To Love an English Knight Page 2

  Freya hugged her again. “Ye must remain strong for Lady Nicola. She will have need of ye once ye arrive at Wolverhampton.”

  A shudder went through Catherine, and she shook her head as though making an attempt to remain composed. “Aye, you are correct. Mayhap she can return with us to Berwyck now that my cousin Robert has taken over the castle.”

  Douglas came up to the wagon and kissed his wife before helping her and Winifred inside. He turned to Freya before bending down to place a kiss upon her forehead.

  “Take care of mother while we are gone, Freya. I am depending on ye tae look after things in my absence.”

  “Aye, of course, Douglas,” she said as the words stuck in her throat at the lie.

  “Killian will aid ye if anything urgent requires attention.”

  “I will look tae him for counsel if the need arises.”

  He gave a brief nod before murmuring a hasty I love you. He took his leave while issuing last minute orders as the knights began to mount their horses.

  Now was the time to set her plan into motion. She only needed to make her way to the stables to change! In her haste to quicken her own departure from Berwyck, she dodged around one knight and then another before she ran straight into one. ’Twas as though she had run into a wall. She mumbled an apology, but arms of steal wrapped around her waist.

  “Where do you go in such a hurry, Lady Freya?”

  That voice… Was there anything else in this world that could make her insides quiver in delight than to hear such a tone as his?

  Lifting her head from examining his tabard, her eyes met his, and she could see he was amused. ’Twas a startling surprise considering their past was littered with her mistakes that had cost him so much. He had hated her for months since their return from Caen, and she could hardly blame him.

  “Sir Charles,” she said while a small smile lifted at the corners of her mouth. “I thought I would return tae the keep and up tae the battlements tae watch everyone’s departure.”

  An amused chuckle rumbled in his chest as he let go of her. For one brief instant while he held her, her heart rejoiced at being in his arms. He pointed in the opposite direction from where she had been heading. “The keep is that way…or have you forgotten?”

  Her eyes widened as she realized she had been caught in a lie. Instead of admitting she had other motives, she cocked her head to one side to examine him more closely. “Are ye perchance jesting with me?”

  “Mayhap, although you are going the wrong way if ’tis your intent to return to the keep,” he replied while his eyes crinkled at the corners.

  Her mind buzzed with the possibilities of what this conversation could mean. Before she could recant her thoughts, she blurted the one thing that had plagued her thoughts for months. “Does this mean ye forgive me for my foolishness when ye first arrived at Berwyck?”

  “Only if you will forgive me for thinking you were a fallen woman when we first met in Caen.”

  “I forgave ye a long time ago, Charles,” she murmured. Her face flushed thinking of that first kiss. “I am truly sorry my actions cost ye time in Berwyck’s dungeon. If I had known Cathal would place ye there when I voiced my jealousy of Catherine, I would have never uttered such nonsense in the first place. I had no idea he would dislike having an English lady becoming mistress of Berwyck so much. But tae take out his anger on her captain after I spoke about my own frustrations was unforgivable.”

  “’Tis not your fault, my lady,” Charles said. He ran his fingers through his hair as if he were remembering the situation. “Besides, he has been taken care of. I understand your brother sent him to live with his family in disgrace.”

  “Aye. He was not pleased, but we are at least rid of that beast.”

  “Let me take you back to the castle. I can hurry back before everyone leaves.”

  “’Tis hardly necessary, Charles.”

  “’Tis the least I can do so you can watch us from the safety of the battlement walls.” He peered at her as if trying to determine what she had been up to.

  “That is kind of ye, Charles, thank ye.”

  He took her hand, escorting her toward the keep. Each step took her farther away from where she needed to be if she were to catch up with her brother’s party. Charles did not stop at the doors, nor did he take her only as far as the great hall. Nay! Apparently, ’twas his intent to take her all the way up to the roof. She could not gainsay him for that would indeed catch her in a falsehood, and her plans might be revealed.

