The Warrior's Wife

by Denise Domning

  “The buck lodges!” someone called from the head of the pack.

  “Faster! He’s cornered!” Ami shouted to her, spurring her own mount to an even headier pace.

  “I come,” Kate cried in reply, digging her knees into the hunter her father had brought to Haydon for her use.

  Although she’d never before ridden Pelerin, her sire had assured her the gelding was an amenable mount, given to great bouts of speed and owning the endurance of a hart. Now Pelerin proved his master no liar. He sprang into a breathtaking sprint, shooting past Ami’s smaller palfrey.

  Knees tight, Kate drew him to a halt amid the milling crowd of horses gathered at the edge of a steep drop. Below the mounted gentlefolk, the hillside was thick with trees, brush and bracken, the foliage close enough to deter a sensible rider. Men and women alike groaned as the buck galloped out of the concealing growth at the bottom of the hill, as unreachable as heaven.

  “He wasn’t lodged,” the countess shouted. “Look at those antlers! He’s an oldster, like me, warned and wary. Poor Lord Haydon,” she called to their host. “You paid the king a fortune for the right to hunt yon creature, and now we’ll never catch him.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Sir Josce FitzBaldwin bellowed, and spurred his horse over the edge. Haunches low and forelegs stiff, his mount slid downward to disappear into the trees.

  Sir Josce’s idiocy must have been contagious. In the next instant the horner went over the edge, his instrument lifted to his lips as he called everyone to follow. A goodly number of the hunters, Kate’s sire and Warin included, did as he bade, their horses slipping rather than running down the hill. Dogs seethed along in their wake. Within an instant, nothing remained of those foolhardy souls save the sounds of excited barking and the crash and thrash of horses through the underbrush.

  Among the more sensible folk remaining at the hill’s crest, chaos reigned. Some turned their mounts to the right, others to the left, depending on their perception of which was the shorter way down. Horses snorted and cried in complaint.

  In the crush someone’s mount nipped Pelerin’s hindquarter. He bucked in reaction. Caught off guard, Kate dropped her bow to clutch his reins and calm him. As Pelerin settled, his forehooves touched down on the wrong side of the hill’s edge. Already loosened by those who’d gone before, the earth gave way beneath his weight. With no more choice than a stone Pelerin started into a headlong descent, thundering down through the thick growth.

  Kate had no breath for screaming. Every ounce of her was focused on keeping her seat. Sharp holly tore at her gowns, scraping her legs where sitting astride left them bare. Twiggy branches poked and pried. An old oak stole her cap, while a leggy hawthorne tried to yank one plait off her head.

  Pelerin screamed. Kate’s world whirled then came to a breathless stop as she met the ground with stunning impact. Gasping, she lay where she fell.

  Through the branches above her a herd of woolly clouds was making its way across the vastness of the sky. The rich smell of damp woodland rose from the ground beneath her. Last year’s leaves felt velvety-soft against her cheek.

  From too far away came the shouts of the hunters. The horn was a distant blare. A moment later and the sounds faded. One after another, birds began to chirp as the woodland reclaimed its noisy peace.

  A whole new concern jolted through Kate. God save her, she was alone in an unfamiliar wood filled with who knew what sort of threats. The sooner she regained the hunting party, the better for her. Drawing a deep breath, she sat up and moved her arms, then her legs. There’d be bruises tonight, but everything worked.

  From behind her Pelerin snorted and blew, the sound distressed. Secure in her own well-being, Kate rose to look to her mount. The horse stood beneath the orderly branches of a beech, favoring his foreleg, while his head hung. Clucking in dismay, Kate went to him. Tucking her gloves into her belt, she ran her hands down his leg then snorted at herself. All that told her was that if there was a break, she couldn’t feel it.

  From the hilltop above her, something large thrashed in the bracken. The woodland creatures dropped into an eerie silence. Saddle leather squeaked. Bridle rings jingled. Vegetation crunched.

  Dread started through Kate. Even though she told herself it was likely one of the king’s foresters following after the hunters to see to stragglers, thoughts of thieves and brigands churned. Adele said a woman alone without the company of her menfolk or trusted male servants faced a horrible and debauched death.

