The strangest flicker of warmth woke in his heart. His wife. The words resonated in him and that warmth grew. Soon Kate would belong only to him, his to cherish and protect.
Aye, but he’d only have her if he didn’t let his desire to have her make him foolhardy. Or his brother’s. He shifted on the blanket to look at the Godsol family patriarch.
“Folk listen, Will. Have a care with your tongue. As for our prey”--Rafe paused, giving his sometimes thick brother time to realize he spoke of Kate--“I say near enough, but hardly within reach.”
Creases formed on Will’s broad face. He blinked as he decoded Rafe’s meaning, then his expression darkened. “What do you mean, not within reach, when our prey is but across the glade? What sort of excuse is this? Perhaps you’ve discovered you haven’t the backbone for the task I set you. Here we are, outside Haydon’s walls with horses at hand. Snatch her, man. I’ll stop the others from following.”
“You’re out of your mind, Will,” Rafe replied, impervious to so ridiculous a goad. “You and three of Long Chilting’s soldiers are useless against so many.”
The jerk of his chin indicated the folk teeming in this wee valley, their numbers easily in the hundreds. It wasn’t just the invited wedding guests who hunted this morn, but every man or woman from any guest’s household wealthy enough to keep a hawk. That included a good number of the bishop’s clerics and Dickon’s prior. Rafe sent a longing glance at his brother’s bird, tethered to its roost. The training and maintenance of such an animal was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Yet. His gaze returned to Kate.
“Nay,” he told his brother as he watched his future wife dance, “when I take my prey there won’t be a full army following on my heels, eager to retrieve her.”
“Perhaps this moment isn’t the right one,” the eldest Godsol grumbled in agreement, frustration burning in his dark eyes. “But you must vow to me that you won’t fail. A year’s already passed since our sire’s death, and Bagot still hasn’t paid for what he did. The sooner you and what you want are safe behind Long Chilting’s walls, the easier our father’s soul will rest.”
“On my honor you’ll have your vengeance, just as I’ll have her. But take heed, I’ll not go to Long Chilting with her. Our home’s exactly where they’ll look once they learn it’s me who did the deed.” He needed someplace less obvious. Although Rafe hoped it wouldn’t come to it, it was possible he might need a little time to convince Kate that marriage to him was in her best interest.
“Just where do you intend to go, then?” Will demanded, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper.
For all his desire to make Kate his Rafe hadn’t actually yet formed a plan. Now, as he considered his brother’s question, the answer came to him. He grinned and leaned close enough to Will so there was no chance anyone, not even Will’s hawk, could overhear.
“Where better to take her than to Glevering? After all, the property is by rights ours, having belonged to our ancestors before her family stole it from us.”
Wicked pleasure filled Will’s slow smile. “Aye, that’s precisely where you must go.” He sent a searing glance at his foe on the opposite side of the glade. “By God, I’d spend every coin I own if it would buy me a chance to see Bagot’s face when he learns that we once more have in our possession what his blood stole from us. That, and something else he cherishes.”
In the next instant Will’s satisfaction died back into concern. He looked back at Rafe. “It won’t work, brother,” he breathed. “Glevering’s priest isn’t going to wed his lord’s daughter to a Godsol. Nay, you must come home for only our own priest won’t refuse you.”
Rafe shrugged. “If all we need is a willing priest, then send a man riding to Long Chilting. Have him bring Father Philip and all the men you can spare halfway to Haydon. There, they’ll wait for our messenger to bid them meet us at Glevering.”
His words sent his eldest brother rocking back on his seat. A laugh exploded from Will, the sound loud enough to make his hawk flap helplessly against its tethers. Will dealt Rafe a hearty and approving slap on the shoulder.
“By God, but you’re a devious man! It’s all that living at court that’s made you what you are, God be praised for small favors.”
“Glad you approve,” Rafe said, the corner of his mouth lifting.
Content with what he planned, Rafe finished his pasty then used his eating knife to spear a honeyed plum from the round of stale bread that was his trencher. As he raised the sweet to his mouth, the music stopped. Rafe’s gaze leapt to the dispersing dancers.
