“That is not the gentleman I was referring to.”
“Then I cannot imagine to whom you could be referring,” said Cathryn. “Thinking of any man other than my betrothed would be most improper.”
“Very well,” Hannah said. “I will not press you any further.”
An hour had sped past by the time Cathryn emerged from her bedchamber, a silk cloak thrown over her dark green gown. The hair around her face had been braided with silver ribbons, while the rest hung loose over her shoulders and flowed down her back. On her wrist she wore the filigree bangle that Favian had selected for her, the pattern curving in an intricate design that caught the light. Silver slippers covered her feet, peeking from beneath her gown as she quickly made her way down the stairs to where her father was awaiting her.
“Ready?” said Father, holding out his arm when she nodded her agreement.
The Bradshaw family lived only a few streets away, and Cathryn and Father were soon ambling down the street in that direction, forgoing the carriage and instead traveling on foot. It was a lovely evening, the waxing moon shining brightly in the night sky. When they arrived at the house they were quickly ushered into the hall. The room was long, running the length of the house, with a high, beamed ceiling that soared above them. Rush torches were interspersed at regular intervals along the walls, creating light that danced and shimmied in the moving air. A huge fire roared in a hearth set in one of the long walls, while at the far end of the hall was a raised dais on which stood a covered table that ran the width of the room. There was a screen behind the table, half hiding the musicians seated behind it, some of whom strummed on lutes and citoles, while others accompanied them on timbrels. More tables flanked with benches ran along the length of the hall, stopping a few yards short of the dais.
As Cathryn and her father entered the room, they were greeted by Thomas and Elise Bradshaw. Within moments, Thomas and Father were deep in conversation about the upcoming delegation to the king, while Cathryn and Elise shared an amused smile.
“Come in, Cathryn,” said Elise, waving her into the room. “Most of the younger people are over there,” she said, gesturing to a crowd of people at the far end of the hall. “Why don’t you go and join them.”
“Thank you,” Cathryn said with a smile. The group of people were laughing, and as Cathryn approached she saw that most of the crowd were familiar to her. A tall, willowy woman, strikingly dressed in a crimson gown, glanced over her shoulder; observing Cathryn’s approach, she walked over and hooked her arm through her friend’s.
“Peggy,” Cathryn said by way of a greeting.
“You have to come meet this most interesting man,” Peggy said softly, pulling Cathryn into the circle. “He has just returned from travels abroad, and has been entertaining us with some stories.” The bustle of Cathryn’s arrival in the group attracted the attention of the man seated in the center, and he paused to glance up at the newcomer. As Cathryn turned to look at the stranger, dark blue eyes met hers, sparkling with amusement; she felt her eyes widen in surprise.
“Cathryn, this is Favian Drake,” announced Peggy. “Master Drake,” she said, turning to Favian, “this is Mistress Cathryn Forrester.” Cathryn stared at the man sitting before her, the color rushing to her cheeks as Favian’s mouth stretched into a slow smile. Pushing himself to his feet, he made a small bow in Cathryn’s direction before turning to the people around him.
“Mistress Cathryn and I are already acquainted,” he announced to the circle. “In fact,” he added mischievously, casting a quick glance in Cathryn’s direction, “we became quite well acquainted when I rescued her, uh, derriere, from becoming too familiar with the mud!”
There was a ripple of laughter through the group as Cathryn fought the blush that rose to her cheeks.
“Really?” Peggy said, laughing. “You didn’t tell me, Cathryn!”
“There wasn’t really anything to tell,” Cathryn said with an airy wave of her hand. “The incident was barely worth remembering. My packages were quite ruined, so everything else was forgotten.”
Turning to Favian, she gave him a sly look. “So it was you who was my rescuer, Master, er, Drake? My apologies, I had quite forgotten.” She grinned as Favian gave a mocking salute of defeat. “Now if you will excuse me, I am in desperate need of some libation.” Turning on her heel, Cathryn walked away, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to calm her chaotic thoughts. Behind her she could hear her friends laughing, while someone chaffed Favian at his put-down.
