Dark Destroyer

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Gates grinned, drinking his ale as the wench returned with a tray of bread and cheese and cold beef. “Of course not,” he said. “I simply have not had any reason to insult them. This has been a short trip with seasoned men who do not deserve insulting – yet.”

  Stephan laughed quietly as he stabbed his knife at the beef, pulling forth a big hunk. “You had plenty of reason last night with the men fornicating in the loft in full view of de Lara’s daughter,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, now – just one little curse.”

  “I cannot think of one.”

  “You can always think of one. Then you are a forgetful old fool.”

  Gates cocked an eyebrow. “Is that the best you can do?” he said. “If I am a fool, then you are a clay-brained maggot.”

  Stephan burst out into snickers. “Ah, the famous de Wolfe talent for insults shows itself,” he said. “You would do your father proud. Speaking of fathers, I’d hate to see de Lara’s reaction when he finds out his men were fornicating in full-view of his daughter.”

  Gates took a big bite of bread, still warm from the oven. “I cannot say if he will care, to be truthful,” he said, sobering. “He seems not to care much about his daughter. I am curious to know what her fate will be once we reach Hyssington. De Lara and his wife do not want her to take her vows as a nun which means they want to marry her off, I would think.”

  Stephan was chewing loudly as he spoke. “But de Lara seemed grateful at the thought of not providing her with a dowry should she have already taken her vows.”

  Gates shrugged. “That being the case, I have no idea what the girl’s fate will be once we reach Hyssington,” he said, wondering why he should feel the slightest bit of concern at that thought. He tried to shake it off. “All I know is that I wish to see my father, as I have not seen him in many years. Mayhap when the snow melts and spring arrives, I shall take a trip north to Castle Questing to visit him.”

  Stephen delved into the cheese. “You are his second son,” he said. “Did you not tell me once that your older brother serves Northumberland and remained close to home?”

  Gates nodded. “Gabriel was forced to stay close to home, as the heir to the earldom of Warenton,” he said. “Me, however… well, I have wanderlust in my veins, as my father would say. Even so, I would like to go home and see my family.”

  Stephan took a huge swallow of ale. “It is a very big family,” he said. “The entire north is crawling with de Wolfes just as the entire Marches are crawling with de Lohrs. Soon the two families will merge and take over the entire country.”

  Gates was back to grinning. “Mayhap I should marry a de Lohr and join the two,” he said, “although Alexander’s sisters are already wed. Beautiful girls, in fact.”

  “Then why did you not pledge for one of them?”

  Gates looked at him in shock. “Are you mad?”

  Stephan laughed, knowing well that Gates de Wolfe and marriage were mortal enemies. As he finished up what was left of the beef, one of the serving wenches came down the stairs and approached the table. She curtsied nervously as she fixed on Gates.

  “M’lord,” she said. “The lady says to tell ye that she is ready to depart after prayers.”

  Gates simply nodded and the wench fled, disappearing back into the kitchens. Gates lingered on his cup a moment, thoughtfully, before speaking.

  “I wonder if she will be true to her word today,” he questioned.

  Stephen looked up from the beef. “What do you mean?”

  Gates lifted his eyebrows in a pensive gesture. “Her wrists are torn up from the rope over the past two days,” he said. “She told me that I did not have to bind her again today as she promised not to try to escape. I was simply wondering if she would be true to her word.”

  Stephen put the last bit of food in his mouth, wiping his hands on his breeches. “You will soon find out,” he said. “If you discover she is a liar, then you can tie her up until we reach Hyssington and then she will be de Lara’s problem.”

  Gates shook his head. “Untrue,” he said. “She will continue to be my problem as I can promise you that de Lara will tell me to manage the girl. Do you think he will want to keep an eye on her? Of course not. Therefore, the burden will continue to be mine.”

  Stephan didn’t have much to say to that, mostly because he knew it was true. “It seems strange to have a child and not care much about her,” he said. “I received the impression that de Lara did not much care for his only daughter.”

