Wooing Kate

Chapter: 4

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Kate woke with a start, every inch of her body screaming that danger was upon her. Her body was right.

Adhemar crouched beside her, the low flickering flames of the fire giving his handsome features a devilish cast. Her breath caught painfully in her throat and she sat, hand fumbling for her knife. He smiled, a tiny upwards quirk of well shaped lips, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and held up her knife before her eyes. "Looking for this?"

Her lips trembled, her eyes were wide. Frantically, her hand searched the ground for something to hit him with, frustration building within her when she failed to find a rock or stick. She didn't dare take her eyes from him.

"This chase is done, Kate." The knife was set to his side, far from her reach unless she wanted to scramble over him to get it. She wasn't inclined to do so. "I took the liberty of removing anything you could use against me, including that rather weighted purse you carried."

"Give it back." She choked on the words, her fear tight throat unwilling to let loose the sounds. He was too close, but she didn't want to lie back and have him staring down at her. God only knew how long he'd been doing that anyway.

"In due time. When I'm certain you won't attempt to slit my throat with the knife, it'll be returned. As for the purse and your other belongings, you need none of it. I'll provide coin for your meals and lodgings now." He settled down onto his rear, both legs bent, one resting on the ground and the other raised as a rest for his forearm. His hand dangled, limp, but Kate was very aware of the strength in those fingers.

Braving a glance away from him, Kate was dismayed to find the clearing surrounded by men and horses. How had she slept through their approach and where was Germaine? His blankets were no longer spread out on the other side of the fire. The only bed here was hers. Panic tightened her chest, her heart still thumping excruciatingly hard.

"You're looking for Germaine I suppose. That makes two of us. You were alone here when we arrived, though I did find one of my men tied and gagged not far from here." He paused, lips parted. When she didn't say anything, he continued, speaking slowly, as though he assumed she was simple and needed clarification. "Germaine is gone, Kate. He left you. He left you alone."

Gone. He'd gone. He'd ridden away and left her to face Adhemar by herself. A rush of hot tears clouded her vision and she blinked them back, cursing the man -- the men -- soundly in her mind. How could he? Had he meant to leave her all along? Was that why he'd pushed the coins on her?

"You may cry, if you like." Adhemar looked over his shoulder, glanced about the small campsite. "Don't take too long. I don't fancy listening to you wail the rest of the night."

The words had the effect of a splash of icy water along her skin. How nice of him to give her permission to feel miserable. She shook her head, making a movement with the intent of getting to her feet and at least attempting to put up a fight. She barely made it to her knees, Adhemar reaching out with the coiled energy of a snake and drawing her back to the ground. In less time than it took for Kate to take a breath, she'd been subdued on her back, his superior strength holding her in place. He straddled her, swung a leg across her body and used his weight and strength as a weapon. She was no match for a seasoned knight, despite her training as a smith and she knew it.

Her skirts were twisted about her legs, the shoulder seam of her dress pulled so tight across her arm that she knew it would rip if she moved. However, she couldn't stop herself from squirming beneath his unwelcome weight. Her dress ripped, baring her shoulder. "Let me go," she whispered.

"Haven't you had enough excitement for the day, Kate?" Adhemar yanked her arms upwards, taking her wrists in one hand, the other touching her face.

Turning her head, she snapped at his fingers with her teeth.

"Oh, I like spirit in a woman," he laughed, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. "If you keep struggling, I'll think you're trying to entice me."

She stopped trying to buck him off of her. That was the last thing she wanted, him thinking she wanted him, because she didn't. She didn't want him in any way, shape or form. Really. He didn't attract her in the slightest. The previous night had been under full influence of quite a lot of liquor. If she'd not been drunk, she'd have never gone with him. Really.

Kate blinked, pushing aside all thoughts of her motivations from the night before. She'd rather not think on how she'd blithely tripped up to his room after a few drinks. That indicated something she didn't want to consider. "I'd rather slit your throat than go to your bed."

"Well, we proved that wrong last night, obviously. Trust me, Kate, you had no thoughts of slitting my throat on your mind." He released her jaw, fingers going to the tear at her shoulder, slipping along the torn seam and delving in the tear to touch her skin. "Tearing you own clothes off are you?"