A long passage ran down the length of the hall, leading to the kitchens at the back of the house. There were numerous doorways between the passage and hall, and it was to one of these that Cathryn made her way now, cup of wine in hand, as she sought a moment’s privacy to regain her composure. She had just stepped into the passage when she felt warm fingers curl around her arm. Startled, she glanced around, relaxing only slightly when she saw who it was tugging her towards a small nook in the passage.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said.
“Yes, you do remember me, don’t you?” Favian asked. The passage was dingy, with the light from the hall providing the only illumination, but even so, she could see the flash of his eyes as he spoke. They seemed to be glowing with a faint yellow light, and she stared up at him, fascinated. His hand was still on her arm, and he gently stroked her skin, his warmth spreading through her at his touch. Glancing down, he circled his other hand around her wrist below the bangle, before meeting her gaze once more.
“You were very rude,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said, “I was. I was curious to see whether you would deny knowing me yet again. I was sure you would, and as it turned out, I was correct.” He trailed his finger around her wrist, and she shivered. “I have a theory as to why you keep denying me,” he said. His eyes seemed to glow even more as he leaned closer to her, the heat from his body touching hers. Her back was against the wall, and she pushed herself against the cool surface, trying to create some distance between them, but he followed her, bending his mouth towards her ear.
“I think it is a futile attempt to put me out of your mind,” he said softly. “I think the memory of me pursues you at every turn, just as yours does me. Am I right?”
No, Cathryn wanted to scream, but she could not make the falsehood form on her lips. Instead she stared at him mutely as he watched her.
“I thought so,” he said, with a note of satisfaction. He pulled back to gaze into her eyes for another brief moment before turning away and walking back to the hall. Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes, drawing in deep breaths in an effort to still her racing heart. The man is relentless, she thought. If he would just leave her alone, she could push him from her mind and forget about him. She took a deep gulp of wine before turning back towards the room.
She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Peggy appeared at her side.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your encounter with Favian Drake?” she demanded. Cathryn shrugged.
“As I said before, there was nothing to tell. I find I have absolutely no interest in the man.”
The man in question was on the other side of the room, his back to them, and Cathryn glanced at him as she spoke. Her voice was low, but even so, he turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised questioningly. He held her gaze across the room for a moment, before turning away again.
“Absolutely no interest whatsoever,” repeated Cathryn, dropping her voice even lower. Once again he glanced up to look at her. Peggy, who had missed the exchange, was speaking again, and Cathryn pulled her attention away from Favian to follow what she was saying.
“So you don’t mind if I get to know him better?”
“Peggy, you can do as you please,” Cathryn said. “It is nothing to me. Besides,” she added as an afterthought, “I am already promised to Geoffrey.”
“Good!” Half amused and half annoyed, Cathryn watched Peggy as she stared openly at Favian before turning away, making a direct pa
th to a table with a full jug of wine.
Chapter 6
Cathryn ignored Favian all evening, even slipping out the side door when she saw him approaching, an action that gave her a flash of mortification. So when she took her place on the bench at supper, she was dismayed to find that he was sitting on the opposite side, just a little further down. Peggy had remained glued to his side for the entire evening, and she took a seat next to him on the bench, throwing a triumphant smile at her friend.
Someone dropped down on the bench next to Cathryn, and turning towards the newcomer, Cathryn forced a weak smile as she greeted Sally Peterson. The woman wriggled about on the bench in an effort to get comfortable on the hard surface, her ample thighs pressing warmly against Cathryn’s legs. Sally Peterson was an authority on everything that happened within the town walls, and it was not long before she was regaling everyone within earshot of the latest town events.
“Her father marched her right down to the magistrate to demand a whipping, while her mother wailed and screamed behind him the whole way.” Sally took a sip of wine, enjoying the moment of suspense. “The little minx just ignored them both, and walked all the way of her own accord. She refused to name the young man involved, and in my humble opinion, I think it is shameful that he would allow her to take all the punishment while he runs and hides.”
