Turning of the Seasons

Chapter: Four

~~~~~~~~~~

It occurred to Will, as he returned to his room for the evening, that Kate had been behaving oddly for days. She avoided any gathering that had more than their friends present and said very little in response to his verbal plans for their future together. Indeed, she shied away from the future like a nervous horse. He paused outside the door, laying his hand upon the jamb and bending his head.

Events were escalating.

Just that morning, Roland had come to him, telling him of yet another incident with Kate at the center. The men that had joined Edward's service in the past weeks would not leave Kate alone. She was a constant target for their coarse humor. Now, Will wasn't averse to coarse humor. He'd been known to make ribald jests himself and he knew Kate had as well, but the jokes those men told surpassed what was decent and tread heavily into obscenity. He didn't know what to do.

His words with several of them had no effect and he feared what would happen once they were back on the road with only flimsy tent material separating Kate from them. He'd taken all the suggestions Roland and Wat could come up with and implemented them, all failures. What else could he do? Where could he go for help? With a deep breath, Will turned from his door and strode down the hall, rapping his knuckles on one panel. It opened and he was invited inside.

Edward had retired for the night, but he was still awake, writing letters while a man stood waiting for the correspondence. He looked up. "Will. You're out late."

Will hated bothering Edward, though the man had told him, on several occasions, that they were friends and he should never hesitate to bring his worries to him. He'd taken that declaration of friendship and begun to see the prince as a friend. So why was he hesitating now? "I've a matter needs your input."

Brows raised, Edward signed the letter, sprinkled it with sand and handed it to the waiting man. In moments, they were alone. "Go on."

"It's about Kate."

"Ahh," Edward gave a wry smile and stood, moving to the fire and taking one of the chairs there. He stretched his long legs out in a comfortable position and motioned to Will. "Join me. Kate is exceptional on many levels. What's your matter?"

Taking the proffered chair, Will found he couldn't relax as the prince had done and remained seated tall. He felt restless, wanted to stand and pace. The prince didn't like people doing that though, so Will stilled the impulse. "There are some men who will not let her work. I've tried speaking with them and even fighting them--"

"Is that where those marks you've been sporting on your face came from?"

He nodded and continued. "They persist. She cannot complete the work you commissioned at this rate and aside from posting my men as guards to her, I've no idea of what to do next."

Edward nodded, sympathy on his features and a darkness sliding into gaze, something that for all the world, reminded Will of Count Adhemar. There was something calculating and sly in Edward's stare right then that gave Will the uncomfortable feeling that something wasn't quite right. Everything was right however, for Will hadn't seen or heard anything that could cause such an expression. The Prince seemed himself and not himself at the same time. "I'll have words with them. Kate is not to be hurt. If that does not help, then I'll post my own guard to her. She is, after all, working for the Crown. I can't have her hurt."

"Thank you. I --"

"It's quite alright, Will. This is something that should be brought to me. Anything concerning Kate should be brought to me." He looked to the flames of the fire. "Good and loyal workers are hard to come by these days and Kate is...good."

Will nodded and found himself dismissed. Those few short strides to his room, he pondered Edward's emphasis on only a few words in their conversation. It had almost sounded as though he cared if Kate was injured and didn't care if others were. That couldn't be truth. Edward wasn't like that. He was a warm and generous man. Why look at everything he'd done for Will over the past months!

He went into his room, a bit disappointed to find Kate was already asleep, stretched out on the bed with her hair fanning the pillow about her face. He sat on the bedside and watched her.

Her beauty was such that crept up on a man. She wasn't the sort of beauty that Jocelyn was, yet neither was she plain. It had taken awhile for him to notice that there was something striking about Kate's features. Whatever that something was, it kept his eyes returning again and again to her lovely face. He didn't know what he'd do if she left him.

Standing, Will prepared for bed and slid beneath the sheets beside Kate, drawing her to him and holding her as he drifted on a sea of thoughts.

When Jocelyn had left to marry Adhemar, it was Kate who took him in hand, forced him to bathe and shave and told him that he'd eventually get over Jocelyn. 'Jocelyn,' she'd said with a sad smile, 'isn't the only women you'll love in your life, Will. There'll be others some day. It might not seem like it now, but maybe in a few months or a year or two, you'll look around and there'll be a pretty girl waiting for you to see her standing beside you.'

It was only in the recent past that it had kicked into his mind that the pretty girl Kate had referred to was herself.

She'd not fallen for Wat, despite Wat's best efforts at arranging it. Oh no, Kate had fallen for Will and kept it inside until he'd come from the protective shell he'd built around himself in the aftermath of Jocelyn's journey from him. Kate had been there waiting, like she'd promised him a pretty girl would be and he couldn't fathom how lucky he was to have gained the love of two extraordinary women in his young life. First Jocelyn and then Kate, for there was no doubt in his mind that Kate measured up to Jocelyn easily.

He pressed a kiss to Kate's temple, contemplated waking her up and decided not to. With all the excitement of the men bothering her, she needed her rest.

Before Will could form another coherent thought, he too had succumbed to slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~

Down the hall, Prince Edward remained awake after Will left, staring into the fire and contemplating the woman blacksmith that had captured his attention in recent weeks. When he first began a friendship with William Thatcher, he'd only noticed that there was a peasant woman in his entourage and not anything else about her. The day he'd had Will released from the stocks, he'd noticed she was younger than he'd realized at first.

