A Lord for Haughmond (7 page)

     “A towel would ease your discomfort, lass,” he suggested and watched her gulp. 

     She snatched up a linen and flung it at him, then whirled around and covered her face with her hands.

     Stepping from the tub and drying himself, Rhys kept his eyes fastened on her shaking shoulders and listened to the unsteady gasps coming from betwixt her fingers. Virgins were not so laudable as the bards did claim. 

     Tucking the cloth about his waist, he thought to soothe her distress. Padding soundlessly across the chamber, he touched her quaking shoulder.

     “Katherine—”

     Her shriek nigh deafened him. She spun away, crashing against the solid wall of stone at her back.

     “On Saint Michael’s thigh, what makes you act thus?” He stared at her as though she had lost her senses, yet in the same instant he realized what prompted her outburst. “Did you never assist guests at Haughmond?”

     She shook her head.

     “A wise choice, I posit, given your beauty,” he said with a nod. “’Tis best not to tempt.”

     Katherine gaped at him in silence, her eyes so wide he was certain they’d burst from her head. The longer she stared, the brighter her cheeks flamed.

     And the more his body responded.  

     A hunger seized him, coursed through his veins, no matter he sought to suppress it. Her close inspection ignited his imagination and memories of other trysts and the pleasures they had wrought.

     Such ill timing for a virgin to be standing within reach.      

     Katherine’s gaze slowly climbed back up his frame. Her eyes met his, and held. Within their dark depths, panic, confusion and a measure of longing treaded on the heels of each other. 

     With a will of iron, Rhys fought down his building desires. He was no lecher. Turning his back, he began to don his garments. “One day ’twill not be so frightening, damsel, when you are married,” he advised in an unsteady voice. “Would that your lover responds to you as readily, then ’tis a flattering circumstance, especially when one fancies herself in love.”

     Katherine whirled with a hearty gasp, giving him her back.

     He watched her from the corner of his eye while he yanked up his wool chausses and found himself transfixed by the lovely sight. Her hair, falling like a dark waterfall down her back,  shimmered in the lamplight. Though the miserable tunic did hide her waist, he knew it to be as slender as her limbs were long. ’Twas not likely he’d forget the feel of her.

     His hands trembled. He swallowed hard, forced himself to relax. “’Twould be no hardship to gaze upon you as nature endowed you,” he murmured. “’Tis most untroubling to view a well-pleasing damsel.” He gazed at her tense back another long moment before drawing on his linen shirt. Roughly shoving the long hem into his chausses, he tugged on a dark blue brocaded tunic, then padded over to a leather satchel and withdrew a pair of soft leather shoes and slipped them on his feet. “Peace be with you, Lady Katherine. Anne shall be sent to you, that you might be comforted. The two of you will be safe herein, if you keep the bolt secure.” He stepped to the door.

     “I—I thought you to stay. I beseech you, Sir Rhys do not abandon me. I know I am foolish.” Katherine looked over her shoulder but did not meet his eyes. “You must needs have greater patience, I pray.” Gradually she pivoted to face the chamber, though her gaze now remained downcast. “I am not worldly. I have seen little beyond the walls of Haughmond. Alas, my only counsel was my late aunt and she was never married.” 

     Rhys paused, his hand on the wooden bolt. “So I needs become your wet nurse when I become your champion?” His voice held more surliness than he intended. Such loveliness so close at hand made it impossible to get a grip on his roiling emotions. She was so fetching and yet so very frustrating.

     Katherine flushed scarlet. “I—I—”

     “—am ignorant in the ways of the world,” he supplied. “’Tis so?”

     She nodded and looked miserable. “Perchance, ’tis not too late for me to make amends?”

     Rhys thought of his gallant vows, of his courageous duty to the crown, of his unflinching ambition to avenge lost honor. Indeed, he was chivalrous. Indeed, he could aptly afford to exercise patience. Mayhap he could exhort Lady Katherine to champion
his
cause. They could join forces, so to speak.

     Considering, he moved across the chamber to her. “Pray, trust in me, Lady Katherine. I have done my utmost to insure your safety.” He lifted a brow. “Have I not suspended my own mission to escort you to the king?”

