by Gina Black
“You are on time,” she whispered, dropping her satchels.
He could see, now, she carried a very small cat.
He nodded, watching the moonlight play on her upturned face.
“I cannot help thinking,” she scratched the feline behind the ears, “’tis too soon for you to be afoot.”
He smiled. “I am quite ready, I assure you. I have no interest in spending any more time confined to that cottage. No, ’tis best we saddle up and be on the road quickly.”
Katherine frowned. “But you do not have a horse.”
“You are right,” Nicholas said. “So ’tis a good thing we are here at your stables.”
Katherine nodded. “We are to walk.”
“Walk?” he raised an eyebrow. “No, we will not walk. Our progress would be so slow they would come upon us before the morrow. And yes, you are right, I am not recovered well enough to walk for several long days, but I am quite well enough to ride a horse.”
“Oh.” She was still frowning.
That did not bode well.
“So we will quietly go inside the stables, and you will help me pick a horse.”
“But that would be stealing.”
“Do you not live here?”
“Of course I do.”
“Are these not your horses?”
“I suppose in a way they are.”
“So you will accompany me into the stables, and we will select two suitable mounts and see they are returned at some point in the future.”
She looked away from him. “No. I will not.”
He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Katherine, you must be reasonable. Do you know how far it is to London?”
“’Tis a good distance, and will take several days on foot I have no doubt. But, you see, I do not ride.”
A country lass who did not ride? And they were to travel to London? This was too absurd to contemplate. Nicholas ran impatient fingers through his hair. “What do you mean you do not ride?” He knew his voice was getting louder, but his frustration was rising as well.
“That is it. I do not ride,” she repeated staunchly.
“Do you mean you ‘do not’ ride—or you ‘will not’ ride?”
She squared her shoulders, but did not look him in the eye. “It matters not. The result is the same.”
“It matters much. Nevertheless, whether you will not ride or do not ride, we will not go unless you get up on a horse.” He picked up a lumpy bundle and waved it at her.
With obvious reluctance, she raised her gaze to his. Along with the determination he expected to see, her eyes carried a mixture of sadness and desperation. He waited for her to speak, but she did not. In the silence, his exasperation grew. Would the wench continue to look at him like a wounded doe, unmovable and soundless as a statue?
At least she did not simper and bat her eyelashes at him. He was rarely able to resist such acts of deliberate coquetry. Nicholas’s shoulder throbbed from the tension. He tried to relax and sound practical as he spoke. “Do you know how heavy this will be after walking for a mere hour? And then two? Three?” He dropped the bundle to the ground. It landed with a thud.
She looked away.
“But ’twill not tax us to load it on a horse.” Cupping her chin, he pulled her gaze to his. “And no cat.”
“You are mistaken.”
Even though she did not say what he wanted to hear, Nicholas felt his approval grow. He disliked those who would not stand up for themselves.
But on this matter he would not budge. He would not complicate their travels with the addition of a cat, no matter how small. Nicholas scowled.
In answer, Katherine clutched the little beast protectively. Her eyes lost their sadness and flashed with new resolve. In the thin moonlight, she glowed with the ferocity of a lioness. “I will leave the bundles if I must, but Montford will come.”
“Montford?” He hoped his voice sounded more curious than surprised. “’Tis an interesting name for a cat. How came you by it?”
“’Twas the family who lived here before the war. I have seen it in books and other places.”
Nicholas felt oddly touched by this memorial to his family and knew not what to say. In the short silence that followed, he heard soft footfalls from behind. Letting go of Katherine’s chin, he thrust her behind him as he spun around to face a tousled, sleepy-eyed young man wielding a pitchfork in his direction.
“Jeremy?” Katherine hissed loudly, stepping out from behind Nicholas. “I had hoped not to wake you.”
Nicholas pushed her back behind him.
“It is quite all right,” she whispered to Nicholas, shrugging off his hand and stepping out from behind him again.
The boy looked at her uncertainly then thrust the pitchfork at Nicholas. “Who is he?”
