“Nicholas!” Kit interjected, “Will you send someone to the king to inform him of my husband’s recovery?” It would not do at all for Wolf to know of her attendance on him, not until she knew how he would receive the information. Though he owned her heart, she could not bear to hand it to him now.
“So 1 am to be held prisoner until my wife deems me fit to move?” Wolf was incredulous.
“The king’s physician will determine when you are able to be up and about, husband,” she corrected gently. She realized how it rankled him to be unwell and bound to bed. “Lord Blackmore has attended you since the beginning.”
“Blackmore?”
“The king’s healer.”
“And not you, Kit?” he asked quietly, half teasing, half hoping, his tone making her heart pound in her breast. “Had you no hand in my care?”
The intensity of his eyes flustered her, and she hesitated to reply.
“Your wife is the reason you still live, Wolf,” Nicholas said.
Wolf and Kit’s eyes remained locked making her blood heat and course faster through her veins. Finally, Wolf broke the silence. “Is it your intention to starve me, then?”
“Starve you?” Kit returned to reality. “Of course not. Are you hungry?”
“As a bear.”
“Nicholas,” Kit said, “would you mind seeing to it? I’m sure that somewhere in all of Westminster, you should be able to find something suitable for a sick man to eat.”
“No.” Wolf protested weakly. “Bring me some decent food—not some mush meant for—” But Nicholas had already left the chamber, grinning a ridiculous grin.
Two days passed, and Wolf’s strength returned to him gradually. He became surly with the inactivity imposed on him and barked at Kit and the men who served him. Kit refused to take his attitude to heart, forcing herself to remember the few tender words he’d spoken when the fever was at its worst.
When he was well, she was sure they would come to an understanding. He would realize how she felt about him and at the very least would accept her as his wife, regardless of her parentage.
Wolf remained dubious, however. Whatever had transpired while he was delirious was unclear to him, and he didn’t know whether he could trust his senses. Had she really told Rupert Aires that marriage to Wolf had been her choice? How was he to know he hadn’t heard the words in a dream, that Kit’s tears and tender ministrations were not merely manifestations of his delirium? He even thought he’d felt her curl up against him in the bed those nights when he was sick, though now she disappeared into the next room when night fell. Vague memories of her light hands upon him, touching, exploring, healing, came to him and he was unsure whether it was merely wishful thinking or reality.
He’d also had visions of his father and brother, slaughtered on the road to Bremen; being presented to his mother after his recovery; his mother’s vacant gray eyes as he had cried in her lap. All of it had seemed quite real.
On the day before the king and queen departed England for France again, Henry made a visit to Wolf’s chambers. Assured by Lord Blackmore that the duke’s health was improving by the day, he decided to speak to Wolf of serious affairs, to bring him up to date on all that had been happening since the attack. Finding Wolf and Kathryn alone in the chamber, Henry sent away his squires and attendants to speak privately with his sister and her husband.
“We know the attack on the night of your wedding was perpetrated by Lollards,” the king said. “There is some doubt as to whether or not they intended to kill me. They may have been completely surprised by the ferocity of our defense and were forced to fight back just as brutally.”
“But—” Kit began to question her brother, but he silenced her with a patient gesture.
“Regardless, they were all killed, and their bodies disposed of. All have been identified. No one need ever know of this ambush to give credence to the Lollard cause and their demands. Steps have been taken as well, to assure that no such incident occurs in the future.”
“How did they succeed in getting so close to you, Sire?” Wolf asked.
“They infiltrated the guards,” Henry replied. “We know who was responsible, and he was killed in the attack. There are one or two others who remain.” The king smiled and waved a hand to dismiss the subject. “We will deal with them directly.”
“Thank the saints that Queen Catherine was not with you that night, Your Majesty,” Kit said. “If she had been harmed—”
“Quite,” Henry said gravely. “Until I could get a weapon, I was helpless. You must be sure to thank your wife, Wolf, for saving your neck.” The king grinned. “I don’t recall ever having seen a woman wield a sword with quite the same vigor as Lady Kathryn did that night. You were a sight to behold, dear sister.”