  Gates grunted. “You heard him say that he loves his dog more than his family,” he said. “I would believe that. I do not understand it, but I believe it.”

  Stephan simply nodded, finishing up the last of his meal as Gates drained his cup and stood up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “I will go see to the lady now,” he said. “Make sure the men are gathered and ready to depart. I do not intend to linger in this place any longer than I have to. Hyssington is on the horizon and I am eager to get there.”

  Stephan nodded, standing up as well, and went to corral the men as Gates headed up the stairs.

  It was dark on the second floor for the most part and Gates paused in the loft area, ushering commands to the men who were still there, men who were now moving very quickly at the sight of de Wolfe. When he uttered commands in a low tone, almost under his breath, it meant that the man was in no mood for nonsense. Men scrambled.

  With the last of the troops gathering their things and heading down to the common room, Gates made his way to Lady Kathalin’s door, excusing the three big soldiers who had been standing guard for the last hour or so. When the men moved away, Gates rapped softly on the door. He waited a few moments and, receiving no answer, rapped again.

  “My lady?” he said. “It is de Wolfe. May I enter?”

  He heard movement but there was still no reply. Concerned that she was in need of assistance, or quite possibly couldn’t answer, he opened the door just in time to see her standing up from the bed. It was evident that she had been kneeling. In the faint light of the weak hearth, Gates fixed on the woman when she turned to him and, for a moment, he didn’t recognize her.

  Dressed in the fine dark blue cloak with the fox lining, and the pale linen dress peeking out from underneath, Gates honestly didn’t recognize her at first. Her face was cleanly scrubbed, her red lips faintly glossy, and her hair was gloriously arranged around her head. He had never seen anything so utterly lovely. He just stood there and stared at her just as she was staring at him, and when she smiled timidly, he finally lifted his eyebrows in disbelief.

  “Lady Kathalin?” he asked hesitantly.

  Kathalin nodded, unnerved by his reaction. “Of course,” she said, her hands flitting to her hair nervously, then her face. “These are the things you brought for me last night. You said I should wear them… that is, you told me to….”

  Gates could see how uncertain she was and he hastened to reassure her. “Aye, you should wear them,” he said quickly. “I did indeed tell you to. In fact… please forgive me my shock, my lady, for I have never seen anything quite so fine in all of my life. Are the garments comfortable?”

  Kathalin flushed a deep shade of red; Gates could see it even in the weak light and it was clear to him that the woman had never heard a compliment in her entire life.

  “Aye, they are,” she said, looking down at herself and stroking the fox lining of the cloak. “I… that is to say, you were correct that they would be warm and comfortable. They are very warm and comfortable. And the serving wench dressed my hair like this. If it is too much, I can remove the braids. Mayhap I should not have let her do it.”

  She was beginning to rattle on nervously and Gates smiled, putting up his hands to stop her as he took a step or two in her direction. Truthfully, he just wanted to get a closer look at the beauty he was facing.

  “Your hair is beautiful,” he assured her. “There is no finer woman in all of England at this moment. The clothing and your hair
… you look magnificent, truly. You are truly an earl’s daughter now.”

  Flattery. Kathalin had never been given any flattery – of course, it was wicked and vain, so Mother Benedicta never flattered and she rarely gave praise. Therefore, the kind words coming from Gates were causing Kathalin’s heart to race and her cheeks to flush. She felt like turning away from the man and grinning at him all at the same time. Having no idea what to say or how to react, she simply opened up the cloak to show him the dress beneath.

  “The garment fits,” she told him nervously. “The servant was able to cinch it up but it is too long. I will have to hem the bottom unless you do not want me to. Mayhap you want to take this back to the seamstress after I have had my use of it.”

