The Bride of Windermere Read online

  Wolf’s hands moved up from her waist and slid to the sides of her breasts. Cupping their fullness and finding the nipples with his thumbs, he brushed across them, pulled them erect and let her breasts fill his hands.

  He knew he had to force himself to stop. He tasted her incredible sweetness and was driven by need as her body pressed against his heat. She was going to make him insane with wanting her, yet he knew it wasn’t possible. She was the king’s ward, and Wolf was supposed to protect her, not ravish her. He couldn’t possess her, not with Rupert and King Henry waiting. Not with his decision to stay clear of her. This was merely a mistake, a lapse in his control. He had to think of Kit and her welfare. He had to consider Windermere.

  And there was his tentative commitment to Annegret...

  Wolf pulled away. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses, and he wanted to carry her back to the hearth and make love to her. The urgency of his desire was completely foreign to him and he knew that it could only lead to heartache. It was clear in her eyes that she desired him as much as he wanted her. He had to call a halt, an irrevocable halt. There couldn’t be any turning back. She could never be his, not when Rupert waited.

  He swallowed hard, then donned a rakish smile to disguise what he felt. He took her hand and kissed her palm sensuously. “I...have no decent excuse for my rudeness tonight, Sprout. I suppose I’ve been so long without a wench—”

  Shocked by his cruel words, she slapped him hard across his face, then turned and stumbled up the stairs as quickly as her legs would carry her. When she reached the landing, she took one of the lit tapers on the table and muffled a sob, then continued up the steps. She hoped to God he hadn’t heard her agonized cry.

  Wench was it? Or whore?

  She swore he would never get that close to her again.

  Chapter Nine

  After crying herself bitterly to sleep, Kit spent the following day with Lady Kendal. She saw Wolf briefly only once, when she broke her fast in the hall with the Marchioness. Kit remained aloof, refusing to meet his eyes and allowed herself to be fully engaged by Lady Mary’s chatter.

  It was years since Wolf had felt so miserable. Kit Somers was by far the most desirable woman he’d ever known, responding to his kiss like wildfire, like the golden woman at Somerton Lake, but more real. Kit was flesh and blood, heart and soul, with an impetuousness that he had to admit was strangely appealing. And he wanted her.

  It pained him to see how wretched she looked, sitting at the table with Lady Kendal. Her eyes were red and swollen and, while he knew she had more to weep about than his insult of the night before, he felt duly guilty for having added to her burden of the last few days.

  Resolved as he was to keep her at arm’s length, and even encourage her animosity, there was nothing he could do to ease her agony. As there was nothing he could do to ease his own. Wolf spent the day with Lord Kendal and his son, William. They rode across the Kendal lands and wasted away the afternoon fishing, with Lord Kendal regaling Wolf with story after story of his father’s youthful escapades when Bart and Kendal fostered together at Castle Peak.

  Though Wolf should have found himself spellbound by tales of the father he’d hardly known, his thoughts gravitated towards Kit time and time again. How could he possibly let her affect him so? There wasn’t a woman in all of England worth the trouble she was giving him.

  “—really set on marrying Rupert Aires?” William asked.

  Wolf realized his thoughts had drifted. He nodded in the affirmative, even though he hadn’t heard the complete question. He’d seen William’s reaction to Kit’s presence clearly enough to understand what was being asked.

  “She’s a redhead, isn’t she?” William asked, but before Wolf could respond, the Marquess’ son continued eagerly. “I knew it. With those green eyes, she’d have to be. I’d like to—”

  “She’s not available,” Wolf snapped. Was she a redhead? He’d never seen her without a head covering though he supposed she’d uncover it soon enough in London when she saw the fashionable ladies of the court. She’d probably lower her neckline and tighten her bliaut, too, he thought with a grimace. He thought her perfect as she was.

  “What does Henry want with her?” the Marquess asked.

  “Damned if I know,” Wolf replied. “Likely wants her to wed Rupert as soon as possible and put a stop to his shenanigans at court.”