  Slipping around Pelerin, she stood between horse and beech so his bulk concealed her. As if such a thing would buy her more than a moment’s safety! The thrashing drew nearer.

  “Slowly, my lad,” Rafe Godsol said, his voice echoing oddly in the silent forest. “Have a care where you step.”

  Kate smiled, so deep was her relief. Coming around Pelerin, she watched Rafe bring his mount to a halt near hers. Oh but he looked fine, indeed, even dressed as he had been yesterday, in a green hunting tunic with tall boots gartered to his legs. His leather hauberk had been mended after her sire’s attack. Today, his hunting bow jutted up over his left shoulder.

  Something warm, deep and oh-so-pleasant stirred in Kate. A part of her longed for another of those wondrous kisses, wrong though it might be. Who could have known that a mere press of lips to her hand might set her on fire?

  “How did you know I was here?” she asked in an attempt to distract herself from her inappropriate thoughts. It didn’t work. Instead, all Kate could think was that Rafe watched her because he loved her.

  He smiled at her. “I saw your poor beastie make his dash over the edge. From the look on your face, I guessed it wasn’t planned.”

  Rafe made a show of eyeing her up and down then reached out to dislodge a clump of forest floor from her shoulder. “You look only a little worse for your wild ride.”

  That made Kate laugh. “Wild it was,” she replied, leaning down to brush in earnest at her leafy and torn skirts. When she was done she sent a wry smile his way. “There was even a brief moment of flight, which came to a jarring end. Fortunately, nothing’s broken, even though I’ll soon have bruises on my backside to match those on my pride.”

  “Brave lass to make so little of such an experience.” Approval glowed in Rafe’s eyes then his face softened. “God be praised you weren’t hurt.”

  Why the simple expression on his face might make her want to wrap her arms around him was beyond Kate, but that’s exactly what she wanted to do. She did her best to slaughter the urge. When it refused to die she turned to pat Pelerin’s neck, hoping that out of sight might be out of mind.

  “Would that I could say the same for my horse,” she said, speaking to Pelerin’s mane. “There’s something amiss with his leg.”

  Leaving his own mount, Rafe stripped off his gloves and squatted to cradle her horse’s foreleg in his hands. The gelding shuddered and shifted at his touch. “Nay, now, sweet Pelerin,” Rafe said, reaching up to stroke the horse’s shoulder. “It’s only me, Rafe. You remember me, do you not?”

  Surprise drove even the inappropriate thoughts from Kate’s mind. She frowned at Rafe. “How would you know this horse when he belongs to my sire?”

  Still holding Pelerin’s leg Rafe looked up at her. There was a touch of bitterness in his gaze. “Your sire hasn’t always owned him. Pelerin was bred and born in Long Chilting’s stables. I’ve ridden him myself while home from court on visits. Four years ago, your lord father or some other Daubney stole him from us. I think your sire got less than he expected, for Pelerin had been gelded the month before he was taken.”

  His words stirred an uncomfortable sensation in Kate. She didn’t much like the thought of her noble sire as a horse thief. It didn’t help that she only now remembered Rafe saying that her sire had killed his. Then again, a Godsol had killed her brother. She tried to feel some outrage over her sibling’s death, but there was nothing. She’d barely known her brother; he was but a lad of two when her sire had sent her from Bagot. />
  Rafe came back to his feet a moment later with a shake of his head. “Nothing’s broken, but I fear he’ll bear you no more this day, my lady,” he said.

  Although his verdict was no different from what Kate expected, disappointment ran deep. “Oh, fie,” she cried softly, even as she gave Pelerin’s ears a good scrubbing so he’d know it wasn’t him she blamed. “The day has just begun, and I was so looking forward to the hunt.”

  Now, rather than enjoying hours and hours of Ami’s companionship Kate would be making the long walk back to Haydon with some servant as her escort. Haydon would be interminably lonely before the rest of the party returned. Selfish tears stung her eyes. She leaned her head against Pelerin’s neck to hide them from Rafe.

  “If it pleases you my lady, I’ll lead Pelerin back to Haydon in your stead. You may use my mount for the remainder of the day.” His words were heartfelt, making his offer more than simple courtesy.