  Up the turret stairs they went. The wind rushed across her face when he opened the door for her. He continued to hold her elbow as they made their way up the parapet to overlook the countryside. She inhaled deeply, smelling the impending rain on the fresh ocean breeze.

  “I must go,” Charles said, taking her hand and bending over it. She was not ready when his warm lips touched her skin. She shivered at the contact and raised her head to meet his eyes.

  “Ye cannot stay,” she said, knowing his answer but still needing to say the words.

  “You know I cannot. Stay here where I know you will be watching our departure, Freya. ’Twill give me great comfort while I travel, knowing you are safe behind Berwyck’s walls until my return.”

  For an instant, Freya thought about heeding his words, especially while he gazed upon her with so much fondness. She was about to tell him she would wait a lifetime as long as he cared for her, but she was unprepared when he bent down to kiss her lips.

  Sparks of joy and desire swept through her at their first touch. ’Twas a simple kiss yet lingering as though he was reluctant to let it end. ’Twas certainly not like the one at the tournament that had been over before she had known it. Their breaths mingled together as if their very souls were reaching out to the other. His hand ran along her cheek while he continued to stare into her eyes.

  “Be safe, little one. I will return as soon as I am able,” he murmured before kissing her forehead and taking his leave.

  What just happened? She tried to calm her racing heart but to no avail. Charles had just kissed her as she had longed for him to do since the day they had first met. She went to the battlement wall to peer down into the inner bailey. Before too long, she watched him making his way toward the outer bailey. He hesitated and turned to stare up at her. He lifted his hand to wave goodbye, and she returned the gesture.

  She touched her tingling lips. Indecision consumed her. Should she stay or go? But she had always been impulsive, much to her mother’s dismay.

  Her mind made up, she ran from the roof and toward the stables. She changed quicker than she thought she could, even saddling a horse in record time. Taking dirt from the floor, she mixed it with some water from a nearby bucket before smearing the mixture on her face. Surely this would aid her in hiding her features enough so she would not be recognized. Wiping her hands on a rag, she checked the cinches on her riding gear again. She was ready.

  She peeked out the stable door before pulling on the reins of her horse. Moving her steed over to a block so she could mount, she quickly threw her leg over the saddle before flicking the reins and making her way out the barbican gate.

  “Best hurry, lad, lest yer master whip ye for being late,” one of the guardsmen shouted from his post above the gatehouse.

  She kicked her heels to the horses flank. She would not be left behind. If anything, Charles’s kiss had only confirmed her own departure, for she would never rest remaining at Berwyck. She needed to be near him and could only pray he would forgive her for not obeying his command to stay.

  Chapter Three

  For nearly three days, Lord Douglas and Lady Catherine’s party slowly made their way in the direction of Wolverhampton Castle. The wagon carrying the women could only travel so fast, and Charles feared they would never reach their destination. He would like nothing better than to have this ordeal over, even if he knew ’twas only the beginning of what Catherine would suffer emotionally once she arrived at her former home.

&
nbsp; Thoughts of kissing Freya consumed his every thought. He had no idea what had possessed him to act so rashly. Her look of surprise when she bumped into him in the outer bailey made him wonder what she was truly up to. She appeared guilty, but he hoped whatever outlandish idea she had going on inside that beautiful head of hers had diminished once they had spoken. She appeared calmer when he left her, but one never knew with Freya.

  She tended to be overly impulsive. ’Twas one of the things that drove Charles mad. He was constantly off guard where the young woman was concerned. He either wanted to kiss her, or worse, reprimand her like a spoiled child who was too used to getting her way.

  Mayhap their past was still clouding his judgment. Would he ever be able to truly forgive and forget what she had put him through? He had hoped such would be the case, but only time would tell what would become of them. He supposed they would eventually figure things out. If he was to continue his pursuit of the fair lady, he would need to get her brother’s blessing. Charles was unsure if he would receive Lord Douglas’s consent, for he tended to dote upon his sister. Charles had overheard on several occasions that no knight would ever be good enough for Freya.

