Chapter Two #2
“I am not here to harm or harass you,” he said, his voice muffled against his faceplate. “I swear I mean you no harm, Sister.”
The young woman wasn’t convinced but her arms were so weary that she could hardly lift the pot anymore. She ended up putting it on his head so that it was engulfing most of his helm as she leaned forward and put all of her weight on it, attempting to keep his head down.
“Then who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?”
The knight was amply protected against her assault but the pot on his head had him in an awkward position, especially with her leaning on it.
“My name is Gates de Wolfe,” he said evenly. “I serve the Earl of Trelystan.”
The young woman’s features rippled with confusion and, bewildered, she backed off the pressure on his head.
“The Earl of Trelystan?” she repeated, mulling over his surprising statement.
But when she realized she was no longer nearly lying on his head, she pushed her weight forward again, onto the pot, to keep him down. “Lies! You are not from Trelystan!”
The knight beneath her had, so far, made no move to fight back. He simply lay on the cold dirt floor and let her beat on him.
“I am, I swear this to you,” he said. “Lord de Lara has sent me but when we came upon St. Milburga’s, we walked right into a raid. We have managed to subdue them, Sister. You need not be afraid any longer.”
His explanation made a good deal of sense about the Welsh and a second group of armed men appearing in The Garth. Now the young woman was coming to understand somewhat, but she was still frightened and bewildered. In her confusion, she eased the pressure upon his head once more.
“Have they gone?” she asked. “The Welsh, I mean. Are they gone?”
Gates sensed that she had relaxed and he was quick to take advantage of it.
He didn’t have time to fool around with a frightened nun.
Quick as lightning, he pushed himself up, pushed her off, and flipped her over onto her back.
Suddenly, he was on top of her with her arms pinned over her head with one hand.
As his body weight and one hand kept her wrists immobile, he used his other hand to lift his visor and look at her.
The truth was that he had fully expected to see a nun beneath him – one who wore woolen clothing to chafe her skin and remind her of the vanity of the flesh, one who did not bathe regularly, and one who shaved her head to do away with worldly beauty.
He knew she was young by the sound of her voice but other than the usual expectations, he had nothing beyond that.
Therefore, the fact that he had expected something unspectacular and crude somehow made the shock of the opposite that much stronger.
Lifting his visor to gain a clear look at the nun who had assaulted him, he was literally jolted with surprise as his gaze fell upon beauty so angelic and unearthly that he could hardly believe what he was seeing.
The woman had skin like cream, full and rosy lips, nearly black hair that was now covered with dirt from the floor of the kitchen, and the most brilliant blue eyes he had ever seen.
It was like finding a rose amongst sewage or a white dove amongst ravens.
For such beauty to be found amongst the confines of a priory made no sense to him at all.
Stunned, Gates had to literally catch his breath, make a conscious effort to swallow, and then resume breathing before venturing to speak.
“Who are you?” he finally asked, his voice sounding strangely raspy.
The young woman was frightened but trying not to show it. “Please,” she asked softly, “do not hurt me.”
Gates couldn’t help but watch her lush lips as she spoke, feeling oddly flushed at the sound of her whispery, sweet voice.
“I told you that I would not harm you,” he said, lifting a dark eyebrow.
“But you tried to take my head off. I want your vow that you will not try anything so foolish again if I release you. Do I have your promise, Sister?”
The young woman shook her head, her dark hair brushing against the dirt of the floor. “I am not a sister.”
Her reply did nothing to abate his puzzlement. “Then what are you?”
“A ward,” she said. “That is, I hope to be a novice very soon. I have lived here most of my life. You said that the Earl of Trelystan sent you?”
Gates nodded. “He did.”
“Prove this to me. What is his name?”
Her question confused him even more. “Why should I?”
“Because I have asked this of you,” she said, forcing her bravery. “You told me that I need not be afraid. If you want me to trust your word, then tell me his name.”
It was rather demanding but he almost found it amusing. Here she was, pinned beneath him, and in spite of her obvious fear, she was still prepared to make demands. He saw no harm in answering her.
“Jasper de Lara.”
