Page 62 of By the Sword
‘This I take it is the incomparable Mistress Ashley, of whom I only hear high praise,’ Jonathan’s companion interposed.
Jonathan looked around and inclined his head.
‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘Mistress Katherine Ashley, Giles, Lord Longley.’
Kate curtsied and Giles inclined his head but his eyes were only for his wife who had hung back while Kate greeted the riders.
‘Is that you, Nell?’ Giles pushed his hat back. ‘Here I was thinking that there was a pretty maid and damn me she turns out to be my wife.’
He dismounted easily from his horse and took Nell in his arms, kissing her with a passion that drew whoops and cheers from the onlookers. There could be no such reunion between Kate and Jonathan. They would have to wait for the privacy of the house.
Jacob Howell, arriving late on the scene from the other fields, greeted Jonathan warmly. Barely raising his quiet voice, he ordered everyone back to work. The reapers turned and trailed back to the fields with dragging feet, whispering among themselves.
Jonathan looked down at Kate. ‘I must see to my men.’
She nodded. They both had duties to be seen to before there would be time for them.
Jonathan turned his horse, cantering back to his men. Giles followed on foot, the reins of his horse looped around one arm and his other arm around his wife.
Kate turned to Jacob Howell.
‘Jacob, see this field is finished, and then everyone can take a break,’ Kate said. ‘I must return to the house and see there are supplies for Sir Jonathan and his men.’
He nodded. ‘Of course, Mistress Ashley,’ he replied.
Kate walked slowly back to the house, composing herself and rehearsing the words she longed to say to the man she loved…her secret lover.
Jonathan’s troopers had dismounted and were leading their horses toward Long Barn. Any impression of military might proved to be an illusion. To a man, the troopers looked tired and dirty. They wore an assortment of uniforms, carried some decidedly antique weapons and rode every description of nag. They were, as she had observed, a raggle-taggle collection.
In the kitchen, Kate paused to discuss dinner for the family with the cook. Tonight, she decided, they would kill the fatted calf. The prodigals had returned.
Upstairs there was no sign of Nell and Giles and she assumed they had withdrawn to Nell’s apartment for some privacy. However, she found Jonathan in the parlour, seated in one of the large, well-cushioned oak chairs, a draught of ale in his hand provided by the faithful Joseph, who hovered at the door with a smile on his face. Tom sat on a stool at Jonathan’s feet, hanging on every word as Jonathan recounted the long march south from Scotland.
He broke off and looked up at her entrance.
‘Go on,’ she said
Kate leaned against the wall by the door and listened. For now, she was content just to observe, take in every detail of his face, still dusty from the road. Her turn would come.
‘So where is the King now?’ Tom asked.
‘Ten miles away, no more. He expects to enter Worcester tomorrow,’ Jonathan said casually as if such an occurrence was commonplace.
‘Will there be a battle?’ Tom asked.
‘Yes,’ Jonathan said, ‘there will be a battle, Tom.’
‘Will you win?’ The boy’s eyes shone in anticipation.
Only Kate, knowing Jonathan so well, detected the momentary hesitation before he replied with a smile, ‘God willing, Tom.’
He placed the empty mug down on the table and rose to his feet. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, Tom. I have some business to discuss with your mother before we all gather for supper.’
He took Kate by the arm and guided her out of the room, across the hall to the study where he shut the door, locking it behind him. His face gave away nothing but his eyes were bright with suppressed laughter.
Kate stood in the middle of the room and crossed her arms. ‘And what business, pray, do you have to discuss with me that requires the door to be locked?’
‘This business.’
