The Bride of Windermere by Margo Maguire Read Free Book Online Page A

their discussion was at an end.
    â€œBut, Sir Gerhart—” She persisted.
    His gaze hardened, and Kit realized she’d have to leave her questions for another time. She had no interest in testing whether Wolf really thought Baron Thomas was justified in beating her.
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    Their timing was worse than Wolf thought. The group still hadn’t reached Windermere Castle and night was falling fast in the rain. It was easy to see that the old woman wouldn’t last much longer, so he sent a couple of the men ahead to search out a sheltered spot to camp for the night. The scouts rode quickly out of the soggy dale and over the hill, out of sight.
    It was completely dark when Wolf and his company caught up to the scouts who had found a small inn called the Crooked Ax, at the edge of a tiny village. There were three rooms available, and Wolf’s men engaged them. There was also a hot meal to be had in the common room, for which Kit was grateful, since the dried meat they’d been eating did little to satisfy her hunger pangs. She also hoped that the roast fowl as well as the bread and cheese would help to cheer poor Bridget, who was definitely the worse for wear.
    Kit’s ankle caused only minor discomfort when she walked, giving her to believe it was merely bruised, and not sprained as Wolf had said. The long day spent sitting in the saddle, off her feet, did much to speed the healing process. She was able to climb the stairs carefully after supper and get Bridget settled to bed. The old woman’s voice was raspy, and her breathing sounded congested as a result of the long hours exposed to the cold damp air.
    â€œWash the mud off yer face,” Bridget said when they’d reached their room. “If only ye could see yerself, lass. It’s runnin’ down in streaks. ’Tis unseemly for a lady of quality to go about in such filth.”
    â€œI don’t want to look like a lady, Bridget.”
    â€œAnd why not, I’ll be askin’?”
    â€œThe less everyone knows about me, the better.”
    â€œI suppose by that ye’ll be meanin’ the grandsons of the prince?”
    Kit rolled her eyes and turned away as the old woman washed her own face in the shallow basin provided.
    â€œGrandsons or no, Rupert’s waiting for me in London.” She turned back to Bridget just as the old woman was seized by a coughing attack. Kit immediately felt guilty for riling her.
    â€œI won’t be askin’ ye to put on any o’ the gowns I brought for ye, but would ye mind just cleanin’ up a bit and lettin’ me have a look at yer eye and yer lip? It’ll do ye no good to have either one festerin’ under all that filth.”
    Kit gave up and gingerly washed her face. The gash at her mouth hardly bothered her at all but the eye still hurt dreadfully. It wasn’t swollen so much anymore, but the bruise had turned to a deep purple with an outer perimeter of green.
    â€œSure and it matches the color of yer eyes,” Bridget joked about the discoloration. She gave Kit a brief hug about the shoulders. “Ye don’t know how glad I am that we’re away from Baron Thomas and his wife. That man—”
    â€œYes, we’re away,” Kit started, returning the old woman’s brief hug. She wanted to talk about this trip to London and somehow sensed that her kinswoman might have an answer to her question. “Bridget, dear old mother, why do you think King Henry sent for me?”
    Bridget looked directly at Kit and was about to answer, then turned away. “I...I’m not sure as I know, Kitty. Mayhap he knew yer parents, one or t‘other.”
    â€œWhy do I have a suspicion that you know more than you’re telling?”
    â€œYe’ve a suspicious nature is all, I suppose.” Bridget turned away, seemingly peeved with her young charge.
    Kit had asked plenty of questions about her parents before, yet hadn’t ever received