Gradually, over the course of his acquaintance with Will, Edward had come to see Kate as something more than a peasant woman. She was an intelligent and determined woman who simply happened to be blessed with a pretty face and figure.

Edward liked intelligent and determined women. Beauty was enjoyed as well. If he had no care for any of those things, he'd not have turned his eyes to Joan, for his wife was all those things and more. She was his Venus, his....

Shaking his head, Edward sucked in a breath. He couldn't keep thoughts of Joan in his head recently. He loved her with all of his heart, yet there in his life was a temptation that was eclipsing his feelings for his wife. He'd begun to focus on Kate.

He leaned forward, hands loosely clasped together.

Temptation was like needles digging into his skin and pricking at him. He could not escape from the desire to have Kate. She was not his, but rather Will's and he shouldn't be looking at her with a lustful heart to begin with. Still....

There was no way around it: he was looking at Kate and could see no other woman aside from her in his mind. He'd begun to dream of her as he'd once dreamed of Joan, something that disturbed him more than a little when he woke fully from those moments in slumber. Kate was dangled before his nose, there if he wanted her, ripe for the plucking.

A frown creased his brow and he stood, moving restlessly about the chamber.

He needed to exorcise the maid from his mind, purge the need for her from his body and there was only one way to do that: take her.

Joan was not here. What Joan didn't know would not hurt her, would it? For that matter, Will didn't have to know either. Kate would be persuaded to see reason on the matter he was certain and soon, she'd only be a pleasant memory he revisited in the darkest hours of the night.

Therefore, let the chase begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

The early morning was Kate's favorite time of day anymore. She liked to sit at the window and watch the sun rise while sipping spiced wine. She'd sit in her shift, legs drawn up on her chair and drink in the peace of the hour. It was a welcome respite before her busy, and currently tense, days began.

Will was gone already, out the door before she'd fully roused to alertness and he'd taken Wat and Roland with him. At least she thought he had. Neither man had knocked upon the door as yet. If she knew them though, they'd be along soon.

Getting up from the chair, she slipped on her dress and took up the task of combing out the snarls in her hair. Each morning she had a horrible time combing it, but didn't want to deny Will the pleasure of her long hair loose in the night. He adored running his fingers through the length and, truth be told, she liked it when he did that. So, she suffered the tangles gladly.

There was a knock on the door, Kate surprised to find Prince Edward standing there alone. He didn't have his usual stream of men with him. "Will's left already," she informed him courteously.

His smile was warm enough to make maidens everywhere swoon in delight. "I know. I saw him go. It's you I wanted to see actually. May I?" He was through the doorway before she could deny him, long legs carrying him across the room to the window, where he rested his hands on the short ledge and leaned out.

Misgiving curled in Kate's belly, but she released her hold on the door panel. It swung partly closed. "What did you wish to see me about?"

"This and that." Another charming smile, tossed to her over his shoulder.

Kate set down her comb and crossed her arms, waiting for him to elaborate and wondering why there was no one with him. Usually he had five or six men within earshot. "Specifically, I mean?"

He turned, half sat on the sill and contemplated her with a cocked head and assessing gaze. "You're a good smith, Kate."

"Thank you."

"You work harder than most I've seen." He paused as though waiting for a reply.

Kate hurried to give him one. "Thank you."

"Your sense of duty and loyalty is a most admirable trait."

It seemed somehow inane to keep repeating the same words over and over, but Kate had no other response to his words of flattery. "Thank you."

"I greatly value the work you've undertaken for me." Now he stood tall, walking the few paces towards her with a slow tread. "I value everything about you."

Alarm skittered across Kate's skin. A change had occurred in his expression, a subtle shift that caused her breath to hitch and her glance to turn as discreetly as possible to the cracked door. "My lord?"

One had reached out and caught the hand she had folded under her arm, his fingers brushing against the curve of her breast in a movement that instinct told her was not accidental. Reflexively, Kate stepped back, a gasp leaving her lips. Edward tugged her hand. Off balance, Kate stumbled towards him and was caught in his embrace. He molded her body to him, heaving what sounded like a sigh of satisfaction as his hands roamed her curves with a license she'd not given him.

"In a week," he began softly, his breath stirring the hair at her temple, "Will will be going on an errand for me, along with Wat and Roland. They'll be trusting my men to guard you and they will guard you. We'll have three days alone together, Kate."

She stayed as still as she could, considering the consequences of angering him. None were pleasant. By refusing him on this, she could open Will to backlash. Kate couldn't stop the word that came to her lips though. "No," she whispered.

He drew back, the obsessive desire displayed upon his features turning him into a complete stranger. "Don't play games, Kate. Coyness does not suit you." Her body was released, her head gripped, forced to turn up to him. "You'll be waiting within one hour of Will leaving. I expect smiles and laughter and all those things I love about you. Will doesn't have to know. No one does." And then he was releasing her, his manner slipped back into geniality, that ugly expression vanishing. "Good day, Kate."

As the door shut firmly behind him, Kate vowed that when he came looking for her, she would already be gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Christiana?" Germaine's voice was hesitant from behind her.

Was there anywhere in this manor that she could find at least a moment of peace? Everywhere she went, someone called to her, more than a light annoyance when all she wanted was to be left alone in the grip of her emotions. "What do you want," she asked in the most ungracious tone she could spit out. His offer of friendship had turned into bitter betrayal in the end.

He took a step towards her. "To explain myself."