“’Tis of no importance,” she answered.
“Seems mighty important to me, you being out here with him in the middle of the night.” He glared at Nicholas and took a step forward, the sharp tines of the fork edging closer. “I would know why he is here.”
Dressed roughly, the boy appeared to be a servant, probably a groom. What right had he to question Katherine? Or anyone else for that matter? Yet, by the way he held the pitchfork, it did not appear the lad would give up easily. Nicholas clenched his jaw. If the boy wanted a fight, why, then he would be pleased to give him one.
In one fluid move, Nicholas leapt to the side, positioning himself between the groom and Katherine, while whipping out his pistol.
The boy lunged toward him.
Nicholas jumped back, still holding Katherine. She bumped into his injured shoulder. He groaned, but kept his pistol aimed at the groom.
The gun glinted, cold and lethal in the weak moonlight.
“Both of you must stop this,” Katherine said, her voice quiet but firm. “’Tis not your right to question me,” she said to Jeremy. Then softer, to Nicholas, “Please, put away that weapon.”
Nicholas kept his eyes fixed on Jeremy. “Your mistress is right.” He lowered his arm, but kept it ready should the boy suddenly move again. “Let us talk inside. Is there anyone else in the stables?”
The boy shook his head.
Nicholas nodded at the pitchfork. “You can put that down before we go in.”
Jeremy inclined his head stiffly and tossed the tool onto the ground. It hit a rock with a loud clang.
Nicholas sucked in a breath. He took Katherine’s arm and waved at the boy with his gun. They followed him into the dark building.
Flint sparked onto tinder, illuminating the boy’s face while he lit a lantern. The wavering light revealed neat, austere surroundings. Clean, oiled saddles hung tidily on pegs alongside harnesses and bridles, yet there was a feeling of disuse. Most of the stalls were empty. Nicholas lowered the firearm to his side.
Jeremy spoke to Katherine. “Is he that highwayman?”
“Who I am is of no concern to you,” said Nicholas.
“’Tis of great concern,” the young man affirmed.
Katherine shook off Nicholas’s hand, and pulled back her hood. “Jeremy, this is Mr. Ed—“
“I am Katherine’s cousin.” Nicholas spoke over her.
Katherine blinked. “Ah, yes. Mr. Eddington will be accompanying me to London, to see my other cousin.”
Jeremy eyed Nicholas. “He does not look like safe company, and ’tis a strange hour you have picked to begin your journey.”
“’Twill be aright, Jeremy.” Katherine sighed. “Let us be off with no trouble. I must go because Father has planned I will say my spousals tomorrow with Richard Finch.”
Jeremy looked at Katherine. “I would have agreed to take you.”
“I thank you for that, Jeremy. But, you see, my cousin is bound in that direction.”
The lad frowned, caught in obvious indecision. Then he smiled at her, and Nicholas could see she had won him over.
Nicholas stepped forward. “We shall need two horses.”
Jeremy sho
ok his head. “She don’t ride.”
“All right,” said Nicholas, almost shouting his frustration. “The only way to get to London I can think of if ‘she don’t ride’ is for her to ride with me. Together. In which case, we shall only need one horse.”
Katherine pursed her lips.
The little cat yawned and began to purr.
Nicholas took Katherine’s lack of argument for agreement.
“I think ‘twould be better,” Jeremy said, addressing himself to Katherine, “if I get two horses.” He put out a hand to still her protest. “I will accompany you. It will take me just a moment to make ready.”
“No, Jeremy. I cannot ask that of you,” Katherine said.
“You are not asking,” he corrected her. “I will feel much better if I can see you are safe.”
“Fine,” agreed Nicholas looking heavenward. “While we talk, the night wanes. If we do not leave soon ’twill be morning.” He turned to Jeremy. “You get two horses, and whatever else you require. And be quick.”
He took Katherine by the arm and guided her through the door, then helped her collect her satchels. One was very heavy and held several book-shaped objects. Could they really be books? And she had thought she would walk to London carrying them?
