The Bride Of Windermere

Furthermore, in case the ambush failed, Philip managed somehow to implicate Bartholomew in an assassination attempt against King Henry IV. Philip quite tidily ensured that his uncle’s name would be dishonored, and Bartholomew Colston would have been outlawed in England by some miracle if he or his sons had managed to survive the attack.

Philip and his coconspirator father, Clarence, had no idea that anyone had survived the ambush in Europe. To their knowledge, all of Bartholomew’s entourage had perished. However, not only had Wolf survived the attack in Germany, his identity was kept secret through the years to protect him, as well as to give him the advantage when he was ready to return and unseat Philip.

Wolf was so absorbed in his ruminations that he didn’t notice another presence nearby until he’d been sitting awhile. When he looked up toward the water, he thought the pale moonlight and mist were playing tricks on his eyes. Coming from the depths of the lake was a maiden, like one from the old tales he’d heard as a child. His feelings of annoyance and bitterness dissolved instantly, and he was intrigued.

The maid’s skin shimmered in the filmy light and her hair, as she loosed it around her, seemed made of the finest golden silk. The night was cool, and Wolfram thought he could almost see the goose bumps rise on her. The tips of her well-shaped breasts had certainly risen, and Wolf’s palms fairly itched with desire to touch her.

His eyes traversed her length, appreciating her shapely legs, her hips and slender waist as she came out of the water towards him, unaware of his presence. He was unable to draw a breath when she stopped and stretched herself in the ankle-deep water, throwing her head back, reaching for the moon. He almost expected her to give out a haunted call to whatever other spirits were lurking about this night.

Her face was averted from his gaze, but Wolf easily envisioned it. He rose up, as if in a trance and stood mesmerized by her, conjuring up images of her soft and gentle features. The fairy stepped out of the water and went over to a pile of clothes that lay just beyond the bank. She began to dry herself, but upon suddenly hearing steps behind her, the ethereal beauty yanked up a long cloak and hastily threw it on, covering herself as decently as possible under the circumstances.

“Sir! You intrude!” Kit gasped as she turned and saw him. The man moved quickly, and Kit had no chance to bend down for the dagger hidden among her clothes. She did not wish to alert the man to the fact that she had a weapon. Better to be civil and await the opportunity to gain her knife without a struggle, she thought.

“I hesitate to apologize,” he said, still unable to see her face due to the hood she’d pulled so far forward. “I was unaware of your presence here until a moment ago, and I will not deny that I enjoyed the few glimpses you allowed me.”

“Unbeknownst to me!”

“You’re cold.”

“The man’s a scholar,” she muttered to herself as he came even closer.

Kit refused to be intimidated by his size. He was a big man at a distance and absolutely massive close at hand. She knew he could have her flat on her back in seconds. If only she could get to her knife, she thought. She didn’t dare stoop down for it because he would surely knock her over, and she’d be defenseless.

She needed to get away, yet the dark giant was clearly not of a mind to let her leave. This would never do! Maybe she ought to try simply running. She was fast and knew the forest paths well. A man of his size would probably be slow, but what if she was wrong? What if he managed to catch up to her? What if he discovered the cottage, her only refuge in the woods? She couldn’t run all the way back to Lord Somers’ house wearing only her cloak. Her stepfather’s men would surely—

“Where do you live?” his voice was gentle. “It isn’t safe for a gentlewoman out here alone. My men are camped nearby and I couldn’t vouch for the manners of any of them, coming upon a maid alone in the dark.”

God’s blood, he was a gentleman. Kit breathed a sigh of relief and offered up a silent prayer of thanks. Chivalry demanded that he give her due respect. “Thank you for your concern, sir,” she said with relief. A change of tactics was needed. If she used a bit of honey, the way her stepsisters did so annoyingly, perhaps she could get him to go away. “I will just gather my things and be off—”

“Where is your home?”

“Not far.” Her voice was as sweet as she could make it.

“I cannot allow you to go unescorted. There are dangers in the night, my lady.”

Kit wanted to scream at the man but held her temper in check. A ladylike argument was more likely to win her cause than screeching like one of the banshees of Bridget’s tales. “Please sir, allow me to pick up my clothes, and you may escort me to my cottage,” she said sweetly.

Chivalry was all fine and good, but who could tell how a stranger would behave? Even Lord Somers, her own stepfather, was mean and brutal with her. Kit almost groaned aloud when the man swept down and picked up all of her belongings at once. Now she’d never get her dagger. And there was a good chance she wouldn’t be able to outrun him, especially without her boots. No, she could see he moved too well for a man his size, with grace and purpose.

“You mystify me, my lady,” the knight said.

“Oh?” Kit turned away and tried to calm herself as she walked towards the cottage.

“At first when I saw you I thought you were one of the nymphs of old.” Was there a hint of amusement in his voice? “Now I tend to believe that you are made of flesh and blood yet you have little fear of me. Why?”

If only he knew she was trying to figure a way to get hold of her knife so she could slip the blade between his ribs. “Naturally, I am wary, sir. I realize just how vulnerable I am. I’m ill at ease having to rely on your sense of propriety and chivalry. I would hope, by all the saints, that you intend me no harm.” She wanted to gag. If her stepsisters could only see her, they’d be on the ground, laughing.