  “Hmm. She’s committed to Sir Rupert, then?”

  “I just said she was,” Wolf grumbled.

  Wolf felt as though he’d been torn in half. Part of him wanted to stay away from the hall so he wouldn’t have to face Kit at supper. The other part wanted nothing more than to see her with his own eyes, to reassure himself that she would be all right. Damnation, it was irritating. How could he have been so callous with her the night before? He reminded himself that he’d said the cruel words in order to make her despise him so there’d be no turning back. And he’d done a fine job of it.

  Wolf realized that within a day’s time, Kit would be on her own in London. She would marry Rupert Aires and return to Northumberland to the Aires family estates. And Wolf would spend God knew how long trying to forget her, trying not to measure every other woman he met—including Annegret—against her.

  “Greetings, Sir Gerhart,” Lady Kendal said as the family and guests assembled together for supper. “You’ve made yourself scarce today. So have my husband and son. I don’t believe I’ve seen Lord Kendal quite so pleased with guests in a long time. In fact, he seems over-anxious to leave me alone on the morrow and travel in your good company.” Though she sounded petulant, Wolf was aware that she was chiding him good-naturedly and didn’t intend that her complaints be taken seriously.

  Lady Kathryn sat next to Lord Kendal again and concentrated on the food before her. Hardly listening to Lady Mary’s chatter, Wolf saw that Kit pushed her food around the trencher and ate very little of it. Once she looked up at him, but lowered her eyes almost immediately.

  Her obvious distress bothered him tremendously. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and he knew if she cried, he’d be up in a second, dragging her into his arms, apologizing and begging her to forgive his words.

  He couldn’t let that happen. She would fare better as the spirited, quick-witted woman he had become accustomed to, rather than the hurt, downhearted girl he saw before him.

  The conversation at the table turned to the attack Wolfs group had suffered on the way to Kendal. Nicholas boasted of the prowess of the men in routing the attackers, and Wolf took the opportunity to provoke a little temper from Kit.

  “Lady Kathryn managed to throw a lucky stone or two, felling a couple of the brigands.”

  “What?” Kit muttered, having difficulty believing what she was hearing.

  “They were so surprised at being hit, the lady gave our men a momentary advantage, even though we were outnumbered, and—”

  “They were more than surprised, sir.” There was indignation in her tone.

  “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

  “I daresay I did more than merely surprise them,” she said, hardly able to believe the way he belittled her contribution to the battle. She had saved their wretched hides!

  “True. They were distracted from their attack and my men—”

  “Would have been slaughtered if I hadn’t felled the villains!”

  “Lady Kathryn,” his tone was patronizing, “we all appreciate your efforts—”

  “Chester Morburn would have been sliced in half, and Douglas Henley would surely have fallen if not for my ‘lucky stones’ as you call them!”

  The Marquess observed quietly as the argument continued and wondered what made Wolf goad the girl so. She was rightly angered by his belittling of her assistance during the attack, and Lord John found his curiosity piqued. What was going on between them now? Why did he taunt her so? The Marquess intended to find out, if not here in Kendal, then in London.

  “...and furthermore, ’tis unseemly for a lady to stand as
tride a horse’s back,” Wolf had taken to lecturing her pompously, “taking random shots, hoping to remain unnoticed by the enemy. Had I not seen you being taken away into the woods by that brigand, you may have suffered more than—”

  “I managed to endure your rescue!” Kit bit out the words. “Given a moment more, I would have freed myself and escaped. It was only—”

  Wolf chuckled indulgently, infuriating her all the more. Lady Kendal reached across her husband and put her hand on Kit’s forearm in an attempt to calm her.

  “Shall we ladies withdraw?” Lady Mary asked. “We’ll leave the gentlemen to their own devices for a while.”

  The trip to London was deplorable. Kit insisted on riding her mare, refusing to consider spending another hour in Wolfs saddle, near him. One of the men always rode next to her, but never Wolf. If he happened to speak to her, which was rare, his tone was curt. He raised a mocking eyebrow whenever he looked in her direction and dared to be impatient with her when she requested a halt to take a private trip into the woods.