Keen disappointment ran through Nicholas when he saw the mounts Jeremy led from the stables. Personal inspection of the stalls confirmed the lad’s declaration that the two mares were the best Ashfield had to offer. And to think that these stables had once been renowned for their horseflesh.
He could feel Katherine tremble as he took her by the waist and lifted her onto their horse. Her complexion appeared waxen in the moonlight. In her eyes was the same dull resignation he’d seen on the faces of Christians sold in the slave markets of Algiers. He made an effort to be gentle while he settled her on the animal and mounted behind her, offering no further objections to the furry bundle of his namesake she had tucked in a fold of her cloak.
Katherine perched uneasily, not astride, but not sidesaddle either. Her heart pounded, and alarm ran through her veins. She adjusted her skirt.
Nicholas took the reins, tightening his arms around her, and pulled her into his warmth. But she could not relax. Dread clutched her heart with each slight movement of the mare.
“I have not been on a mount since…since Edward.” The words stumbled out breathless and hesitant. Her heart pounded as the scene flashed through her mind. Her body felt, anew, the dawning horror as horse and rider missed the jump and fell, crashing down together. A gasp caught in her throat.
She felt a gentle squeeze. “Tis sorry I am.” Nicholas’s resonant voice brought with it a measure of calm, and his arms gave comfort. “This ride ’twill be aright. I will keep you safe.” The prickly stubble of his beard grazed her cheek.
She heaved a shuddering breath and pushed the memory away.
He tightened his arms around her as he slapped the reins.
They started down the drive, through the long border of stately oak trees. Katherine’s stomach pitched and tossed with each movement of the horse, even though they traveled slowly. They passed by the dark gatehouse, pausing while Jeremy unlatched and opened the gate. The loud and unavoidable creaking did not wake the old, deaf gatekeeper.
Katherine craned her neck to get a last glimpse of Ashfield. Even atop a horse, she was glad to be leaving—glad of every step that put distance between her and a terrible future. Glad, as well, to have a strong escort in Nicholas and a loyal one in Jeremy. Taking a deep breath, she turned her head frontward. She wished to never see Ashfield again.
As Nicholas urged the mount forward, her stomach lurched. She stifled a cry, grabbing at his hands. He tightened his arms around her. She felt pinpricks on her arm from Montford’s claws as the cat readjusted inside her cloak.
“I’ll keep you safe, lass,” Nicholas said, his low voice rumbling in her ear.
A rush of warmth ran through her and she shivered.
When had he stopped calling her Katherine and started calling her lass? And when had she stopped thinking of him as Mr. Eddington, or the Raven, and started thinking of him as Nicholas?
Katherine dragged in a breath. Tree branches rustled in the light wind. The rhythmic clop-clop-clop of the horses’ hooves echoed into the darkness, soothing her fears, lulling her. She sagged against him, easing her head into the curve of his neck, breathing in his exotic scent.
Katherine blinked hard and straightened up. What had come over her? Just because the man gave her comfort and promised her safety, did not mean she should not keep her wits about her. What would she do if thieves set upon them? Or highwaymen? Would highwaymen give other highwayman trouble? Was there some sort of Brotherhood of Outlaws? Did they have a code of conduct? Katherine bit her lip. It seemed quite unlikely.
As important, would Nicholas be the gentleman she hoped he was? So far, his actions had been unpredictable: either alarming or protective. Letting out a slow sigh, she acknowledged it was too late to have doubts. He was her best chance for freedom, and she had already gone too far to turn back. He had said his outlaw days were behind him, at least for now. And even though she did not understand why, she felt safe in the shelter of his arms. She would have to be content with that.
Katherine took a couple easy breaths to settle her stomach. A heady courage began to replace the fear coursing through her veins. Even though Cousin Alicia didn’t know she was coming, Katherine began to think for the first time in quite a long while that everything could turn out all right.
Katherine settled into Nicholas’s arms. Before long, her regular breathing told him she’d fallen asleep. He’d carefully kept their pace slow and easy to allay her fright.