His expression held both hope and a plea, her sigh audible upon noticing that. Fine. Let him tie a rope about his neck and pull it tight. "Very well. Explain." She plopped into the nearest chair and gave him the most aloof gaze she could manage.

"I do what I'm told to do for two reasons. The first is my family. Annelle may not be the woman I would have initially chosen for myself, but my lord judged the progression of our relationship quite accurately --"

"He chose your wife for you?"

Germaine gave a slight nod. "In a round about fashion, yes, but please allow me to continue."

What arrogance! Adhemar was swimming in arrogance, rolling about in it as a pig in mud. Apparently he even had to arrange his servant's lives to suit him. She crossed her arms.

"I have grown to adore my wife. She is mine alone and yes, I'm aware she can be most difficult when she chooses. Yet, she can also be loving. Then, there are my children. Annelle and I have three children that I also adore. If I were to displease my lord, my family could feel the ripple of his ire. I can't allow that."

Christiana got up and went to the window, staring out, her shoulder against the wall. "What's the other reason?"

"I've nowhere else to go. This house, this family is all I know. Here, I'm aware of what's expected of me and of what punishment is for certain crimes." He crossed to her, touched her shoulder. "I'm not the enemy in this household, Christiana."

Whirling, she gave a mirthless laugh. "Pray tell, how not? You followed me about, listened to my fears and I suspect you ran off and told them all to him, one by one. You pretended to be a confidant when in reality you were a spy!"

"Look," he grabbed her arms, shook her, a flush darkening his fair skin. "I can take any concerns or fears you have, yet are hesitant to take to my lord and take them to him for you. I can be your go-between like you were for Lady Jocelyn. I don't wish you ill, Christiana. He asked what you and I spoke of and I told him."

"He asked, but did he order? You could have refused. You could have refused to follow me about." She paused, next words a whisper. "How much of what I told you reached his ears?"

"Of what you told me, little. I didn't speak the things you told me." And still there was guilt upon his face. Perhaps he didn't speak them. However, he was feeling guilty over something.

Christiana jerked away and strode to the table where she'd left her sewing. With quick, efficient movements, she gathered the cloth and embroidery thread. Germaine wasn't going to admit telling Adhemar anything. "Leave me alone, Germaine. Follow me from afar if he insists you keep that task. Don't talk to me though. Don't come near me. I've no desire to converse with a two tongued creature."

Still, he didn't go.

Standing tall, she turned to stare at him. "What? You're still here."

The herald stared right back, curiosity tilting his brow. "What did he say to you? What did he say that causes such anger?"

"Why do you care?"

"I do care. I care very much. Please tell me. Let me show you that I can help you; I do have some power to undo how I've offended you."

Christiana kept her stare cool. "He intimated that I am free with myself."

Disbelief tread across his features, wiping away those last vestiges of guilt. "You? Free with favors?" His glance traveled her twice, an amused laugh working from him.

"You? The idea is...absurd. You're not the sort of woman to do so without much thought on the matter first."

"I'm not lying."

"No, I know. My lord does occasionally say the first thing that comes to mind, whether he should or not. Usually in situations where he knows he's in the wrong or he is not emotionally balanced." He stepped to the door.

It was Christiana's opinion that Count Damien Adhemar wasn't emotionally balanced to begin with. She wasn't going to argue with Germaine though.

Hope remained in his eyes. "By nightfall this day, you'll have proof that I can be an ally."

She wasn't going to hold her breath.

However, as dusk began to settle upon the earth, the rosy rays of the sun slipping lower and lower in the sky, Christiana found her yearned-for moment of solitude swept away by a presence at her back. She slipped her needle into the thread to catch it and glanced up.

Adhemar stood over her, his neck craned so that he could see her work. His hand reached over her shoulder, forearm resting upon her breast as one finger traced the vibrant greens of the vine she'd embroidered on the cloth. He bent, mouth close to her ear, breath warm. "Germaine says I have been insensitive to your needs and unreasonably cruel in my words. I should, for the good of this household, make peace with you by," his shudder was felt all along her shoulder, the last word a sneer, "apologizing."

She didn't try to mask her disbelief. "You called me a whore, my lord, in not words, but rather implication. If that is not insensitive and cruel, then what is?"

He snatched his hand back from the fabric, resting it upon her shoulder as he stood. "I didn't say you were a whore."

"You implied it." Christiana twisted, intending to turn around and face him. His free hand clamped heavily upon her other shoulder, keeping her anchored in the chair facing away from him. "You implied the both Jocelyn and I were free with ourselves, which is hardly the truth at all. The only man Jocelyn ever went to was Sir Will, though others, including yourself, tried to seduce her. You see, my lord, Jocelyn did mind her virtue. You're simply still upset that she didn't see fit to toss it away with you."

His fingers tightened on her shoulders. Emboldened and feeling more than a slight bit reckless by the heady euphoria of spouting truth to him, she continued.

"And I, I," she pointed at herself, "do not bed any man I find pleasing to look at. I've been with one man and I thought I loved him at the time."

"Love," he scoffed, fingers kneading along her shoulders now, almost as though he was using the action to calm himself. "Love is an illusion that wraps up truth for silly little girls so they do not have to acknowledge that the man they desire is not perfect and saintly, but rather flawed and fully human."

"Love is not an illusion. I've seen it and it's very real." She didn't move. Their conversation was actually quite genial. Warm with emotion, yes, but nothing incendiary.

"Referring to Jocelyn and Thatcher, I suppose. Their so-called love, Christiana, was infatuation magnified by a stubborn spirit rebelling against authority. However," His voice was once again by her ear, breath upon her cheek. "I'll allow for the possibility that sometimes illusion can be more real than reality."

He was gone before she could think of a reply.

