The Raven's Revenge (22 page)

“I did not mean to startle you. But if this is your response, perhaps I would do it again.” His eyes twinkled.

Katherine grinned.

Nicholas trailed his finger down her neck to her shoulder.

“I did not hear you,” she said. “I had been thinking about our need for haste. That made me jumpy.”

“Ah, lass. We should be leaving and not lingering here, no matter how pleasant. By the time we have helped Jeremy to the coach, Henry will have it ready.”

Katherine smiled and looked down just in time to see Montford jump from the fountain and scamper across the grass, an orange tail sticking out of her mouth.

* * *

Getting Jeremy to the coach had been a slow painful journey, even though it was no great distance. Katherine had begun to think it was a mistake to insist he come along, but then Henry produced a small brown bottle of laudanum.

“Makes me very sick, it does, but should do just the thing for our friend,” he said.

Jeremy complained at the bitter taste, but swallowed down a dose anyway.

Nicholas had arranged for the loan of four magnificent black horses and a driver. Even with the crest painted out, Katherine felt a rush of alarm when she got inside. But instead of Richard Finch, it was her friend Jeremy facing her on the other seat.

She helped him into a comfortable position across the bench, propped up on pillows. His gangly legs folded like a grasshopper’s against the wall of the vehicle. She was surprised when Nicholas did not join them. Instead, he mounted a magnificent dark brown horse. Henry joined the driver in front after handing her the basket containing Montford.

Jeremy’s mouth drew tight, and his pallor worsened the moment they got underway. She felt for him with every jolt of the coach as it bounced down the long drive, and prayed he would be sleeping soon.

Not long after joining the highway, Jeremy’s breathing settled into a rhythmic pattern and his head nodded with the movement of the vehicle.

As the countryside swept past, Katherine gazed out the glass window. Each time she caught a glimpse of Nicholas her heart clutched.

London
.

The word echoed in Katherine’s head, filling her with a mix of elation and disappointment.
Then what
? They would part, of course. She to Cousin Alicia’s. And Nicholas? He had said he had business to attend, also that his highwayman days were behind him. Would she see him again once they reached London?

A similar thought plagued Nicholas, riding alongside the coach. He had told Henry he would act as an outrider, but, in truth, he needed some distance from the lass and the turmoil she’d set him in.

Last night, Katherine had drifted into a sleep punctuated with the most delightful light snores, but he’d slept little. A strange restiveness had come over him. He had watched her by the light of the dying embers, enveloped in her lavender smell—and more: the earthy smell of coupling. An aphrodisiac. It had taken restraint to leave her be and not ply her with further lovemaking. She’d been through much that night, and her body, unaccustomed to a man, would surely feel sore in the morning.

He’d spent much of the night watching her and thinking; his sleepless mind would not allow his body the peace of passion’s aftermath.

With the dawning light of the new day, he knew he’d likely failed his father. By taking Katherine’s maidenhead, he’d lost any room he had to negotiate with her father. And though he could continue to petition the King, he’d raised his liege’s ire and that did not bode well for a decision in his favor.

So why did he feel a strange freedom?

Could it be that released from the promise that had driven his actions and controlled the direction of his life, he might finally be his own man?

But who was that?

Nicholas the Raven?

Nicholas the privateer?

Nicholas the Seventh Earl of Ashton?

Or could it be a Nicholas he hadn’t yet met? Perhaps a Nicholas who simply wanted the love of a good woman and the happiness of watching his children grow.

What an unsettling thought.

* * *

They broke their journey at Wokingham. Grateful to be out of the confines of the bouncing coach, Katherine breathed deep the crisp sunny air, while stretching muscles that ached from inactivity. They left Jeremy snoring and went in search of food.

It was market day. Stalls displayed goods from fancy ribbons and root vegetables, to baked items. Nicholas bought her a slice of woodcock pie and some cider. They stood in companionable silence, eating the good food and enjoying the sights and sounds around them.