Wolf raised a puzzled brow, and Kit blushed.
“I knew of your skill with the leather sling, and I’ve heard of your prowess with a bow. Now I find you can handle a sword that must have been half your weight.”
“Sire, I only did what I thought was necessary, and awkwardly at that,” she said, embarrassed. “I...I’ve never actually been taught to use a sword,” she added meekly.
“Be that as it may, at least the two of us owe you our lives for your quick action. I thank you.”
Kit gave a nod to accept his thanks, unaware of anything she’d done to protect the king. Her actions that night had been solely for Wolf’s benefit.
“The next news is not good.” The king directed his words to Wolf. “I forbade your men to speak of it until I was certain of your recovery.”
“Sire?”
“Philip Colston has disappeared.”
“The Earl of Windermere?” Kit asked.
“On the contrary, my dear,” Henry said, “your husband holds Windermere. I sent a small army to take Philip Colston into custody and bring him to London. The men returned three days ago with neither Philip nor Lady Agatha.”
“Agatha?” Kit whispered.
“He must have found out somehow,” Wolf said.
Henry nodded. “’Tis likely. The servants were questioned, and all of them thought Philip was somewhere within the castle. No one was notified of his departure, yet he most certainly disappeared.”
“I’ll find him.”
“I have every confidence you will, Wolf,” Henry replied. “And when you do, deal with him as you see fit. However, until he is found, guard your back. When you return him to London, he will be tried on the evidence you and Kendal presented to me. I have written my opinion on the matter, and of course, I’ve stripped Philip Colston of the title.”
“I am grateful, Sire—”
“Also, be aware that Baron Somers’ men have been here and know of your marriage to Kit,” the king said. “I understand they returned to Somerton several days ago, so you should be prepared for possible trouble from that front. Kathryn is to be protected from her stepfather, though the man would have to be a fool to offend a duke, not to mention his king. Somerton knows I favor Kit, as did my father who managed to send a man to Somerton once or twice a year to evaluate her circumstances.”
Wolf nodded. That would explain the knights who Kit said had visited periodically and had asked about her welfare. Somehow, the blockheads always missed seeing the bruised and battered child.
“Which brings me to my last point,” Henry interrupted. “As to your request, my decision is—no.”
Kit looked from her husband to her brother, having some difficulty following this part of the conversation. She knew of no request.
“You will remain here in England and deal with Philip Colston, get Windermere back in order and see to your other ducal responsibilities.” Henry stood to take his leave. “No, remain seated. Let those wounds heal. We need strength in the north, Wolf, and I rely on you to provide a goodly portion of it.”
Wolf acquiesced as the king moved with Kit towards the door.
“You also have a new wife to attend to.” He embraced Kit loosely. “Farewell. You shal
l hear from me from Paris. And of course I wish to be apprised of the situation with Philip Colston.”
Nicholas and Chester returned after Henry left. They began discussing Windermere with Wolf and what might have happened to Philip. There was a good bit of conjecture regarding Hugh Dryden, who had been sent to Windermere before the wedding, and whether Wolfs man knew of Philip’s whereabouts.
While the men spoke, Kit tried to puzzle out what Wolf’s request to the king must have been. Henry insisted that Wolf fortify the north and get Windermere in order. Did that mean that Wolf hadn’t intended to deal with Windermere and the rest of it? Had he planned on going somewhere other than his estates, somewhere away from her? Henry had most distinctly said that Wolf had a new wife to attend to, hadn’t he?
Her heart was in her throat when the realization struck her. Wolf had asked to accompany the king to France. Without her.
