Wooing Kate

Chapter: Five

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Wringing the water from her sodden clothes, Kate pondered on ways to strip flesh from Adhemar's body. She conjured up several gruesome ways, making imaginative use of both her tools of trade and his own sword. And knife. And those lances in that wagon. She imagined him screaming in agony, but since she had no real access to any of those things, she'd have to consider something less bloody. But what?

The forest around her was still and quiet for the most part. She could hear the faint sounds of the camp waking. Would the man return for her, or was there the possibility she could slip away? Surely he wouldn't chase her a full day and be so careless as to leave her alone? A few minutes of walking showed her that, no, he wasn't careless. He'd posted a guard. The man wasn't looking at her, but she didn't doubt he knew she was coming towards him.

Kate stopped walking. Of course Adhemar wouldn't make escape easy for her. Not this time. He'd been careless once, in that room in London, and wouldn't be so again. Pressing her lips together almost primly, she turned on her heel, stalking back towards the camp, her stride brisk and purposeful. She'd just have to watch him closely and plan to leave after getting a grasp of his routine.

Every man had a routine he followed, from Will to Geoff to Adhemar, certain ways they did things and a specific daily order to those things. Will liked to train in the afternoon and relax in the evening, his mornings spent by first breakfasting with the entire group and then spending time with Lady Jocelyn. Geoff's habits were harder to plot, as he was often random in his activities. However, within the randomness was order. He liked meals at a certain time. He preferred to sleep for a set amount of hours at one time and was grouchy when denied that sleep. Each man had habits unique to him and Kate decided she'd have to discover more about Adhemar to give herself the chance to flee him once more.

Her steps slowed as she neared the camp, her gaze falling to the ground as she paused to take a steadying breath. She lit upon a familiar herb in the carpet of grasses, a leisured devious grin tugging at her lips. What luck! God must be smiling upon her from his seat high in the heavens.

Bending, she collected a few of the leaves, slipping them into the cloak she held folded in one arm. This little herb , mixed with some food or wine, could cause a man considerable gastric distress. She'd slip a bit into his meal when she got a chance and when he was incapacitated from it, go on her way.

Why stop at just his food though? Why not slip it into food for the entire camp and not have to worry about one of those men following her on Adhemar's orders? It wouldn't kill them. None of them would be sick for more than a few hours or so. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of seeing Count Adhemar with stomach distress. It'd serve him right for manhandling her like she was a possession and not a person. It'd serve him right period.

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The look on Kate's pretty face when he pushed her into the water was priceless, Adhemar reflected, opening up her bag and rifling through it with a complete disregard for her privacy. Also priceless was the glare she'd given him right after, all fire and passion with a bit of murder mixed in. She'd cheerfully kill him if given the chance. It might be amusing to give her that chance, then pluck the satisfaction from her as he would ripe fruit from a tree.

He pulled out a jumble of wrinkled white cloth, shaking it. It was a dress, thin, but clean. Laying it aside, he looked through the possessions the woman had brought on her journey. A comb. A clasp that looked to be the sort for a woman's hair. A couple apples. That hefty bag of coins. There wasn't really much in the bag. He'd expected more, maybe a token of sorts to remind her of her dead husband. She'd spoken of the man briefly in the room, mentioning that, as a widow, she had to be careful or lose her business. A quick mention, but the emotion in those words heavy. She'd been very attached to her husband.

Thoughtful, Adhemar sat back on his haunches, slipping all but the dress back in the bag. Kate would need to change clothes when she returned. The white dress would suffice. Maybe he'd have a man ride into the next town and find some cloth, something either dark or vibrant. A green perhaps, or orange. She could make herself a new dress. He had the urge to see her in something as daring as Lady Jocelyn might wear, creamy pale flesh displayed for his eyes.

She'd refuse, he knew. He didn't think he'd be getting any tender considerations from her anytime soon. Perhaps he'd best wait on a new dress for her anyway. The sort of clothing he imagined might prove too much for the restraint of his men anyway and he'd not see them having at her. No, he'd wait on that idea until they were home and he could keep her ensconced in his chamber wearing all manner of provocative clothes for his eyes only.

He stood, changing into the clean clothes that had been set out for him while he'd bathed and thinking about the best way to handle Kate. Force? A last effort maybe. Dark bruises would be unfortunate against her skin. Besides, he wanted more of that unrestrained wanton surrender she'd given him. He'd had just enough to intrigue him; to tease his imagination with the possibilities. Should he try and persuade her with kindness? She likely wouldn't expect it. No, she wouldn't. Wicked Count Adhemar wouldn't lower himself to woo a peasant woman, no matter how much he wanted her. Wooing was for noble women.

Well Kate, he thought with a smirk, let's see how you fare against me this way.

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He was not wearing all black. For some reason, that surprised Kate. The devil should wear black at all times, yes? He was wearing red; a red shirt -- equally fitting for a devil she supposed. The color looked very good on him, setting off his black hair. She tamped down the appreciative rush of desire that surged forward. I must be ill, she thought. Going to her bed, she set her cloak carefully on the blankets, not wanting him to find the herbs.

"I suggest you change your clothes. Wet clothing is not pleasant to ride all day in."

