Kenneth gave him a disbelieving look before turning away and returning the way he had come. Meanwhile, Mathias went after Cathlina.
The morning dew was still heavy in the grass as he tramped through it. Cathlina still had her head down and her pace had slowed, and as Mathias drew closer he could see that her hands were at her face. She was moving them around. Eventually, she lowered her hands and he could see a white kerchief clutched in the fingers of her left hand. He came up behind her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Cathlina?” he said softly.
She jumped and whirled to face him. Her eyes were red and watery and her pert little nose was red from crying. Seeing Mathias behind her, Cathlina tried to move away from him quickly but the heavy grass made it difficult.
“I do not need your assistance,” she assured him. “I do not need the basket, either. You can keep it.”
“Cathlina, stop,” he begged softly, reaching out to gently grasp her. “Please let me explain what you heard.”
She shook her head, her kerchief at her nose. “There is no need to explain,” she said. “I heard what Cousin Tate said. You are a knight pretending to be a smithy.”
“I am not pretending to be anything. I am what you see.”
She disputed him with a sharp wave of the hand. “But… but you know my cousin, the Earl of Carlisle,” she said, sniffling into her wadded kerchief. “He said you were a great knight. What in the world are you doing posing as a smithy and fooling people into thinking you are a simple man?”
“Is that what you think? That I was trying to fool you?”
She shrugged, blowing her nose. “It does not matter to me who you are.”
“Then why are you weeping?”
She came to a halt and scowled at him. “I am not weeping for you if that is what you think.”
He fought off a grin. “I had hoped that you were.”
Her scowl turned to curiosity. “You do? Why?”
He removed his hand from her elbow now that he was sure she wasn’t going to run off. He could see that he had her attention. Feigning shyness, he looked away.
“Because I have rather enjoyed coming to know you,” he said, trying to get a look at her from the corner of his eye to gauge how she was reacting. “I was very much looking forward to seeing you today.”
Cathlina’s tears were almost completely forgotten. “Youwere?”
“I was.”
Cathlina was seemingly at a loss. It was evident that she wanted to say something to him but perhaps propriety waspreventing her from speaking her mind. The tears had been replaced by a rather warm glimmer. The fact that he seemed to be attracted to her outweighed her confusion at the moment. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like running from him anymore.
“I am not sure what to say to all of that,” she said softly, “but I suppose I could tell you that I was looking forward to seeing you, too. I have been looking forward to seeing you again since I met you. Coming to your stall in search of my basket was merely an excuse.”
He looked at her, a smile on his full lips. “I had hoped that it was,” he said, his voice deep and gentle. “In fact, I was trying to think of another excuse after the basket had been used up. Surely there was something else you could retrieve from me, or mayhap you would leave your kerchief behind so that I could return it to you.”
Cathlina’s chest was swelling with hope. In fact, it was becoming difficult to breathe as she gazed into his dark green eyes. But as she bathed in the joy of the knowledge that he was evidently feeling the same allure she was, the weight of Mathias’ conversation with Tate was pressing upon her. Her expression grew serious.
“Why were you pretending to be a smithy, Mathias?” she asked softly. “I do not understand half of what Cousin Tate was saying, but am I to understand you are an outlaw?”
Mathias shook his head, thankful that she was at least receptive to hearing his story. He chose his words carefully.
“I am not an outlaw,” he said quietly. “In order to explain myself, it is easier to start from the beginning. Do you remember when we spoke of my mother and I mentioned that she had died a few years ago?”
“I do.”
“She was an older sister to Roger Mortimer’s wife, Joan,” he went on. “My mother was close to her sister and as shelay very ill, she made me promise that I would always support Joan’s husband no matter what. Unwilling to disappoint her, I agreed. Therefore, when Mortimer and Isabella took the throne from young Edward, I fought with Mortimer and when he was ultimately captured and killed for his treachery, I was stripped of my titles and lands for my participation.”
The second time around, and with Mathias’ clear and gentle explanation, she was able to grasp the scenario better. It was still overwhelming information but somehow, she was quickly coming to accept it. In fact, it made a good deal of sense. Mathias was a very big and very muscular man, and didn’t look like any smithy she had ever seen. There was something clean and powerful about him, like a god in the midst of a sea of pagans. Now, it was all starting to make sense.
“So you served Mortimer?” she asked.
