Wooing Kate

Chapter: Sixteen

~~~~~~~~~~

She was watching him. Kate did that in the evenings. She sat before the fire and watched him interact with his men. Could that be considered progress? He thought so. The only chink in his plan was that Helene had suddenly become sociable in a manner of speaking. She wanted to sit beside him after the meal, yet still protested the coarse words of his men, flinching at the ribald jokes and generally making her displeasure known.

Why did she join them then?

He disentangled his arm from Helene and got up, taking his cup and moving to join Kate by the fire. She sat on one large fur that had been spread there and he sat close to her, close enough that his leg brushed hers when he stretched his out straight. She shifted a little, but didn't move her leg away from his. Ahh, progress. A month ago she would have jerked away and given an angry retort. It was heartening to see that a bit of kindness could melt her like it did other women. It simply took more time.

Alain Adhemar had all the time in the world to spend wooing his Kate. His army disbanded temporarily, he'd sent his trusted men to various other locales to inquire about work. There was always someone needing an army, the more mercenary of forces the better and his men were just that. He had time before the men returned, likely all winter and possibly spring as well before he heard from all of them and could weigh the offers of work. Alain was going to tend to his duties as Count, spend what time his mother had left with her, and keep making Kate offers she couldn't refuse in the end.

She glanced at him, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the fire. He took the opportunity to give her a warm grin and then study her profile when she sniffed and looked away. She had a classic profile, delicate and strong at the same time and he wished he'd paid more attention during his study of sketching long years earlier. As it was, should he decide to attempt to draw her on parchment, he'd not do her beauty any justice. Perhaps he'd commission a painter to do her portrait. A struggling painter, someone from the village who had a spark of talent and needed coin. Kate would hate it.

He decided to have a man ask about for an artist during the next week.

His glance strayed down from her profile and a frown creased his brow. How many more wears of that drab brown dress could she get? He was half tempted to rip it off her just so she couldn't keep wearing it. "You should wear the orange, or maybe the burgundy."

"Not together I trust."

"Of course not. One one day and the other the next. Really, Kate, your wardrobe is singularly lacking in choices at the moment. At least, the wardrobe you brought with you. The one I bought you, however, is filled with pretty choices."

"I've told you what you can do with your wardrobe."

"Not today you haven't. In fact, you've been downright genial. Kate, you're slipping. You've not screamed at me once today to release you."

She opened her mouth to give a retort, then closed it, her eyes narrowing as she thought. After long seconds, she answered him. "It does me no good to be at odds with you. I'm no closer to my freedom now than I was the night you tracked me down. I'm weary of demanding my freedom. You know I desire it and so does everyone else. There's no point in continuing to scream it, is there?"

Alain sat back, overlapping his arm with hers. Still, she didn't jerk away. He leaned close to speak in her ear. "I want you, Kate, I've made no bones about it, but I'm willing to be patient and that is strange for me. I am not a patient man." She shivered a little and he thought her breath seemed to be a bit faster than it had been. "For you I will be patient."

She swallowed hard. "And you'll be waiting a long time."

"I don't think so. If I am, then so what? It's my time to spend waiting."

Kate turned her head, her lips a fraction of an inch from his, her gaze meeting his. "Let me go, Count."

"Where would be the fun in that?" He was leaning the last little bit to claim her lips with his and she was remarkably not moving, when a crash startled him. Alain looked over his shoulder. Helene was standing at the table, her chair on the floor. Even from his place across the room, he could tell she was upset. She said nothing though, watching him with Kate. How amusing. She was not a wife to have the right to be upset with his attentions to Kate, yet she behaved as one. He'd have to take care of that soon.

Kate got to her feet. "I'll say good night, then." She didn't move, her feet remaining motionless. He tilted his head back to look at her. In her eyes was a spark of longing.

Alain also got to his feet, one hand stretching out to grasp hers. Their fingers twined and Kate turned her regard to their hands. Twice, she opened her mouth to speak, yet no words came from her lips. Ignoring Helene, he leaned down to speak in Kate's ear.

"Your eyes invite me, but I think I'll only walk you up this time. Nothing more." Her temple was tempting him and he gave in to that temptation, pressing the barest whisper of a kiss to the smooth flesh before leading her towards the stairs.

Behind them, Helene gave a muted yell of frustration and in seconds the door leading to the outside slammed. Alain led Kate to her chamber.