Her white dress was dropped onto her cloak and she looked up. "You looked through my things." His affirmative was given in such a manner to suggest she was daft for thinking he wouldn't. It was all she could do not to make a reach for the dagger he'd fastened along his belt. Patience, Kate. It is a virtue, remember. Be reasonable and sweet and look for the proper time. Then strike. Kate gave him a haughty look. "You expect me to change in front of all?"

"Of course not. We'll return to the clearing. I'll even turn my back."

Kate led the way, and was surprised when he was as good as his word, not turning and watching her.

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As a rule and under somewhat normal circumstances, Geoffrey Chaucer was able to calm the hysterics of persons of feminine persuasion remarkably well. It could almost be considered a special talent, much like his ability to put pen to parchment and come up with something entertaining to the masses. Perhaps it was his calm, unflappable manner that reassured women that all was well despite the obvious that it was not.

Christiana, lovely of face and fair of figure, would prove to be the single exception. Oh, she was playing her role as hysteric in a beautiful fashion, rolling her brown eyes in anguish and wringing her slender hands together. Geoff knew that tears were soon on the way by the fast blinking and the hitch to her breath. But she was resisting any attempt to calm her, muttering about Roland and insensitive men in general, nearly overdoing it in dramatics to the point of caricature in his opinion.

Tears fell and Geoff waited for her to turn against him for a nice, non-threatening, comforting embrace, where she'd soak his shirtfront and he'd need to change. He even spread his arms in invitation. His mind, always maintaining a slight, professional detachment -- once a writer, always one -- strove to capture the scene in a way that would appeal to an audience.

The hysterical young woman, upset by the insensitive words of her lover. No, not insensitive. Tactless perhaps? Threads of possible plot tickled at his imagination. There was yet another story in this, he knew it. He could smell the tantalizing scent of it cooking.

Unfortunately, he wasn't going to be able to follow this to the conclusion as he had with Will. No, Geoffrey Chaucer must soon take his leave of his companions and return to service for his king. He'd dawdled long enough in his most welcome rest. Tomorrow would see him in audience with King Edward. His career path would take him away from these friends he'd made.

He lowered his arms, as the young woman appeared uninterested in a hug of any kind. That saved him from having to change shirts at least.

The thought of leaving them all made him sad, yet not overly so. Life was far too short to spend it in the throes of melancholy. Moments now and then were fine, but not a constant wallow in the state. They'd all move on to more adventures, for that was how Geoff thought of life. An adventurous road God above sets each person on. Who was he to tell God where to put him? He was a humble student of human nature, a writer attempting to record the ups and downs of a life fully lived so as to entertain others. A noble calling and one he had to work at on the side of responsibility.

Phillipa insisted he come home and bathe in the morning so she could dress him properly. It wouldn't do, she'd said, to go before Edward looking like he'd spent nearly a year bumming about the world, even if it was truth. Lovely Phillipa. A man could not ask for a better wife than she.

Geoff sighed and found that, sometime during his thoughts, Christiana had stopped crying and was staring at him. He hadn't the faintest idea what she'd said to him, if anything. He gave an inward wince. Not good. She was likely to slap him. He was male and therefore insensitive and party to the betrayal of Kate that she credited Roland.

"You weren't listening," she accused, crossing her arms.

He blinked, trailing one hand in the air. "No, no, of course I was, but I, regrettably, became distracted by thoughts of Kate's plight."

The Lady Jocelyn came through the door, magnificent in her fury, Geoff decided with a long glance. Anger lent a healthy color to her cheeks and her eyes practically glowed with indignation. She was no nonsense now, going to her maid and hugging her before glaring at him. He tried not to feel put out that Christiana would accept a hug from her and not him.

"Would you have done the same, Geoffrey?" The Lady Jocelyn had decided, after saying his name aloud several times the previous week, that she preferred his name in full to the shortened version. She always called him Geoffrey, claiming he looked more like a 'Geoffrey' in her mind than a 'Geoff'. He had yet to ask her what a 'Geoff' was supposed to look like. "Would you have given Kate that same counsel?"

Dangerous ground. An uncomfortable thick lump grew in his throat and he coughed it away. How could he answer in truth so that both women would understand? "Will you both hear me out before slitting my throat?"

Lady Jocelyn put her hands on her hips, giving him a regal stare and Christiana nodded.

Taking a few steps, he put the table in their way. They'd have to go around it to get to him. "Yes, I would have. If I had seen Kate, heard her story....I'd have told her exactly what Roland did, though perhaps not in such a blunt manner. I'd have gone through each option with her and weighed each, but my final opinion would have been that she needed to hie herself back to Adhemar in haste."

"Why?" The Lady demanded, coming to the table and placing her hands flat on the top. "Where does that come from? How does that seem right?"

As he'd recorded Christiana's weeping in his mind, he recorded this woman's fury. She was close enough that he could see a slight mottling to her complexion, not flattering, but then anger was rarely flattering in any person. Her chest, not impressive as Kate had once pointed out, rose and fell with her quick, hard breaths. "Calm down and I shall explain it to you."