She turned her head aside, refusing to answer.

"Calmed? Yes?"

Slowly, he got up from her and picked up the blanket that had been partly covering her. Kate brought her arms down, rubbing her wrists gingerly with her fingers. She'd be bruised in the morning from that hard grip. Kate rolled onto her side away from him, closing her eyes. He settled behind her, fitting his larger body along her smaller one, an extended process that had her nerves stretched to near the breaking point before he quit inching about. A possessive arm was thrown over her waist, his face turned in to her hair. She stiffened, but the warmth of his body eased the slight chill of the night from her, relaxing her a tiny bit.

He sniffed. "After the entire day, you still smell of lavender."

Kate waited for him to tire of holding her, waited for him to turn her, for his mouth to come down upon hers in a heated display of that passion he had chased her with. He didn't though. He lay behind her, that arm anchoring her to him, a long-wanted plaything he'd finally caught. As she drifted towards exhausted slumber, a small disappointed part of her cried out in frustration within her mind, but she fell asleep before she could analyze and deny that cry.

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He hadn't wanted to leave her. He hadn't wanted to ride away and leave Kate with Adhemar, but he'd had no choice. He was rather attached to living and Adhemar would not hesitate to kill him. He'd seen his lord kill men for much less than running from service and taking the latest female obsession with him.

It was a no win situation. Damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

If he had stayed, he would be dead. By leaving, he was still alive, but Kate would surely think he'd deserted her. Knowing his lord as well as he did, he was sure the man would play up that seeming desertion. Really Kate, he'd say with raised brows, did you think he'd even try protecting you from me? Did you think he possibly cared one whit what happens to you, a peasant woman he knew a single day? Yes, he could practically hear the words. His lord...former lord was very good at twisting words to suit his purpose. It could almost be called a talent.

In all fairness, he'd tried to wake her. He'd shaken her before going to find their visitor. The benefit of having been long in Adhemar's service was that he knew how to sneak up on the enemy. He knew how to bring a man down in silence. He was as much of a soldier as his lord was. So, the struggle with their visitor had not been loud enough to stir her. He'd shaken her again, more forcefully. He'd done all but slap her in effort to bring her to a waking state and Germaine would not cross that line. He'd not slap a woman if he could help it.

Kate had not stirred the second time, not even a snort or mumble. Her breath had been deep and even. The day had finally caught fully up with her. He could imagine her state of mind. There was horror at waking in an unexpected place with a man she probably disliked, though he didn't know her honest feelings on Alain Adhemar. She'd not spoken them aloud. Her flight indicated dislike. Then came the rush as she hurried to dress and leave, the certainty that the man was going to follow her. Finally, the fear of glancing over her shoulder all day. Fear was one of the most draining emotions one could have.

What did he do now? He couldn't in all good conscience leave her completely. He had to find some way to help her.

Turning his mount, Germaine began a wide circle around the road so as not to run afoul of Count Adhemar's troops, and headed back towards London.

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"Come," he ordered, the unyielding grip on her arm giving her no other recourse than to be led by him.

Kate blinked sleepily. The fear of the day before still drained her, a new fear added to the mix now that he'd found her. It encased her, as her cloak did, heavy and covering. What did he plan for her? Oh, she knew his long range plans. Who didn't? They largely included his bedchamber, an idiot could see that. But as to his immediate plans, she was in the dark. Literally. It was still night, the sky only beginning to lighten with dawn. She'd had only a few hours of sleep.

"Keep up, Kate. You're lagging." Transferring her arm to his other hand, he gave her a hearty whack on the bottom.

Oh joy, she thought, mouth opening with an indignant cry she decided not to loose. He was in a good mood. Just what she needed. She suspected that Adhemar in a good mood was somehow much worse than him in a bad one.

They stopped not far from the camp, in the clearing by the creek. He released her, motioned at her. "Undress."

Kate stumbled several steps from him, crossing her arms, her legs quaking. So soon? And here, on rough ground? She'd not thought him a man to eschew physical comforts unless he had to.