~~~~~~~~~~

What am I doing, Kate thought, her mind in turmoil. Her hand was firmly tucked into his and she'd not even refuted that invitation he claimed she held plain in her gaze. She was going insane, that had to be it. God above knew she wouldn't willingly let him lead her anywhere. She should be yelling and screaming; keeping up the fuss she'd made from the beginning about his pursuit of her.

Who was she trying to kid? She found she no longer wanted to be completely away from him. He was charming her. Oh sure, he was all those things she despised; hateful, cruel, snide. He was also things she loved. Intelligent, loving of his family and playful when the mood struck him. The man didn't always brood and sulk. Germaine had adequately described him with one word: child. Adhemar was a grown man who was very childlike in his pursuits. He was impatient, yet patient when he had to be. He was spoiled and used to having his way, throwing tantrums when he found his goal unattainable. And yet.... He could accept defeat gracefully when that defeat was complete.

He intrigued her and to no little end. The man was a mass of contradictions and Kate could not resist the temptation to reason them out.

Kate followed him up the stairs, her eyes feasting upon his form. He'd neglected his jacket in the warmth of the hall and his shirt lay snug to his wide shoulders. His waist was trim and she could not help but admire the rest of him as well. Hours spent training each day had kept his muscles tight and toned.

Her heart was thudding with abandon and she could imagine his warm hands gliding over her body in long, slowly sensuous strokes. The image of that resonated within her mind, a heat flushing her cheeks.

They stopped outside her door. The expression upon his face was not an easy one to decipher. Longing and lust, yes. But there was something indefinable beneath those two, giving a subtle change to his features and making them serious. "I won't try to come in, Kate, though I dearly want to."

"So noble," She whispered. "Honorable. When did you grow a conscience?"

His hand released hers, those fingers slipping up her arm and to her face, trailing over her features with slow movements. He traced her forehead, cheeks, nose and chin, then cupped her jaw and drew his thumb across her lower lip. "If I'd been so misfortunate as to grow a conscience, Kate, I'd have released you by now. There's no conscience involved in my longings for you."

"Why do you not press me then? Why bother wooing me slowly? I'm no high born lady to be impressed by such gestures." Tentatively, she rested her hands at the waist of his pants. When he didn't move forward as though encouraged, she kept them there.

"I savor what I want when I have it in my grasp." His other hand came up, tangled in her hair. "You know that."

"I'm not in your grasp yet." Her body was a traitor to her, warming, enjoying the brush of his body to hers. The closeness was more than physical. In a moment of complete clarity, Kate understood what he meant. She fully understood the workings of Alain Adhemar's mind.

"You will be."

"So confident."

"How else should I be?"

His lips lowered, a breath away from hers, their eyes meeting, staring. A battle of wills to see who would cave and either pull away or kiss first. How long they stood that way, Kate didn't know. All she was aware of was that it was exquisite torture. This was why he waited. This was why he didn't sweep her into his arms and let passion's haste carry her into acquiescence. This chase, the game between them -- one she had not been aware of playing until this moment -- was far better foreplay than hours spent tangled together amid silken sheets.

A trickle of sweat ran down her brow from the effort not to close her eyes or pull away. In this, Kate was determined to be the victor. Let him weaken first.

"A stalemate?" he murmured. "How delightfully unexpected. And how typically you." Adhemar sighed. "Very well, my Kate. I yield to you this round." Lifting his head slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and stepped away from her, letting his hands slide off her jaw in tiny increments. "Sleep well."

His words held s tremor to them, satisfying to Kate in the same way a job well done satisfied her. She sagged against her door, watching him until he was down the stairs and out of sight. For the first time, Kate felt she had some control over her situation. She'd met his challenge and won. Her lips twitched with a smile.

Going into her room, she set about getting ready for bed. Once she was ready, she allowed herself a moment of sensual pleasure in the clothes that had been made for her. She did this every night. A part of her hated the grudging attachment to the pretty clothing, but another part could not see the harm in admiring the pieces. After all, she had no intention of wearing them if she could help it. Her favorite surcoats were taken out and spread upon the bed.

There was a bright blue, a deep red, vibrant orange and her very favorite of all: a dark green surcoat made of soft material, far richer than her work roughened hands had ever touched. The dresses to go beneath were of lighter shades of the colors.

