Dark Destroyer (12 page)

I am simply exhausted,
she told herself.
That must be why thoughts of him cause my heart to race.

… isn’t it?

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm her unfamiliar thoughts, Kathalin fastened the top of her cloak and turned away from Ruby.

“Will you please find the knight and tell him that I am ready to depart after prayers?” she asked, moving to the half-eaten food tray. “I am sure he is eager to leave.”

Ruby nodded, heading for the door, as Kathalin popped a piece of white cheese into her mouth. “Aye, m’lady,” she said, opening the door to find three big soldiers standing outside. She eyed the soldiers warily before returning her attention to Kathalin. “Remember that if ye ever need a maid, I should be happy to assist ye.”

Kathalin nodded as she chewed and swallowed. “I am grateful.”

With a timid smile, Ruby quit the chamber as Kathalin finished what was left on her tray. But the lure of food was in competition with the fox-lined cloak she wore, for most certainly she had never in her life known anything so warm or so soft. She kept running her hands over the fox, enthralled with the feel of it, enthralled with the feel of everything she was wearing because it was exactly as de Wolfe said it would be – soft, warm, and comfortable.

Was this what worldly vanity meant? Wearing garments that didn’t make her skin raw? If that was the case, Kathalin began to think that, perhaps, she might be in danger of being a vain woman because she liked the feel very much. She knew she could get used to it, and happily.

Mother Benedicta would be most displeased.

With that thought, she dropped to her knees, crossed herself, and began intoning the morning prayers for Matins. It was a habit she had been in since childhood and Catholic guilt dictated that she prayed very hard for her wicked lust for comfort. At least, Mother Benedicta would say that she needed to. She was nearly finished pleading for God’s mercy for her evil thoughts when there was a soft knock at the door.

Finishing quickly with her prayers, she bade the caller to enter and when she looked up and saw de Wolfe in the dim light of the chamber, she would remember the look on his face for the rest of her life. She’d never seen anything like it before, ever. Something between surprise, awe, and pleasure.

She fought off the urge to smile at him in return but she couldn’t quite manage it.

“Did you sleep at all?”

The question came from Stephan as he sat across the table from Gates, down in the inn’s common room that was hardly bigger than a solar. It would seat perhaps twenty people at the most, and even now, the twenty people that were there were Gates’ men, all breaking their fast.

Tables were leaning, some were broken altogether, and the entire room smelled heavily of smoke and urine, but Gates’ men didn’t particularly care, and neither did Gates. Men were coughing, waking up, ordering food, and gathering their possessions for the march to Hyssington as Gates and Stephan sat at the table nearest the stairs. Gates, who appeared pale and exhausted highlighted by a growth of beard, grunted to Stephan’s question.

“We will be at Hyssington by late today,” he said, avoiding an answer. “There will be time enough to rest once we have reached home.”

Stephan who, in fact, had slept quite well most of the night, whistled low to get the attention of the lone serving wench in the room. He pointed to the table, silently telling the woman they required food, before continuing the conversation.

“I have never known you to sleep much,” he said. “In fact, you are usually awake when I go to bed and you are still awake when I wake up in the morning. Do you not ever become tired?”

Gates smiled faintly, nodding his head. “I am always weary,” he said. “But I have never been able to sleep well, even as a youth. My master did not sleep well and therefore had me up at all hours of the night, keeping busy. It is an unfortunate habit that has remained with me all of these years.”

Stephan’s expression suggested sympathy and understanding. He moved his arm off the table as the serving wench brought a pitcher of watered ale and two dirty cups. He wiped them both out before pouring.

“So we return to Hyssington today,” he said. “What then? We will not be returning to France any time soon, so what is there for us now?”

Gates took the cup that the man offered. “Wales,” he said flatly. “We have come home to fight off Welsh raiders who can be just as deadly as any French fighter. But I will admit that I do have a longing to return home and see my father.”

“The one that taught you to curse?”

“The same. His father taught him, and his father before him.”

“A legacy of insults,” he said. “Let me hear something, then. I’ve not heard you insult the men since we returned from France. Have you forgotten how?”

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.”