The ghost of an amused smile was on his lips. "No? You don't wish to bathe then?" Sweeping his coat from his side, he unwound a small pouch from his belt and opened it, turning it upside down over his palm. A cake of soap fell out, the pouch tossed to the ground.

"Bathe?" The question came out a squeak and she glanced at the creek, then the soap that he waggled at her.

"Yes. Put soap to flesh for the purpose of taking dirt from the skin?" He set the soap on the pouch, lean fingers undoing the closures of his wrinkled shirt. "You're a clean woman. I thought you'd adore a bathe this fine morning before the rest of the camp stirred." As he spoke, he continued to strip, clothes dropping to the ground.

Kate found herself staring at him and forced herself to look away. "I don't....I...."

"You're not shy, are you?" He was mocking her, goading her, a challenge in his voice.

She had to admit, bathing would be lovely. She hadn't had time the day before to wash him off her skin and her imagination had conjured up the image that his touch had left indelible marks upon her flesh. Never before had she imagined that her predilection for a good bath would be used against her.

"I'd not thought you shy, not the way you knocked me to the floor."

Water splashed, Kate returning her gaze to him in time to catch a glimpse of his backside before he was covered by the water. She took her cloak off, folding it and setting it on the ground. The morning was already strangely warm. Strangely, impossibly warm. She pressed her hand along her cheeks and neck in an attempt to cool herself.

"Join me, Kate." He called to her.

"No."

"Aww, no bath?"

"I'm not going to strip naked with you watching me."

"Well, you won't get free of that. Sorry to disappoint." But he wasn't sorry. She hated the way he looked at her now, hungry, a predator stalking her. Kate was very much the victim of a hunt, stalked and brought down. Now, the beast toyed with his meal.

He swam and Kate took off her shoes, going to the bank and slipping her feet into the water. It was cool but not too cold and she regretted that she was going to have to ignore the siren call of the water. There was no way she was going to bathe with him watching her.

Her mind wandered to her friends. By now, they'd know what had happened and be worried for her safety. Too bad there wasn't some way to let them know she was alright. She didn't think Adhemar would let a messenger ride back to London, though she wouldn't put it past him to do so to gloat. He'd send a messenger to Will if he thought it would goad the younger man into doing something rash. Look at what I did. I found Kate. I have her and she's mine.

Picking a wildflower, she pulled the petals off of it, tossing them one by one into the water. Strange, how perceptions of something could differ. If Jocelyn had slept with Will and run away the next day, Kate would think it romantic when Will followed. But this, this, was not romantic. The reasons for Will and Jocelyn doing both actions would be very different from Kate and Adhemar's.

She managed to ignore him until he was dressed again and standing over her, his wet hair dripping. The remains of a flower were tossed into the water, her gaze lifting warily up to his face, eyes widening. Whatever good mood had been upon him had vanished, his stare cold and hard as he considered her. Bending, he took her arm, fingers curling in an unbreakable grip, dragging her to her feet.

"Bathe." The word was an order, not a request.

"No."

His other hand curved about her neck. "You're defying me?"

"You don't own me. I don't take orders from you." She swallowed, waiting for a slap or some such punishment.

Adhemar yanked her close, that hand behind her neck angling her head back so that she had to look at him. Her arm ached where he gripped it. "As of two nights ago, I do own you, Kate, part of you at least. You will learn to take orders from me." Stepping forward he used his body to force hers backwards, slow and deliberate movements. The grass under her bare feet gave way to the mud at the very edge of the creek. Kate stumbled, trying to pry that hand from her neck. Abruptly, he stopped, shoving her and releasing her as he stepped from away.

Kate gave a sharp cry, then a loud curse as she lost her balance, falling backwards into the creek. When she managed to sit up, spitting out water, he gave a short laugh.

"Well, seeing as how you're in the water anyway, you might as well wash." The bar of soap splashed in front of her. Snatching it up, she briefly contemplated throwing it at him, her glare as murderous as she could make it. "I'd suggest you hurry, or I may be tempted to come in and wash you."

He left her with that remark, and Kate hurried.