He'd spent more money on her than she'd make in years. For clothing. He'd done so knowing full well she'd refuse them. Why? He didn't have to give her anything. The answer to that was plain now. The dance between them. It was all a part of this back and forth they were engaged in. While it still boggled her mind that he'd been so generous, she could see the why of it.

Carefully, Kate put the clothes away and glanced down at herself. She'd made one concession to her refusal to wear the clothes. This concession was one he'd not know about if she had any say in the matter. The shift. Within the collection of clothes he'd had made for her had been the very finest of shifts, a white embroidered on white creation that was feminine to the extreme. Kate loved it. She loved the feel of it against her skin and the beauty of the embroidery. She rarely had the occasion to wear anything with embroidery, though she liked such adornments on clothing.

Her daily life was not conducive to wearing such garments. Her work was hot and hard and dirty and it would be a shame for pretty things to become ruined in the space of an hour or two.

Each night when she went to bed, she wore the garment and each morning, she packed it away so no one would see that she had softened even the tiniest bit towards him. Kate blew out the candles, climbed into her wide, comfortable bed, and was fast asleep in minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rather than rejoin the men in the hall, Adhemar went to the back of the manor and let himself out the back and into the garden. Why had he retreated? A few more seconds and he thought Kate would have surrendered. A frown curled his brow and he found a low bench, sitting down upon it to think.

Tactical retreat. That was it. He'd let her win this round, but she was just as effected by him as he was by her. She'd been sweating same as him. Her hands hand trembled like his and her lips had been a fraction of a second from parting as his had been. This chase was right. He felt it in every part of his being. They should not give in too soon to the pull between them.

It occurred to him that he was not quite as cock-sure of himself as he'd been. Kate was still largely an unknown. She wanted him. That couldn't be denied, but he still knew little of her. His efforts to woo her were going nowhere fast. The clothes didn't cause her to soften and food delicacies left her grimacing. So what, with his Kate, was going to do the trick? What was going to turn her towards him?

He ruminated on that awhile, ignoring duties he should be concentrating on instead, like the re-thatching of the laundry and the dispersing of his men through out his lands until word from the others came. For once in his life, his thoughts centered fully on a woman.

With a sigh, he got up and began to stroll the garden. The weather was growing cooler and soon it would be winter. He'd like to have Kate in his bed by then. The winter months went quicker and more pleasantly with a woman beside him in bed.

Aimlessly, he wandered the grounds, coming to a stop before his blacksmith's lean-to. The man had been sick recently and the physician reported that only time would tell if his health would improve or not. Alain had several letters ready to send out, inquiring of his family if they'd a smith to spare until he could find a new one. Sickness didn't get the work done and the work was beginning to pile up. He needed a new smith immediately.

He began to laugh. The way to a woman's heart was in those things she held dear to herself. Clothes and food didn't impress Kate because she held them in little regard. But her work.... He'd seen those longing glances she'd thrown towards this cottage; heard her muttered grumblings about being unable to work.

