Her Knight Protector. Anne HerriesЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘Celestine would not be so foolish. The Baron is not a man to be trusted, Katherine. Celestine has been left alone in a strange land. She has merely accepted his offer to be her escort on the journey home.’
That had been in Cyprus, before they had sailed for the shores of Italy. It had not surprised Baron Grunwald at first that the English lord had followed them, for they were all bound in the same direction—but then in Italy had come the offer to buy his treasure and his death had swiftly followed his refusal.
‘I hope to find a ship to carry me back to France,’ Celestine told her now in answer to her question. ‘I have dower lands there, Katherine, for my husband settled them on me when we married. Where will you go now that your poor father is gone?’
Tears stood in those wonderful eyes and she looked genuinely upset. Katherine’s suspicion eased a little. Perhaps she had misjudged the other woman. Indeed, perhaps she was a little jealous. It was unkind of her to harbour such thoughts against Celestine.
‘Why did you leave us to join Baron Ravenshurst?’ asked Katherine, thinking it best to have the matter straight between them.
‘I have asked myself that question many times,’ Celestine replied and sighed. She shook her head sorrowfully. ‘I fear I am a foolish woman and his smiles and promises turned my head. A woman in my position must marry, Katherine. I could reside quietly on my own lands for a time, but there would always be men who sought to wed me for what I might bring them. I believed Hubert to be the kind of man with whom I might find content—but it was not so. All men are greedy, but some have a code of honour by which they live. I fear Baron Hubert of Ravenshurst is not one of them. He is ruthless and cruel and I was unhappy in his company.’
‘Do you believe all men greedy?’ Katherine frowned. ‘My father was not—and nor, I think, is Sir Alain.’
‘I spoke as a general rule. You are innocent, Katherine, and have truly known only your father. Therefore you cannot judge. I have lived amongst men and know more of their true natures. Most are greedy, ambitious fools.’
Her tone and the way her mouth had gone hard and sour shocked Katherine. She was not such an innocent that she did not know such men existed; indeed, she had met several of that ilk on her travels with her father. She had also met good honest men, such as Sir Alain and Sir Bryne. She believed both were generous, decent men of honour. Sir Alain’s was the sweeter nature, though she had noticed that his commands were instantly obeyed, which might mean that he could be very different if he chose. However, she did not think him either greedy or foolish, though perhaps he, like many other men, was blinded by Celestine’s beauty. They did not see beyond her charming smile to the devious nature that lay beneath.
‘Perhaps you are right,’ she said slowly. She would keep her thoughts to herself, just as she would reserve judgement on Celestine for the moment.
‘But you are right to think Sir Alain better than most,’ Celestine said with a thoughtful glance at her. ‘I am sure we can trust him to get us safely to the ship. But you did not answer my question, Katherine. Where will you go when we reach France?’
‘To my uncle. He is the Baron now, but he will do his duty by me.’ Her eyes clouded with grief too recent to have become muted. She did not dislike her uncle, but he was a gruff, blunt man with none of her father’s sensibilities. She would find it hard to live under his roof, but she had no choice. She had no other family and no dowry. ‘There is nowhere else for me.’
‘But of course there is,’ Celestine said and smiled at her. ‘If you chose, you could come and live with me as my friend and dearest companion. No, do not refuse me now, sweet Katherine. We have time enough ahead of us and you may tell me when we reach France.’
Katherine smiled, but made no answer. Celestine seemed genuinely to want to help her, but somehow she could not quite believe in her.
‘You begin to make a habit of rescuing damsels,’ Bryne said with a wry smile. He glanced towards the two younger ladies, who were walking together in the morning sunlight. ‘But this one is undoubtedly beautiful.’
‘What do you think of her story?’ Alain asked and smiled for Celestine’s beauty was overwhelming. ‘Would you say she is telling us the truth—or doth the mystery deepen?’
‘It seems a little odd that the ladies know each other,’ Bryne said. ‘But as yet I have not had the opportunity to observe the Lady Celestine.’
‘And Katherine?’ Alain’s brow wrinkled in thought. His first sight of Celestine had taken his breath away and yet somewhere in a tiny corner of his mind instinct was telling him to be watchful. ‘Is she the key to this affair, think you?’
‘I have suspected something from the beginning, as you know,’ Bryne said. ‘There is something she is concealing, some secret she does not confide in us. I would swear it. Yet I do not think there is malice in her. As for the other one…’ he shook his head ‘… I shall reserve judgement. We are but two hours from Rome, and may consider our duty done once there.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Alain replied but looked uncertain. ‘Yet I would not have harm come to her…’
‘Of whom do you speak?’ Bryne asked and then smiled as he watched the direction of his friend’s gaze, believing he knew. So the wind blew in that quarter, did it? Well, the woman was certainly beautiful, though not to his own taste. ‘You think to see them on their way to France? Or is there something more on your mind?’
‘I should feel happier if certain things were made plainer,’ Alain replied. ‘But we shall see what the ladies have to say when we reach Rome itself, Bryne.’
Alain was thoughtful after he left his friend. It could surely not be mere coincidence that Celestine had ridden their way. And if it had been planned…the lady would bear a little careful watching.
It was not Katherine’s first visit to Rome. She and her father had stopped for a few weeks in the beautiful city on their outward journey to the Holy Land, visiting some of the ancient sites of interest. They had walked along the Via Appia and by the banks of the River Tiber, which was the very reason for the city’s existence.
‘It was here that Nero sent the early Christian martyrs to their deaths,’ Katherine’s father had told her as they gazed at the stone arches of the Colosseum. ‘Just think, some of those men that died here may have followed in Christ’s footsteps when he carried his Cross in Jersualem.’
Now she returned alone. Katherine’s heart ached for her loss. Her father had been a man of great learning, highly respected amongst those who knew him, but a dreamer and hardly suited for a long pilgrimage. Even before he was killed he had developed a bad cough, and she knew he had feared for her future, often bewailing the fact that he had no fortune to leave her.
‘I do not know what will become of you, Kate,’ he had told her once when in a reflective mood. ‘I have neglected my duty, been a bad father to you.’
‘You have been the best of fathers,’ she had replied and kissed him fondly. Indeed, she would not have changed her life these past years, but she longed for him now, for his wisdom to guide her. ‘What should I do, Father?’ she asked softly, wishing that he stood beside her. ‘Should I seek an audience with the Holy Father? What am I to do for the best?’
Now they were approaching the waterfront, where the ships from many countries often rode at anchor in the sunshine. There were but three in port that day, and Sir Alain had told the ladies that he would make inquiries as to their suitability, arranging passage on their behalf if possible.
Katherine stood on the quayside, gazing out over the water. The last time she had stood here was with her father. She had been but eleven years, still suffering from the loss of her mother and feeling the responsibility of becoming her father’s companion. She had known that he needed her, for her mother had told her to care for him as he was often too lost in his studies to remember to eat. A heavy responsibility indeed for a child, but one she had accepted willingly out of her love. The prospect of such a long journey