The woman seemed to ease somewhat; he could feel her body relax beneath him, which would have been quite arousing under different circumstances.
“Aye, it is,” she finally said.
“And how do you know?”
“Because I am his daughter.”
Gates wasn’t even aware that his jaw dropped. I am his daughter. God’s Bones, was it even possible that in the great labyrinth of the cloister, he happened upon the one thing he was actually looking for? He could hardly believe his fortune.
When he and his men had ridden up to the priory swarming with Welsh, he truly hadn’t known if he’d find any female flesh still intact much less the exact lady he was looking for.
But here she was and evidently unharmed.
Still… as he gazed at the woman, a more selfish thought crossed his mind – was it actually possible that old Jasper de Lara bred such fineness out of his fat, worn body and this glorious creature was actually a de Lara? The mere thought boggled the mind.
But the fact remained that identity had been established. Without any reason to keep her pinned, Gates let go of the woman and climbed off of her.
“Lady Kathalin, I presume?”
Lady Kathalin Elizabeth du Bois de Lara slowly pushed herself up from the hard-packed earth, rubbing her elbow where she had bruised it when the big knight had flipped her onto her back.
“Aye,” she said. “Did my father send you with a message?”
Gates reached down to help her, assisting the woman to her feet, inspecting her closely as she stood up.
She was somewhat tall for a woman, and rather slender, but now that he was seeing her in full view, he realized that he’d never seen such magnificence.
He was quite in awe of her, struggling to keep his composure at the surprise of the entire situation.
“I will tell you why I have come, but first you will tell me something,” he said. “Were you injured in the raid? Are you sound and whole?”
Kathalin nodded. “I am well,” she said, unwilling to mention the bruised elbow she was still rubbing. “They did not hurt me but it would seem that you arrived just in time.”
As the volatile situation between them eased, Gates unlatched his helm and pushed it up off of his face so that the bottom of it rested on his forehead. He wiped at his sweaty, stubbled face.
“I would agree with that statement,” he said. “But what about the garrison at Ludlow Castle? They are not far away. Why did you not send word to them?”
Kathalin shook her head. “It is possible that word was sent,” she said. “I would not know. I have been in the kitchen since the assault began, trying to prevent the Welsh from stealing our food stores.”
That made some sense to Gates as he scratched at his neck. “I see,” he said. “I have heard of the Welsh raiding villages, but to raid a priory is bold even for them. How long have they been here?”
Kathalin shook her head, eyeing the very big knight.
He had hazel-gold eyes, dark hair from what she could see of it tucked underneath his helm, and a granite-square jaw with a pronounced cleft in his chin.
He was tall, too – quite tall, with shoulders nearly as wide as the door frame.
And the hands he lifted to wipe his face were the size of trenchers.
She’d never seen so handsome, nor so big, a man at close range and she had to admit that it was both frightening and strangely alluring.
But she would never admit the last part, of course.
Future nuns were not to be enticed by men, but if they were, this one might fit that bill.
Her heart fluttered a bit, giddy.
“Not long,” she replied belatedly to his question. “Mayhap less than an hour before you fortuitously arrived. You said that my father sent you? Do you come with a message?”
She was asking the question again, the one he’d failed to answer the first time. Gates finished scratching his face and neck, pulling his helm down over his head again.
“The message I bring is that your father wants you returned home, Lady Kathalin,” he said, finding some pleasure in that statement because it would mean escorting the woman, and staying close to her, for the return journey. “Your mother and father have recalled you to be with them.”
Kathalin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”
Gates shrugged. “This, I would not know,” he said, eyeing her, and in particular, her clothing. “You said that you were not a sister?”
Kathalin shook her head. “Not yet,” she said.
“The Mother Prioress sent my father a missive back in the summer asking his permission but my father has not yet answered. That is why I thought you had come bearing a message from him, an answer to the Mother Prioress’ query.
But instead, he sends you to bring me back to Trelystan? ”
Gates nodded. “Your parents are wintering at Hyssington Castle, my lady,” he said, addressing her properly now that he knew, much to his relief, that she was not yet a nun. “If you will gather your possessions, we must return immediately.”