He said nothing, not a word of greeting, no acknowledgement. Above his head the drooping branches of a beech tree bobbed in the breeze, scattering the shadows that fell across his face.
The silence stretched between them, grew ominous, laden.
‘I...I’m all dressed,’ Katerina blurted out—anything to fill the silence!—and tried to ignore the quiet fire of his observation. It was as if he saw beneath her skin, pierced her soul; she wriggled uncomfortably, her words constricting her throat. The dew darkened the toes of her boots as she moved across to him, every step beset with awkwardness, her limbs without grace like those of a new-born colt. The rising steam from the cooking pot bathed her face in warmth. Katerina tucked a wayward strand of shining hair behind her ear.
‘Lussac, I must return to the troupe,’ she announced firmly, fiddling with the frayed rope around her waist, a makeshift belt for her tunic. Maybe he would let her go. It was worth a chance.
‘Here.’ He produced a floury bread roll from the bag at his side, a hunk of cheese balanced on top. Had he failed to hear her words?
‘Thank you.’ She accepted the food gratefully, sat down cross-legged in the grass opposite him. She cleared her throat. The curve of his top lip was firm, well defined, a sensuous tilt at the corners of his mouth. Concentrating hazily on the nobbled bark of the tree trunk behind his head, she chewed unconsciously at the corner of her mouth, reddening the flesh. ‘I need to find the troupe again, Lussac—’ she shoved the words out in a rush ‘—otherwise John will never have me back.’
‘No, Katerina. I’m sorry, but there it is. You have to come with me.’ His eyes observed her calmly. ‘And this time, I’ll keep a closer eye on you.’
She ignored his veiled reference to her earlier escape. ‘But you know the way to Longthorpe now,’ she squeaked, baulking at his authoritative tone. ‘What could you possibly need me for?’
Because you bring a joy and warmth and vitality to my life. My heart feels lighter when I’m with you. The unexpected thought barged into his mind, unbidden.
Frowning, he scratched at one ebony eyebrow, rubbing his eye in the process. ‘You know what your family look like, Katerina. Your father, your uncle. I want you to point them out to me. I want you to identify them for me.’
‘Other people could do that for you,’ she replied grumpily.
‘I want to be sure, Katerina. I want to be sure I have the right person.’
‘Why? What do you want with my family?’ she breathed. Something in his tone snared at her subconscious, something wild, dangerous. ‘This is all linked to the cuff, isn’t it? What is it about that cuff?’
He shoved the stick violently into the fire, let it burn. A black trail of smoke rose in front of his face. ‘It’s best that you don’t know.’ His voice was clipped, formal, devoid of emotion.
Tension hung between them, suspended in the air like dense fog.
Katerina took a bite of the bread roll, chewing hungrily. He was not going to tell her, however much she poked and prodded him for a reason. She swallowed a piece of the fragrant bread, savouring the taste. It felt good to have something substantial in her belly.
‘What did those men want with you, Katerina?’ Lussac swung the iron pot towards him, carefully pouring the contents into a pewter mug. ‘Here, have this.’ He handed her the mug and she clutched it, gratefully, between two hands.
‘Where’s yours?’ She placed her lips on the edge of the cup, but the liquid, warmed mead from the smell of it, was too hot; she would wait.
‘I only have one cup. Ladies first.’ He propped his broad shoulders against the trunk at his back. ‘Tell me, Katerina.’
She studied him over the rising steam. This was it. This was the moment where she should tell him, confide in him. Could she trust him? Or would he turn against her like all the rest, like her own family had done? But if she confided in him, surely he would see how impossible it was for her to return home. Maybe he would understand.
‘Over a year ago now, I left home. I disguised myself as a boy, because, as I’m sure you are aware, single women, travelling alone, are fair game.’ She took a sip of mead, wincing as the hot liquid stung the tip of her tongue.