  The man was insufferable, and she couldn’t wait to reach London and be rid of him.

  Yet she was miserable when she reached Westminster. She dreaded saying goodbye to Wolf, missing his cantankerous presence before they even parted company. Facing his imminent departure brought her dangerously close to tears yet again. They’d been through so much together, it seemed she’d known him for ages. What would she do without him?

  Kit’s arrival at the king’s palace was so overshadowed by doubt and desolation, that she could hardly appreciate the wonder of the palace or the fact that the king had summoned her to it. She dwelt on the details of getting her bags unloaded and her mare sent to the livery so she wouldn’t have to think about leaving Wolf. Once, when she caught his eye unexpectedly, she was certain she saw a spark of... something... but then it was gone so fast, she realized she was mistaken. She knew very well that the light of his eye was Annalise...and not a simple wench from the country.

  Lady Maude Teasdale, a distant cousin of the Lancaster king, greeted Wolf’s party in the courtyard and took charge of Kit. As the woman received a brief report from Sir Gerhart regarding their journey, Lord Kendal took Kit aside.

  “It occurs to me,” he said, “that it may take you some time to adjust to things here in the palace. If any...difficulty arises, you must feel free to summon me. I am not without influence here...”

  “Thank you, Lord Kendal,” Kit replied, rising on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His kind words seemed to ease the parting. “I will call on you if I need you.”

  “And me, Lady Kathryn,” William added. “I am also at your service.”

  “I shall remember,” she said with a sad smile. “You and Lady Kendal have been very kind.”

  “And you, Sir Gerhart?” Kit asked hesitantly, hoping for a kind word, unwilling for him to leave on such unpleasant terms. “Will you also be nearby in case I should have need of you?”

  Wolf gritted his teeth. “It would seem that you have an abundance of champions, my lady.” His voice was harsh. “You won’t have need of me.”

  Lady Maude whisked Kit quickly away, along with two palace guards and a bearer, into the depths of Westminster Palace. Kit turned back to look once, and saw Wolf standing idly in an archway, scowling, watching her go while Lord Kendal and his son, as well as the rest of the men, mounted and prepared to leave. The expression in his eyes gave Kit to believe that perhaps it had finally occurred to Sir Wolf that they might never see each other again. Swallowing a pang of loneliness and suppressing a sharp aching need to be held once again by Wolf’s strong arms, Kit turned and walked deeper into the corridors of Westminster Palace.

  “We did not know exactly when to expect you, Lady Kathryn,” Maude said, leading a brisk pace through the gallery. “But rooms have been made ready, and you have two well-trained maids who will see to you until his majesty returns.”

  “Returns?” Wasn’t the king here? Why had he sent for her if he wasn’t even here?

  “Yes. Unfortunately, his majesty is not in residence at the moment, but I understand he is to return within a fortnight. You are certain to have an audience with him then.”

  Kit wanted to ask what King Henry wanted with her, but feared it unwise to admit she had no inkling of why he’d summoned her. She thought it best not to mention her doubts, but just try to endure her stay in London. Besides, she could use the time to find Rupert. After all, she told herself, that’s why she had allowed herself to be brought all this way, wasn’t it?

  Maude finally led Kit into a large, cheerful chamber that was lavishly furnished. It did not appeal to Kit’s simpler tastes, although there were huge windows overlooking a courtyard, now enshrouded in the deep evening shadows. It was on the opposite side of the building from where Wolf had left her so she knew she wouldn’t be able to catch sight of him leaving.

  “The adjoining sitting room is for your use as well, Lady Kathryn,” Maude said as she opened the connecting door. “No doubt the other ladies will be anxious to meet you and to hear of your travels. You may entertain here or do whatever you wish. We were instructed to help you make the palace your home.”

  “Thank you, Lady Maude,” Kit said, sighing. “I am most grateful. But who are—”

  “What would you care for first? A bath? Supper?” Maude opened the door to the chamber to admit the two maids she had spoken of before. Both were young and enthusiastic about meeting their new mistress. They curtsied as they gave their names, Meg and Jane.