Assessing the moon’s position, he surmised that even at this pace, they would reach the inn in three or four hours, arriving at dawn.
When he’d first returned to Dorsetshire, he’d deliberately chosen to stay some distance from Ashfield. Although he’d been gone seventeen years, and even though he bore scant resemblance to the angry eleven year-old boy who had left, memories could be long, and Nicholas had no desire to be recognized. He had given the innkeeper a false name, and so far, he was confident no one had noticed that the Earl of Ashton had returned.
But there was no question about it. He was back.
Nicholas looked down at his prize, watched her head bob with each plodding step of the horse. A wisp of hair had come loose from the prison of her cap and dangled across her tender nape. A sudden overwhelming need to nestle his face into that delicate curve possessed him. Instead, he readjusted her sleeping form. As her head repositioned into the crook of his neck, the scent of lavender wafted up to him. Nicholas closed his eyes and shuddered at the sudden rush of desire that ran through him.
The sound of horse hooves coming closer seeped into his awareness. He opened his eyes to see Jeremy had ridden up beside him.
He’d forgotten about the boy.
In the dim moonlight, he could see the lad wore an unmistakable scowl.
Nicholas scowled back.
* * *
Katherine cracked open an eye. They had stopped moving.
Dawn painted rosy streaks across the sky. A sign announced, by both picture and word, that they had arrived at the Ram’s Head Inn. Warm inside the curve of Nicholas’s arms, she yawned and looked around the well-tended courtyard. Two benches made from logs cut in half sat outside a sturdy wooden door. The windows were still shuttered against the night, but smoke poured out of a chimney at the back of the unassuming building, attesting to the beginning of a new day.
Nicholas dismounted, caught her by the waist and swung her down. Her legs buckled when her feet touched the ground, and she sagged against him, clutching Montford to her chest. Nicholas did not let go of her, but held her close—too close for the cat, wedged between them.
Montford mewed in protest.
Nicholas’s eyes met hers. A jolt of physical awareness tingled through her, and all sleepiness vanished. Katherine ga
sped at her reaction. He held her steady for a long moment before putting her from him. This time, after a slight sway, she held her own weight. As soon as she was stable, he walked off.
Shaken and bereft of Nicholas’s strong presence and warmth, Katherine began to shiver. She tightened her cloak against the morning chill and watched him give instructions to a stable boy.
Jeremy looked her way and their gazes met across the courtyard.
She blushed, still overcome by her intense response to Nicholas.
The front door burst open. The innkeeper, a short stout man, flew out to greet them.
“Master Abernathy,” he cried. “’Tis pleased I am at your safe return.”
Abernathy? Katherine’s head spun to Nicholas.
“Afraid I would not be back to pay my bill, you mean.” Nicholas chuckled.
The innkeeper stopped in his tracks and acted as if he’d been stabbed in the heart. “You cut me to the quick,” he exclaimed. “In your absence, Molly has been sulking and Henry off to his room. I am hoping your return will put all back as it should be.”
“Then let us begin with my belly.” Nicholas rubbed his stomach. “I have a powerful hunger this morn.”
“Aye.” The stout man nodded and cast a curious glance at Katherine as he led them inside.
Jeremy stayed behind with the stable boy and the horses.
The common room was crude but clean. Loud banging in the kitchen, accompanied by the smell of bread baking, set Katherine’s stomach growling. The innkeeper settled them at a table. A few minutes later a sleepy-eyed serving girl set a loaf of warm bread, and an assortment of cold meats, cheese, and pickled herring before them.
Katherine washed down a bite of the cheese with small ale. Not so good as that made at Ashfield under her guidance, yet still marvelously thirst quenching, and perhaps better because she was not at Ashfield. A feeling of elation ran through her, and she smiled.
Nicholas stared at the rare sight of Katherine smiling. All severity gone, a glow radiated from within her. She almost looked pretty. Her lips, usually pulled into a thin line, looked soft. Kissable. It had been too many days since he’d been with a woman.
