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

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  They were fighting.

  Not really fighting, but definitely wrestling for the same toy to play with. Catherine had been watching Bando, Iris, and Odin play tug-of-war with the same glove for the past half-hour.

  She didn’t even know where the glove came from, only that Odin suddenly appeared with it and Bando and Iris wanted it. The great battle ensued after that, but she didn’t break it up. They were simply tugging on it and not actually fighting, but more than that, it gave them something to do. Keeping Bando and Iris busy was like trying to entertain children sometimes, so if letting them tug on a glove kept them busy, then she was willing to let it go on.

  She was still in Ridge’s tent, still where he’d left her. She had awoken to his smiling face that morning as he tickled her cheek until she opened her eyes. It had been sunrise and he woke her to tell her that he was heading over to see when he competed for the day. She smiled, yawned, and let him go.

  But waking up to his face made it the best morning she’d ever had.

  As she rose, she could see that someone, presumably Ridge, had already brought some food in for the dogs, and Bando and Iris stuffed themselves on cold beef from the night before. Someone had also brought in some food for her, cheese and cold beef and watered ale to wash it down with. Wearily, and stiff from sleeping on the ground, she stood up from her bed and sat in the chair to eat her meal while the dogs ate beside her. That was when Payne and Tavis entered the tent while Osbert patrolled outside, making sure there were no attempts by de Luzie to get to the lady.

  Ridge had made them all aware of the situation.

  Payne and Tavis didn’t seem to be much into conversation. Catherine had tried, twice, but they didn’t give more than a two-word answer and a polite smile, so she stopped trying. Something told her that they were trying not to be too friendly with the lady Ridge was fond of for fear of his wrath, so she stopped trying to have a conversation with them and went about remaking the bare bed that Ridge had slept on.

  Truthfully, there wasn’t much for her to do, so once she’d finished with the bed, which took her far longer than normal, she pretended to organize the satchel she’d brought. When she finished with that, she simply sat upon the bed to wait for Ridge’s return. The dogs had finished eating by that time and that was when Odin found the leather glove that the three of them were now tugging on.

  And that was how Ridge found her.

  “Well?” Payne said as Ridge entered the tent. “When do we all complete?”

  Ridge tore his gaze from Catherine just long enough to glance at the man. “You go early,” he said. “Fourth bout, so you’d better get everything prepared. Tavis, you are the seventh bout this morning.”

  “And Osbert?” Payne asked.

  “He goes first in the afternoon,” Ridge said. “I compete last.”

  “Against?”

  “Arthur St. Marr.”

  Both Payne and Tavis grinned. “He’ll be excellent competition,” Payne said.

  “Indeed, he will,” Ridge said. “Thank you for staying with the lady, but you may go now. And have Walter and Oswyn prepare my things. We are going to head over to the staging area shortly.”

  Payne and Tavis headed out swiftly, leaving Ridge alone with Catherine and three dogs, still pulling at the glove. When he noticed, he pointed accusingly.

  “Where did they get that?” he asked.

  Catherine shook her head. “I do not know,” she said. “Odin found it, somewhere. I was letting them tug at it because it kept them from trying to chew on anything else. Did I do wrong?”

  Ridge shook his head at the silly dogs. “Nay,” he sighed. “It is an old glove. I have no idea where Odin found it, but I don’t think they can do much damage to it.”

  “I am glad.”

  His gaze lingered on her for a moment, studying her as the morning light streamed through the tent opening. He swore the woman grew more beautiful by the hour.

  “Now,” he said. “Let’s talk about you. Did Payne and Tavis make good companions?”

  She fought off a smile. “They hardly said a word, Ridge,” she said. “I think they are afraid to speak to me.”

  “Excellent,” he said firmly. “Then I will not have to worry about beating them back if they become too friendly.”

  She began to laugh. “I think that is what they are afraid of.”

  “As well they should be,” he said, trying not to smile. Then he pointed to what she was wearing. “Why are you still in your robe?”

  Her laughter faded. “I only brought something to sleep in,” she said. “I would very much like to bathe and dress in a clean garment before we go to the field. May I return to my encampment now?”

  He shrugged. “I do not see why not,” he said. “I saw Charles. He said your mother is leaving this morning.”

  Her smile vanished completely. “Then I will return once she leaves,” she said. “I do not want to chance seeing her again.”

  “Would you like me to go and get your things?”

  “Am I going to sleep here tonight, too?”

  Ridge wasn’t sure. If de Luzie was incapacitated or killed, then she probably wouldn’t. But if he wasn’t…

  “I am not certain,” he said. “Can you dress here if I fetch your clothing?”

  She nodded. “Of course,” she said. “But I have an entire trunk that has my things and…”

  He held up a hand. “Say no more,” he said. “I will retrieve it and I will find you something to bathe in. Try to keep those dogs from tearing my glove, and each other, apart. I will return.”

  She smiled at him and he winked as he quit the tent, heading out with a purpose.

  Strange, he thought.