A crowd strolled by, some people stopped to make purchases, others just haggled before moving on without buying anything. Behind the gaiety, burned out shells of buildings stood deserted and collapsing, leftovers from the destruction of the Puritan revolt.

An elegant woman paraded past them. Dressed in bright colors, she’d painted her face white and her lips red. Her hair fell in powdered ringlets around each ear, and was raised into an elaborate fashion in the back. Katherine tried not to stare, but found herself fascinated by the woman, who paid her no mind though she eyed Nicholas.

The pie formed into a lump in Katherine’s stomach. She brushed crumbs off the bodice of her awful black dress, suddenly conscious of her hair still hanging loose. Although she had finger-combed it in the coach, it was still a mess. At that moment, she felt plain and drab again.

She was painfully aware of Nicholas watching the woman walk by. But then he turned to her, and smiled.

Searching for something to say to cover up her awkward feelings, she said, “I am sorry about the pretty dress.”

“Don’t worry about that. We will find another.”

“I did not mean—“

“I know,” he gave her hand a squeeze, brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Katherine’s stomach relaxed and she felt warm all over.

The stylish lady had stopped to talk with a gentleman, certainly someone she must know well, Katherine surmised, as the gentleman whispered in the woman’s ear. The lady giggled and, taking his arm, they walked off together.

“There,” said Nicholas, pulling her attention back to him, “is a woman who sells her favors.”

Katherine frowned, unsure of his meaning.

“She trades her body for money. A night of pleasure—or in this case an afternoon—for a few shillings, or perhaps half a sovereign if she is lucky and the man is well pleased.”

“Oh.” Katherine looked at the woman again. She had never seen a harlot before. Grandfather had preached against them with grandiloquence, decrying them as instruments of the devil along with gluttony and lace and at least a dozen other sins.

She watched the woman hang on the man’s arm, now well away from them. How had Katherine not seen it? She had mistaken tawdriness for elegance, commerce for companionship.

Yet she could not condemn the woman. Did not most women end up being bartered in one way or another?
 

“It is not so different in marriage. Women who marry also trade themselves,” she lowered her voice. “Men may think marriage is for joining properties and uniting bloodlines, but to the person being traded, it seems as if one’s body is being sold, and not just for an afternoon or evening.”

“As you put it, I find I must agree with you, although I had not thought on it before. Ah, lass, see the people over there?” Nicholas pointed to a crowd at the far end of the marketplace. “’Tis a wedding party, I think. Come; let us see what the bride makes of her situation.”

They walked along hand in hand until they had almost joined the revelers. Clearly, the gathering was a happy one. The bride wore flowers in her hair: a garland of rosemary and red roses, intertwined with pink and yellow ribbons. She cast a radiant smile on the lanky flush-faced man beside her, who could only be the groom.

The music began. A drum and tambourine set a rapid rhythm, while a pipe and two stringed instruments played a melody. Couples formed into lines with the bride and groom at the head and began to dance. There was much laughing and clapping.

Katherine found herself entranced. Music was not unknown to her; nevertheless, it was a rare treat.

Nicholas tapped the beat with his booted foot and motioned for her to join him in the dance.

“I could not,” she said. “I do not know how.”

“You have never danced?” Nicholas looked surprised, and then smiled at her. “I suppose not. Let me show you.”

Katherine shook her head. “I do not think I could, but I do enjoy listening and watching.”

“Come,” said Nicholas. He tugged on her hand and smiled in such a charming way that she allowed him to draw her into an open space.

As strains of music filled the air, he helped her find the beat and tap her feet to it. Then, when she had the rhythm, he showed her how to move.

Standing behind her and to the side, he held both her hands. It was a more intimate pose than that of the other dancers. But, when he showed her the first step and she stumbled, Katherine was grateful his strong arms kept her from falling. She concentrated so hard trying to follow his example, keeping her feet untangled, and not losing her balance again, that when Nicholas stopped, she was surprised to discover the music had ended.

Suddenly self-conscious, she looked around, but most of the revelers were having so much fun they ignored the uninvited couple. Here and there she met a curious glance.

