The Raven's Revenge by Gina Black

hear he was just returning from exile. The wars had sent many English families abroad.
    “Do you have no relations here? No brothers or sisters?”
    “I have a sister. I lived with her in France. She is much older and not over fond of me. I found her company,” he paused, and ran a hand through his hair. “I found it confining. I had wanderlust in my eyes, and was not accustomed to being told what to do. We argued. I did not stay with her long.”
    Katherine nodded, repressing a yawn.
    “I see ’tis time for you to be abed. We have much traveling to do on the morrow. We will aim for Winchester, staying on the back roads as we did today. We shall journey through small market towns and villages so ’twill be harder for Finch and your father to find us.” He tapped a fingertip on the table. “I do not like to plan too much. When outrunning the fox, I have found ’tis best to keep my eyes ahead. That is what we will do.”
    He rose and went to the fire. “Should they chance to come upon this place, I have let it be known to the locals downstairs that we are on our way to Portsmouth—which is not on the way to London, but a likely destination nonetheless. We should be safe for now.”
    Katherine did not feel entirely heartened by this. She always had a plan and was prepared to change it when need be.
    Nicholas poked at the flames. “I shall settle here on the floor.”
    Their eyes met across the short distance. Katherine found it hard to breathe. Like a warm caress, he gazed upon her, reminding her of his strong arms when they held her on the horse, of the feel of them around her when they kissed.
    “Goodnight, Katherine.”
    Dragging in a breath, she turned away and quickly got into bed. She heard him settle before the fire. She could not think he would be comfortable there, even though it would be no worse than the dirt floor he’d slept on in the cottage. It was unlikely she would be comfortable on the lumpy mattress either, even with Montford purring beside her.
    Trying to sleep in the same room as Nicholas unsettled her nerves in the most annoying way. Every breath, every rustle of clothing as he made minor shifts in position, came to her. His very nearness set her heart pounding and her senses on alert.
    Katherine pulled the bed covers over her head and wondered if she’d ever be able to sleep.

    * * *

    He must have fallen asleep. The next thing Nicholas knew, the rain had died down, and the fire was reduced to embers. He heard Katherine’s rhythmic breathing, signaling that she slept.
    Tonight when she’d opened the door, a Katherine unlike any Katherine he’d seen thus far had greeted him. Except for the black dress, this Katherine more resembled a sprite or naiad, with her damp hair trailing down to her waist in gentle waves, and her bare feet peeking out from the bottom of her dress—a dress that fell with her natural silhouette. He could see she’d left off her petticoats and stays. It made her look young and very appealing.
    He’d wanted her for dinner instead of stewed mutton.
    Nicholas rose and lit the lamp. He retrieved the paper, pen, and ink he had procured earlier, and sat at the table. Carefully trimming the end of the quill, he let his fingers run up and down the feather. As he smoothed the strands back together, he thought about his conversation with Katherine.
    Wife.
    He had no use for a wife, nor did he wish one. Were he to pick a wife, it would be someone with fire and wit, not a somber lass like Katherine.
    Yet, it was such a simple and obvious solution. If he married Katherine and got her with a son, the only thing to prevent him from getting back Ashfield would be if Gerald Welles remarried and got himself a son.
    Would the man do that?
    If he did, Nicholas could still pursue his petition with the King. Even though Charles avoided making any decision he could put off, he had restored some estates to their rightful owners.
    Nicholas dipped the pen into the ink. There would be no