  Today was a competition day, the joust, something that was difficult and deadly, requiring a great deal of focus and skill, yet here he was, running between camps, collecting ladies’ apparel of all things. He ordered a couple of his soldiers to track down something for the lady to bathe in as he headed over to the de Tuberville encampment to collect her trunk.

  And he’d never been happier.

  The day was brighter than usual, wasn’t it? And weren’t the birds chirping more happily? Everything seemed brighter to him as he passed through the trees, heading for the yellow de Tuberville tents. Up ahead, he could see several soldiers and an enormous carriage. He could also see Charles and Geoffrey moving around the carriage and soldiers loading in trunks.

  At that point, he paused. He knew they were loading up their mother and, as he watched, she emerged from one of the tents, dressed for travel. Charles didn’t say a word to her, but Geoffrey took her arm and helped her into the carriage. As Ridge lingered back in the trees, the door to the cab was shut and Charles gave the order for the carriage to pull out. It did, with four soldiers as escort. Ridge waited until the carriage was well away before finally emerging from the trees.

  Charles had disappeared, but Geoffrey was there and he directed Ridge to Catherine’s tent. Ridge collected the enormous chest, slinging it across his broad shoulders and telling Geoffrey that he would see them at the field for the morning rounds. If Geoffrey thought there was anything strange about having Ridge take care of his sister as if the woman belonged to him, he didn’t say so. He simply let Ridge take Catherine’s possessions to her because he, as well as his brothers, had a coming bout to prepare for. With Blythe heading home and Catherine being looked after, the situation was easing somewhat.

  They could all breathe a little.

  At least, that was the hope.

  They would soon find out otherwise.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Silly Gilly Tavern

  Durham

  “They believe I have gone home,” Blythe said. “But I came here instead and sent word to you. I realize you and your men are competing today, so thank you for coming at such short notice. It is important that I speak with you.”

  Renard found himself facing Lady Blythe in the common room of a tavern that
was geared towards more upscale clientele. He’d received a note from Lady Blythe, delivered to him by a stable boy from The Silly Gilly, asking him to come to the tavern to speak with her. Curious, he did.

  “The first bout is not long off,” he said. “I cannot stay, but I am curious to find out why you are here. This had better be worth my time.”

  “It will be.”

  “I’ve had to put up with being battered by your sons as well as de Reyne and I am in no good humor, so be quick about it.” He paused, eyeing her. “I seem to remember your sons shouting at you last night and telling you that they were sending you home.”

  “They did.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  Blythe shrugged. “I did leave,” she said. “They told me to leave and I did leave the encampment. But instead of going home, I came here instead.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Because you and I must speak.”

  “I am listening.”

  Blythe, her crisp wimple pulling at her wrinkled face, sat forward. Her dark eyes were intense.

  “I will come right to the point,” she said. “You want to court my daughter and I want you to court her. However, when I gave you permission to wait for her in her tent, I did not give you permission to attack her. What happened?”

  Renard leaned back in his seat, hearing it creak under his weight. He looked around the common room, which was about half-full of travelers at this time in the morning. It was cold and smelled of urine and old ale even if it did cater to more upscale customers. In this case, a better clientele only meant higher prices for food and drink. But the smell, the ambiance, was still the same.

  His gaze returned to Blythe.

  “I only meant to put my arms around her but she thought I was attacking her and panicked,” he said after a moment. “I know I should not have touched her, but I could not help myself. She is a beautiful woman.”

  Blythe waved him off. Surely the son of a count wasn’t capable of what her sons said he was capable of. Even if it was true, the title and riches would be worth the price. To her, anyway.

  She wanted to get her hands on the de Luzie wealth, more than ever.

  No matter what her sons said.

  “Then listen to me,” she said. “You must figure out a way to take my daughter away from my sons and that knight they want for her. De Reyne. I do not want him for her.”

  Renard cocked a droll eyebrow. “Gladly,” he said. “Is there anything else you want me to do? Steal an angel from heaven, mayhap? Because taking your daughter away from your sons and de Reyne will be just as difficult.”

  He was agitated by the time he was finished, but Blythe remained cool. “Do it and we shall take her to Durham Cathedral where I will give you permission to marry her immediately.”

  Renard’s eyebrows flew up. “What?” he hissed. “Are you in earnest, Madam?”

  “I am,” she said. “As her mother, permission is mine to give. The priests will not deny you. Sir Renard, you want to marry my daughter, do you not? What my sons told you was a lie, you know. She has a dowry and a good one. They only lied to throw you off her scent. She will make an excellent wife.”

  Renard snorted rudely. “She will make an unhappy one, that is certain,” he said. “But that is of little concern to me. A wife with a good dowry suits me well. And let us be blunt, Lady Thornewaite. I am not so blind as to not realize why you want me for your daughter.”

  “I do not know what you mean.”

  “Your ambition is showing,” he said knowingly. “You will have a count as your daughter’s father-in-law and a familial link to the de Luzie family. That is not something Ridge de Reyne can bring you… is it?”

  Blythe wasn’t blind, either. She had heard her sons talking about Ridge, about Renard, and she knew there was bad blood between them. There were perhaps richer women at the tournament, but Renard had been singularly focused on her daughter.