“Philip must have friends—”
“There are plenty of places to hide—”
“A few of us can go undetected—”
“We must get to Hugh—”
The discussion went on, and Kit was oblivious to it. Tears stung the back of her eyes as she twisted the band of emeralds on her finger. She despaired of ever coming to terms with Wolf. He wanted to be away from her. He couldn’t stand to be near her, and it was only the king’s command that kept him at her side. What was she to do? Perhaps marriage to Rupert would have been better than this—at least Rupert didn’t detest her company.
“We’ll depart for Windermere in five days,” Wolf concluded. “I’ll be able to sit a horse by then. In the meantime, four or five men are to ride on ahead. I want them to see that rooms are made ready. They can meet with Hugh, scour the neighborhood, sound out the town, follow up on rumors...”
Chapter Fourteen
Late June, 1421
Wolf’s thigh injury was no more than an angry red slash, but the chest wound still needed to be bound, especially when they rode. An army of men accompanied them on the journey, as well as Wolfs core group of soldiers who’d been together as a troop for several years. Most of these had been well rewarded with lands and estates by the king for their service in France, but they were loyal to Wolf and wanted to see him established at Windermere before going off to claim their various prizes. None of them could rest easy with Philip Colston on the loose.
Kit wondered at first if her husband would bother taking her with him to Windermere. He had so obviously wanted to be away from her. She was amazed on the day before they left, when he asked if her things were packed. He told her to purchase whatever she thought she’d need from the London shops, reminding her that there would be no such luxuries in Cumbria as were available in London.
With mixed feelings, Kit prepared to leave Westminster. There was nothing more she wished to purchase in London. She had already enlisted Rupert’s help in finding the craftsman in town who could create the one item she wished to buy—her wedding gift to Wolf. And while Wolf was in the throes of delirium, she almost believed she’d never have the opportunity to give the precious package to him.
By the day of their departure, Wolf walked without a noticeable limp, but Kit could see that when he moved his upper torso, he was not without some discomfort, and she was concerned whether it was wise for him to sit in the saddle all day. She had ordered her mare from Windermere to be saddled but before she was able to mount, Wolf called to her.
“Nicholas will lift you, Kit,” he said as he rode towards her. “You ride with me.”
“But your wound—”
“Doesn’t trouble me enough to be slowed by your pretty mare.” His tone was gruff. “Our journey to Windermere will take six days as it is. I’ll not be delayed.”
And so Kit was settled in front of her husband, and they were off.
Kit enjoyed her closeness to Wolf all day as they rode, even though he rarely spoke. There were things she wished to say to him, but found she didn’t know how to breach the gap between them. So she said nothing, and they traveled over the miles together in silence. His arms felt just as secure and comfortable around her as they had on the trip from Somerton. Kit tried to make herself believe that he wasn’t as dissatisfied with her as he seemed. Perhaps in time, he would accept her, though Kit began to think she’d need to implement some kind of plan to win him over.
Wolf relished her nearness. Her scent, as always, reminded him of fresh flowers. She was soft and sweet and he gathered her close as they rode, thankful that Henry had not agreed to his request to return to France. It was before his marriage that he had asked to go along in Henry’s retinue, unwilling to remain close to a wife who was so clearly displeased with her marriage. Yet he knew now that he couldn’t have stayed away from her. Kathryn Somers would be a wife to him as soon as they reached Windermere. And she would learn to accept it.
The weather was fine every night, so they camped outdoors, without bothering to set up the small tents and tarps they’d brought in case of rain. Kit always fell asleep looking at the black sky, gazing at stars and plotting ways to make her husband notice her. Wolf managed never to lay his blanket next to hers until she was sound asleep, and he was always gone before she opened her eyes in the morning. Kit was sure it was intentional.
By the fourth night, Kit was discouraged and frustrated. They rode together as they had from Windermere to Kendal, with hardly any words between them. Kit sensed an asperity in Wolf that she doubted she’d ever be able to overcome, no matter how she tried to win him over. She couldn’t imagine why he had ever agreed to Henry’s demand that he wed her. He had never seemed to be a man who’d easily do another’s bidding, not even the king’s.