Her tongue poked at her cheek, pushing it out and she grimaced. "I'm perfectly calm, Geoffrey."

"If you say so, my lady. Who am I to contradict?" Geoff glanced at Christiana. The young woman was watching him far more calmly than her mistress. After her brief crying jag, she'd calmed in nearly the blink of an eye. "First, that boy in the other room does not need another fight with Adhemar."

"Man," Jocelyn corrected with a raised and rather arrogant brow. "Not boy, I assure you."

And you would know, he thought. "That man is hurt far more than he lets you know. He'd walk into hell for you on two broken legs, my lady, and not give a whimper of pain. A fight with Adhemar, even with Adhemar being as bruised as Will I suspect, Will would lose. I can guarantee that. Will is not a battle hardened soldier, Lady Jocelyn. Count Adhemar is. Count Adhemar has a proven record of fighting while severely injured. It's a miracle he's not maimed or lame with some of the injuries he's fought with. Roland is quite aware of that. We are all aware, even you, if you will but admit it to yourself."

Some of the tension slipped from her shoulders, the rigid line of her back slumping a little. Christiana moved forward, joining them at the table.

He continued. "Adhemar would start a fight. He's that sort of man. Roland was hoping to divert a fight, saving Will's life. And as for Kate, do you really think she was unwilling last night? Do you think that she was stolen from the street and forced into his bed? If you do, you know nothing of our Kate."

Jocelyn reared back as though he'd slapped her. "You said she knows better than to do anything for him, I heard you. She wouldn't go to him --"

Christiana now looked uncertain, her gaze lowering. "Kate has a wild side, my lady. To a woman with hidden wild longings, he'd be most attractive and appealing."

Geoff gave Christiana a quick consideration. She seemed to understand that well enough. Perhaps Kate wasn't the only one with a wild side she suppressed most of the time. Did Christiana also find Count Adhemar fascinating on some level? "She also has a temper. Have you not heard how Will got her to work for him in the beginning?" He inquired, returning his attention to the Lady.

"I've heard the story."

"But not listened apparently, my lady." Geoff licked his lips. Christiana understood, the light of comprehension in her eyes. Jocelyn though....She was clinging to her assumptions that all women were like her and repulsed by Adhemar's manner. "Will goaded her into doing the work, deliberately baiting her and she rose to that bait. He pricked her temper."

She crossed her arms, shoulders hunching. "So what? Adhemar dared her to go with him? What? Explain to me why she'd go with him, because I really don't understand it, Geoffrey."

"Let's set the scene to begin and go from there. She was drinking and eating with Wat at the tavern. She drank quite a lot. Her defenses were down, her sense of proper action swept away. Have you ever been that intoxicated, my lady?"

Jocelyn shook her head. "Only once, a long time ago. I was very sick from it."

"Everyone is a friend at that point. It takes a lot to get Kate there. She can almost drink Wat under the table and he's got a tolerance that's rather amazing. Now, say she was that drunk and left the tavern for some reason. She ran into Adhemar. Maybe he flattered her." His shoulders lifted in a casual shrug.

"Count Adhemar can be charming when he chooses." Christiana closed her eyes and winced as though she hated admitting this.

"In a clumsy way. He's no poet." Jocelyn scoffed at the idea.

"Not always clumsy. He can be...pleasant."

The tiny pause was intriguingly placed, causing Geoff to wonder what had been said at various times between Christiana and the Count. Adhemar had seemed to want Jocelyn with an intense fervor. Naturally, he'd have attempted to create an ally in Christiana. Geoff barely held back a sigh. Oh, the wonderful stories he sensed cooking beneath the surface and he couldn't stay to find them out! He was almost tempted to ignore his duties awhile longer and stay.

"How often does Kate hear flattery from anyone? I'm ashamed to admit I never gave her much verbal flattery. Now, I'm not saying she went with him because of pretty words that appealed to her feminine nature, a nature she has little chance to indulge in. It's only a possibility. We won't know unless Kate appears and tells us. However, no one can force Kate into doing anything she doesn't want to do. Not really. If she was forced, the entire world would have known it."

Now to explain Kate's wild side. Not that Geoff knew much about her secret longings and such, but he could surmise much from what he knew of her. He went to the window, looked out, then turned back. "Kate has an eye for a fine figure of a man. She won't hesitate to admire when she sees something she likes, friend, foe or unknown. Besides, she once told me a little about her husband and the physical description she gave was very near Adhemar. Black hair, tall...." Geoff trailed off, waiting for some reaction.

He didn't have long to wait, Jocelyn's hands twisting in her skirts. "I can understand your view now. I don't like it, or agree with it, but what's done is done. Roland tried to protect us all and Kate is gone."

"Kate is a grown woman trying to run from the consequences of her own actions."

"She'll have to face it eventually, no matter where she runs to." Christiana's expression had gone blank, her gaze far away with thought. Geoff wondered what she was thinking.

"Kate is gone." Jocelyn repeated that, anger draining away from her, replaced by sadness.

The two women said nothing more, leaving together, letting the door shut behind them. Geoff stretched his arms above his head, leaning side to side. God speed to you, Kate, he thought. May your adventure be one for storybooks.