  The sound of cracking wood, along with screams from the ladies in the wagon, echoed throughout the air. Charles flicked the reins of his horse in order to come abreast of the damaged conveyance. Another unfortunate delay, not that one could plan for broken wagon wheels. Leaping off his horse, he helped Lady Catherine and her maid down and escorted them to a nearby tree that would offer them shade while the wheel was repaired.

  “Were you hurt, my lady?” Charles asked, gazing upon Catherine with a frown. The spark was gone from her eyes, and he wondered if he would ever see her smile again.

  “I am fine, Charles, as is Winifred. Do you suppose the repairs will take long?”

  “’Tis hard to say, but I am certain your husband will do all in his power to ensure we are quickly on the road again.”

  “Perchance Douglas will allow us to ride and the wagon can follow along once it has been fixed,” she said. She looked at Winifred who gave a muffled groan.

  “You know how I hate those nasty beasts, my lady,” she whispered.

  Catherine patted Winifred’s arm. “I know, my dear friend, but we must make haste. I cannot sit here doing nothing.”

  “You wish to torture me,” Winifred complained.

  “I wish to do no such thing,” Catherine replied, rolling her eyes.

  Winifred continued as though her lady had not spoken. “I will surely fall off in a dead faint if I must ride upon one of those devils.”

  “Not if you hold onto the pommel,” Catherine said before turning attention to Charles. “You see how she refuses to do as I wish?”

  Charles was glad to see a hint of the old Catherine. He made every attempt to not laugh at Winifred’s plight, yet his lips still twitched before he covered his mouth and cleared his throat. “Shall I see that your horse is saddled, Lady Catherine?”

  “Aye, and let Douglas know I plan to ride. Winifred can wait for the repairs and follow behind with the others.”

  “Catherine!” Douglas called out as he rode up. “Are ye well, wife?”

  “I am fine, my love,” she said with a smile.

  Charles bowed before the pair. “I will see to your horse, my lady.” He left them before he could hear their reply but took one backward glance at the couple. He watched them kiss before returning to the task at hand even while he felt a piece of his heart harden. When would he ever get over his feelings for Catherine?

  Shaking his head, he made his way to the rear of the party. Knights were already taking their ease, while several squires were seeing to their horses. One lad sitting on the ground caught his attention, and Charles squinted to try and place the young boy. He did not recall anyone new arriving at Berwyck. When the squire saw Charles approaching, he scampered to his feet and began dodging between the horses as though making his escape. Who was the boy running from?

  “You there,” he called out, following the boy. The lad halted but did not turn in Charles’s direction. “Come, give me aid with Lady Catherine’s horse. She will ride the rest of the way to Wolverhampton.”

  The boy ran to the lady’s horse. Grabbing a blanket, he was quick to throw it over the mare’s back before reaching for the bridle.

  “Hand that over, lad, and see to the saddle,” Charles said, taking hold of the gear. He made quick work of getting the bit in the horse’s mouth. “You are new to Berwyck.”

  “Aye.”

  “Where do you hail from?”

  “North.” The boy grunted when he hoisted the saddle up onto the horse’s back.

  “Who are you serving?” Charles asked, trying to figure out where he might have seen the boy before. His memory failed.

  “No one.”

  “You are a young man of little words. You must have only just arrived?” Charles tried again to glean some information that might be useful in order to learn the boy’s identity.

  “Aye.”

  “If one of Berwyck’s knights or clansmen has not taken you as their squire, why are you not back at the castle?”

  “Was told tae meet up with the laird.”

  “Who gave you such orders?” Charles asked with a frown, knowing this was highly unusual at Berwyck. Normally a new page or squire would require training before he would be sent off on a trip across the country. No wonder the boy had been sitting on the ground while all the others were busy seeing to the men’s horses.

