“I am not going to get into any trouble,” George scowled. “We’ll go now.”
Charles waved them on. “Do not let de Luzie or his men see you, either,” he called after them. “Stay out of sight!”
They were off, heading towards the bridge that led into the town. Everyone watched them go, but there was still a sense of tension and foreboding. Even if they found Blythe sitting among the tavern patrons, that didn’t mean the situation with Renard was any less dangerous.
In fact, it became even more dangerous because everything they’d been told was true.
“Well,” Charles finally said. “There’s not much we can do until they return. Meanwhile, I suppose we shall simply go about our business.”
It was a break in the jousting schedule, the midday break to allow everyone to eat and rest. It also gave the marshals the chance to clean up the joust floor and repair any damage to the lists. But Catherine’s thoughts were turning towards Iris and Bando, who had been caged in Ridge’s tent since early morning. Odin, too. She gently touched Ridge’s arm.
“May I tend to my dogs now?” she asked. “They were sleeping when we left and I am sure they are quite hungry now, so may I go feed them?”
Ridge looked over towards the encampment to the south. “Not at the moment,” he said. “Let us wait until the games began again and the crowds are focused on the tournament field. There are too many people over in the encampment now and that makes me uncomfortable.”
Catherine looked off towards the encampment, also. “You fear that Renard may be there?”
“It is possible,” he said. “I would prefer that we remain here for now. We’ll see to the dogs later.”
Catherine wasn’t happy with his answer, but she didn’t argue. She began to worry about her dogs, who were undoubtedly awake and hungry. Ridge had a few soldiers watching his encampment and it was possible that they fed her dogs along with Odin, but she couldn’t be sure. The morning had been so exciting that she hadn’t really thought about them until now and she felt guilty for it.
As Catherine’s focus remained on the encampment, Charles removed the heavy plate on his shoulders because they were itching him as the day’s temperature rose. The day, for spring, was warm. Setting them aside, he gestured to the avenue of the vendors.
“I could use something to eat,” he said. “It will also give us an opportunity to see if de Luzie is on the avenue.”
Geoffrey agreed. “I saw de Wolfe and his men heading out to the vendors,” he said. “Let’s join them. Mayhap they can help us locate de Luzie.”
Charles agreed. “Indeed,” he said, glancing at Ridge. “Coming?”
Ridge shook his head. “I’ve already had all of the pottage and oat cakes that I can hold,” he said. “I shall remain here with Catherine. We’ll go sit in the shade and speak on more pleasant things while you’re off stuffing yourself.”
Charles smirked as he and Geoffrey headed off. Ridge reached out and grasped Catherine by the hand.
“Come along,” he said. “Let us sit and enjoy a few moments of peace. It seems those moments are few and far between with us.”
Catherine smiled. “That is true,” she said. “It’s strange, though. I feel better knowing what Renard has planned, yet I feel worse at the same time. Better because we shall be on our guard, but worse because my mother is involved.”
He squeezed her hand. “I know,” he said softly. “But we must remember that…”
He was cut off when he heard someone shouting his name. His head came up and he spied a man dressed in the Durham colors heading in his direction, waving a hand.
“My lord!” the man called. “The marshals wish to speak with you. Will you come?”
Ridge frowned. “Why?”
The man shook his head. “It is about your coming bout,” he said. “Please come. They have questions.”
Ridge grunted, unhappy that his moment of peace with Catherine was about to be stolen from him. “Very well,” he said. “Come along, my lady.”
“I do not need to go with you,” she said. “I would rather go with my brothers.”
“Are you certain?”
She nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Go and conduct your business and I will see you when you are finished. Moreover, they may buy me more oat cakes and I do not want to miss out.”
His eyebrows lifted. “More?” She giggled softly and he shook his head at her, kissing her hand. “Very well – go, then. I will watch you until you catch up with them.”