Another dance began. This time the pace was slower, and Katherine had less trouble following Nicholas’s feet. She eased into the rhythm as they made little hops and jumps together, stepping this way and that in a simple repetition. Katherine relaxed into his tall strength, enjoying his warmth and the way their bodies moved together.

She looked up from his feet into his twinkling eyes. Her breath caught. She missed a step and would have fallen again had he not twirled her into his arms.

They stood thus, and the crowd and noise and even the music dissolved away as Katherine was aware of only Nicholas, his eyes, now serious and full of need, his full lips descending to hers.

His kiss was hungry, demanding, and thorough. She tasted coffee, sweet, not bitter as his tongue teased hers, and his lips sucked hers, seeming to extract her very essence. His hand cradled the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on for support, and he crushed her to him. His need consumed her. Her body strained against her clothing. Her breasts tightened, her nipples tingled. A hot ache started in her woman’s place. Then, he lifted his mouth, his arms loosened. He drew away.

Dazed, Katherine took a half-step back. Applause and cheering broke out all around them. She blushed, and hid behind the veil of her hair, while Nicholas bowed to the crowd. Then the musicians struck up a new tune and the dancing began again.

They left the wedding party, walking hand-in-hand down the crowded street. A bittersweet longing came over Katherine. She tightened her hold on Nicholas’s hand. They would be on the way to London soon. There they would part. She would smile and thank him for the safe journey. They might kiss good-bye. And then he would be gone from her life, after being in it for such a short time.
 

Yet his presence had changed everything.

She could only be glad she had found him, nursed him to health. He had more than returned the boon, saving her twice now from Finch.
 

She had not known she would lose her heart to him.

But she had. Thinking of life without him brought tears to the back of her eyes and her nose prickled. The colors around her dimmed on her sad sigh.
 

Nicholas stopped at a ribbon seller and helped Katherine select several lengths of ribbon. He pressed her to choose as many as she wanted, and then added red, blue, and green ribbons to the pile of peach, pale green, and yellow she had picked. He wrapped the green ribbon several times around her left wrist, tying an elaborate bow then raised that hand to his lips in an elegant courtly gesture. His gaiety made it so hard to be sad. Katherine smiled and curtseyed in return, not caring that she must look ridiculous in the drab black dress.

They proceeded through the town in a leisurely walk. They arrived back at the coach to find Henry and the driver finishing their meals. The horses had been fed and watered. Jeremy still slept—a deep healing sleep, Katherine hoped. Montford lay curled up in the crook of his neck on a pillow.

A hostler brought forward Nicholas’s horse. Katherine stepped into the coach, turning to watch Nicholas swing himself up.

Out of nowhere, a goose scurried right in front of him, closely pursued by a barking dog. The horse reared up, kicking its forelegs high into the air. Nicholas, caught halfway into his seat, threw himself forward. In an awkward movement, he swung his leg over the saddle.

Katherine’s heart pounded. Her breath caught. Once again, she saw Edward smiling and waving at her before falling from the horse with that terrible heart-rending thud.

She gasped and jumped down from the coach. Henry grabbed her and held her back.

“Whoa,” Nicholas commanded. He pulled the reins to force the horse’s head down, but the alarmed horse resisted. Nicholas struggled to stay seated as the horse reared again and again. Finally, the beast settled, and dropped its head as if embarrassed over the whole incident.

Nicholas leapt to the ground throwing the reins to the hostler and came to her.

Henry released his hold, and Katherine flung herself into his arms.

“I was so afraid,” she whispered, holding him tight around the middle, inhaling his scent, feeling the reassurance of his heartbeat against her body. “So afraid…”

He pulled back from her. Holding her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes. She covered his hands with hers and made a deep shuddering sigh.

“I am all right,” he said.

“’Twas like Edward,” she gulped. “I could not bear it.”

“Ah, lass. Such sadness for you. But it would take more than a skittish moment like that to throw me from a horse.” He raised her chin and smiled at her. “I have escaped much danger in my life. Do not fear for me.”