Yes. How could he not have seen it before?

~~~~~~~~~~

He was at her bedside, sitting beside her, his attention focused on the window. It was instantly obvious to Kate that she'd neglected to put the bar on her door the night before. The thought didn't distress her though. No, what distressed her was the thought that he was going to notice she was wearing the shift.

"The embroidery was done by my mother." He turned his head, gesturing to her as she dragged the covers up to cover her. "She was working on that shift when we arrived here. It was her gift to you." That gaze returned to the window and he shifted almost uncomfortably. "She's never shown such...favor before. My mother does not give gifts to my women. She said once that gifts from family go to wives, not lovers. You've found approval in her eyes."

"I'll thank her for it. The embroidery is lovely."

Adhemar nodded, then stood and turned to peruse her. "You're beautiful in the morning, Kate. Has any man told you that?"

"My husband did. Nearly every day until he died."

He made no comment, flinging the rest of her bed curtains wide. At the trunk at the foot of the bed, he lifted her dresses and surcoats, the two she had there. A grim smile tightened his lips. Before she could move, he'd taken his dagger from his belt. With a gasp, she realized what he intended. Kate fairly flew from the bed towards him, grasping at him, but he would not be deterred. In minutes, he'd reduced her clothes to scraps of fabric in a heap on the ground.

"As much as I like the white dress, it was getting tiring."

Kate slipped onto her knees, her mouth half open, trying to find the words to rail at him for what he'd done. Her clothes were gone. Only the ones he'd had made for her were left. "Bastard," she whispered.

The knife was sheathed in a quick jerk. "Now you have no excuses not to wear the ones I had made."

"I'd sooner go naked."

A snort and a roll of his eyes. "Then do it already."

"Like hell."

Adhemar crouched down. "Clothes are clothes, Kate. They mean nothing save decency from the elements. You needed clothes and I had them made for you. You concede nothing by wearing them."

She stared stonily at him. He'd get pleasure by seeing her wearing them. How was that not conceding anything?

"You advance, I advance. That's how this game goes. We're once more even, Kate. You won last night and I this morning." Satisfaction glinted in his eyes and he stood. "Now, get dressed. We've got something to discuss, you and I, a rather important something." He left, slamming the door behind him. It was then that she noticed the bar for her door was gone.

Spitefully, she chose the plainest of the lot, a dark red that was nearly brown in shade and sported no adornments. Her hair she plaited into a braid. There. Done. She swore to herself that she wasn't going to cry, not over those two dresses. He was right. Clothes meant decency from the elements, nothing more. However, she couldn't help the sensation of loss for those two dresses. The brown had been the last one her husband had splurged to have made for her. She'd not had to sew it herself as she had all her others. No, he'd taken her into the merchant's shop, picked out the cloth and paid good coin that he'd saved away to give her that present. A tiny luxury he'd sacrificed to give her.

The end of another time in her life. In a scant two months, her life had been turned upside down.

She had no choice but to wear what Adhemar bought her or go naked and naked was not a good decision. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped out her door.

He was waiting there for her, his temper tantrum about her clothes gone, the grip he took on her arm firm without hurting. They went down the stairs. Adhemar towed her along behind him as he had many times before, an enthusiastic energy in his stride and in the coaxing words he tossed at her.

"Come on, Kate. Quit dragging your feet."

"I'll quit dragging when you quit pulling." Which, of course, had him tugging her arm harder, nearly causing her to trip. "Honestly. Slow down. I can't keep up." Her skirts twisted about her legs with the energetic stride she had to adopt and her statement was truth. His long legs ate up the ground far easier than her shorter ones.

"So run."

"No."

They were being stared at by every person they passed. He took her out the main door, into the courtyard and across to the blacksmith station. It was deserted. Adhemar swung her forward and released her arm. Kate's speed took her into the large lean-to, where she skidded to a halt, catching herself with the edge of a table. She turned to face him, palms flat on the table top. "Why am I here?"

He crossed his arms, gave a nonchalant shrug. "My smith died sometime in the night. He'd no apprentice."

Kate stared at him. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Did he mean to set her up here? "So?" She crossed her arms as well.

"You're qualified, from what I understand."

"And?"

His glance took in the work area. "All the proper tools should be present. If not, speak with my steward. He'll see your needs are met." When his gaze returned to hers, he made another shrug. "Thatcher's armor, Kate. It tells its own tale of your qualifications."

"And you'd be stupid not to utilize them, yes?"

"You understand then." He came forward, hands going to her arms, fingers caressing along their backs. "I will pay the going rate, but you will work only the hours I set for you." Now his hands slid up to her neck, cupping, thumbs sweeping along her jaw. "I didn't bring you to my home to smith and I'll not have you spending all your time at it. A secondary smith will be brought in to meet whatever you choose not to work at."

A laugh came unbidden from her throat. "You'll give me authority over him then?"

"Yes."

He was trying to be sly, to manipulate her. "How did your previous man die?"

"Suddenly."

"Quite a coincidence, him dying so suddenly last night." That ruthless gleam was back in his eyes, the one that intimated he'd do anything to meet his goals. Even murder a man? Kate didn't doubt it. He'd do it without a thought of regret if the man stood in his way.

"You may work in the mornings. Afternoons and evenings are to be kept open for my convenience." With that, he left her in the lean-to.

~~~~~~~~~~

The fish pond was fairly jumping with fish. Helene barely noticed, however. She was feeling rather depressed. Alain didn't look at her twice if he could help it and she was getting nowhere in her campaign to win him back from the clutches of that Kate. She spent her days following him around and her nights aching for one word from his lips. He was oblivious, spending all of his energies upon the other woman.