Across the glade, Kate started back to where her sire sat, a golden-haired man at her side. Rafe sneered. Although this man was tall enough, Kate’s companion was wiry, lacking a proper man’s breadth of shoulder. True, the knight wasn’t as ugly as Sir William, but neither was he fair-featured enough to offer Rafe any true competition.
Then Kate lifted her head to look at her companion. Adoration filled her expression.
For another man!
It was a crossbow bolt through Rafe’s heart. How could his Kate look at another man that way? How could she not know what was so clear to him? There was no other man for her save him, just as there was no other woman for him. They were meant to be together. The passion in their kiss last night confirmed that.
Still reeling at Kate’s unwitting betrayal, Rafe’s gaze shifted to the knight beside her then forgot all in a swell of newborn anger. It wasn’t just any sort of smile the fair-haired man sent Kate’s way. Rafe needed nothing more than his own experience in borrowing other men’s wives to recognize the man’s expression. The worm-eating lecher was trying to seduce his Kate.
God help her, but she was too innocent to realize the man’s intent. The need to protect Kate brought Rafe around on the blanket so swiftly that the plum slipped from his knife’s tip to splatter onto the fabric. Will shied back from the staining slop.
“Ack, Rafe! Be careful what you do!”
“Who is he?” Rafe demanded, stabbing his knife in the direction of the fair man.
Will gingerly shifted on the blanket and looked where Rafe indicated. “Warin de Dapifer, Bagot’s steward. An honest man, by all accounts--that is until he took employment with the Daubney rat-kisser.”
Rafe again looked at the steward and Kate. Damn him and the Godsol name that kept him at a distance. How was he supposed to protect Kate from her father’s man of business when the bitch’s son had constant access to his liege lord’s daughter? Jesus God, but he couldn’t even warn Bagot that Warin de Dapifer was a false knight who planned to betray his employer by stealing both Bagot’s daughter and her riches.
Across the glade, the seducer and his intended victim stopped near Lord Humphrey. The traitorous steward offered his employer a low bow, then started back across the grassy expanse. Rafe watched de Dapifer’s every step until the man reached the edge of the woods. There Sir Warin paused to send a meaningful look in the direction of his lord’s daughter. It was an invitation for Kate to join him, nothing less.
Rafe’s fists closed against the urge to race after de Dapifer and kill him on the spot. By God, but the man leered at her like a hungry wolf. How could Bagot not see him for what he was?
Instead, he forced himself to stay where he sat. Attacking the man would not only result in his banishment from the wedding, it would likely encourage Kate’s misguided affection for the steward. That was a sour lesson from Rafe’s own experience with women. Assault a man for whom a woman harbored even the smallest attraction and, for some godforsaken reason, you often drove the woman right into the other man’s arms.
His gaze shifted back to Kate at the other end of the glade. Her face pinched in what seemed refusal then she sat down on her father’s blanket with him. Rafe sighed in relief, pride’s warmth filling him.
Shame on him for doubting his sweet innocent Kate. His had been the first and only touch to stir her from her upright behavior. There’d be no other for her; she just hadn’t yet recognized that fact
.
A smile tugged at his mouth. His Kate was both passionate and virtuous, just the sort of woman a man like himself craved as his wife. Nay, she was the woman he would make his wife.
So certain was he of her future loyalty that he started when Kate sprang suddenly to her feet. What seemed almost pain twisted her face. Rafe’s pride dissolved into worry. It wasn’t pain he saw. She looked like a woman who couldn’t stop herself. Even as Rafe willed her not to, she offered her father a nervous bob and started toward the woodland’s edge, following exactly in de Dapifer’s wake.
Rafe’s need to save her from her misguided emotions ate up all his common sense. He leapt to his feet. What she couldn’t do for herself he would do for her.
* * *
Kate’s heart thudded in her chest, its pounding so loud that she wanted to cover her ears. Her breath caught in her throat. Each step was agony, so badly did her knees tremble.
