The Bride of Windermere

by Margo Maguire

  It was a breathtaking view of Windermere.

  “My mother called this place ‘the earl’s nook’,” Wolf said.

  Kit leaned back into him, and he slid his arms around her. There was a wistful tone to his voice, and she knew he was remembering his last days with his family.

  “My brothers and I...sometimes we came here with my father...” His voice was quiet, and they listened to the gentle sound of the water meandering past at their feet. “The last time I was here...well, this is the route we took when we left for Bremen that last time. My father and John ard I climbed here for a last look at Windermere before we left. This is the first time I’ve been back since I was a child.”

  She felt the steady thud of his heart through her back.

  “Kathryn.” His breath was warm at the top of her head. “My cousin Philip...as long as he’s at large, I’ll worry. You must have a care. Always keep an escort with you.”

  Kit was pleased to think he’d worry about her, but didn’t want to be a burden to him. “Do you really think he’d cause me any harm?”

  “There’s no question,” he said, turning her in his arms. She looked up and saw fierce determination in his eyes. “Philip isn’t to be trusted. Do you understand? I’ll not risk your safety.”

  “But Wolf, I’ve managed so far to take care of myself—”

  “You don’t understand, Kit. You don’t know him as I do.”

  She saw that he meant to have his way in this. “All right, then,” Kit said. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  He was relieved. He knew that John Beauchamp had been right when he’d said Philip was twisted. Wolf remembered enough incidents as a child when Philip had proven it.

  Wolf led Kit to a cool ledge cut into the rock wall and sat down with her. He picked up one of her hands and kissed her knuckle. “First of all, don’t ever underestimate Philip. He’s dangerous and he’s vicious, no matter what he seemed to you when you met him.”

  “He seemed cold and unfeeling to me,” Kit said.

  “That’s the least of it.” He braced his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, turning to look at her. “I don’t know where he’s hiding, though perhaps Hugh has found him by now. If not, I want you to be on your guard. One of the men will go with you whenever you leave the castle. Don’t go riding alone, or into Windermere town by yourself. Let someone know where you’ll be if you’re going to an unlikely place in the—”

  “But Wolf,” she protested a bit hesitantly, panicked at the thought that he would leave her at Windermere and go on to some other place without her, “where will you be?”

  “Me?” He smiled and her heart nearly melted.

  “Yes,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I have no wish to remain at Windermere if you are not...that is, if you—”

  “Kathryn,” he took her hand again and looked into her worried eyes, “do you think I could ever leave you again?”

  “Again?”

  “I left you once in London...”

  “Yes, you did,” she whispered, remembering her desolation at Westminster, wishing he would come back, realizing that Rupert was not the man she wanted. Knowing the man who was...

  Wolf wrapped one of her curls around his forefinger, then pulled it down gently, straightening it. She was so unpredictable, so impertinent: so different from everything he’d always thought he wanted and needed. He dropped an arm to her waist and pulled her close. He kissed her forehead and breathed in the fresh, flowery scent of her hair.

  “Your hair... you never left it uncovered before we came to London.”

  “I was afraid,” she said simply. His chin rested on the top of her head. “I thought you’d recognize me from that night at Somerton Lake. And at Kendal...well, at Kendal, when it was just me, you made it quite clear you didn‘t—”

  “Kit—it was only that I couldn’t claim you for my own,” Wolf said.

  “But I thought—”

  “It wasn’t true,” he said, “whatever you thought...it was... well, it was not easy for me to turn you over to Rupert Aires in London. I thought it best to make you angry. To stay away from you...to keep some perspective—” Kit stood abruptly and folded her arms around herself. Her mind cautioned her to be wary, yet her heart yearned for what he said to be true. She wanted to believe he’d put distance between them only because he knew it would prove difficult giving her up to Rupert.

  But what about Annamarie? She wondered if Wolf’s past hesitancy was due to some tender feelings or loyalty towards his former betrothed.

  Kit watched the water as it dropped from the cliff’s edge to blend with the shining waters of the brook, and wondered whether to tell him of her despair at Westminster; despair that she would never see him again, that her life would be forever empty without him.