Flashing him a dimpled smile, she scooted after her brothers, who were nearing the avenue at this point. Gathering her skirts, she swiftly followed, turning to look at Ridge, who was indeed watching her. She was almost to her brothers when she turned to look at Ridge again, only to see that he and the messenger with the Durham tunic were heading into the joust arena.
Then, she came to a swift stop.
Charles and Geoffrey were about ten feet in front of her, unaware that she was right behind them. With Ridge gone, and her brothers unaware of her location, Catherine thought it would be a perfect time to slip back to the encampment to see her dogs. She was quite worried about them, and rightly so, and she didn’t see any issue with scurrying back to the encampment. She was certain that she could remain sharp and aware, so that if there was any sign of Renard de Luzie, she could hide from the man.
She was confident in her abilities.
Besides… her dogs needed her.
Gathering her skirts, she hurried off in the direction of the competitors’ encampment.
*
“I came close to her, but de Reyne was too much of a threat,” Martin said. “I will try again this afternoon.”
At the de Luzie cluster of tents in the competitors’ encampment, Renard sighed heavily, displeased with Martin’s report.
“They are on her like flies on honey,” he said, disgruntled. “I am not blaming you, for I know it is true, but certainly there could have been an opportunity. Any opportunity.”
Martin shook his head. “I came close at one point, but de Reyne had a hold of her and it would have turned into a tugging war had I tried,” he said. “As I said, I will try again. De Reyne is competing later today and although she will be with her brothers, I was thinking that mayhap I could lure her away.”
Renard appeared interested by that suggestion. “Luring her?” he said. “How?”
“I am not sure,” Martin said thoughtfully. “Food? Sweets? Cats? A pony? What do young women like enough to be lured away?”
Renard grinned. “I like the way you think,” he said. “Luring her away is an excellent suggestion.”
Martin simply nodded, relieved that Renard wasn’t slapping him around for failing to capture Lady Catherine. In truth, he felt nothing other than relief that de Reyne knew about Renard’s collusion with Lady Thornewaite. He didn’t feel guilty in the least for divulging it. If anything, he almost felt… absolved. Absolved for all of the horrible things he’d been witness to in the past, things he could do nothing about.
This situation was different.
He could do something about it.
Renard’s cook, a fabulous cook from France that used to work for Renard’s father, was bringing out a nooning meal of lamb and peas. While most camps were eating simple things like boiled beef, beans, and other easy to prepare items, Renard’s cook traveled with a kiln he used as an oven, so Renard always had epicurean delights when he traveled.
There was a table set out in front of Renard’s tent, one with a grand view of the encampment, including the river in the distance and a distinct view of both the de Reyne camp and the de Tuberville camp. They were on the river’s edge and Renard’s camp, being nearer to the tournament field, was on a rise. Martin was just about to sit down and enjoy the meal with Renard when he caught sight of a bright red dress.
Thinking he had seen that dress before, he focused on the wearer. It took him a moment to realize that Catherine de Tuberville was walking on the road, heading towards t
he de Reyne encampment.
And she was alone.
Startled by the sight, Martin moved his chair so that he didn’t have a view of the camp, but more that he had his back to it and was somewhat blocking Renard’s view. Fulke was helping the cook, but he sat down in Martin’s vacated spot. As he went to pick up the pitcher of wine, he happened to look up, enjoying the view, but he saw the same thing that Martin had seen.
“Look,” he said, pointing. “Isn’t that Lady Catherine?”
Renard’s head snapped up, not seeing her until Fulke pointed to the red dress in the distance.
He set down his knife.
“That is her,” he said. “What’s she doing?”
“Mayhap returning to her tent?”
Renard blinked, surprised as he realized there were no knights around her. He began to search for them. “Where is de Reyne?”
So there it was. The cat had the mouse in his sights. Martin closed his eyes briefly in regret before turning around to see the de Tuberville daughter as she headed into her camp.
Little did she know the danger she was in.
“He must be around,” he said. “Lady Catherine does not go anywhere without her guard dog, so he must be nearby.”