     Finally meeting his gaze, Katherine’s dark eyes widened in alarm. “We have induced you from your own destination? I thought you journeyed the same direction as we.”

     “Nay, lady, we were bound elsewhere.”

     “Faith!” She looked away with the deflated exclamation.

     He placed his hands on her sagging shoulders. At the contact, his lust melted into a need to protect this damsel, the switch so lightning-quick, it stunned him.

     He had set a quest of vengeance. Though some would turn him from it, he intended to see justice done. But could he shoulder the mantle of Lady Katherine’s quest, thereto?                          

     Could he win the day?  He must!

     “Rest assured, I’ll abide as your champion.” With gentle fingers, he lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Have I not given you my troth?”

     Katherine nodded and bit her lip. “Yea, my sister and I are sore indebted to you. We—”

     “—will speak of this no more. Tush!” He placed a finger against her lips and wished he had not. Their warm trembling set him aflame. He dropped his hand.

     Katherine’s eyelids flickered.

     He shouldn’t have touched her. He’d given offense.

     “You will abide with us? You will champion us?” she whispered, not seemingly vexed.

     “Aye, I’ve given my troth.”  Would that she’d ask for more, he’d bestow it gladly.

     She gazed at him with gratitude shining in her eyes, then presented him with a perfect curtsy.

     He’d rather have had a kiss, but he must needs remember he was merely a champion—naught more. “By all that is holy, I will sustain you,” he murmured unsteadily, inclining his head.

     “Thanks be to the Blessed Mother for your succor,” she whispered and settled a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

     How he wished the magical spell could last forever, that her feather light touch would be a daily occurrence, that they’d share a multitude of moments such as this. Desire, and the need for something other than his life presently held, brought the reality of his empty existence crashing over him. The heavy pounding of his heart filled his ears and made him short of breath. Was it in response to Katherine, or was his heart simply breaking in twain, that he could not possess the joy of a lovely damsel like other men?

Chapter Five

     “I have accepted Simon’s protection,” Anne announced, arriving at Sir Rhys’s chamber long after a servant had been sent to fetch her.

     Katherine’s nettled concern must have been apparent, for her sister would not meet her gaze, kept her focus locked on the silent squire standing just inside the entry and looking supremely ill at ease.

     “I feel safe with him,” she added, as though that made it proper. It didn’t.

     “You will lodge, unaccompanied, in a squire’s tent?” Katherine threw out the harsh censure, hoping Anne would feel chagrined enough to alter her outrageous plan. “’Tis unseemly—”

     “No worse than you, sister, locked up with a knight. Who will be your nursemaid?” Anne interrupted with a defiant look. “As for me, the whole garrison will hear my every sneeze. Goodness, Simon can be naught but chivalrous.” With a determined set to her lips, she swept from the chamber. The squire made haste to follow.

     Katherine scowled at the empty doorway. “Simon’s kind intercession appropriates Anne’s good sense.”

     “He’s an honorable lad.” Sir Rhys stepped to the door and bolted it. “No harm shall befall her.”

     “Oh, would that we could cease our dependency upon your good offices!” Katherine’s frustration boiled up, nigh choked her.

     “’Tis an abrupt shift of purpose, lady,” the knight commented with a look of surprise. “Whereon does your gratitude depend? It bodes ill should it shift with the wind.”

     “Alack, cannot you see?” Katherine clasped her hands, unable to contain her frustration. “My sister is blinded by your squire’s velvet tongue. I had not anticipated this wrinkle. What do you to protect her?”

*  *  *

     Rhys sighed into the darkness, sorry he and Lady Katherine remained at odds. Lying within the narrow wooden bedstead he had shoved against the far wall to make room for the pallet on the floor, his thoughts raced, making sleep nigh impossible. He regretted the argument over his squire’s supposed shortcomings. Absently he stroked the newly sprouted stubble of hair on his chin. He had found it necessary to defend the squire’s integrity, as his observations of Simon were far different from the lady’s.

     Their difference of opinion had ended when Katherine gave him her back, then had flung herself down upon the straw pallet—which was to have been his bed—and buried herself beneath the coverlet. Zeus had curled up beside her on the drafty floor.