  “Sir K-Killian,” he stammered while keeping to the opposite side of the horse.

  Charles secured the cinch, pulling tightly on the straps to ensure the saddle was secure. He then went to go around to get a closer look at the boy, but the lad skirted around the mare to avoid him. Charles wondered what had befallen the boy to make him so skittish. Mayhap ’twas a vengeful, previous master with a heavy hand.

  “Well, you are here now and obviously in need of someone to take you under their control, so until otherwise notified, I will train you myself.” Charles swore he heard a low muttered curse escape the boy’s lips.

  “Aye, milord.”

  “I am Sir Charles de Grey. What are you called?”

  Silence. Not one word was spoken, and Charles wondered if the boy was daft.

  “Fergus,” the boy finally answered.

  “Then grab your horse, Fergus, for you shall now ride near me and the Lady Catherine. She is resting under that tree up ahead,” Charles said, pointing in the direction of where he had left the lady. “Best hurry. Do not make me have to come and find you.”

  Charles pulled on the reins of Catherine’s horse, leading the mare forward. He had no idea what had possessed him to take on the responsibility of training a squire. He had the feeling Fergus would test his patience like another he had come to know.

  Chapter Four

  Freya was trying her best not to panic. Yet how could she not when Charles had ridden in front of her for the remainder of the day? Even now at their campfire, he insisted Fergus be near at hand. If only they would all retire for the night!

  She had obviously not thought her plan out carefully enough. She had assumed she would just be able to ride at the back of the group and none would be the wiser. But early on, her plans went astray as first one knight and then another demanded she attend them with foolish errands to torment her. Nor had she thought about what it would mean when she had to see to her own morning absolutions.

  ’Twas one thing for the lads to run off into the forest together to relieve themselves, but another matter entirely when she could not do the same without being discovered.

  Freya remained standing in the shadows behind Charles making every attempt not to fidget. An oversized helmet she found helped hide her identity, but how long could she keep it on her head? All the way to Wolverhampton if she must, she mused. Grimacing at the mere thought of several more days until they reached their destination caused Freya to shuffle her feet in the d
irt. She needed to take care of her private business and would not be able to calmly stand here much longer.

  This dangerous game of hers would cost her dearly. Charles was no fool and neither was her brother. When Douglas found out she had disobeyed him, she would never hear the end of his tirade. She did not wish to think of Charles’s reaction, certain she would be unable to bear seeing the disappointment reflected in his eyes.

  Charles stood, and Freya held back a sigh of relief. Finally! She would at least be able to call the remainder of the night her own.

  “Come along, Fergus,” he called out to her. “We will take our bedrolls and place them in the vicinity of the lord and lady in case they have need of us.”

  “I have tae get my things,” Freya said in a lower tone, but even to her own ears she did not sound like a young boy.

  Charles waved her away. “Hurry along then. I shall meet you near their tent.”

  As Charles left the fire, Freya ran in the opposite direction. Making her way into the trees, she at last found a space far enough away where she felt safe enough to relieve herself.

  She quickly finished and returned to the campsite to grab her satchel before making her way in the direction of her brother’s tent.

  As she neared, Freya watched in dismay while Charles and Douglas were talking. Although she was still too far away to make out their hushed conversation, she could see them clearly from the light of the campfire. ’Twas for the best they did not know she was there yet. She had betrayed them both by giving in to her own desires.

  She gazed down at her clothing. Douglas would take one look at her disguise and recognize her. How long would it take before Charles became suspicious? Not long. At least they were far enough from Berwyck that there was no possibility she would be sent back home. And her mother… Aye, she would most likely lock Freya up in her chamber to never see the light of day again.

  Her brother returned inside his tent, and Freya could not put off the inevitable. Charles began settling his blankets near enough to the fire to keep warm but not too close that the linen would catch fire from a random spark.