Renard stood up. “I do not see him,” he said. “In fact, I do not even see her brothers.”
Martin gestured towards de Reyne’s camp. “She is going to de Reyne’s camp,” he pointed out. “The man is somewhere nearby. Just because you cannot see him does not mean she is alone.”
Renard watched the red dress in the distance. “How very strange,” he muttered. “She does seem quite alone. Is it possible she is retrieving something for him?”
Martin snorted. “Without an escort?” he said. “I doubt it. More than likely, it is a trap for you. He knows you’ll go after her if she is alone. It will give him a reason to kill you.”
That gave Renard pause. “Do you think so?”
Martin shrugged. “Anything is possible,” he said, praying that he was dissuading the man. “Are you willing to take that chance?”
Renard looked at him for a moment before returning his gaze to the camp in the distance. He could still see the red dress, though it was only a spot by now.
“I think that I am going to find out for myself,” he finally said. “Fulke, you will remain here. Martin, you will go look for de Reyne. When you find him, come to me. I must know where the man is because his location will determine my next move.”
Martin looked at him. “But where are you going?”
Renard gleamed a soulless, deadly gleam. “Hunting.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
There were two soldiers in camp when Catherine arrived, both of them cleaning and repairing some of the many weapons that Ridge carried with him. Walter and Oswyn usually did it, but Ridge had given them permission to watch the tournament. The soldiers greeted Catherine politely and stood up, preparing to stand on the perimeter of the camp as Ridge had instructed them to do when the lady was in residence, but the encampment was so vacant that Catherine didn’t think that was necessary. She waved them off and told them to go back to their tasks. If she needed them, they could easily hear her call.
Going to the big tent where she’d last seen her dogs, she pulled the flap back only to see Odin, Bando, and Iris sleeping on each other in the early afternoon. She had to grin at the sight of her lazy dogs, who did sleep a good deal, especially after they’d eaten. Bando was on his back and she had to admit that the pup didn’t look as if he were starving.
“Did you feed the dogs?” she asked the soldiers.
One soldier, an older man, set the sword he was working on aside and quickly went to her.
“We did, my lady,” he said. “I hope you are not angry, but right after you left this morning, the dogs awoke and were whining, so we fed them cold beef and carrots from the night before. I hope we did not do wrong.”
Catherine chuckled. “Nay, you did not,” she said. “Beef and carrots is their favorite thing. Thank you for feeding them.”
The soldier smiled timidly. “They ate more than Odin did,” he said. “And about an hour ago, they were sniffing around again, so we fed them some cheese.”
“Ah,” she said. “That explains why their bellies are so big.”
“They ate quite a bit.”
She shook her head at her gluttonous dogs. “And they are going to be farting up a storm now, so it is good they are alone in a tent by themselves. Were they anywhere near you, I do not think you could take the smell.”
The soldier snorted as he headed back to his duty, but the conversation had roused the dogs. At least, Iris and Bando had lifted their heads and, upon seeing Catherine, decided to stand up and stretch. Then, they waddled over in her direction for some petties, which she gladly gave. She also thought it might be a good idea to take the dogs into the trees to relieve themselves so they wouldn’t soil Ridge’s rugs or even his bed. Calling softly to them, they followed her out of the tent and over to the grove of trees between the de Tuberville camp and the de Reyne camp.
It was cool in the trees, with the river gently flowing to the east. It was a wide river, but the movement was quite placid and Catherine paused a moment, watching the river meander by, hearing the birds in the trees. It was quite bucolic and lovely, and it occurred to her that this grove of trees was very special to her.
It was where she and Ridge had first met.
She turned to watch Bando and Iris, scratching around in the dirt. Bando had to relieve himself on every tree he came across, which was usual for him, and Catherine smiled as she watched her stout little dog. In truth, they were her only friends at Keswick outside of her brothers and as she watched, Odin ambled out of the tent and into the grove, following Bando as he targeted every tree. Bando didn’t seem to be bothered by the big dog at all and it warmed her heart to see that her dogs had a new friend.
