The Raven's Revenge (12 page)

To Katherine’s great relief, Nicholas decided at that point to rest and water the nervous horses. Not far from there, they found a high grassy mound, with a stream running down the side.

Henry helped her dismount. Nicholas led their mount to the stream, paying her no mind.

The day had warmed. Katherine would have found it pleasant, had she not been wearing the heavy cloak. She knew she should take it off, yet she felt unaccountably shy in such revealing and fancy attire. She put down the basket containing Montford. Knees shaky from disuse, she hiked up her skirt to keep from tripping, and walked over the rise. Upstream from the men and horses, around a bend, she found a place hidden by tall beech trees where she could have some privacy. The water looked brisk and inviting. She looked around before removing her cloak. The gentle breeze stroked her overheated skin. She breathed deeply and reached down into the cold stream.

“You look wondrous fine, mistress.”

She whirled around to see Jeremy smiling at her in approval. “Fie, I want no compliments from you Jeremy Haywood,” she said, pleased, none-the-less. She looked at her cloak where she’d left it carefully folded. In her new dress, she did not feel as exposed with Jeremy as she had with Nicholas.

Jeremy’s smile faded to a look of discomfort. He cleared his throat. “Last night…this cousin of yours…he did not do anything…” His voice bumped up several notes, “improper, did he, mistress?”

“Nay, he did not,” Katherine assured him. “He behaved as a gentleman.”

“I cannot trust him,” Jeremy avowed, screwing his forehead into wrinkled furrows. “There is something not right about him.”

“You are correct, Jeremy. He is not as he seems.” Katherine hoped to fend off his suspicions, and she disliked perpetuating a lie. “He is not my cousin.”

“Oh.” Jeremy looked at her strangely. “Then who is he and why does he help you? I cannot imagine it is out of the goodness of his heart. He does not seem to use that organ overmuch.”

Katherine looked up into Jeremy’s sky-blue eyes—eyes that reminded her inexplicably of Edward sometimes. She could not tell him about the wound, or of tending Nicholas in the cottage. “I did him a service, and so he helps me in return. He would be traveling to London in any case.”

Jeremy frowned. “We’re not so far from Ashfield. I would take you back there myself.”

“Jeremy, I have not come this far to turn back now. I will never go back to Ashfield. I will not marry Finch. I’d as soon die. So, you see, I have no choice.”

“’Tis brave you are, mistress.”

Katherine scoffed. “Brave? I think not. ‘Twould have been brave to stay. No, Jeremy. Do not think it. I have run away because I have not the courage to face the future father had made for me.” She looked around at the trees and verdant scenery. “But I find I like to travel. There is much to see.”

She started toward the stream, and he followed her.

“What of you?” she asked. “Are you sorry you have come? I greatly fear you cannot return either. Father would sooner turn you out than have you back. You must continue on this journey as well. What will you do when we get to London?”

A bright smile started at the corners of his mouth and traveled to his eyes, banishing the concern she’d seen there moments before. “There was not much for me at Ashfield, you ken? But, London?” He said it with reverence. “A man can make his fortune there.”

As he spoke, his shoulders went back and his chin up, and Katherine saw him as the lad he might have been, had he not been born to the stables. With grand clothing, such as she now wore, he might look nice indeed. Who would know he was naught but a servant?

Nicholas leaned against the smooth gray bark of a beech tree, just out of sight of Katherine and Jeremy. A gentle breeze ran through the leaves, clean and shiny green from the night’s rain. He could hear the babble of their voices, but could not make out their words. They looked companionable, even intimate. Watching them in discourse, Nicholas experienced a flash of irritation. He rubbed at his temples, and sighed.

The lass looked comely enough, now that she’d taken off the cloak. With a smile on her face, holding the hem of her dress above the mud, the dour Puritan was gone. Except for that damned cap.
 

It would have to go next.

Why did he even care? With his plan well along the road to fruition, should he not leave well enough alone?  He’d posted the letter this morning. If all went well, she’d be off his hands as soon as they got to London.

Then, at long last, the vow he’d made to his father would be fulfilled. He could get on with his life.

Not bad for a fortnight’s work, he thought with satisfaction.