Lussac kicked irritably at a log that had rolled out from the fire, nudging the smoking wood back into the hot ashes; he would prefer not to think of her out there on the road, defenceless and vulnerable.
‘I wasn’t completely alone. I had a friend, a good friend, who helped me, taught me some skills, skills that meant I could work as a performer.’
Waleran, he thought. Obviously more than a good friend to her. A lover? He recalled the pair of them in the tent at Norfolk’s castle, the way the pair of them had sprung guiltily away from each other when he barged into the tent. An unpleasant churning sensation crawled within him. He stared at the luminous, perfect oval of her face, her wide, storm-grey eyes, the fall of her glorious hair, and wanted so much for it not to be true.
‘But my father wants me back home; those men were mercenaries, soldiers hired by him to find me. There’s....there’s a price on my head, good money.’ She took a deep, shuddery breath. ‘I’ve managed to evade them up to now.’
‘And then I came along and spoiled it all.’
Katerina ignored his quiet, level response, voice rising with emotion. ‘I should have walked straight past that leather cuff! And Lord Mortimer, recognising my hair!’ Disgruntled, she yanked at her plait dangling over her left shoulder and down across her front. The curling end, bound in leather strips, lay in her lap. ‘The colour gives me away. I’ll have to cut it off and dye it. It’s too unusual, too obvious.’
‘No,’ he breathed. His gaze brushed the bound glittering rope, aghast at the idea of her doing such a thing. ‘You mustn’t do that.’
Katerina glared at him. ‘How else am I going to keep myself hidden?’ Draining the contents of the mug, she plonked the empty vessel down between them. Lussac refilled it from the pot. Above his head, the breeze sifted through the beech tree, sending a volley of amber leaves across the clearing.
Lussac took a sip of mead. ‘Maybe you should ask yourself how long you can keep going like this? he replied finally. ‘I suspect your father will not give up until he finds you. Do you really want to keep running, to keep hiding for the rest of your life?’
Her shoulders sagged; no, she didn’t. But what choice did she have? Mentally, she pulled herself upright. ‘I’ve been quite good at it so far,’ she replied briskly.
‘Aye, I’m sure of it.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Your methods of self-protection are admirable.’ A brief smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the stolen horse and her mad, haphazard scramble up the tree, away from him. Her impossible escape through the narrow garderobe window, giving him the slip in the inn. ‘But those mercenaries caught you yesterday, Katerina, and they will catch you again—’
‘And I told you, I was unlucky,’ she interrupted, springing to her feet. ‘I would have got away with it if you hadn’t come along.’
‘If you hadn’t died of exposure first,’ he muttered grimly, remembered the blue shadows around her lips from the night before. Did she not realise how vulnerable she was? Lussac watched her pace across the clearing, the cut of her braies emphasising the slenderness of her legs, strong emotions playing across her face.
‘Is the prospect of returning home really so dreadful?’ he ventured.
She stopped, whipping around to face him. ‘I told you it was, didn’t I? That’s why I had to escape from you!’
‘Yes, you told me, but you didn’t tell me why.’
A sharp blade of fear sliced her gut; her cheeks washed chalky-white. ‘You’re right’ she whispered, falling to her knees beside him. ‘I didn’t tell you why.’
She was so close, he could have touched the downy lobe of her ear, trailed his fingers down the smooth co
lumn of her throat. Instead he drove his clenched fists into the spongy ground at his sides. ‘It can’t be that bad,’ he responded, keeping his voice level to hide the tremulous desire that snared his larynx. ‘What’s your father trying to do? Marry you off to some poor, unsuspecting halfwit?’
His teasing words scoured into her, goaded her. He made light of a situation that was hateful. ‘You have no idea!’ Her voice rose, shrill.
‘Am I right? Is it marriage?’ he pushed, astonishing turquoise eyes focusing on her distraught face, intimidating.