It had become clear that Kate had bewitched him. He was doing all those little things he did when infatuated with a woman. He was buying her trinkets and clothing, giving her tastes of wonderful foods. He stole kisses, teased and tempted. He was Helene's no longer and the knowledge was a sharp pain in her stomach. She was helpless. Kate had some power that she lacked, some manner about her that drew Alain away. What could it be? She was only a peasant, but there was obviously some power there. Look at how Alain was behaving. He treated the peasant like a noble lady.

Kate was a witch. That was it. That was the reason. Kate was a witch and only Helene could see her for what she was. Even the lady Isobelle was taken in.

Not for long, she thought. In a week or two, the bits of herb Helene snuck into the woman's food and drink would take their final toll. The lady would die and Helene could comfort Alain in his time of grief. He loved his mother, he really did. Helene didn't particularly like her, but how she'd understand his pain! The woman was between them, like Kate was, telling Alain lies, trying to keep them apart. Therefore, removing the mother was putting her once more closer to Alain's heart.

Helene got up. She had to confront Kate and if that did not go well, she'd finally take action on the witch.

~~~~~~~~~~

For a week, Kate had blissfully worked in the mornings. It was a disappointment when her hours were up and she'd found herself trying to squeeze every single minute she could from the morning. She rose before the sun and was working even as the rosy rays of dawn crept up to warm the earth. Her muscles protested, but it was a protest honestly earned. Adhemar was as good as his word, paying her for each job completed. An account was begun for her, kept by one man who came by the lean-to each day at the same time to see the work.

Strange to think of Adhemar as keeping his word, but he did.

She wanted to work all day again, but didn't tempt fate. Adhemar could easily change his mind if she pushed him on this and then she'd be stuck in the house with that idiot Helene.

Kate's thoughts turned to that one as she cleaned up for the day. Helene had gotten stranger and stranger since Kate had arrived here. At first, she'd seemed somewhat rational, but lately all rational thought had flown from her head. She spied on Kate, watched her from afar and became angry at the attention Adhemar paid Kate. Helene angry was not a pretty sight. Her face became blotchy and an unhealthy purple color flushed her skin.

Wiping her hands on a cloth, Kate started to leave the lean-to, pausing to watch Adhemar wrestling on the grass. He was training, as he did in the mornings, a group of men around him, egging him on against his opponent. Kate admired the figure he made, strong and triumphant with his opponent pinned. He enjoyed those games the men played. Archery contests, wrestling contests, hand-to-hand combat contests. He was proficient with a sword as well, training under the demanding eye of Fawkes.

Fawkes was tall and rail thin, with grizzled features that had seen better days. His dark hair was liberally sprinkled with gray and his arms didn't look strong enough to wield a sword. Kate had seen him in action though. The man was a master at the sword. He'd be able to teach Will a thing or two and Will was a natural swordsman. In fact, she thought Fawkes would be delighted to teach Will technique. He seemed to enjoy the process of teaching. His method was simple. Incense the student into doing something stupid, then point out the error and drill them on how to avoid it in the future. He certainly got Adhemar's temper flayed to breaking in minutes. Kate had watched, amused, as Fawkes taunted the man and yelled insults at him until he struck. Adhemar had taken the lesson far better than Kate had thought he would, listening to the suggestions and implementing them.

She could see why Count Adhemar was in demand as a soldier. He had a knack for battle strategy.

Kate turned from the group of men and headed for the house. She intended to have a bath before the noon meal and perhaps visit with Lady Isobelle or the children. She didn't get far before Helene blocked the path.

"Leave here, Kate. You've freedom, so don't give me one word about being kept prisoner. You could easily leave if you so choose."

"Do we have to do this right now, Helene? I'm in no mood for your nonsense."

"Nonsense is it?"

Kate's arm was grasped and she glanced coldly at that hand on her. "I suggest you take your hand from me."

"I know what you are," Helene whispered, licking her lips. "I know that you've somehow cast a spell on my Alain to keep him from me and I won't allow you to keep doing so."

Kate sighed. "You're imaging things, now release me." The last word was cut off when Helene's hand shot forward, cracking against Kate's cheek.

She slapped me, Kate thought. The bitch slapped me.

Wrenching her arm free, Kate took a step back. Annoyance filled her. Helene was waving her hands in the air as though doing so would ward off whatever retaliatory move Kate would make. As Wat had once showed her, she drew her arm back and snapped a punch forward. The force of the blow sent Helene whirling, her skirts tangling in her legs and tripping her. Once she'd slammed onto the ground with a thud, Kate put her hands on her hips and raised her brows. "Are we done, Helene?"

Slowly, clutching her cheek, the woman nodded. She seemed shocked that Kate had struck her. Why on earth Helene should be surprised when she fought back was beyond her.

Behind her came Adhemar's voice. "Is there a problem?"

Kate skirted Helene and began to walk towards the manor. "I handled it, thank you." She didn't look back and he didn't pursue her.

