The Black Storm (De Reyne Domination Book 4) Read online

  Payne could see how worried she was. He also noticed the tears and the bloodied lip. He led her to the largest tent, pushing back the flap and admitting her. The first thing they both saw was Ridge sitting on his bed with Odin, Bando, and Iris sitting patiently in front of him as he fed them pieces of cheese.

  Catherine’s eyes widened.

  “You found them,” she said, greatly relieved. Then, she clapped a hand over her mouth as the tears started to come in earnest. “I thought they’d run away.”

  Ridge, having been awoken from a deep sleep by two little devils barking at Odin, who had also been startled out of a deep sleep by the attack, could see how upset she was. He smiled gently.

  “They had,” he said. “They ran right to me and Odin. Feeding them cheese is the only way to shut them up, so once I am out of cheese, I am not sure if I can fend off their attack.”

  Sniffling, Catherine wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “There will not be another attack,” she said. “I am so sorry. They were sleeping with me and then they were gone. I shall have to put them in their cage from now on.”

  “It is no trouble,” Ridge said, but he noticed the mark on her lip in the weak light. His smile faded. “What happened to your mouth?”

  Catherine put a finger to it, feeling it sting. “It was dark when I was running through the trees,” she said. “I smashed into a tree.”

  Ridge stood up and went to her, tipping her chin back so he could get a look at her face, which also sported a lump on her forehead.

  “How hard did you hit that tree?” he demanded softly.

  She looked at him sheepishly. “Hard enough,” she said. “I was frightened for my dogs. I could hear them barking and I wanted to get to them before harm befell them.”

  He could see that just by looking at her. “Here,” he said, pulling a stool away from the tent wall with his foot. “Sit down. Let me tend that cut. Payne?”

  “Here, Ridge.”

  “Get me some warm water and Hamamelis.”

  As Payne headed off, Catherine sat down without any resistance. She plopped down as Bando and Iris, finished sniffing for any cheese crumbs on the ground, trotted over to her. She picked them both up, cradling them on her lap, as Ridge went to the bags that he brought with him that contained all manner of items for tending wounds. In particular, he was looking for soft muslin strips, which they used as bandages. Finding what he needed, he returned to Catherine.

  She was exhausted and bloodied, but he didn’t see that. All he could see was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. Just having her in front of him did his heart good in a way he could have never imagined. He sat on the ground in front of her, enduring the dogs that wanted to alternately bark at him and lick his hand as he lifted it to dab at the blood on her lip. Catherine put her hands over their little mouths, trying to still them.

  Ridge grinned.

  “At least they aren’t trying to bite me,” he said. “That’s something.”

  Catherine sat still as he dabbed the blood. “They rarely bite,” she said. “They just make a lot of noise.”

  “That they do.”

  She met his eyes. “I really am very sorry that they woke you,” she said. “They’ve never run off like that.”

  Payne entered the tent, warm water in a bowl and a phial of clear liquid. Ridge had him set both down on a small table and pull it over to him so he could access it. As Payne quit the tent, Ridge dipped the muslin into the warm water and proceeded to clean up her lip.

  “Truthfully, I am glad they woke me,” he said. “If they hadn’t, I would not have the chance to see you again. They did me a favor.”

  Catherine tried not to smile since he was cleaning her lip. “That is a nice way of looking at it.”

  The dogs had enough squirming and barking, so they slithered off her lap as Ridge continued to clean.

  “I may as well get used to them,” he said. “Odin, too. Mayhap they can even be friends someday.”

  Catherine looked over to where the big, gray dog was lying next to the brazier, which was banked low at this late hour. Ridge turned to see what had her attention. As they watched, Bando and Iris went up to a petrified Odin, sniffed around him, before finally laying down against him. The little dogs didn’t have much fur and, deciding that Odin was both warm and comfortable, decided he was good enough to sleep next to. They curled up and closed their eyes.

  Catherine was astonished.

  “Look at that,” she murmured. “I think they like your dog.”

  Ridge laughed softly, turning back to the warm water. He rinsed out the muslin before returning to her lip.

  “He is big and hairy and warm,” he said. “That’s what they like.”

  “Mayhap they’ll stop barking at him now.”

  “One can hope.” Ridge finished cleaning up her lip and put some of the potion in the phial on the rag, dabbing it onto the cut. “This may sting a little.”

  It did, but Catherine weathered it well. She watched Ridge as he tended her with the gentleness that all mothers should have. Given his size, reputation, and hands that were as big as trenchers, he was remarkably light with his touch.

  “What is it that?” she asked, wincing when it stung particularly hard.

  He put some more liquid from the phial on the rag and, this time, dabbed it on the bump on her head. “It is called Hamamelis,” he said. “Some call it witch hazel. It’s a plant, and also a tree, native to Wales and other places. The plant is steeped in water to produce a liquid that heals many things. I carry copious amounts of it, given what I do for a living. I’ve used it many times.”

  She watched him as he finished with her head, now checking her hands for any damage. “I’d say you know as much as a physic,” she said, watching him inspect her fingers. “Wounds must come frequently and easily on the tournament circuit.”