‘Aye,’ she exclaimed in a rush. ‘Aye, it’s marriage! Marriage to a man twice my age, a man who is my father’s brother! Now do you see? I could never go back to that!’ She stuffed a fist against her mouth, stifling a half-sob that threatened to break free. She would not, could not dissolve into tears.
His fingers grazed her cheek.
‘Don’t touch me!’ She snatched her head back; if he showed her the slightest sympathy she would crumble, collapse against him. And after the mortification of last night’s kiss and his subsequent rejection of her, that would never do.
‘My God,’ he breathed.
‘I would rather die than go home,’ she declared, her voice rising. ‘Now can you see why I had to get away from you? You were taking me back to the one place that I never want to return to!’
Lussac arched one eyebrow at her dramatic statement. ‘I do see, Katerina. I understand. But a marriage like that would never happen, would never be allowed. Surely you know that. Such marriages within families are against the law of the land. The blood tie is too close.’
‘Not if my father consents...’
‘Not even if your father gives his consent. It will never happen.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
Because I will never let it happen. I would protect you from such an ordeal. The words popped into his head.
‘Because...’ He searched for a viable answer, one that would never let her guess his true feelings. ‘Because Queen Isabella would never allow such a marriage; it goes against everything she stands for. The law of this land will protect you.’
Katerina was already shaking her head. ‘I fear my family believe themselves to be above the law. My uncle does, at least.’
Lussac scowled. Of course they would. Those sort of men always did. It made perfect sense. They were murderers who considered themselves to be above the normal rules that governed the land. Propelling himself to his feet, he poured the dregs of mead on to the fire, stamping the remaining flames out with the sole of his boot.
‘What father would agree to such a thing for his child?’ he asked roughly, sticking his hand out towards her. Katerina grasped it; he pulled her lightly to her feet.
‘After my mother died, he became extremely over-protective; it was almost unbearable. My freedom was curbed, stifled. I knew he would arrange my marriage, but to someone more suitable, but not him, never him!’ Her voice rose in a trembling panic and she reached out, clinging to Lussac’s sleeves. ‘Please, Lussac, I beg of you, please don’t make me go back there!’
He read the utter desperation in her eyes, her fear. Her shoulders hunched over as she dropped her hands from his upper arms, wrapping them defensively across her chest. A pallid greyness covered her face; she was exhausted from the previous day. His stomach churned; the maid had been running for her life, her future, living on her wits and skills in a world weighted in favour of men. The odds were stacked against her.
‘You have to stop running.’
Her eyes flashed at him, smoke-grey, indignant. ‘How, Lussac? How am I supposed to do that! Surely you can see the impossible situation I’m in?’ Her question ended in an indignant screech.
‘I might be able to help you, Katerina,’ he said slowly. He raised his eyes heavenwards. What on earth did he think he was doing?
She tilted her head to one side, arms still clamped across her middle, mouth tight.
‘Queen Isabella has travelled on to Bury today; she will be there tonight. Bury is on the way to Longthorpe—am I right?’ He could scarce believe what he was saying.
Katerina nodded, breath trapped in her throat, silently hoping.
‘We will go there tonight. I will ask the Queen to draw up a writ, forbidding the marriage to your uncle, and you can sleep in a decent bed. I think you need to rest, Katerina.’
She drew herself more upright. ‘No, I’m fine,’ she protested. Her hair, amber threads, glinted in the sunlight.
He smiled, shook his head. ‘No, Katerina, you are not fine. Any idiot can see that. You need to rest before you take me to Longthorpe. You will be in no danger, as the Queen’s writ will protect you.’ And I will protect you, too, he thought.
Her rigid stance wilted, drooped a little, before him. She allowed herself to lean on the solid calmness of his suggestion, her body cleaving slightly towards him. How wonderful it would be to collapse in his arms right now and for him to take care of her, to make everything all right. She had been fighting her own battles for so long, she had forgotten what it was like to rely on someone, to trust someone.
