The Bride of Windermere Read Online Free PDF Page A

Kit’s favorite pastimes. Kit loved to ride her horse astride, wearing breeches. Nothing was more invigorating than racing horseback through the meadows and feeling the wind on her face and in her hair. She enjoyed shooting her sling or her arrows and testing her skill against that of the huntsmen in Lord Thomas’ forest. To Bridget’s severe disapproval, Kit climbed the trees in the forest and sometimes lay across the branches high above the lake to watch the reflections of the clouds as they played across the surface of the water.
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    Wolf guessed she was asleep. Her back was slumped into his chest, and he’d been supporting her for several miles to keep her from sliding off Janus. Wolf considered how old she might be. Sixteen perhaps? The damnable rags she wore made it impossible to discern whether her figure was that of a child or a woman. Certainly old enough to be married, though why wasn’t she? The situation with Baron Somers and his family was obviously not good for the girl, yet she’d remained at Somerton with her stepparents.
    The flaw must be her lack of feminine abilities. Her mode of dress was appalling for a maiden. Why, he’d never seen a lady gotten up in such rough woolen breeches and tunic before. Looking at her now, he couldn’t fathom whether Kathryn had been guilty of provoking Baron Somers into beating her, or if the man merely gained some perverse pleasure from mistreating the girl. Wolfram gave Kathryn the benefit of the doubt and faulted Lord Thomas with an overblown temper. Wolf never did hold with drunken men who beat women or children, and he couldn’t deny his satisfaction in removing young Kathryn from the baron’s vicious clutches. Let the man, and others of his ilk, come to blows with men their own size.
    Lady Kathryn, however, was obviously no saint. She was altogether too independent for a lass. How she’d managed to run away from him twice was impossible to understand. The girl was demanding, insisting on bringing her old nurse and giving orders to his men as though she were in charge. She was worse than filthy ... yet she didn’t smell like any wayward urchin he’d ever had the misfortune to be downwind of. In fact, she smelled like flowers. Roses, he thought, though he was no expert at horticulture. Her scent was fresh, he realized uncomfortably, perhaps it was even womanly.
    The girl moved slightly, causing her hips to press more closely, and his thoughts turned to his experience at the lake the previous night. Wolf shifted Kathryn’s weight as he recalled the beautiful golden woman he’d only just tasted.
    He reminded himself that he was a man with a mission. He had to concentrate fully in order to regain Windermere, as he’d set out to do. He’d been in Henry’s service for several years now, and gained the king’s respect and trust. Now, all that was left was to find hard, physical evidence of Philip Colston’s treachery. Henry would then be compelled to accept Wolf’s claim and restore Windermere and his good name to him.
    Even so resolved, Wolfram couldn’t deny that he’d been strongly affected by the woman at the lake. She was every dream he had ever suppressed, every yearning he had ever denied. But Wolf well knew the pain of loving and losing, and he vowed never to fall into that trap again. He’d lost his brother and his father to fate. And while those losses and Wolf’s drive for justice gave him a cold, reserved selfpossession, it was his mother’s apathy that had tormented his soul over the years.
    Wolf had survived the fatal attack, but Margrethe Colston hadn’t spoken to him in twenty years. She hadn’t even acknowledged his existence. It didn’t matter that she was beyond response, incapable of speaking to anyone—it was the fact that Wolf’s survival hadn’t given her even a glimmer of hope. Wolf’s life had meant nothing to