  “A bath would be nice,” Kit said, wishing that Lady Maude would just leave her. She felt terrible and wanted to be alone. Not even the thought of seeing Rupert raised her spirits.

  “Their majesties have a number of retainers and advisors who reside here at Westminster. Queen Catherine’s ladies are here as well as many of the wives and daughters of the king’s advisors. We have quite a few other Catherines here as well...such a lovely name.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You will meet some of the ladies tomorrow, I daresay,” Maude informed Kit. “We have all been anxiously awaiting you.”

  “You have?” Kit was somewhat surprised. She wondered if everyone here knew her business with King Henry except her.

  “Why yes, of course,” Maude replied. “His majesty told us to expect you. Ah, here is your bath.” Footmen carried several buckets of steaming water into the room and poured them into the hip bath which had been placed near the fireplace. “I’ll leave you in the care of your maids.”

  Kit somehow lived through eight of the loneliest days she had ever known.

  Henry had given orders that Lady Kathryn was to be cared for and given whatever she needed. Hence, work had been started on several new gowns for Kit, the ladies of the court having made much of her “quaint” country fashions. With a twinge of distress, Kit realized how backward and ridiculous she must have appeared to Wolf, who was accustomed to the stylish ladies here at court. Her loose, flowing gowns were not at all in fashion. Fortunately, the Westminster seamstresses were first-rate, and Kit’s wardrobe would be completely replaced before King Henry’s return.

  The king and queen left a large entourage at Westminster. The women often spoke French, which Kit had never needed to learn, and all too often, no one bothered to translate for her.

  As she passed the days waiting for the king to return, Kit’s mornings were spent walking in the gardens, usually alone, wishing she could get away from Westminster to the countryside. She thought perhaps she might catch sight of Wolf somewhere in the immensity of the Westminster estate but knew in her heart that she would never see him again.

  Afternoons were occupied with several of the other ladies of the palace. They had various gentle occupations—sewing and mending, embroidery, and a few of them worked on a huge, colorful tapestry. They chatted and gossiped together as they worked, sometimes with a wandering minstrel in their midst, who played his lute and composed verses as he entertained.

  Rupert Aires’ na
me was often mentioned, among giggles, titters and blushes. Kit didn’t understand the innuendoes; she only knew that she was put out with Rupert. He was in London, probably quite near, and likely to have heard of her arrival, yet he hadn’t bothered to visit. He hadn’t even sent a note. Why hadn’t he come? And why did all these ladies giggle when his name was mentioned? He couldn’t possibly...? No, she shrugged off the thought.

  There was even talk of Sir Gerhart among the ladies, and many of them seemed anxious to discover anything Kit could tell them about him. Lady Catherine Montfort seemed particularly interested. “Ooh, Sir Gerhart,” Lady Catherine cooed. “He moves so well... He is so fierce... Was he ever...that is to say, did he—”

  “Sir Gerhart saves himself for his love in Germany, as you well know,” Jacqueline Meaux said in her charmingly accented speech. “He has never—to my knowledge—indulged in any...romance with a lady at court.”

  “I say he has no woman waiting in Germany,” Catherine pouted. “He just—”

  “Au contraire, ” Claire retorted. “Mon père says he has met the girl and her father. And she is très belle.”

  “Then will Sir Gerhart return to Germany to wed?”

  “Perhaps she will come to England,” Jacqueline answered Kit. “Or they may go to Paris. It is said Sir Gerhart has a fondness for Paris.”

  And so it went on, unendingly for days, with Kit’s restlessness increasing by the hour. Kit needed no translator in order to figure what ‘tray bell“ meant, nor any of the other engaging little French phrases the ladies used when speaking of Wolf’s betrothed. Kit learned that Annamarie was a sophisticated, beautiful lady, and she surmised that Wolf probably resented the time he’d spent traveling from Northumberland to London, away from his betrothed.