They finally stopped at the crest of a small ravine. It was a likely place to camp and Wolf lowered Kit down from Janus’ back to Nicholas, who waited to assist her. When she glanced back up at Wolf, Kit was dismayed by his grimace of pain. His wound was obviously troubling him, and she meant to have a look at it as soon as he dismounted. Wolf rode Janus over to the area where the rest of the horses were to be tethered and dropped down to his feet.
Kit was right behind him carrying a water bag and her satchel of medicines and bandages, much of which had been provided by Lord Blackmore.
“Let me dress your wound while there is still some light, Wolf,” she said.
“This dressing will do,” he said, wary of removing his tunic, unwilling to suffer the touch of her gentle hands. She had ministered to him daily at the palace and on the road, nursing him carefully. But the more she touched him, the more he wanted her, and this was not the time or place to show her to whom she belonged.
“The dressing will not do,” she asserted. “You’re in pain, and I would see why.”
Had he been in better spirits, Wolf would have thought it comical the way Kit—nearly half his size—seemed to think she was actually dragging him by the arm to the clearing.
She led him to a spot out in the open, away from the thicket of trees where the men were making camp, a place where the fading light was in its greatest abundance. She insisted that he sit on the trunk of an ancient tree which had been torn from its roots in some long forgotten storm. As he removed his tunic, Kit opened her bag to get the salve and the clean bandages she would need. She was amazed that he came along with her so docilely and decided that his improved temperament was because he’d been in the saddle all day, an occupation he seemed to enjoy.
Kit stepped between his thighs, trying to remain unaffected by his half-naked presence, and unwrapped the long linen outer dressing from his chest. She reached around him, coming close with every turn made by the long cloth.
Just at the point when Wolf thought he couldn’t bear her nearness any longer, she gasped.
“You’ve been bleeding!” Her look of dismay surprised him more than the bleeding itself. He had felt the warm ooze some time ago, but had no idea she would react so. Kit pulled off the saturated inner dressing and looked at the injury. “I should never have let you leave Westmin
ster so soon!”
“You? Should never have let...?” Kit was so distraught that she didn’t notice the signs of mirth in his eyes.
“That is correct, Your Grace,” she avowed as she washed the wound and examined the extent of the damage. Only a small area at one end of the injury had bled, and Kit was relieved. She felt that the salve, liberally applied, would control the bleeding if he were careful. “As it is, we will not turn back since we have already come so far and—”
He laughed. Though it was a pleasant sound which she hadn’t heard in weeks, Kit did not appreciate her husband making sport of her. True, they were bound together by the king’s order, but she did not feel it was her duty to become the brunt of his humor. As it was, she didn’t know how she would be able to live with the knowledge that she was not Wolf’s first choice—that he cared for another, that he had wanted to leave her at the first opportunity.
“—we will reach Windermere soon so it is pointless—”
“I’ve always thought you had a talent for giving orders like a duchess,” he chuckled, then winced as she slapped the medicinal paste into the sensitive torn area.
“You needn’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you.”
“I am a duchess, in case you’ve forgotten.” Her voice had become very quiet.
The laughter faded from Wolf’s face when he saw traces of moisture beginning to gather and glisten along the lower lashes of her eyes and that telltale tightening of her lips. Oh, how it wrenched his heart to see her cry. He didn’t blame her for it at all. By all the saints, it was bad enough for her to have been ordered to marry against her wishes and now, she was being dragged across the country again to a dank and dreary old castle with an ominous history with a man whom she had never in a thousand years intended to wed.
Damn Henry! It was obvious that Kit couldn’t abide being his duchess, and Wolf thought the least Henry could have done was to ascertain his sister’s opinion on the subject of matrimony before making an irrevocable decision on it. Wolf didn’t know how to make things easier for Kit, but he realized it was up to him to try.
The Bride of Windermere Page 18