~~~~~~~~~~

There was a welt on Helen's cheek where Kate had slugged her and she was somewhat subdued, meek even. Alain motioned her into the room with a flick of one finger. He'd never seen Helene this way. He kept her waiting after that.

He'd not expected the two women to come to blows, but as he'd predicted, Kate had won. He recalled that morning. Kate had been watching him wrestle and once the match concluded, she'd started towards the manor. Helene had stopped her and the two had had words. What they said, he was not privy to. Helene had slapped Kate and Kate had punched her. That was the end of that and when he'd asked if there was a problem, Kate coldly informed him that she'd handled it.

Alain finally decided an action to take with Helene. The letter to her father was ready to go out. "Your behavior has been reprehensible, Helene." Alain carefully set his pen down and clasped his hands on the tabletop, regarding her with a frown.

"I'm sorry, my lord." She kept her eyes downcast and her hands folded together.

"You should be. I've written to your father. If he chooses not to find a husband for you, then I've offered to do so. You shall remain here -- if that is the case -- until you marry. I expect you to do as my mother commands you until the time you are no longer in this household." Though he waited, she made no comment. "Do you comprehend, Helene?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You'll be courteous to Kate and to my mother's new companion as well. No more of these temper tantrums."

"Yes, my lord."

He sat back in his chair. Surely Kate's little tap hadn't cowed Helene so easily. "You and I are through. I have no affection left for you, but I am willing to see you provided for suitably. I suspect your father will jump to have me find you a match. In that case, I've several men in mind that I believe you'll be suited for." Sliding the chair back, he stood. "Mother will likely put you with the maids to work, but I'll leave your duties to her discretion. Go see her now. She's expecting you."

~~~~~~~~~~

It was time; time to admit to herself that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Kate left her room, that huge chamber he'd given her, and stood in the hallway listening. The manor was quiet, mostly settled for the night, although she could still hear a few men below in the Great Hall. Adhemar was with them, she'd wager a bet on that. He enjoyed sitting with his men until late, recounting tale after tale -- many overblown in her opinion -- of the feats of the Free Companies and of Adhemar's prowess with women. They didn't always discuss battle and women. No, sometimes they talked of hunting as well, those tales as exaggerated as those on the other topics.

She joined them sometimes, but not often anymore. They told their tales to make themselves greater in each other's eyes. What she missed, were the deeper discussions she'd been a part of in Will's group. Geoff had often brought up such weighted subjects, asking their opinions, listening interestedly to each and sometimes heaving a sigh before calmly explaining what a word meant or how an edict would affect them. Educating them, he'd called it. Kate had rather liked that education effort. How often did a woman like herself have a chance to learn those things? Schooling was for the upper class, the nobility, not for peasants. Peasants had no need, usually, of books and pen and paper.

The debates that Geoff brought about were more than about politics and philosophies. They were about making all the facts known to all listening and hearing what each person felt on the matter. Kate, for example, had never given much thought to trade issues, save how it directly affected her. Geoff taught her to look at a wider viewpoint.

She applied that wider viewpoint now.

Satisfied that they were still going strong on their story telling, Kate let her glance stray behind her, at the section of wall beside her door. He'd kissed her there, not two days before, shoved her up against the stone wall and ravished her mouth until her lips were tender and she'd begun to respond to the aggressive display. She always responded in the end, for she wasn't truly fighting him, but rather herself.

He'd stepped back then, just as her traitorous hands slipped around to his back and she'd pressed herself to him. Though she'd expected to see satisfaction in his intense gaze, there was none, only a brief flash of sadness and need twined as one. He'd swallowed hard, an audible gulp, his breath shaking. His fingers had lifted tendrils of her black tresses from her breast, curling them about his fingers.

"You torture yourself more than you do me, I believe."