Nicholas watched Katherine venture into the stream, tiptoeing along a series of flat rocks. Jeremy hovered on the bank nearby. She gathered her skirt in one hand and reached down into the water with the other. Suddenly she lost her balance and teetered backward, landing on her bottom with a small shriek.

Nicholas started forward, but stopped short as he realized she needed no help. Instead of the tears and indignation he would expect from a damsel in this type of distress, gay peals of laughter rang through the autumn air. Lazy sunshine filtered down through the leaves to dance upon her where she sat in the water, leaning back on both arms, bust forward. Her face tilted up like a joyous and pagan sun worshipper.

If a smile had lightened her dour looks, and a dress made her look less sallow, this exuberant laughter transformed her. She possessed a radiance and sensuality reminiscent of a painting he’d once seen by the artist and diplomat Rubens. He watched, still enchanted, as her lusty laugh gave way to girlish giggles. Jeremy, who had given into the infectious hilarity, held out a hand, and she accepted it. He pretended for a moment to throw her back in the water before pulling her out. They stood together on the stream bank, laughing with an open affection.

Nicholas stepped away from the tree into the clearing. Katherine saw him first, then Jeremy. Their laughter faded as they stood facing him like two naughty children. Her grin slowly turned into the mask she wore so much of the time. Nicholas watched the missish Puritan replace the delightful hoyden he’d admired but a moment before.

He turned away. The sooner he got the two of them off his hands the better.

Katherine stood in a spot of sunshine and fanned out her skirts. A distinct chill had come over her, not from the cold water, but from Nicholas. She watched him stride over to a fallen tree branch, bread and cheese in hand. Raising one foot up on the branch, he leaned forward, an elbow to one knee with his back to them, his displeasure evident by the tilt of his wide shoulders.

Katherine sighed. How ungrateful of her to ruin the dress. The minor water stain on the bottom had been nothing compared to the new one it would have when dry. And Nicholas would have to suffer a soggy traveling companion as well.

Henry brought her a chunk of cheese and a piece of bread. “We have only water to wash it down w’.”

“I’ve water a’plenty,” she said, wringing out the hem of her dress. 

“That ye do, mistress.” Henry made a half-smile and walked off.

She sighed and bit into the bread. It wasn’t as if she’d tried to fall in the water. She’d simply been startled by her own reflection. Her likeness had looked so completely unfamiliar, like another woman altogether. For a moment, she’d wondered if perhaps fairies played a trick on her. What a ridiculous thought!

But she should not have been wearing her new finery and walking in a stream overfull from the night’s rain. No wonder Nicholas was angry with her.

* * *

Back on the horse, Nicholas was grateful they’d placed a blanket between them. It not only kept him from getting wet, but also concealed his insistent erection. In spite of his irritation at Katherine, or perhaps because of it, he found himself wanting to drag her off to a secluded spot where he could make hard love to her until his good humor returned.

“I’m sorry I’ve ruined the dress,” she said softly.

“The dress?” He shook his head. “No mind. We can always find another.”

“’Twas a nice gift, and I’ve misused it.”

“It matters not. ’Twas stained before and ’twill still work as a disguise.”

She was quiet again, and so was he.

For several hours, they followed a road they’d discovered after fording the stream a ways. Blessedly, it had stayed a road.
 

Katherine’s body relaxed into his, and he could tell she’d drifted off to sleep. Montford awoke, complained mournfully, and quieted again. Occasionally Henry and Jeremy could be heard talking together.

As the sun slowly made its fiery descent, they reached the outskirts of a town. Nicholas scanned the buildings. They came to a halt in the courtyard of friendly looking inn on the main thoroughfare that proclaimed to be the
Black Swan
.

Henry helped Katherine to dismount. Nicholas followed. Jeremy assisted the hostler with the horses.

“I thought Winchester had a Cathedral.” Nicholas voiced his thoughts aloud.

Henry shook his head. “Me memory fails me, lad.”

The hostler, who had overheard this conversation, stopped and raised his eyes to Nicholas. “Winchester ye say?”

Nicholas nodded impatiently.

