Chapter Three
Hate.
Kathalin wasn’t familiar with the feeling much but she knew that every time she looked at Gates de Wolfe, that was exactly what she felt.
Hate.
Any man who could so coldly and callously pull her from her home was a man to be hated.
He’d dragged her out of St. Milburga’s as the Mother Prioress wailed, creating a truly chaotic and distressing situation, and the knight had kept her bound and seated in front of him as they made their way north through snow-white landscape and freezing winds that knocked the snow from the trees.
As they had traveled along, they could hear the clumps of snow hitting the wet, slushy road around them.
He had shown his true character as he’d pulled her from the priory, a man of brutality and cruelty.
Kathalin prayed that one of the snow clumps would fly off the tree and hit de Wolfe in the head as punishment for his actions, unfamiliar feelings of vengeance and hate filling her for what he had done.
She should have felt guilty for such emotions but she couldn’t manage to feel that way.
All she could feel at the moment was utter devastation at what had happened and the fear of an unknown future.
All of it, thanks to de Wolfe. He rode silently behind her, his big right arm around her torso to steady them both on the saddle, but since leaving the priory, he’d not said a word to her.
She hadn’t said a word to him, either, so they traveled together in tense and terrible silence.
It made for an uncomfortable ride until sunset when clouds rolled in and the winds increased, and Kathalin was so cold that her lips were blue.
De Wolfe hadn’t noticed because of her position in front of him and, with layers of protection between her body and his, he couldn’t feel her trembling with the cold.
Only when the other knight, a burly beast of man with a great brown beard who had been introduced as Stephan d’Avignon, pointed out the fact that the lady was cold did de Wolfe react.
He had someone bring him a rain cloak because it was really all they had and while he held her steady, the bear-like knight covered her up adequately with it.
The cloak hadn’t provided much warmth but it had at least provided protection against the cold winds.
Exhausted, and distraught, Kathalin continued to ride in cold silence, refusing to utter a sound, well into the night until they reached the large village of Craven Arms where de Wolfe sent d’Avignon to secure lodgings for the night.
As de Wolfe wait with a half-frozen woman and his escort on the edge of town, the burly knight returned within an hour to inform them that he had secured two rooms in a tavern and that he’d also found a livery for the men to sleep in, which they gladly did.
The warm haven of the tavern turned out to be a nightmare.
Unfortunately, the establishment was very loud, smelly, and full of people nearly all night long and the two rooms the knight had secured were nothing more than small chambers off the kitchen that the servants usually slept in.
The tavern keeper had rented them out, however, with the lure of money to make, so Kathalin and de Wolfe crammed into one room whilst d’Avignon took the second room.
It made an awkward situation worse when Kathalin realized de Wolfe intended to sleep in the same chamber with her even though he politely yet professionally informed her that it was simply to prevent her from escaping.
Frustrated and fighting off tears, Kathalin refused to lay on the bed at all, embarrassed at the impropriety of it.
De Wolfe, seeing how distressed she was, untied her hands and allowed her to relieve herself and stretch her muscles, but he didn’t trust the woman and ended up tying her to the only chair in the chamber because she wouldn’t lie down on the bed.
Kathalin’s first night away from St. Milburga’s was spent trussed up to a broken chair.
It was a barbaric situation to say the least. Kathalin wept quietly most of the night, knowing that de Wolfe was watching her but hardly caring.
She was so distraught and drained that she could hardly think straight.
But she fell asleep at some point because de Wolfe woke her up before sunrise to ask her if she was hungry.
Kathalin simply shook her head and looked away, unwilling to speak with him in any fashion, so de Wolfe untied her long enough to allow her to relieve herself again but the ropes went back on before they continued on their journey.
Hate.
That was all she could manage to feel for the man and the next day of travel was even more miserable.
Kathalin only had the rain cloak for protection, wearing the same uncomfortable brown wool she had been wearing when Gates hauled her out of the priory and even though the wool was warm, it wasn’t enough against the icy temperatures.
Wrapped up in the cloak, d’Avignon had put her on Gates’ horse, seated behind the man this time, but her hands were still bound and Gates held the end of the rope in case she decided to jump off and run.
She wouldn’t go far if she tried. It was quite clear she was a prisoner to anyone observing the situation.
The earl’s daughter was now evidently a captive.
The snow returned as they traveled on the second day, first in a light dusting but then increasing in intensity every hour.
By the time mid-afternoon rolled around, it was nearly blizzard conditions and Gates knew he had to find shelter before they all froze to death, so he stopped at the very next village they came to.
There were a few homes, two or three businesses that could be seen near the town’s well, and a small inn near the north end of the town.
It was a very small inn, no bigger than a home to be truthful, but that was his destination and he didn’t care how crowded it was.
As the whiteout from the snow began to blur everything around them, the tiny inn was to be their shelter for the night.
The escort came to a halt in the snow-covered street and Stephan ordered the men to find the nearest livery to safely store the wagon and the horses for the night as Gates pulled Kathalin from his steed.
The heavy-boned war horse went with the soldiers towards shelter while Gates and Stephan, followed by Kathalin being led by the rope around her wrists, headed for the inn.
Predictably, the structure was full to the rafters.
As Gates, Kathalin, and Stephan entered the place, the smoky and cramped inn wasn’t particularly inviting.
But it was dry and that was all that really mattered.
Initial observations of the room showed that it had a loft above the common room where bodies were already piled in and sleeping.
Further investigation showed two additional sleeping rooms upstairs that were barely big enough for a man to move around it.
It didn’t matter, however, and Gates ended up paying the innkeeper a very valuable gold crown for the privilege of the loft and the two rooms, enough so most of his men had a warm, dry place to sleep and he and Kathalin and d’Avignon had sleeping rooms. The majority of his men crowded into the inn to get out of the snow, pushing out heavy-clothed patrons and roughing up those who resisted.
Gates instructed the innkeeper and the two frightened wenches by his side to feed his men and make them comfortable for the night.
He tossed a few more silver groats at the man to make it worth his while and with that, he pulled Kathalin up the stairs behind him.
The de Lara army had taken over the inn for the night.
Only one of the sleeping rooms, the larger of the two, had two beds and a window that overlooked the snowy street below. The second room was windowless except for a very small hole in the wall up near the ceiling for ventilation, and was barely big enough for the small bed that was jammed into it.
A wide-open hole in the wall served as a hearth, shared with the loft on the other side of the wall so the hearth was open on both sides, and the chamber was exceedingly warm, which was a relief considering how cold it was outside.
Gates inspected the chamber and realized that, other than the door, there was no way to escape unless one wanted to leap through the flames to the loft on the other side.
He hoped Kathalin wasn’t that foolish. He pushed the door open wide and indicated for her to enter.
“My lady,” he said emotionlessly. “If you please.”
Half-frozen, disheveled, and exhausted, Kathalin didn’t even look at him as she did as she was told and entered the chamber.
But Gates stopped her just inside the door and silently untied the ropes around her wrists.
When he pulled the rope off, he could see that the skin beneath them was chaffed and bleeding.
Her wrists were badly irritated and he tried not to feel guilty about it.
He was coming to realize the woman had been traveling in terrible conditions for the past two days and had never uttered a word of complaint.
He supposed he had known of her discomfort from the onset but was only now willing to acknowledge it as tempers cooled, mostly his.
Her lack of complaint both impressed him and made him feel moderately ashamed of his callous treatment of her.
She was a lady, after all, and he should have been more chivalrous, but it seemed that his chivalry fled the moment she fought him tooth and nail when he removed her from St. Milburga’s.