  She was fairly certain she knew why.

  “And marrying my daughter will help you seek vengeance against de Reyne, will it not?” she said. “I am not oblivious to the truth. I know there is animosity between the two of you. That is clear. You want to marry my daughter to keep her away from de Reyne.”

  Renard looked at her for a moment before smiling slyly. “We all want different things in life, Madam,” he said. “Just so we are clear.”

  “We are.”

  The understanding was established. In that moment, they both comprehended the other’s motives and, in both cases, they didn’t seem to care. As long as they got what they wanted, that was all that mattered.

  And Renard was filled with a new sense of hope.

  “Then you remain here,” he said. “I will do my best to get your daughter away from your sons and de Reyne, but you know that they are watching her closely. It will not be a simple thing.”

  “I have every faith in you,” she said. “But do not injure my sons in your attempt. De Reyne, however… how you deal with him is up to you.”

  Renard really did have to leave because the joust was in full swing and he was due to compete later that day. But he felt as if he’d just had a most productive encounter with Lady Thornewaite. She wanted something… and so did he.

  The woman was a kindred spirit of ambition and greed.

  Now, he had a wife to abduct.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dressed in a blood red silk dress with gold embroidery around the neck and on the wrists of the long sleeves, Catherine looked absolutely stunning for the start of the joust.

  And Ridge had never been prouder in his life.

  Since he wasn’t competing until the end of the day, he had the pleasure of escorting her over to the tournament field as a wildfire of whispers began to spread about The Black Storm and the lady on his arm. Everyone wanted to know about the lady – who she was, where she came from – and it became known that she was a sister to the de Tuberville brothers who were competing in the tournament.

  The gossip was flying hard and fast.

  But Ridge didn’t care. He never cared about gossip, although Tavis and Osbert made sure to tell him of anything they heard, so he was kept updated whether or not he wanted to be. The pair of them gossiped like fishwives. But in this case, he was glad there were rumors about him and Catherine. He was quite proud to know he had the attention and affection of that exquisite woman with the delightful lisp. This morning, she looked like a goddess and he knew he was the envy of every man at the tournament.

  But not the women.

  It all started on their walk over to the tournament field. He had Catherine on his arm, leading the group of his men, squires, soldiers, and horses. It was quite a procession, but part of the allure of the tournaments was the display of pageantry – the colors, the fine horses, the men in armor, and the ladies in beautiful clothing. The parade from the encampment to the staging area was a tradition. He’d always had the horses and men to show off, but the lady in beautiful clothing had been lacking.

  No more.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t sit well with the women who had come to the tournament specifically to see him compete. The earl’s daughter, Olive de Grimsby, was sitting in the stands with her father, kerchief to her nose as she watched Ridge’s party arrive. When her father said something to her, she slapped the man on the arm and started weeping. Other women in the stands were looking at Ridge with such dejection that it was comical. When the entire stands should have been lit up with screaming women because The Black Storm had made an appearance, all they could do was look at Catherine with loathing and remain silent.

  But that silence didn’t pertain to the commoners who crowded the standing-only section. They saw Ridge and began cheering loudly. Ridge and his men took up position near the entrance to the field, a strategic position so they could watch everyone coming and going.

  Once they arrived, the men began to prepare.

  Stands were set up, the ones that held the lances. Horses were turned away
from the field, with feedbags, positioned so they wouldn’t be startled or excited by men and horses coming in and out of the field. Ridge put Catherine near the stand where they were setting up the lances simply to move her out of the way of his men while they rushed around and prepared.

  “Why are the lances different sizes?” she asked, pointing to the lances that were being positioned in the frame.

  Ridge picked one up. “Because they graduate in sizes as the joust goes along,” he said. “The smaller ones are used earlier, the larger ones later.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the larger ones don’t break as easily and by the time you’re on your fourth pass, you want to knock your opponent off his horse and win the bout.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you for explaining,” she said. “This is my very first joust. It all seems quite exciting.”

  He returned her smile. “It is,” he said. “But I must prepare and help my men prepare, so may I beg your leave, my lady?”

  “Of course,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “I am quite happy to stand here and watch it all. Please don’t worry about me.”

  He winked at her, patted her hand, and went off in preparation for the games to come. Catherine stood back and watched, listening to their chatter. She gathered that Payne was the first in their group to compete that morning, with Ridge being the last in the afternoon. As she watched them inspect the lances and the tip, which was called a coronal. It could be all shapes and sizes but, in this case, it was a big metal claw. Some of them were longer, others shorter, but she didn’t ask more questions. She was happy observing.

  Happy to be part of whatever Ridge was part of.

  Off to her right, Catherine saw her brothers entering the staging area and she left Ridge’s group to go to them. George saw her coming and ran at her, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder as she yelped and beat on him. George liked to roughhouse, even with his sister, and Ridge’s head snapped up from what he was doing when he heard the screams, preparing to kill until he saw that it was George causing the ruckus. That made him chuckle, even more so when he watched Catherine smack her brother on the side of the head when he set her down. She was always telling Ridge that he had permission to beat down George and now he could see why.