Free My Lady Imposter by Sara Bennett - My Lady Imposter Page A

dressed, gingerly, but without further complaint. Wenna’s serving girl dressed her hair and helped her with her cloak. The girl had not yet shown any kindness to Kathryn and, by the look of her thin mouth, never would. She would find no friends in Wenna’s camp.
    The horses were waiting when the women made their way outside into the cloudy morning. Her own mare was standing docilely enough, but she approached it warily and it was only as she actually put her hand out that her heart failed her. She began to turn, ready to concede defeat, but never had a chance to utter the words.
    Richard was behind her and, as she turned, offered his joined fingers for her slippered foot.
    She hesitated, and he said wryly, “The pain will fade in a mile or two. You may not think it now, but it will.”
    “Pain?” she demanded haughtily. “What pain? I was merely wondering if I had left anything behind.”
    “My pardon,” he murmured, and yet his eyes mocked her. She gave him her foot with ill humor, and he tossed her lightly into the saddle, tucking her skirts about her, while she glared over his head. She nodded curtly as he stepped back, as though he were some lackey rather than a knight.
    “You learn quickly,” he said, suddenly cool. “You begin to sound like as highborn a bitch as the women at court.”
    “Richard!” Ralf was calling, controlling his jibbing mount with an easy touch. “Come here, man.”
    He turned and was gone. Like, Kathryn thought sarcastically, a falcon to its master’s hand. She sat alone, gazing about her at the bustling horses and men, his cold words still ringing in her ears.
    The aches in her body did grow less painful after a time, but every jolt was still a small death, and she told herself over and over again that, after this journey, she never wished to set eyes on another horse, let alone sit on one.
    The countryside was growing more hilly now. They stopped again at Winchester, where Ralf had a house, and she looked in wonder upon the fine churches and holy men who congregated. Wenna kept a close watch on her, and she was confined to prayer after supper, while the men went out to make merry.
    “Men must take their pleasure,” Wenna said coldly, in answer to Kathryn’s complaint. “We may not question nor deny them.”
    “And cannot they take their pleasure at home?”
    Wenna laughed derisively, but there was also bitterness in her voice. “At home, girl? Home is a duty, not a pleasure, for most men.”
    Outside, the yard was quiet now, apart from the occasional snort of a horse. Kathryn was asleep when the shouting and the laughter came, muted through the muffled strains of a bawdy song, rising intermittently above the jingle of swords and harness. She heard footsteps in the room next to hers, where Wenna slept, and Ralf’s rumbling voice, and sat up, wide-eyed, staring about her in the darkness.
    Were they being attacked? The stone floor was cold on her bare feet as she crept to the door and peeped out. Downstairs, in the hall, candlelight flickered, throwing shadows on the stairwell. A man, climbing them, fell and there was a howl of laughter. A girl’s voice was scolding, while another giggled coquettishly.
    Kathryn’s mouth dropped. So these were their pleasures! To come home drunk and foolish, with loose women! She returned to her bed in disgust. There was little difference after all between the peasants and the nobility. Why had she ever thought them so high above her?
     

     
    They left Winchester the next morning, with the sun high up. The men were pale faced, with bleary eyes and aching heads. Ralf scowled at her, and growled out orders. Richard climbed carefully upon his mount, and stared ahead of him with an overly straight back. Kathryn watched them with amused disgust.
    They stopped at a hospice the following night, and set out much earlier. The countryside was much more wooded now, and the clouds of the morning grew heavier, threatening them with rain in the sultry,