If only Ami were here. A single glance at the young widow, to remind Kate of how easily she’d hoodwinked her sire the previous night, would have gone far to bolster her courage. Unfortunately, Ami was yet at Haydon, being one of the women chosen to wait upon the newlyweds today.
A bare three yards from where Warin had stepped into the forest’s dappled shade, Kate’s feet froze to the sod. Try as she might she couldn’t move another inch. Her vision blurred at the edges. From deep in her soul, Adele’s remembered voice screamed that she must stop. Guilt made mincemeat of Kate’s will. Mary save her, it didn’t matter how much she wanted to spend time with Warin, she couldn’t do this.
She turned back to face the picnickers. Across the way Lord Haydon had joined her sire at their blanket. Her father’s tangled beard wasn’t thick enough to hide the smile he offered their host. A moment later and her sire threw back his head to laugh. Even from this distance Kate could hear his heartfelt amusement.
Resentment shot through her. There he was, once again giving another the consideration he denied his own daughter. Her eyes narrowed. Warin was waiting. She whirled.
And came face to face with Rafe Godsol.
With a startled cry Kate took a backward step. Rafe followed, nearly hovering over her. Like most of the men today, her sire’s enemy wore a sleeveless leather vest over a dark green tunic that reached to his knees. Soft leather boots, their tops disappearing beneath the hem of his tunic, were cross-gartered to his legs. He’d removed his hat; his curling black hair gleamed in the sun. Resolution marked every line of his fine face.
From deep within Kate the remnants of last night’s pleasure stirred. Fear of what her sire would do to her if he saw her near a Godsol slaughtered her reaction. Kate shifted to move around him.
“You have to stay away from me,” she told him. “We are enemies.”
He shifted to block her path. “You and I aren’t enemies,” he replied, his reasonable tone belying the insanity of his statement. “It’s only our families who hate each other.”
Kate shot a frantic glance over her shoulder at her sire. Much to her relief, she saw her father yet had his back to her while he spoke with Lord Haydon.
“Move,” she commanded.
“I won’t,” Rafe replied, sounding determined indeed.
If he wouldn’t move, she would. Kate whirled to the right. Since running would only alert those watching that something was amiss, she strode as fast from him as she dared.
He followed, easily keeping pace. With each step he took he veered a little more toward her, subtly and surely driving her farther from the edge of the woods.
With an impatient breath, she stopped to glare at him. “What are you doing?”
He grinned in the patronizing way that folk save for idiots and young children. “What every line of your body and face begs of me. I’m stopping you from meeting in private with your father’s steward.”
Kate froze, shock and guilt like living things within her. She stared up at Rafe. Certainty glinted in his dark eyes and the casual bend of his lips. He knew about her meeting with Warin. A wave of confusion followed. How could he possibly know anything? Only she and Warin knew.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice thready.
“I’m talking about you and Sir Warin de Dapifer,” Rafe replied, his tone that of a tutor to a slow-witted student. “I thought I should warn you. No matter what you think he wants or what he may have told you, it’s a tryst he expects from you.”
“A tryst?” she gasped, once again awash in shock.
This morning’s misgivings over Warin’s intentions stirred. God help her, but she’d known better from the start. Then, even as a part of her sighed in relief and gave thanks to Rafe for stopping her, the guilty need to shield her reputation from wrongdoing woke.
“You’re wrong,” she protested, her voice squeaking a little against the lie.
“I think not,” Rafe replied, his tone conversational, as if it were the weather they discussed and not the blackening of her repute. “But then, neither do you. It’s written all over your face. Never has there been a woman so unhappy at the prospect of meeting a man than you.”
Another wave of shock hit Kate, this one filled with Lady Adele’s strident warnings about straying from propriety’s path. Oh Lord, if Rafe had noticed that much, had anyone else? God help her! It didn’t matter that her meeting with Warin hadn’t yet taken place. All it took for her reputation to be ruined was for others to believe her capable of such misbehavior.
Hiding her worry by crossing her arms, Kate glanced around her. Lady Haydon and the aged countess sat on a nearby blanket but a few yards distant. The bride’s mother watched them from beneath the wide brim of her straw hat. Her brows were high upon her forehead, her expression alive with concern.
