Free The Warrior's Wife by Denise Domning Page A

with Lord Haydon.
    “Move,” she commanded.
    “I won’t,” Rafe replied, sounding determined indeed.
    If he wouldn’t move, she would. Kate whirled to the right. Since running would only alert those watching that something was amiss, she strode as fast from him as she dared.
    He followed, easily keeping pace. With each step he took he veered a little more toward her, subtly and surely driving her farther from the edge of the woods.
    With an impatient breath, she stopped to glare at him. “What are you doing?”
    He grinned in the patronizing way that folk save for idiots and young children. “What every line of your body and face begs of me. I’m stopping you from meeting in private with your father’s steward.”
    Kate froze, shock and guilt like living things within her. She stared up at Rafe. Certainty glinted in his dark eyes and the casual bend of his lips. He knew about her meeting with Warin. A wave of confusion followed. How could he possibly know anything? Only she and Warin knew.
    “What are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice thready.
    “I’m talking about you and Sir Warin de Dapifer,” Rafe replied, his tone that of a tutor to a slow-witted student. “I thought I should warn you. No matter what you think he wants or what he may have told you, it’s a tryst he expects from you.”
    “A tryst?” she gasped, once again awash in shock.
    This morning’s misgivings over Warin’s intentions stirred. God help her, but she’d known better from the start. Then, even as a part of her sighed in relief and gave thanks to Rafe for stopping her, the guilty need to shield her reputation from wrongdoing woke.
    “You’re wrong,” she protested, her voice squeaking a little against the lie.
    “I think not,” Rafe replied, his tone conversational, as if it were the weather they discussed and not the blackening of her repute. “But then, neither do you. It’s written all over your face. Never has there been a woman so unhappy at the prospect of meeting a man than you.”
    Another wave of shock hit Kate, this one filled with Lady Adele’s strident warnings about straying from propriety’s path. Oh Lord, if Rafe had noticed that much, had anyone else? God help her! It didn’t matter that her meeting with Warin hadn’t yet taken place. All it took for her reputation to be ruined was for others to believe her capable of such misbehavior.
    Hiding her worry by crossing her arms, Kate glanced around her. Lady Haydon and the aged countess sat on a nearby blanket but a few yards distant. The bride’s mother watched them from beneath the wide brim of her straw hat. Her brows were high upon her forehead, her expression alive with concern.
    “Lady de Fraisney, is all well?” Lady Haydon called as their gazes met.
    Before Kate could answer the dowager countess beside their hostess threw off her own hat, baring her thinning hair to the sun’s light. The old woman eyed the two members of the shire’s feuding families then let loose a lewd chuckle and looked at her companion.
    “What trouble could there be, Beatrice, a handsome lad and a pretty lass like that? ‘Tis naught but courtship games they play. Leave them be,” she continued, laying her wrinkled hand on Lady Haydon’s green sleeve. “Too bad they can’t succeed. Think of the peace this shire might have if they were to unite their warring families.”
    Lady Haydon yet looked dubious. Despite the countess’s confidence the old noblewoman’s escort came to their feet, their expressions guarded. They’d come to Kate’s aid if she asked for it.
    Aye, but to ask for their help was like unto begging Rafe to spew his accusation of trysting for all to hear. Rafe was her father’s enemy. It wouldn’t trouble him that what he said ruined Kate’s life.
    With that new understanding, Kate’s concern for her reputation fell before new cynicism. Her eyes narrowed. Rafe knew nothing about Warin. Only happenstance and misfortune made his guess