  He shrugged, moving from her hands to her bare feet and seeing her bloodied toe. “They are frequent enough,” he said, lifting her bloodied, dirty foot onto his thigh so he could tend it. “I spoke with your mother, by the way. Did she speak to you?”

  Catherine shook her head at the change in subject. But in the same breath, her heart leapt a little to know that he did what he said he was going to do. “Nay,” she said, sounding eager. “What did she say?”

  Ridge brought out the rag and warm water, carefully cleaning off her toes to see where the damage was. “She said that she would take my request to court you under consideration,” he said evenly. “She also said that there may be other offers, so she did not wish to accept the first one that came along.”

  Catherine stared at him in horror. “She said that to you?”

  “She did.”

  The foot came off his thigh and, suddenly, she was on her feet. “Damn her,” she hissed. “I am going to tell her that she must accept you. She cannot do this to me, not now. I will not let her.”

  He grabbed her before she could get away, his big hands closing around hers. “Nay, my lady,” he said softly. “Sit back down. Nothing will be accomplished tonight if you go storming over to her.”

  Catherine resisted. “But you do not understand, Ridge,” she said. “She has spent half of her life controlling me and the other half ignoring me. My mother does not want to see me happy. She only wants to see herself rich and with an elevated social status, courtesy of her daughter. She doesn’t care about me in the least. She’s hoping that some earl or titled lord will make an offer. A mere knight isn’t good enough!”

  “There’s time yet to prove to her that I am,” he murmured, tugging her back down to the stool. “Come on, sweetheart. Sit back down and let me figure out what you’ve done to your foot. There’s a lot of blood there. Does it hurt?”

  He was trying to distract her and it worked. But it wasn’t talk of bloody feet that did it. It was one solitary word –

  Sweetheart.

  No one had ever called her that, not even her father or brothers.

  “N-Nay,�
�� she stammered, eyeing him. “Not too much. It feels like… what did you call me?”

  He propped her foot back on his thigh. “I do not know. What did I call you?”

  “Sweetheart.”

  A smile tugged at his lips as he looked at her foot. “Ah,” he said. “Well, you are, so I will not apologize for it.”

  Catherine looked at him, astonished, as he went about cleaning up her toes again. “You do not have to,” she said. “It’s only that no one has ever called me that.”

  “That is because only I was meant to call you that.”

  A smile spread across her lips as she looked at his lowered head. “And so you shall,” she said. “I will not let anyone call me that name, ever.”

  His lips twitched with a smile as he worked. “Thank you, my lady.”

  For a moment, they smiled at one another and the situation between them deepened. Only a few hours earlier, they had just met, but the time they had shared had showed them character and humor and dreams. Ridge had said things to her he’d hardly said to others, or at least not without knowing them much better. But as he’d told her, she had changed something in him the moment they met.

  It was a good change.

  Refocused on her toes, he could see that she’d broken a toenail and that was where all of the blood was coming from. He removed the broken nail quickly, a flash of pain and nothing more, and then soaked it in the warm water and witch hazel, cleaning it up and wrapping up the toe so it would heal. He also washed her other foot so that both of her feet were clean. He didn’t like seeing her barefoot and dirty. He wanted to see her warm, happy, and content as long as he could provide that for her.

  Already, he wanted to do things for her.

  But the fact remained that he really couldn’t do more than he already had, at least at the moment. Perhaps she’d given her permission for him to court her, and so had Charles, but their mother was another matter and the ultimate word would have to come directly from her. Finished with her toe, he looked up at her.

  “There,” he said. “You will heal.”

  She smiled faintly. “You did not have to wash my feet.”

  He averted his gaze. “It was no trouble.”

  “It was very sweet.”

  He smiled weakly, still unwilling to look at her. “That is not usually a term that is used when referring to me,” he said. “Now, I must take you back to your encampment before your brothers come looking for you.”

  Catherine watched him, thinking he looked rather humbled and embarrassed by what he’d done. But it had been very sweet and quite endearing.

  “I know,” she said after a moment. “But it was good to spend these few minutes with you. And poor Odin.”

  Ridge chuckled, looking over at his dog, who had gone back to sleep when the tiny terrors settled down against him. The three dogs lay there, snoring happily in front of the brazier.

  “They look content, don’t they?” he said.

  Catherine nodded. “They do,” she said. “I hate to wake them.”

  “Then don’t,” he said, looking at her. “Leave them. I will bring them to you in the morning.”

  She cocked her head. “You are not afraid that they might take your hand off?”

  “If they do, then I shall punish you severely.”

  She giggled. “How awful,” she said sarcastically. “Whatever shall you do?”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow at her humorous sass. “I do not know yet,” he said. “Something terrible.”

  “How terrible?”

  “So terrible that I cannot speak of it.”

  That only made her laugh more. With a grin on his face, Ridge stood up and went in search of his boots. He found them over by his bed and, pulling them on, went back over to Catherine as she still sat upon the stool. Bending over, he scooped her into his enormous arms.

  “Come along, my lady,” he said quietly. “Let me take you home.”