The hostler lowered his gaze, and shook his head. “This nay be Winchester, milord. Ye be in Devizes.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

NICHOLAS’S BELLY LAUGHS filled the courtyard, reverberating from wall to wall, compelling those who heard it to join in. Katherine’s giggles mingled with Jeremy’s chuckles and Henry’s snorts. After a difficult moment of trying to keep a grave face, even the hostler began to chortle. Nicholas pounded the man on the back between guffaws, the thumps adding punctuation to the mirth as the two men laughed together like old friends reliving a bit of fun over a pint.

“Devizes?” Nicholas clutched at his middle.

“Y-yes, m’-m’-milor—“ the hostler hooted, unable to finish.

“T-tell me, my good man,” Nicholas wiped tears from his cheeks, “is Devizes closer or f-farther from London than Salisbury?”

The hostler quieted, cast his eyes down, and scratched the top of his head. “’At’s a difficult question, milord.”

Nicholas’s expression turned serious. He reached into the pocket of his cloak, pulled out a coin, and flipped it to the servant. “Try.”

The man bit the coin, and then tucked it into a pocket. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow before speaking. “If you was a bird and was to fly there, I’d have to say we was a mite further. But since you hain’t a bird you’ll be takin’ the roads. It’ll probably take you the about the same as if you was startin’ out from Salisbury.” He rubbed his nose with a none-too-clean finger. One side of his mouth curled into a lopsided smile. “Although I can’t say from personal experience, ye know, see’n as I hain’t never been to Lunnon.”

Nicholas sighed. “Hain’t never been to London,” he repeated then shook his head.

Katherine watched Nicholas’s mood change, mirroring the darkening sky as the last rays of the sun disappeared into twilight. Now that the gaiety was over, a troubling thought came to take its place. She examined Nicholas soberly. From his plumed hat to the red ribbons on his black leather shoes, he cut a truly dashing figure. He spoke with innate assurance as he gave instructions to the other men.
 

But was he capable of getting them to London?

Katherine swallowed her frustration. He had told her he had not been back in England long. Still, if he was unsure of how to get to London, he should have asked for directions.

* * *

Richard Finch shrugged off the chill and stepped into the
Crowne and Crow
in Salisbury. Jakes already stood at the far end of the public room, blocking the back exit. Another man followed Finch in and covered the entrance once they were inside.

Conversations quieted, then broke off completely, as more and more eyes came to rest on him. He could feel their fear. It sizzled in the air and warmed his blood. He waited, drawing out the moment until he could almost hear the pounding of their hearts.

Finally, he spoke. “I seek information.” He cracked his knuckles.

A shudder ran through the room.

“I look for someone.” He enunciated each word slowly and clearly. “In fact, I look for a group. A young woman and three men. One of the men has dark hair with a streak of white. One of them is young, perhaps twenty, and the other is much older. Can anyone give me information?”

Rustling and coughs greeted his request, but no one spoke. Cowards, the lot of them, and not yet frightened enough. But they would be. He would get what he needed one way or the other.

Finch clasped his hands behind his back. “Of course, I’d like this information to be voluntary.” His voice trailed off as his eyes rested on a small figure clinging to the shadows in the very back. His gaze trailed down her slight body, then back up to her face, pinning her in place, a rabbit caught in his snare. He would start with her. An easy victim, she would not be much of a challenge.

Unlike Katherine.

He had not expected her to be so defiant. She would be sorry for it. Once he caught her—and he would catch her—he would delight in making her scream. She would beg for his mercy, but there would be none.

He turned his attention back to the motley group before him. “I have reason to believe they stayed here last night.” One broken nose and two sprained wrists had provided the reliable information that they had not stayed in any of the other establishments. “I would be willing to pay.”

“Aye, they did.” One of the men in the front spoke. He swallowed. “Although I dunno about the woman. I did see three men and one had hair like you say.” Although the man kept his eyes averted, he shrank under Finch’s scrutiny. Then he grabbed his ale, drained the tankard and banged it on the table. “Grace,” he bellowed.

There was a movement in the shadows at the back of the room.

“Come here,” said Finch, his voice low, commanding.

The small figure stepped forward without much grace at all. She smoothed her apron with a shaking hand.