  “I missed you terribly,” she finally said in a small voice. She felt him standing right behind her; his warm body close by, his breath near her ear.

  “I had no idea...” How he’d hated having to abandon her. All those weeks she’d spent in London, alone, with only the shrews at court for company. “I thought you and Rupert—”

  “Rupert was my mistake,” Kit said, turning to look at Wolf. “I quickly realized he was...he was not quite what my imagination had made him out to be over the years we were apart.”

  “Kit, what are you saying? ...You don’t regret giving Rupert up?”

  She shook her head. “And I told him as much,” Kit said with a wistful smile, “though I think I rather insulted him.”

  She walked over to the stream and crouched down to draw some water up in her hand, letting it spill back into the burn. “I daresay I was somewhat distraught that morning when I told him. I’d met the Earl of Langston the night before, and found out about my mother, my birth...and I happened to run across Rupert in the garden. I couldn’t bear to tell him about Meghan and Henry...so I told him about my betrothal to you—or rather, the Duke of Carlisle.”

  The sunlight was fading, and Kit looked out at Windermere Castle as her shadow lengthened out beside her. She had no idea what her revelation meant to Wolf—that her tears that morning hadn’t been because she was fated to wed him.

  “I told him I’d always thought he and I would marry,” Kit said. “Of course, he was quite appalled by the thought, until I told him he would make a very poor husband.”

  “That’s true enough,” Wolf said, putting a hand under her elbow to raise her up, away from the water. “But what about me?” His voice was soft, seductive. “What kind of husband do you suppose I’ll make you?”

  Kit searched his eyes and wished for an easy answer. She didn’t know how a powerful knight like Wolf would react if she spoke the truth, that she found him warm and tender, gentle and considerate with a new and uncertain wife, a wife who knew she was not his first choice.

  She reached for the small leather pouch in her belt which she’d worn all the way from Westminster. She’d kept it close, intending to bring it out when the moment was right.

  “I had this made for you in London,” she said, handing it to him, hoping he would understand her answer to his question.

  Wolf took the soft brown pouch and loosened the drawstring, then drew out a small wooden casket. He looked inside and took out the gold ring that Kit hoped would become the signet of the Duke of Carlisle. Framed together within the circle of the signet were the head of a wolf and a rose, neatly engraved on its chest. A modest-sized ruby was on each side of the band, below the circle. When he finally looked up at Kit, comprehension was clear in Wolf’s eyes.

  “Kit...”

  She leaned up and touched his lips with her own, silencing him with a searing kiss, opening her mouth, inviting him, inciting him to respond with a fierceness that made her breathless. His arms encircled her and pulled her tight against him, and there was no mistaking his desire, his need.

  Before they started their descent from the earl’s nook, Wolf caught a glimpse of men in the distance on horseback, riding south from W
indermere. There seemed to be six or so, and they rode with an urgency that raised clouds of dust on the trail behind them.

  “Who do you think it is?” Kit asked, following his gaze into the dale below.

  Wolf’s eyes narrowed as he shook his head. “Can’t be certain from this distance, though it looks like Nicholas in the lead.”

  Kit believed he was right. She thought she could identify his head of light blond hair and the white horse—Nicholas’ usual mount. But the situation being what it was at Windermere, Wolf was right to be cautious.

  “What do you think is amiss?” she asked worriedly. “Their haste—”

  “Perhaps they’ve found Philip and are merely anxious to inform me,” Wolf replied. “Then all our apprehensions would be resolved.”

  Kit doubted it, but appreciated Wolf’s attempt to reassure her. They climbed down the trail in the hill and made their way back through the thick woods to get to the place where Wolf had tethered Janus.

  “Come. We’ll move up here so I can get a better look at them,” he said, moving the big horse back up into the woods to conceal him. Kit walked alongside Wolf, until they reached the higher ground and a good vantage point within the trees.

  “Our escort will meet whoever approaches—”

  “Escort?”

  He smiled down at her and nodded. “We’ve a dozen good men guarding our backs. They’ll meet the riders if we don’t intercept them first.”