  Arms around his neck, Catherine simply smiled at him. Being held by him was perhaps one of the more memorable moments in her life. He was strong and warm, and without all of the mail and plate he usually wore, but even so, he was broad and big and powerful. There was nothing about the man that didn’t make her feel giddy all over when she looked at him, made worse when she touched him.

  There were no words between them as Ridge carried her back through the dark cluster of trees, heading towards the de Tuberville encampment. Feeling comfortable and warm and content, Catherine dared to lay her head on his big shoulder as he carried her, thinking there was nothing more heavenly on the earth than being in the man’s arms. She was attracted to him the moment she met him, but now she was feeling more than that. Giddiness had turned into something deeper and more meaningful.

  She could have stayed this way for the rest of her life and been perfectly happy about it.

  But their time together had to end, unfortunately, and Ridge slowed his pace as he came towards the end of the trees. He didn’t want the moment to end, either. They emerged from the trees and he took her right to the edge of her encampment before carefully setting her on her feet.

  “There you are,” he said. “Go back inside now. I will see you in the morning.”

  Catherine pulled her robe tightly around her to ward off the night’s chill as she gazed up at him, a smile of warmth and appreciation on her face.

  “You will, indeed,” she said. “Thank you for everything, Ridge. If I do not have the opportunity to speak with you before you compete, then I wish you the very best of luck. I shall be cheering for you.”

  He returned her smile. “It will fortify me to know that,” he said. Then, he pointed to her tent, tucked into the center of their little encampment. “Go, now. Your feet are bare. It would not do for you to catch your death of cold on the eve of my great victory.”

  She laughed, covering her mouth to stifle the noise, but she did as she was told. Quickly, she scurried off, disappearing into her tent. Ridge didn’t leave until he saw her go inside and, even then, he lingered just a few moments longer.

  He didn’t want to leave her at all.

  But he knew he had to.

  Turning for the trees, he saw a figure coming around one of the tents, heading right for him. Even in the darkness, he could see that it was Charles. Ridge could see the suspicion on his face as he came into the faint torchlight and before he even said a word, Ridge quickly held up his hands in surrender.

  “The dogs ran off,” he explained. “They came straight to my camp. Your sister went to look for them and found them with me. She hurt herself in her search and I cleaned up the cut on her lip and her bloodied toe because she had no shoes, and that is why you saw me carrying her. I swear this upon my oath, Charles. Nothing questionable happened.”

  Charles’ gaze lingered on him a moment before nodding. “I believe you,” he said. “But some of the soldiers saw you carrying her. They woke me when they saw you come from the trees.”

  Ridge shook his head. “I am sorry,” he said. “I know it looks bad, but I could not let her return alone and shoeless. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Exactly what you did,” Charles said. “Thank you for bringing her back.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “Where are the dogs?”

  Ridge sighed heavily, a smile on his lips. “Sleeping with my dog,” he said. “It’s completely ridiculous, but I think they like him. I told Catherine that I would bring them back over in the morning.”

  “Do not trouble yourself. I’ll come and get them.”

  Ridge almost argued with him but thought better of it. He needed Charles as an ally, so he didn’t want to annoy the man by taking liberties that he shouldn’t. He’d already taken a chance being seen carrying Catherine around in the dead of night, so he simply nodded.

  “As you wish,” he said. “Come and get them before dawn. Before they grow hungry and try to eat me.”

  Charles snorted. “I will.”

  There wasn’t much more to
say after that, so Ridge silently bid the man farewell and headed back through the trees, heading back towards his tent. He would have lamented the fact that he would be cold and lonely, but neither was the case. The brazier kept things quite warm and there were three lazy dogs sleeping next to it. He wasn’t alone in the least. In fact, it was the doggy snoring that nearly kept him up all night.

  Before he realized it, it was just before dawn and Charles had come for his sister’s dogs.

  They barked at Charles as if they had never seen him before in their lives.

  CHAPTER NINE

  From the mist the night before to a brilliant and clear morning, it was a perfect day for the commencement of the Durham tournament.

  The moment had arrived.

  Spectators were moving towards the tournament field as the mass competition was being prepared. Banners of the different competitors were snapping in the breeze as the stands and the standing-only area filled up with enthusiastic spectators. Children crowded the rails, watching the competitors filter out onto the field, giving their names to the field marshals and being told which side of the field to stand on.

  The excitement was palpable.

  Catherine was clad in a dark blue gown, nearly the same shade of blue that Ridge had on his standards. The dress was made from silk damask and lined at the neckline and sleeves with white rabbit fur. It clung to her figure, draping gracefully to her feet, and the sleeves were long and belled at the wrists. Around her neck she wore a gold chain with a pearl cross and her hair hung unbound, like a golden waterfall down her back. On the crown of her head, she wore a golden pearl-lined cap. Her mother had the dress specially made to attract a wealthy husband and it was absolutely spectacular.

  Catherine had dressed carefully around dawn, hoping to see Ridge when he brought back her dogs, but Charles had gone to fetch them so she never had a chance to see the man. However, when they made their procession to the tournament field, she caught a glimpse of Ridge and his knights on horseback, entering from the southern gate, and such a roar arose from the crowd when he made an appearance that one would have thought the king himself had arrived.