The cottage was almost in sight now, though the soldier would be hard-pressed to see it, since the night was so black and the building lay within a thicket of trees. Her stepmother had had it built, ostensibly for the use of the family, but Kit knew she used it for other purposes. Fortunately, Lady Edith was not there tonight with any of her gentleman friends. Kit would be able to slip inside, bar the door and outwait the knight in warmth and comfort.

“Here we are, sir.” Kit stopped and turned to dismiss the soldier, but the man seemed incapable of taking the hint. “My...my mother awaits me,” she lied.

He moved towards her, and though Kit couldn’t actually see his face in the dark, she sensed that he was looking at her intently. She felt exceedingly uncomfortable to be so scrutinized, especially by the man who had just watched her as she bathed. It was absolutely indecent.

“Sh-she is ill, you see...er, and will worry overmuch if—”

“Who are you?” His voice was soft, a caress. He came closer.

His nearness was intoxicating. Kit’s mouth went dry. Though the knight was huge, she was suddenly no longer afraid. An alien curiosity filled her as she realized that no man had ever affected her in the way this man did. “I...er...”

Before she could answer, he dropped the clothing he carried and took her face in both of his hands. His mouth brushed hers, a gentle caress of lips that made her tremble. He groaned as his mouth touched hers again, gently at first, then gradually more demanding until his lips were slanting over hers, leaving her breathless and bewildered. His hands slipped under her cloak and moved onto her shoulders, then down her bare back until they reached her smoothly rounded bottom. He pressed her tightly against him. She felt his hard, clothed body against her naked flesh and a knot of pleasure wound itself up tightly in her pelvis. She had never experienced anything like this before. Not even Rupert had ever—

Kit broke away from him in shock. “Please!”

“Who are you?”

“Let me go!”

“My name is Wolf.” His hot breath seared her ear, and his lips brushed against her lips again.

Kit tried to pull away. She’d never been kissed this way before and was shaken to the core.

“Who are you?” he repeated.

“No one! I am no one! Let me go!” At that, she pulled away and ran to the cottage, her cloak billowing out behind her. When she was inside, she dropped the heavy beam across the door and leaned against the rough wall until her breathing slowed, until her heart stopped its wild pounding.

Wolf knew with certainty that she didn’t want to be found with him, but he considered risking all to touch her and taste her again. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met. Beautiful, seductive, intriguing. He was shaken by his own reaction to her, and one taste of this goddess wasn’t enough. He wanted her as he’d never wanted anyone before.

But the truth of the matter was that he couldn’t risk offending the local nobility while on this errand of Henry’s. He’d have to put this woman, this delectable “no one” out of his thoughts for the time being.

Wolf finally turned and headed back into the thickest part of the forest towards camp. He was a patient man. He would come back for her when all was settled at Windermere.

Kit couldn’t sleep all night. She sat in the dark with a blanket around her and still she shivered, though she couldn’t really complain of the cold. It would have been nice to go out and retrieve her clothes, but she was afraid he would be out there waiting.

“Wolf.” It suited him, she thought. He was certainly big enough to lead a pack of wolves and though he’d been gentle with her, she sensed that he could be brutal as well as kind. In the moonlight, she’d been able to see his wild mane of shaggy dark hair and light gray eyes that almost seemed to glow in the dark.

She really needed to try to consider a feasible way to evade King Henry’s army in the morning, but all she could think of was Wolf. His lips, the way his tongue slipped in and out of her mouth, his hands touching her shoulders, sliding down her back, her bottom...

Rupert had never even kissed her. He’d gone off with King Henry over three years before, without even the benefit of a betrothal, promising to return after the French territories were regained. But here it was, ages since the fall of Normandy and Rupert had not returned. How long did he expect her to wait?

Kit could practically feel herself growing older by the day. Her stepsister, Margery, would be betrothed soon and Eleanor was likely to follow in another year or so. Kit longed to be off with Rupert to become his wife and the mistress of his home. And she yearned for more now, too.

Feelings like the ones the knight aroused must surely be sinful. Just thinking about what had happened caused that hot, pulsing knot to tighten in her belly again, and she squirmed at the memory of Wolf’s touch. Rupert’s touch, she meant. It would be just the same with Rupert, even better, she told herself, when she was his wife.

Just before dawn, Kit climbed out the narrow window on the far side of the cottage. She sneaked around the corner, straining her eyes in the predawn light to see if anyone lurked about in the dark. Wolf was gone, so she grabbed her clothes and quickly ran back to what she considered to be the safe side of the cottage. She dressed quickly, then hastened back to her stepfather’s house.

Although Lord Thomas Somers’ house was large, Kit knew she would never be believed if she said she’d been inside all night. Not that her stepfather would care where she was all night; the only thing that mattered to him was that she keep his household running smoothly, and that she be there to take the blame when it did not. However, it would give him the excuse he needed to bring her to her knees, which seemed to be one of Lord Thomas’ favorite pastimes. Anyway, Bridget would have torn the whole house apart looking for her, and Kit experienced a pang of guilt for causing her cousin trouble and concern. Bridget hadn’t been in the best of health lately, though Kit was hard-pressed to put her finger on what was wrong.

She ran through the yard and into the stable. There were plenty of likely spots for a youth to sleep, and it wasn’t the first time Kit had spent the night there with the horses.