  Twelve men? Following them? Kit blushed, remembering their leisurely ride to the earl’s nook, with her husband nuzzling her and pleasantly tantalizing her with gentle fingers. She was mortified to think that twelve men had been close by—perhaps even within sight of them—when they were on the cliff near the dual waterfalls.

  “Don’t fret, Kit,” he said, reading her thoughts. “I handpicked the few who understand the meaning of the word ‘privacy.’”

  “I don’t fret,” she said irritably. “I never fret. But you might have told me you had men all around us.”

  “Not all around us,” he chuckled, amused by her perspective. “Seventy-three men ahead of us in three groups to clear the way, and twelve behind—a fair distance behind—to protect the rear.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Look. ’Tis Nicholas.” He gave her a quick kiss, took her hand and headed toward the road. “He’s got Douglas, Alfred and Claude with him—three of the men who came in advance of us, days ago. Shall we see what devils they have biting at their heels?”

  They ambled along, picking their way back toward the road, and the riders who were rapidly gaining on them. A gray dusk had fallen, and it was becoming quite dark in the woods, though Wolf led faultlessly through the damp underbrush and bramble. His surefooted stride reminded Kit of the time—it seemed so long ago—when she’d run away from him, and he’d carried her back to camp in the dark.

  The riders slowed when Wolf and Kit appeared on foot with Janus following behind. The two walked north as the riders continued towards the hills on their southerly course. They finally met where the road became a rough track, near the edge of the woods. The eastern side of the road was bordered by high cliffs and as the sun dropped beneath the level of the trees to the west, the group was enshrouded in shadow.

  All eight men dismounted.

  “All is...ah...well...Your Grace?” Sir Edward asked, casting a sidelong glance at Nicholas. Kit suddenly realized that they had some idea where she and Wolf had been, and what they were doing, and she blushed.

  Wolf looked them over. Every one of them was squirming.

  “All is most definitely well,” Wolf finally said, good-naturedly. His smile unnerved some of the men—they were so unaccustomed to it. “What dire news do you bring that you travel at breakneck speed? Did I not bid you farewell just this morn, Nick? What tidings do you bring of Windermere?”

  “There is a great deal to discuss, Wolf,” Nicholas replied, his manner now less embarrassed and more serious. “As dusk approached, some of us became concerned by your absence. To begin, no one has seen Hugh Dryden in three days.”

  The men all looked grim, and Wolf lost his smile.

  “Second, a couple of Philip’s cronies have been seen about town, but they always manage to disappear before they can be apprehended,” Nicholas said. “I will not be at ease until you and your lady are safely behind the castle walls.”

  “Tell me the rest as we ride,” Wolf said as he gave Kit a lift up to Janus’ back.

  Before mounting his horse, Nicholas said, “Baron Robert Wellesley and his daughter await you at Windermere, as well as Baron Thomas Somers and three of his men.”

  “Somers!” Wolf exclaimed. “I should have known—”

  “Wolf!” Kit screamed as an arrow shot past her, impaling the leather satchel on the saddle in front of her. Janus reared up and Kit leaned forward, into his thick mane, but couldn’t manage to get a grip on the animal. In the instant before Wolf regained control of the massive horse, another arrow flew past, and Kit was thrown to the ground and knocked unconscious.

  Fearful that she would be trampled in the fray, Wolf quickly threw Janus’ reins to Nicholas and ran to pull Kit away from the horse’s hooves. He picked her up from the ground, then carried her to the trees, shielding her with his body as the arrows continued to fly all around them. Most of the men made for cover as well, leading their horses swiftly to the woods. Three men circled around on foot to the east to pursue the archers concealed in the trees on the cliff. Some of Wolfs men were already returning arrows to the eastward heights, but there were no human targets visible. The trees and their long shadows covered their attackers quite adequately.

  Wolf eased himself down to the ground, holding Kit. She came around quickly. “Kit, are you all right?” he asked. His big hands gently smoothed the hair away from her forehead.