Personally, Cathryn had to agree with this sentiment, although she kept her feelings to herself. She glanced across at Favian, watching as he bent his head down to catch something that Peggy was saying. He certainly wasn’t discouraging her advances, Cathryn noticed. She was about to look away when he glanced up, meeting her eyes momentarily. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgment before once more turning his attention to Peggy, bringing his head even closer to hers. Cathryn ground her teeth as she turned away. The man clearly was not worth her notice.
The meal finally dragged to an end, and the tables were pushed away to make space in the hall for dancing. As the music filled the large room, Cathryn was quickly pulled into the circle of dancers, where she joined the complicated steps as the line of dancers weaved around the hall, their steps taking them past the town matrons seated sedately on benches pushed against the wall. She noticed Favian dancing beside Peggy at one point, his hand loosely holding hers, but the next time she saw him, he was holding the hand of young Anne Bradshaw, smiling into her eager face. Cathryn watched him as he danced, observing the graceful way he moved despite his size. His flaming hair had been caught in a ribbon at the nape of his neck, and it gleamed a ruddy gold in the glow of the torches that lit the room. His eyes were hidden in shadow, but occasionally they seemed to flash with light as the torches brightened his countenance. His skin also seemed to glow, thought Cathryn, as though the light was drawn to it. Once he looked up and caught her watching him, and he held her gaze as they moved to the music on opposite ends of the hall. Perhaps it was the excitement of the dance, or maybe the wine, but as his eyes rested on her, they seemed to shine more brightly, and Cathryn felt for a moment that the rest of the hall had faded, and that it was just the two of them. The feeling vanished in a moment as she was jostled and pulled, and when she looked back at him, he was laughing as his feet tangled with the girl beside him. He looked up again after that, but Cathryn quickly looked away, reality once more having asserted itself.
It was late by the time the musicians finally put away their instruments, pleading exhaustion. An elderly man, who had been quietly sitting on a bench at the side of the hall, now rose to his feet and slowly wound his way through the crowds to the front of the room. The man looked like he was unused to a roof over his head and a soft mattress — his grey hair, pulled into a rough queue, was unkempt and his hands were callused, while his weather-beaten face bespoke a man who spent most of his days sleeping under the stars. As he walked, the crowds parted before him, a ripple of chatter running through the crowd.
“It’s the bard,” Cathryn heard someone whisper. As the man made his way towards the dais, the noise grew louder as people began to shout their encouragements.
“Make it a good one, old man!” someone shouted.
“Nothing too gloomy,” shouted another.
“I will tell the tale the good Lord gives me,” responded the old man piously, before adding with a grin, “but first, ale! My throat is parched.”
A cup of ale quickly found its way into the man’s hands, and tipping back his head, he gulped it down in one long swallow. “More,” he said hoarsely, wiping his sleeve across his mouth and holding out the cup. It was quickly filled to the brim once more, and this time he drank it down slowly.
“Ah! Much better,” he said, his voice strong and steady when the second cup had been drained dry. He placed it on the table while it was replenished. “Now, let’s see. What story is the good Lord giving me this night?” He grinned slyly and winked at his audience. Benches were being pulled away from the walls, pushed into a rough circle around the old man, as the crowd settled themselves more comfortably. Cathryn found herself on a bench next to old Master Kendrick, and he patted her hand gently as they waited.
“Good way to end an evening, eh my dear? With a tale from the past? All you young’uns need a chance to recover your breath. Too much strenuous activity just before sleep is detrimental to your health.”
Cathryn smiled at the old man beside her, nodding her response before turning back towards the storyteller. She watched as he settled himself into a chair, pulling it around to the front of the dais, and she smiled in amusement as he drew out the process of shifting himself on the seat.
“Come on, old man,” someone shouted, growing impatient. The bard bent a narrowed eye on the shouter before continuing with his preparations. Cathryn felt Master Kendrick shift beside her on the bench before getting up and moving away. She glanced up at his retreating figure, but in another moment someone else was sliding into his vacated space. The warmth that surrounded her gave Cathryn a clue as to who it was before she even glanced up at the face, her heart speeding up as Favian Drake looked down at her in amusement.
“Hoping for someone else, were you?” he said. “For someone who has absolutely no interest in me whatsoever, you have gone to great lengths to avoid me this evening.”
