Read Online The Warrior's Wife by Denise Domning - Free Book Online
Authors: Denise Domning
Tags: Romance
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you find me pining for you ‘neath some shady tree, come ease my misery as only your kind words can.
It was signed, Yours in God’s love and mine, Sir Warin de Dapifer.
Kate’s exhilaration died. Adele’s warnings against such intimacy with any man, especially a courtly lover, clamored. Warin wanted her to join him in the wild woods beyond all sight of the others when they’d never before met in private. Why now, when he’d always before complimented her on her insistence that they remain within sight if not earshot of witnesses?
What was wrong with her? This was Warin, the man she loved. Unlike some men she had the misfortune to have recently met, if Warin wished to be in her presence it wouldn’t be to force unwanted kisses on her.
Nay, Warin would never suggest a tryst. All he wanted, nay—all he needed was the simple joy of her presence. The proof of that was in her hand. For a seducer to claim to love her as he loved God was sacrilege.
Not that any of this mattered. Disappointment ate at Kate as she folded the note back into its tiny square. Her father’s plans for her didn’t include allowing a half an hour’s private time to spend with a man she could never wed.
Then a sly and daring thought followed, the sort she hadn’t had in years. She could escape her sire for a time, just as she had last night. With the right excuse he’d be none the wiser as to where she went or what she did. The echoes of last night’s wild exhilaration raced through Kate, strong enough to make her smile. No wonder the priests spoke of temptation’s lure. Sin was thrilling, indeed.
Caution came swiftly on its heels. If she was to do this, she’d need to be careful. Unlike her heedless youth before Adele made a lady of her, if Kate were caught this time the penalty would be more than a few stripes laid on her back with a belt.
First and foremost, the note must be hidden from Albreda, for the maid would surely give it to her sire. Reaching beneath her cot, Kate pulled out the wee wooden casket that held her jewelry and opened it. Painted parchment lined its lid. Prying the sheepskin away from the wood, she slipped Warin’s note into the space between lining and lid, then pressed the skin back in place. When all was safely stored and the coffer returned to its spot beneath her cot Kate grabbed up her comb and straightened her hair, now waiting impatiently for Albreda’s return. With every breath her love for Warin filled her until she thought she’d burst with it. It was going to be a glorious day.
“Here she is, Rafe,” Will Godsol said to his brother, “Daubney’s bitch and Glevering, both here within your reach.”
Although Rafe and his eldest brother sat on the outskirts of the picnickers, Rafe could barely hear Will’s voice. It wasn’t that the musicians’ piping and drumming was overly loud; it was a trick of the surrounding foliage. Towering oak, thick ash and delicate alder, their feet cloaked in heavy tumbles of pink hedgerose and fern, caught the music in their glossy leaves and sent it echoing back into the glade.
It was just as well there was so much noise. The last thing Rafe needed was for anyone else to hear Will spilling obvious hints at their plans for retaking Glevering through its heiress. Nor did Rafe need his brother to tell him where Kate de Fraisney was. The woman he would marry hadn’t been out of his awareness all morning.
He glanced up from the cold meat pie in his hand to the dancers at the center of this grassy spot. Beneath a wisp of a veil held in place with a golden circlet, Kate’s dark hair gleamed coppery in the sun as she danced. She was dressed for hunting even though she done none of it. Made of sensible linen, her upper garment was sleeveless to allow ease of movement. Her undergown sported sleeves wide enough to allow her to draw a bow while lacking the extravagant drape of formal attire. Both were dyed a dark hunting green. Plain the gowns might be, but their
It was signed, Yours in God’s love and mine, Sir Warin de Dapifer.
Kate’s exhilaration died. Adele’s warnings against such intimacy with any man, especially a courtly lover, clamored. Warin wanted her to join him in the wild woods beyond all sight of the others when they’d never before met in private. Why now, when he’d always before complimented her on her insistence that they remain within sight if not earshot of witnesses?
What was wrong with her? This was Warin, the man she loved. Unlike some men she had the misfortune to have recently met, if Warin wished to be in her presence it wouldn’t be to force unwanted kisses on her.
Nay, Warin would never suggest a tryst. All he wanted, nay—all he needed was the simple joy of her presence. The proof of that was in her hand. For a seducer to claim to love her as he loved God was sacrilege.
Not that any of this mattered. Disappointment ate at Kate as she folded the note back into its tiny square. Her father’s plans for her didn’t include allowing a half an hour’s private time to spend with a man she could never wed.
Then a sly and daring thought followed, the sort she hadn’t had in years. She could escape her sire for a time, just as she had last night. With the right excuse he’d be none the wiser as to where she went or what she did. The echoes of last night’s wild exhilaration raced through Kate, strong enough to make her smile. No wonder the priests spoke of temptation’s lure. Sin was thrilling, indeed.
Caution came swiftly on its heels. If she was to do this, she’d need to be careful. Unlike her heedless youth before Adele made a lady of her, if Kate were caught this time the penalty would be more than a few stripes laid on her back with a belt.
First and foremost, the note must be hidden from Albreda, for the maid would surely give it to her sire. Reaching beneath her cot, Kate pulled out the wee wooden casket that held her jewelry and opened it. Painted parchment lined its lid. Prying the sheepskin away from the wood, she slipped Warin’s note into the space between lining and lid, then pressed the skin back in place. When all was safely stored and the coffer returned to its spot beneath her cot Kate grabbed up her comb and straightened her hair, now waiting impatiently for Albreda’s return. With every breath her love for Warin filled her until she thought she’d burst with it. It was going to be a glorious day.
“Here she is, Rafe,” Will Godsol said to his brother, “Daubney’s bitch and Glevering, both here within your reach.”
Although Rafe and his eldest brother sat on the outskirts of the picnickers, Rafe could barely hear Will’s voice. It wasn’t that the musicians’ piping and drumming was overly loud; it was a trick of the surrounding foliage. Towering oak, thick ash and delicate alder, their feet cloaked in heavy tumbles of pink hedgerose and fern, caught the music in their glossy leaves and sent it echoing back into the glade.
It was just as well there was so much noise. The last thing Rafe needed was for anyone else to hear Will spilling obvious hints at their plans for retaking Glevering through its heiress. Nor did Rafe need his brother to tell him where Kate de Fraisney was. The woman he would marry hadn’t been out of his awareness all morning.
He glanced up from the cold meat pie in his hand to the dancers at the center of this grassy spot. Beneath a wisp of a veil held in place with a golden circlet, Kate’s dark hair gleamed coppery in the sun as she danced. She was dressed for hunting even though she done none of it. Made of sensible linen, her upper garment was sleeveless to allow ease of movement. Her undergown sported sleeves wide enough to allow her to draw a bow while lacking the extravagant drape of formal attire. Both were dyed a dark hunting green. Plain the gowns might be, but their
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