would kill him for sure, but it would be worth it.

  “You’re up to something.” Alight with mischief, she resumed walking. “Which tells me that I for certain should not name him Garrett.”

  “Fluffy?”

  She burst into a muted peal of laugher, throwing her head back. Her cheeks flushed pink in the rich cream of her skin. “What about King?”

  Roger pulled a face. He preferred Dog if King was his option.

  “Dagger!” A huge grin split her face. “Because he is strong, and dangerous. Aren’t you, Dagger?”

  Dagger grinned back at her.

  “Dagger it is,” Roger said. He kept his suspicions about Mathilda to himself. He did not have enough to share, and he could not ruin Kathryn’s enjoyment of her adventure.

  * * * *

  As the night grew chillier, Kathryn dug out her cloak and donned it. Three hours after moonrise, the messenger stopped at an inn and went inside.

  They waited.

  Laughter and chatter drifted from the inn. Pale yellow light from within cast long shadows over the dirt yard that flickered every time someone crossed before the casement.

  “Do you think he stopped for the night?” Kathryn wished they dared go inside.

  Roger propped his shoulder against a tree and crossed his arms. “I would be able to go in and find out, if you hadn’t insisted on that cur.”

  “Pay him no mind, Dagger.” Kathryn toyed with Dagger’s silky ears. He smelled like a midden, and would need a bath when they arrived somewhere they could attend to the matter. Dagger would make a great companion on the road. Only she first had to return to Mandeville with him. Her stomach dropped. “Roger?”

  “Aye?”

  “You know how you have dogs at Anglesea?”

  He dropped his chin and frowned. “Aye, I like dogs.”

  “Me too.”

  “Roger?”

  “Spit it out, Kathryn.” He straightened from his tree. “What is it you want? I am guessing it has something to do with that.”

  “Dagger.” Kathryn put her arm about her dog. “His name is Dagger…and it might.”

  He shifted his weight and waited.

  “It is just that my father does not like dogs.” She stroked Dagger to be sure he understood that she liked dogs a lot. “I am not sure he will let me keep him at Mandeville.”