  “Yes.” She grimaced as she moved. “I’m just bruised a bit.” Her head ached where a lump had started. Her left ankle, hip and shoulder were sore, too, but Kit had suffered worse in her lifetime. She would manage to survive this little episode as she had all the others.

  Wolf was not so philosophical. Unbidden visions of the ambush and slaughter of his family twenty years before came to mind. He wanted to bellow with rage that his men—possibly the best-trained unit in England—hadn’t been able to protect Kit from injury. He vowed never to be in such a vulnerable position again.

  “Where are you hurt, Kit?” he asked gently, probing the back of her skull.

  “My head aches some, but the rest is nothing, Wolf. I’ll be fine.”

  “Show me.”

  “No, Wolf. Not here—with your men all about.”

  “No one is near, wife,” Wolf insisted. “Show me your bruises.”

  Kit adjusted her bodice so her husband could inspect her shoulder blade. Then she rearranged her skirts to view the damage done to her hip and ankle.

  “See? Not so bad. I’ve lived with worse than this,” she said brightly. “And I heal quickly.”

  Wolf gritted his teeth, furious that Kit had been a victim—again.

  “It will mend,” she said. “Even when Lord Somers broke my...”

  Wolfs face darkened and Kit realized she shouldn’t have mentioned her stepfather right then. She hesitated to go on.

  “Broke your what?”

  “Well, I just meant to reassure you that I will be fine. I heal quite easil—”

  “Somers broke your what?”

  She hesitated before replying. “My two fingers,” she finally said quietly, holding up the first two fingers of her left hand. “It was years ago, Wolf.”

  Kit saw a muscle tighten in Wolf’s jaw and wished she’d said nothing. With Thomas Somers awaiting them at Windermere, it was not wise to have given Wolf further cause to hate him. No, the villain at hand was Philip Colston. Not Lord Somers. And Kit knew it was important to remember that.

  “How is she?” Nicholas asked as he knelt next to Wolf, beside Kit. “A bit pale... Otherwise able to ride?”
r />   Kathryn nodded as Wolf fumed.

  “Then it’s time to take your bride home, cousin.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Windermere Castle

  July 1, 1421

  The twelve men who Wolf had assigned to bring up the rear pursued the attackers on the cliff while the men who’d come from Windermere escorted the duke and his bride to Windermere Castle. Wolf rode with Kit practically on his lap, going as slowly as he dared, conscious of her swelling bruises, but making as much haste as possible to stay ahead of further trouble. It galled him to run away from an attacker, but Kit’s safety meant all to him.

  Wolf seethed with anger that she could be hurt—especially in his presence, and he was plagued by the surprisingly clear childhood memories of the fatal attack on his family as they traveled to Bremen. He’d been in plenty of skirmishes and battles—massive, full-scale, bloody battles, yet the sight of his precious Kit, lying unconscious on the road beneath Janus’ hooves was nearly his undoing.

  When they reached Windermere, Nicholas led the way through the castle while the rest of Wolf’s men saw to the horses. Wolf carried Kit and followed Nicholas up the huge stone staircase, through the great hall and up another flight of steps until they reached the master’s chambers. Groups of curious servants assembled along his route, and Wolf called orders to them as he made his way.

  Nicholas pulled back and tied the exquisite blue brocade curtains that surrounded what was now the duke’s massive bed, then lit all the candelabra in the room. The chamber itself had been cleaned and stripped, then refurnished to the duke’s tastes. There existed none of the dark, ominous corners of the chamber Kit had shared with Bridget when they’d visited Windermere before. The master’s chamber was light, clean and sparingly furnished. Kit wondered how Wolf had managed to have a chamber so quickly prepared to his liking.

  It was so unlike any other part of Windermere that she had seen before. There were no dank tapestries on the walls to conceal hidden doors or passageways. The rushes had been swept out and replaced with strange, thickly woven floor coverings such as Kit had seen only in the king’s chambers at Westminster. A large vase of fresh, red roses stood on the trunk near the window and another was on the mantelpiece, reminding Kit of her rose garden at Somerton. One corner of her mouth turned up, and she glanced up suspiciously at her husband.