With a last quick and thrilling pass of his lips to hers, he'd turned and crossed the hall to his chamber. The door closed without him looking back once. Kate had gone into her own chamber and, with the door barred to keep him out, she'd cried bitter tears for the silent war between her body and mind. Her body wanted him with a consuming passion, but her mind rejected the very thought of him.

Count Alain Adhemar was a dangerous man.

Looking at the wider view, she could see that she was dangerous to him. She upset his control, evinced every day by his distraction in his duties. She had become his obsession, to the point that he would often watch her without saying one word. There was a power in realizing that, a power she'd previously lacked. If she tried hard enough, she could twist him about her little finger and begin to win the game between them. Their intrigues had gone on long enough.

With a tiny smile, Kate crossed the hallway and into his chamber.

Admitting to herself that she wanted him opened up a world of possibilities, if only she could get her mind in agreement for longer than a few minutes at a time. The room was dominated by a large canopied bed. A few standing candelabras held fat candles unlit. A fire burned low in the fireplace. Kate stepped to the table, picking up several papers and looking at them. It was a pity she couldn't read. She could be entertained while she waited if she could. There were several papers spread out on the surface.

Returning them to their places, she moved towards the bed, stopping a step shy of it. Her hazy memories of that night in London were no longer hazy. Gradually, the events that had transpired had come into focus, though not completely clear. She remembered being in the tavern and watching all of her friends pair off for the night, leaving her with Wat.

They'd been eating, Wat ordering more and more and Kate drinking more and more as she watched him. Since she'd refused him once before, she'd thought perhaps she'd make a move. He was fairly attractive, though she wasn't honestly attracted to him. A woman had the right to change her mind, didn't she? So, as the evening progressed, she'd slid closer to him and closer and closer until she was practically in his lap. Had he stopped eating for a single second? No, he'd ignored her, prompting her to make a snide remark about his empty stomach. That remark had sparked an argument and right when all the liquor hit her, she'd flounced out of the tavern.

She'd run into Adhemar and remembered thinking that at least he knew when to pay attention to a woman. Yes, she'd gone willingly to his room. While she couldn't remember what they'd talked about, she remembered sitting on his lap, his hand down her bodice as they'd talked. The next bit was somewhat foggy, but he was indeed right. She had jumped on him so hard that they'd fallen to the floor.

What happened next was passionate and beautiful and might not have happened if she hadn't been starving for male attention of the physical kind. Kate liked having a man close to her, liked being kissed and cuddled and made love to as much as the next woman, and she was starving for affection. With too much liquor in her, she'd given in to the wild streak she kept firmly hidden inside her, heading straight for the arms of the most dangerous man she knew of. Adhemar.

Kate undid her surcoat. The bed was turned down, waiting. When Alain came to bed, she'd be waiting there for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

She wasn't in her room, but he didn't think she'd left. Kate had had ample opportunity to flee and hadn't, so he assumed she was in the manor somewhere. A closer look found her shoes near the bed. Wherever she was, she'd gone barefoot.

He went to his own room, throwing open the door and pausing at the sight greeting him. His prayers had been answered. From the doorway, he could see directly to the head of his bed. Kate was sitting in the center of that wide, comfortable bed, pale shoulders pearly in the moonlight, her hair long and loose.

Desire shot through him. She was here, finally, but on her terms. She'd kept him waiting, made his chase her own and her surrender was her decision. Not his. His pursuit had not swayed her. By coming here, she was stating that yes, she'd be his mistress, but he wouldn't own her. She was her own woman, not his.

How could a man claim to own a wild thing, for Kate was wild. She had a wild heart, a yearning within her sensible self for that which was not sensible. There was a time to throw caution to the wind and give in the impulse to seek out what one considered dangerous and apparently, that time had come for her. She wanted him and was ready to admit it.

"Come to bed," she said calmly, as though it was something she said every night. "Alain."

Her use of his name sent a shudder rippling along his flesh. Yes. He shut the door and went to her.