Just like she did.
It was a little overwhelming to think that in the past few days, her life had changed so drastically. She’d come to a tournament with her brothers, met a man known as The Black Storm, and suddenly her future had changed course. It didn’t matter what her mother said. She was going to marry Ridge. She was going to marry him and love him and, for once in her life, know what it was like to love and be loved in return. No more persecution by her mother. No more feeling badly about herself. No more thinking the lisp she had made her less than everyone else.
Ridge represented the life she’d always hoped for but hardly dared to believe in.
Now, she believed.
Over to her left, she heard some growling and saw that Bando and Odin had found the same stick to play with. Odin pulled on one end and Bando pulled on the other. Iris wasn’t paying any attention to those two but rather rolling around in the soft carpet of leaves on the forest floor. Catherine went over to Odin and Bando and took the stick from them, breaking it in two and then tossing the halves. As the dogs went running for their part of the stick, she heard rustling behind her.
“I thought that was you,” came the voice. “I see that I was correct.”
Catherine knew that voice. Horrified, she whirled around to see Renard standing several feet behind her. Her first reaction was to scream and she was preparing to do just that, but Renard scooped up Iris, who had wandered too close to him, and she immediately stiffened.
“Put my dog down,” she commanded in a low, firm voice.
Instead of obeying, Renard held the dog against his chest and began to scratch her ears. “Not before you and I have a conversation,” he said. “I have tried to do that before, but I have always been thwarted. Where is de Reyne now?”
Catherine’s heart began to pound. Ridge was off at the field, thinking she was with her brothers. Her brothers were on the avenue of the vendors, eating food and thinking she was with Ridge. She began to curse her impulse to flee back to camp to tend to her dogs, but that couldn’t be helped now. All she could do was try to hold out until she could eith
er run away or convince him to leave.
She wasn’t exactly sure she could do either, in fact.
Terrified, she went into survival mode.
“He is nearby,” she said. “If I were you, I would leave before he sees you. The last time he saw you, he turned your face into pulp.”
Renard’s pleasant expression faded a little and a hand instinctively went to his bruised and battered face. “The marshals know that he unfairly attacked me.”
“Because you attacked me!”
He held up a finger. “My lady, let us be clear,” he said. “Your mother has given her permission for me to court you. Not only that, she has further given her permission for us to be wed. Therefore, you belong to me and I can do with you as I please.”
“Nay, you cannot. You absolutely cannot. I do not belong to you in the least.”
He cocked his head. “If your mother has given me permission, you do,” he said. “You and I are going to be married. Today, in fact. I know for a fact that she has not given her permission to de Reyne, meaning the man is trying to usurp my claim.”
Technically, that was true, but Catherine would not acknowledge it. Perhaps if she could reason with him, he might lose interest. Perhaps if she presented herself as more logical about the situation and less resistant, she might be able to accomplish more than if she was resisting him. He seemed to enjoy that too much.
In any case, it was worth a try.
“My lord, mayhap we should start anew with this situation,” she said steadily. “From the moment we have become acquainted, there has been nothing but violence and drama. Would you agree with that?”
“I would.”
“Well, I am weary of it,” she said. “I have come to this tournament to support my brothers, not fight with a man I hardly know. I am sure you did not come to this tournament to be beaten badly by Ridge and my brothers. Is this not a fair statement?”
“It is quite fair.”
“Then explain to me, if you will, why you are so determined to have me?” she asked sincerely. “What you were told about my not having any inheritance is very true. I have a small dowry from my mother, but that is all there is. Everything else is controlled by my father and Charles. When my father dies, Charles will have everything. Whatever my mother has told you is a complete lie because she wants me to marry into a prestigious family so she can draw upon their wealth – through me. I have told you this before. My mother is very ambitious, and a little mad, and she will say anything to have her way.”
The Black Storm (De Reyne Domination Book 4) Page 20