~~~~~~~~~~

He knew he'd been manipulated and, at that moment, Adhemar didn't give a damn about it. Germaine always had excellent reasons for pushing events how he wanted, so he assumed this time was no different. For some reason, Germaine thought it of great importance that he 'make nice' with Christiana.

At least he didn't have to tell Christiana that she wanted him. She already did. It was plain in her eyes and upon her face. The longing was there and perhaps he'd noticed that longing months earlier, when Jocelyn still lived. Perhaps, he allowed himself, he'd been fascinated by her even before she'd told him of her origins.

Pacing before the fire, he frowned. Yes, he'd been interested in Christiana when he'd still pursued Jocelyn during the tournaments. Her quiet, calm manner was refreshing then in the wake of the violence of emotion that had gripped him whenever he'd happened upon Thatcher. Christiana's gentleness had a calming effect upon him and yet now, at the same time, it inflamed him.

How contradictory and how, he reflected, completely he.

Laughter caught his attention and he caught a glimpse of Germaine and Annelle at the entrance to the back hallway. They were talking and obviously joking by their laughs. A small smile, no more than a slight upward quirk of his lips really, returned. He'd known from the second he'd met Annelle that she'd be perfect for Germaine and he'd been correct. They each excelled where the other was lacking.

His thoughts again turned to Christiana, as if she wasn't on his thoughts enough as it was. Would they one day enjoy such merriment together? Even in their times together recently there'd not been such complete joy and amusement.

Adhemar found he longed for such times, yet he didn't know how to bring them about.

Sad. Very sad.

Looking away, he suddenly felt the need to be...elsewhere.