“Lady de Fraisney, is all well?” Lady Haydon called as their gazes met.
Before Kate could answer the dowager countess beside their hostess threw off her own hat, baring her thinning hair to the sun’s light. The old woman eyed the two members of the shire’s feuding families then let loose a lewd chuckle and looked at her companion.
“What trouble could there be, Beatrice, a handsome lad and a pretty lass like that? ‘Tis naught but courtship games they play. Leave them be,” she continued, laying her wrinkled hand on Lady Haydon’s green sleeve. “Too bad they can’t succeed. Think of the peace this shire might have if they were to unite their warring families.”
Lady Haydon yet looked dubious. Despite the countess’s confidence the old noblewoman’s escort came to their feet, their expressions guarded. They’d come to Kate’s aid if she asked for it.
Aye, but to ask for their help was like unto begging Rafe to spew his accusation of trysting for all to hear. Rafe was her father’s enemy. It wouldn’t trouble him that what he said ruined Kate’s life.
With that new understanding, Kate’s concern for her reputation fell before new cynicism. Her eyes narrowed. Rafe knew nothing about Warin. Only happenstance and misfortune made his guess correct. This was but a ploy by a Godsol to ruin a Daubney and a Daubney servant.
“All is well,” she lied to the ladies.
From her seat on the blanket the countess grinned. “See, it’s as I told you,” she told the others. Lady Haydon shrugged and smiled as the men behind them relaxed, once again returning to their places.
Turning her gaze back to Rafe, Kate’s jaw firmed. For shame! She’d let her father’s lecherous, ill-behaved enemy make her doubt her good and true Warin.
The worst of it was that she was now well and truly trapped. With his course set on destroying her, this mannerless ape would surely follow if she tried to enter the woods. Should he catch sight of Warin, the Godsol would immediately trumpet his lie for all to hear. She’d have to retreat.
Disappointment nibbled at her heart. When she didn’t meet Warin, would he believe she wanted him no longer? That meant no champion for her in the joust. As if Rafe read her thoughts on her face, a slow and triumphant grin stretched his mouth. It was enough to make irri
tation run away with Kate’s tongue.
“Lecher!” she scolded. “I’ve had enough of you and your sordid behavior. But why should I expect anything else from a man who takes advantage of the unwary by forcing touches and kisses? Well, I may have earned your ill opinion through my lapse last even but my father’s steward deserves no such blackening. Sir Warin is too true a knight to ever do as you suggest, and I’ll not have you dirtying his name with your false accusations. If you must know why I was entering yon wood, my reason is private, a need for a moment in the bushes.”
Amusement flashed in Rafe’s dark eyes. “Ah, outrage to bind your wounded pride. Apologies, my lady, for exposing your sire’s steward as a wretch and ruining your day.” It was a brief and mocking bow he gave to punctuate his words. When he straightened, he set a fist upon his hip and cocked a brow. “Apology given and received, now retreat to your sire where it’s safe.”
Kate gaped at him. Of all the men in the world here was the one she was absolutely certain had no right to tell her where she could or couldn’t go. All sense died against her need to put this impossible Godsol in his place.
“You dare try to bend me to your will? I will not retreat. Now, you stand aside and let me pass.”
New light glowed in his brown eyes until they smoldered. “You’ll retreat,” he repeated, “even knowing how very frustrated Sir Warin will be when you don’t meet him as planned. God knows I’d be frustrated, were I in his place.”
Kate loosed a searing breath. “Meet you in private when I know the sort of advantage you take? Never as long as I live, sir knight.”
His face softened. Without moving a muscle he seemed to shift nearer to her. “You have no idea how deeply I pray you eat those words, Kate,” he said, his voice suddenly husky and deep.
His forward use of her pet name should have shocked Kate. Propriety and sense should have screamed that she turn and run. Instead his nearness sparked the memory of their kiss and Kate’s body came to sharp life. Every fiber of her being longed to once more feel his mouth on hers.
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