  Kate leaned back from her horse to look at Rafe. There was naught but a desire to do what pleased her in his face. Sweet tendrils worked their way into Kate’s heart. Here was proof that Rafe harbored affection for her. Only a man in love would trade away his own pleasure in favor of his lady. The need to hear of his affection grew apace with her joy, although she had no choice but to refuse his offer.

  “Would that I could,” Kate replied with a sigh, “but somehow I’m certain my lord father wouldn’t much like to see me astride your horse, even if you’re nowhere to be found.”

  As if he’d forgotten her sire’s hatred for the Godsols, Rafe winced. “About yesterday,” he said, his voice low. “I beg your forgiveness for approaching you as I did. I meant only to do right by you. Instead, I left you open to harm. I pray no hurt came to you because of my actions.”

  Here was more proof of Rafe’s feelings for her. That river of feeling again welled in Kate’s heart. She went eddying along in its current until she was fair giddy. How she longed to tell Rafe she approved, hopeless though his love might be. She dared not. On this point the rules of chaste love that Adele had taught her were very clear. There could be no word from a lady to a knight about such things until that knight had professed his adoration for said lady. Even after he had, the lady dare not do much more than acknowledge his devotion with pretty sighs and longing looks.

  Frustration gnawed at Kate’s heart. Rules, always rules. She wouldn’t be alone with Rafe for long. Surely, Ami or someone else would miss her and come seeking her. With time so limited, how was she supposed to win his admission of love?

  “No harm came to me,” she said, only just catching herself before she thanked him for his honorable behavior the previous day. To do so would insult him, since it suggested she’d expected otherwise. “As for my forgiveness, it’s given.”

  “What?” he asked with a quick laugh. “So freely does a Daubney forgive a Godsol? Best you never tell your lord sire of this moment. With the animus between our families I doubt he’d approve of your generosity.”

  “Of that there is no doubt,” Kate replied in impatience. That awful feud. It stood like a wall between her and the confession she wanted Rafe to make. “About this hatred between our families. What caused it?” she asked.

  Rafe’s brows raised as surprise filled his dark eyes. “You don’t know?”

  Kate gave a lift of her shoulders. “I suppose I did once, but I’ve long since forgotten it,” she replied truthfully.

  The silence that followed lengthened until the sparrows went back to chirping. Rafe’s face was the picture of consideration. While he pondered his answer, he scrubbed at the narrow line of his beard. At last, he gave a shrug. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you, but remember this is the tale from the Godsol side of the line.

  “Some three score years ago, a Daubney stole one of my ancestresses, an heiress, and forced her into marriage with him. That Daubney had as his friend old King Henry, God rest him, our own king’s sire. King Henry was just then coming onto his throne. Thinking to secure his grip on his new realm, old Henry worked to make an ally of every man he could. For that reason did he confirm the Daubney’s forced wedding as legitimate. Once the Daubney thief added our Glevering to his other properties, he had wealth enough to justify old Henry naming him baron. And that is why a Daubney is now Lord Bagot while we Godsols go wanting half of what should be ours.”

  Stunned, Kate stared at him. “Glevering became part of my dowry upon my brother’s death,” she said, her voice quiet. Aye, but it was stolen no less than Pelerin was. “If the tale you tell is true, then why haven’t your family or your ancestors sued to reclaim Glevering from my kin?”

  Rafe’s smile was swift and bitter. “Believe me my lady, it hasn’t been for lack of Godsol effort that Glevering is your dowry. We’ve tried by fair means and foul, but neither court nor war has served us. All our persistence has won is Daubney determination to destroy us for all time.” He gave a quiet laugh. “Your sire even tried to break my sire’s heart.”

  At Kate’s startled look he grinned again, the movement of his mouth more natural this time. “Before your parents were wed, my sire courted your dam. Your father paid your maternal grandsire a great sum to have the woman my father desired. We Godsols say this expenditure was simply for spite’s sake. Because my father wanted her your sire made certain the Godsols didn’t get her.”

  Thoughts whirling, Kate struggled to absorb all Rafe told her. Words jumbled in her brain, only to fall past her lips before she quite knew what she intended to say.