Cathryn remembered her words to Peggy, and it was with this thought in mind that the question tumbled out. “Who says I have no interest in you?”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Cathryn was wishing them back, but it was too late. She looked away as Favian pounced.
“So you are interested in me?”
“Definitely not!”
“What a pity!” Favian said lightly. “It was wishful thinking on my part, since I did hear you say most emphatically that you were not interested in me. Trying to convince yourself, were you?”
“How do you know that’s what I said?” she asked carefully, keeping her eyes on the hands in her lap.
“You were practically shouting it at me, my dear, when you were telling Peggy that she was welcome to my attentions.”
“I was not shouting,” she hissed. “And I am not ‘your dear’.”
“I have extremely good hearing,” he said. “It was as though you were calling to me across the room. And,” he added, “you are most certainly dear to me.”
Cathryn looked away in dismay and was relieved to see that the bard had finally settled himself on his seat, and was holding up his hand to begin.
“Urgh. Ahem.” There were a few groans from the audience as he took his time clearing his throat before finally beginning. “Long, long ago, when the earth was still young,” he started, his voice low and melodic, “people and animals lived together in peace, conversing with one another and sharing the land. But there was one creature who did not live in peace. One animal who desired, above all else, power over people and other animals. This beast lived to terrorize the people, and would devour them whole. The creature was especially fond of fair maidens, and would take its time savoring the young and tender flesh of a
beautiful maid. Often, the maid was still alive as the monster ripped her apart from limb to limb, his burning breath blackening her flesh as people hid in anguish, unable to save her from her terrible torment as her screams for help went unanswered.” The hall was silent as the audience listened with rapt attention. Next to her, Cathryn felt Favian tense, and she looked at him in surprise. He was watching the storyteller intently, his eyes narrowed, but at Cathryn’s movement he glanced down at her, his expression softening.
“What’s wrong,” she whispered, “too much information for your sensibilities?” His mouth quirked for a moment before he bent his head closer to hers.
“I’m not very fond of dragon stories,” he replied softly. “I find storytellers like to embellish far too much.”
“Isn’t that the point of a story?” she asked, her voice just as soft. Favian looked at her for a moment, before shrugging. “I suppose you are right,” he said. Cathryn returned her attention to the storyteller as the man continued his tale.
“You all know that I speak of the dragon, the most dreadful of all the beasts that ever walked this earth.” The words rolled from his mouth as he shook his fist in the air. “A creature so monstrous, so hideous, so terrible, that hell itself shook in terror.” The man glanced around, his eyes wide, before he dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “A monster so evil, that there seemed none who could thwart it. A creature, it is said, that can take on the form of man, luring his unsuspecting victims to their deaths.” The man lifted the cup in his hand to his lips and Cathryn could see his throat working as he swallowed another mouthful. Once again, he dragged his sleeve across his mouth before continuing. “But there was one, a knight so pure and good, brave, strong and courageous, he had the power to defeat the evil dragon.” Cathryn glanced at Favian in amusement as she leaned towards him.
“Are you the good knight, Sir Drake?” she asked. He returned her look with a wry smile.
“Perhaps I’m the dragon.” At his words, Cathryn snorted out a laugh, quickly covering her mouth with her hand when she saw others glancing at her in irritation. She sneaked a guilty look at Favian, and he lifted his eyebrows at her. She smiled back before returning her gaze to the old man. Beside her, Cathryn felt Favian shift in his seat, the movement bringing him slightly closer. Even though he did not touch her, she could feel the heat of him running down the length of her, as soft and gentle as an intimate caress. She felt her heart speed up again, each beat sounding like a drum pounding in her ears, and the thought flashed through her mind that if he could hear her whisper across a room, perhaps he could also hear her heartbeat. She glanced up at him to see him watching her intently. If he heard the thrumming in her chest, he gave no indication of it, but instead gazed at her, his eyes holding hers, the strange light that she sometimes saw burning a little brighter. Her lips parted slightly as she drew in a breath, and he glanced down at them for a moment, before looking in her eyes once again.
dragon archives 02 - pursued by a dragon Page 3