‘Do you think it will? Do you think a piece of paper has the power to stop this?’ she asked, a doubtful note in her voice.
‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘We can help each other. I will secure a writ from the Queen, and you will take me to Longthorpe. Call it a simple business transaction. We will both achieve what we want.’
A business transaction, she thought, a chill sliding through her. Of course, that is how he would see it. Why would he view it any other way? It wasn’t as if he cared one jot for her, for what had happened in her past, or what was to happen in the future; she was simply the means to an end. But if it meant her hateful marriage could be called off, then she would do anything at all.
* * *
Steep banks rose up either side of the muddy track, inclines of dark, crumbly earth smothered in dark green trails of ivy, punctuated by the vertical columns of ribbed ferns. Above their heads, the high branches of the tree met overhead forming a green canopy, a shadowed tunnel. Lussac walked up front, one hand grasping the reins beneath his horse’s head, leading. His tunic hood was thrown back, chestnut hair feathering upwards in the slight breeze. Katerina sat astride the horse, legs dangling free of the too-long stirrups, adjusted for Lussac’s superior height. He had offered to alter the length for her, to make the riding easier, but she had told him she had no need of stirrups to help her balance on a horse.
Tipping her head back, enjoying the kiss of sunlight against her face, she watched the lacy green net of leaves file before her vision. It was a strange experience for her, being led on a horse; she felt lazy sitting there, static. She rolled her damaged shoulder experimentally. Already it seemed much better; the pain had eased, and the stiffening stretch between the wounds had lessened.
The soft nap of the horse’s nose bumped against Lussac’s cheek, as he strode along. His horse was strong enough to carry both of them and the journey would have been accomplished more quickly, but this way, it was safer. The further he could keep the sweet touch of Katerina’s delectable body away from his own, the better. It would give him more of a chance to regain the scattered remnants of his self-control. His mind reeled with the circumstances that had led Katerina to leave home; trapped and frightened by the prospect of a horrible marriage, she had taken the brave, risky option. She had run. Not many women would have made that decision; they would have accepted the hand that Fate had dealt them, accept the situation imposed on them by a superior male authority. But not Katerina, no. A smile tugged at his lips. Frightened she might have been, but lacking in courage, in bravery, she was not. She had challenged her father’s authority, refused to go along with his plans, using her wits, her physical skill, to extricate herself from a distasteful situation. He couldn’t imagine her doing anything else.
&nb
sp; A small sound at his back made him turn his head, squinting in the strong sunlight that pierced the trees. An extraordinary sight met his eyes: Katerina, balanced upside-down on her hands, toes pointing skywards, her tunic falling back to her neat waist in loose gathers. The intense light faded her hair to the colour of sand, a pale gold; her braid snaked across the saddle and down his horse’s flank.
‘Katerina?’
‘What...? Oh!’ Her voice was muffled, obscured by her tunic falling over her mouth. Scissoring her legs down smartly, her toes touching the horse’s rump, she knelt in the saddle, lifting her head up. ‘Sorry...what did you say?’ She grinned at him, her face flushed, sparkling with a radiant energy, a luminescence.
Something tugged at his heart.
‘What are you doing?’
Her tunic remained bundled up somewhere around her chest; he caught the flash of white chemise peeking out from beneath the dun-coloured fabric. She yanked the material down abruptly. ‘I have to practise...’ she shrugged her shoulders ‘...for when I get back to the troupe. I wasn’t sure if my shoulder...might affect my performance.’
‘On the back of my horse.’ He was incredulous, more than anything. ‘Couldn’t you have waited until we stopped?’
A sheepish look crossed her face. ‘I’m not used to sitting idle on horseback, I usually walk.’
Lussac raised one eyebrow. ‘Are you telling me that you’re bored?’ He wanted to laugh out loud; most women would do their utmost not to walk anywhere and now this maid was practically begging to be allowed not to ride! ‘Too slow for you, is it?’ he murmured.
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