  “How strange that nothing you’ve tried has worked to restore Glevering to you. Perhaps our Lord has different plans for your family and that property. Do you suppose that since a marriage was the cause of all your Godsol losses, He deems some future marriage will restore Glevering to you?”

  As Kate heard herself she flinched. Oh Lord, but Adele had been right to despair over her daughter-by-marriage’s propensity for speaking when she shouldn’t. Now Rafe would think her a fool, for no one could ever believe their families’ feud might ever relax enough for a Daubney and a Godsol to marry.

  * * *

  Surprise rendered Rafe wordless. Had he heard rightly? Was Kate proposing to marry him?

  Rafe stared down at the woman he’d expected to force into wedlock. Numerous tiny rents played havoc with her sleeveless green overgown. Her undergown, a slightly darker green than the upper garment, had suffered far worse damage; one narrow sleeve had been torn from wrist to shoulder, revealing the full length of her slender arm. Her head was bare; she must have lost her cap in the wild dash down the hill. One of her plaits had opened. Thick, dark hair tumbled over her shoulder, reaching well past her waist.

  A shaft of longing tore through him, so powerful that it rocked Rafe back on his heels. His mind supplied the image and sensation of Kate’s hair streaming over his bared chest. Another image followed, that of a naked Kate lying like some wanton on the bedclothes. Not just any bedclothes, but his. Oh Lord, but the idea of a willing Kate in his bed on their wedding night was as intoxicating as fine wine.

  As if she too, felt the gnaw of his new hunger, heat warmed the quiet depths of Kate’s gray eyes. Sudden color brushed her cheeks. Her lips parted.

  Rafe’s heartbeat lifted to a new pace. It was all the invitation he needed. Cupping her face in his hands, he stroked his thumbs over the slant of her cheekbones. Her skin felt like silk against his naked fingers.

  Kate’s eyes closed and she sighed. Rafe’s blood boiled. He touched his lips to hers, a brief press of flesh to flesh. Again her mouth was soft and sweet beneath his. A moment later and she moved as she had in the alcove, shifting toward him until her body melded against his.

  Need blazed in Rafe, pleading for immediate satisfaction. His mouth took hers, his lips demanding the response he knew she could give him. For a moment, Kate melted against him, offering what he wanted and more, then she gasped against his mouth. Bracing her hands against his chest as if to push, although she made no attempt to force him b
ack from her, she tore her mouth free from his and looked up at him. Embarrassment and longing mingled in her expression.

  “You mustn’t kiss me,” she chided, but her words came out breathless and soft. “Indeed, we mustn’t even touch. It’s wrong.”

  Rafe hands closed over hers. “Not to kiss you my lady, is to die a thousand deaths,” he said, the words coming without effort, having been uttered to so many women.

  Pleasure washed a pretty pink over Kate’s cheeks. What seemed like triumph flashed through her gaze. The corners of her mouth strove to rise. “Is that a Godsol admitting to some care for a Daubney?” she murmured. As she spoke she cast her gaze downward, her lashes making perfect crescents against her smooth cheeks.

  “You know I care for you,” he said, only hearing the truth in his words as they fell from his lips. Of course he cared for Kate, he would always care for her. A wife was a man’s property to cherish and protect.

  That thought brought with it the image of Kate cradled in his embrace and savoring his strength. He needed to feel all of her against him. Now.

  Rafe stroked his hand up the length of her exposed arm. Her skin felt smooth to his touch. She freed a shaken breath, then her head lifted until their gazes met. Heat put color in her cheeks. Pleading for more such caresses lived in her gray eyes.

  The fire in his belly became an inferno. No matter what words she might spill, her body told the truth. She wanted him.

  His arms slipped around her. Feeling her loosened hair against his hands only drove need higher. With but the slightest of pressure on her back he urged her closer to him. Triumph rushed through him when she did as he wanted and leaned against him. Her hands slipped up and over his shoulders until she laced her fingers at his nape. Rafe damned the thickness of his leather vest. Save for that, he might have felt her breasts against his chest.

  Again she raised her head to him, once more inviting him to claim her mouth as his own. Rafe lowered his head until their lips were but a breath apart then couldn’t bring himself a whit closer. Need for her flooded him, taunting, pulsing, demanding. And still he couldn’t bring himself to touch his mouth to hers.