     He couldn’t blame her for her sensitivity. Sir Geoffrey was reputed to be a licentious tup. He scratched at his new and profoundly irritating moustache. Only God knew what the de la Motte women had endured under that parental guise. Thankful he had been spared a similar horror, he recognized he must needs own a greater breadth of patience with Katherine.

     With that in mind, he levered himself on an elbow and peered down at the straw pallet. “Did you come across a unicorn whilst in the forest?” In the flickering firelight, he could barely glimpse the outline of her slender back. The only sound within the small chamber was the steady rhythm of Zeus’ loud breathing. Mayhap Katherine’s displeasure was greater than he had surmised. Faced with her slight, he was surprised by the extent of his disappointment.

     He began to lower himself down to his mattress, but a stirring of straw gave him pause. Katherine turned onto her back and slanted up a glance. “A unicorn?” she inquired in a small voice.

     Rhys swallowed his relief as he hurried an answer. “Aye, do you not recall the ancient tale of the white horned beast that only a beautiful maiden can capture?”

     Katherine offered him a tight smile. “It passed me by, thinking me a lowly page.”

     Rhys chuckled and settled himself on his mattress. “A pity.” He scrubbed his prickly beard with his knuckles. “Its protection would be useful against the Basilisk.”

     “Who is that, pray?”

     “You never heard of the Basilisk?”

     “Troubadours weren’t encouraged by Sir Geoffrey. Who is this person?"

     “Monster!” He corrected.

     “Mon Dieu!” A nervous giggle bubbled up from below, along with another rustle of straw.

     Encouraged by her amusement, he folded his hands behind his head and watching the flickering shadows of the dying fire dance across the blackened ceiling beams, told the story of the great and deadly snake that had been passed down to him in his youth from a friendly squire. 

     Katherine clucked her tongue. “I beseech you to set aside such a tale. Have you none happier?”

     Rhys grinned at the ceiling. “I’ve saved a damsel or two from fierce dragons.”

     “’Twould be more pleasant to hear those accounts.” Katherine’s relief flowed through her reply.

     “Breathing fire or one of the winged variety?” Delighted by her interest, his pulse raced with excited pleasure. Katherine was as ticklish as a newborn colt, yet ’twas not so difficult to ply his patience, he decided.

     Indeed, ’twas most agreeable.

     “’Twould be excellent, methinks, did it spew fire.” She sent another giggle in his direction. “Perchance the beast did hoard a cask of gold, to make it worth your while?”

     “Ah, bloodthirsty wench! ’Tis meet I face so dangerous an adversary. Aye, a treasure trove needs be part of every great tale, to appease the eager listener.” Rhys chuckled, gratified his stratagem showed success. He settled his shoulders more comfortably into the feather mattress, his mind racing in the creation of the tale.

     “Once upon a time there was a lovely princess with long flowing brown locks, who was kidnapped and held hostage by a ferocious dragon. All who lived nearby were sore afraid, for this huge beast breathed flames that scorched the land and dispatched any noble knight who attempted to slay him."

     “My pardon, sir knight, but I thought ’twould be a happy tale.”

     “Oh, aye,” exclaimed Rhys, coming up on his elbow and fixing Katherine with a credible expression. She’d turned onto her side and her hair drifted across the straw pallet behind her in a sensuous rippling wave. She lay curled beneath the thick coverlet, a small frown furrowing her brow, the ticking bunched beneath her head for support.

     Distracted by her enticing and vulnerable appearance, he stumbled to a halt. Occupied by such tender beauty, his train of thought retreated into confusion. She was captivating. He forced aside the titillating thought, remembering he was merely her champion. He must needs maintain his present course. Katherine, with her luminous and trusting eyes, was one entanglement he’d be unlikely to forebear. ’Twas meet he did possess a will of iron.

     He cleared his throat and continued. “I survived the ordeal, madame. I slew the dragon and saved the damsel in distress.”

     “Pray, how is it you survived, where others failed?”

     “Ah, the audience wishes to descry my secrets,” he murmured, pondering her frown of consternation. “If truth be told, I masqueraded as a lowly page. The dragon was unable to sense the danger before my arrows did find their mark in his scaly hide.”