  Gates didn’t really hear much after the garment fits and she opened up her cloak to show him. After that, it was all a blur. To the strains of her voice saying nonsensical words in the background (although she was making sense; he simply wasn’t hearing what she was saying), what he saw before him was a glorious figure of a slender waist, full breasts, and a luscious neck. He had never seen finer, and he’d seen many a woman in his time. But Kathalin… surely God had meant her for something greater in this life because she wasn’t like any other woman, ever. She was exquisite and unique unto herself.

  Something changed inside of Gates at that moment as he envisioned Kathalin’s grandeur; he could feel it. He’d declared the woman off-limits for conquest but, in viewing that spectacular figure, he found his willpower wavering. But it was more than that; clearly, she was a beauty, but there was something very naïve yet strong about her, something he’d notice from the onset. He rather liked the fact that she wasn’t jaded and that she had lived a sheltered life. It meant that she was a woman in her truest form, untouched and uninfluenced.

  And then there was him.

  Cynical, predatory, and selfish. Those words described him when it came to women. For the first time in his life, he was coming to wish he’d been a bit more careful and thoughtful with his private life. Surely a man like him… and a woman like her… nay, it was too foolish to even consider.

  She is not to be toyed with! He told himself sharply. Your lustful urges are not meant for her, you fool!

  “Did you want to take the dress back to the seamstress when I am finished with it?” Kathalin asked again, cutting into his thoughts. “I will not hem it if you wish to sell it back to her.”

  Gates quickly shook his head. “I will do no such thing,” he said. “The garment is yours. It was made with only you in mind. Surely no other woman could wear it after you and do it justice.”

  More flattery. Kathalin’s cheeks flushed again just when they were starting to ease. She thought that perhaps she should thank him for his kind words but that was rather embarrassing, as if thanking him would acknowledge that she appreciated his flattery. Well, she did, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know that.

  “The servant packed everything back into the basket,” she said. “I am ready to depart when you are.”

  Gates smiled at her as he bent over to collect the rather large basket. It was clear that Kathalin was nervous around him, especially in matters she was uncertain with like fine clothing and conversation, so he simply picked the basket up and opened the chamber door.

  “My lady,” he said, indicating for her to exit. “We may proceed.”

  With her new slippers and fine cloak and beautiful hair, Kathalin left the room timidly, with Gates right behind her, walking slowly and uncertainly until Gates finally took her elbow to help her along. She was shocked at the physical contact at first, wondering why he was touching her, but then she realized he was simply being polite. Or perhaps he was being possessive. Unused to the behavior between men and women, she really didn’t know. All of this was a new world to her.

  Down in the common room, Stephan was rallying the troops, forcing everyone outside into the new morning. The front door to the inn was open and beyond they could see a winter wonderland of white snow and blue skies. The storm that had whipped them most of the night had moved on, leaving brilliance in its wake. It also left extreme cold and as Gates took Kathalin outside, their breaths hung heavy in the morning air.

  Kathalin pulled the warm and soft cloak tightly around her body as she stood on the step of the inn, watching the soldiers bring the horses around from the livery where they had been lodged overnight. Men were preparing their mounts, heaving their rucksacks over their shoulders, and generally preparing to depart. Gates handed the basket of items over to a soldier to either carry or fasten onto the back of a horse, since they had no wagon, and once he was free of the basket, he turned to Kathalin.

  “At least the snow isn’t blowing sideways today,” he commented as he extended his hand to her. “Come along, my lady.”

  Kathalin started to take a step but suddenly came to a halt, looking at the muddy, wet ground. “These shoes…,” she said hesitantly. “I fear they will be ruined if I walk on this ground.”

  Gates looked down to the sopping ground and, without a word, reached out and swept Kathalin into his big arms. She gasped at the unexpected action, quickly gripping his neck as he picked her up. He slogged across the horrible muddy road with the big ruts in it until he came to his steed, being held steady by a soldier. Gates swung Kathalin easily up into the saddle.

  She was sitting sideways, holding the saddle for support, as he mounted behind her, lifted her up, and then placed her across his thighs. Kathalin felt rather like she was being manhandled as he moved her around to find a comfortable position and the soldier who had been holding the horse now tucked the cloak in around her feet so it wouldn’t be muddied.

  Meanwhile, Gates was tending to her like a father. He made sure she was sitting properly, fully cover, and put the hood of the cloak over her head for both protection against the cold and modesty. Kathalin simply sat there and let him fuss, oddly enough, thinking she rather liked a man fussing over her. She’d never had such a thing before. When Gates was finally satisfied, he lifted a gloved hand in the air and made a forward motion. The group of men began to move.

  With the bright blue sky above and the snow-white blanket below, it made for enchanting scenery as they traveled north. In the fields, they could see tracks from foraging creatures who had dared to venture out into the snow and about an hour into their ride, they saw a herd of deer off to the east and Gates gave the order for some of his men to go hunting for meat for sup. Kathalin watched as the men rode off, pursuing the deer that were beginning to run.

  “It is so beautiful out here,” she said, her gaze on the white and blue horizon. “I cannot recall the last time I was out of St. Milburga’s. It was so long ago that I have forgotten.”

  Gates, whose attention had also been on his men as they took off after the deer, glanced down at Kathalin. With the hood covering her head, all he could see were her nose and lips. Such lovely lips….

  “Aye, ’tis beautiful,” he said, but not with the awe that she had use. “And cold. And wet. I will be happy when we reach Hyssington.”

  Kathalin looked up at him, brushing the fur of her hood against his chin. “When will we be there?”

  Gates glanced up at the sun’s position in the sky. “Another few hours,” he said. “We should be there well before sunset.”

  Kathalin fell silent as her gaze once again moved over the snowy landscape. “May… may I ask you a question, Sir Gates?”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  “Will you tell me the truth as to why my father wishes for me to return home?” she asked. “I realize you are only the messenger and I respect that position, but will you not at least tell me what you know so that I am prepared? I feel as if I am about to face the executioner and it would help me tremendously if I knew what was in store for me.”

  Gates hesitated before answering. “My lady, I truly do not know what your father has in mind for you,” he said, “and even if I did, it would not be my place to tell you. I hope you understand
that.”

  Kathalin did but she was still disappointed. “I do not wish for my father to become angry with you,” she said. “’Tis only that he has not recalled me home in the fourteen years I have been at St. Milburga’s. Only after the missive was sent requesting permission for me to take my vows did he send for me, so that leads me to believe that he does not wish for me to take my vows.”

  Gates truly felt some pity for the woman facing an uncertain future. “If I were you, that would be a logical assumption for me as well,” he said softly.

  Kathalin looked at him, those bright blue eyes sucking him in. “But what else is there for me?” she asked, a hint of distress in her tone. “Am I to go home and be a companion to my mother in her old age, a woman who clearly had no use for me as a child? Is that what my life is to entail? Uselessness and boredom?”

  Gates didn’t have an answer for her. “We will be there in a few hours and then you shall know,” he said. “Until then, it is a waste of time to think on it. Enjoy the ride and enjoy the scenery. As for your future… you will know soon enough.”

  Kathalin thought on his advice. “Your words are wise,” she said. “But I cannot help the apprehension I feel. I want to go home.”

  Gates knew that but he was fairly certain he would not be escorting her back to St. Milburga’s any time soon.

  “Mayhap at some later date,” he said, trying not to give her too much hope. “Meanwhile, I should think you would at least be agreeable to seeing your parents once again. They are, after all, your parents. Times change. People change. You should not fear seeing them again.”

  Kathalin shrugged, not having much of an answer for that. “Are your parents still living?”

  Gates nodded. “My father is still alive,” he said. “My mother passed away some years ago.”

  Kathalin turned to look at him, hitting him yet again with her big, furry hood. “Do you see your father often?”

  Gates lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully, trying to remember the last time he saw his father. “Not as often as I would like,” he said. “He lives far to the north at a place called Castle Questing. He is the Earl of Warenton.”