True Love by Flora Speer

and neck
when they reached the castle road, and they pounded toward the
drawbridge side by side.
    “Do your best!” Catherine shouted at him. “I
want to win fairly.”
    “So you shall, if you win at all!” he yelled
back at her. He saw the eager, laughing glance she threw in his
direction and he knew he could not pull up and give her the race.
Catherine expected more of him.
    She won by a nose, by a breath, and it was
the most exhilarating finish Braedon could ever recall. In his
years of training and the long years of his knighthood, he had
often raced against other men. Never before this day had he found
losing to be a pleasure. Never before Catherine.
    “I did it!” she cried.
    “So you did,” he responded. “But you knew you
could.”
    They were both laughing as they walked their
horses beside the moat to cool them down before returning to the
stable.
    “Oh, Catherine, I was sure you would be
thrown,” Aldis cried as she and Robert joined them.
    “Your cousin is a courageous woman,” Braedon
said, and rejoiced in the happy look Catherine sent his way.
    “It was generous of you to allow Lady
Catherine to win,” Achard said to Braedon a while later, when they
were in the stable.
    “I allowed nothing,” Braedon said. “She won
fairly.”
    “Of course you allowed it. No woman can ride
faster than a man. But don't worry, I won't reveal your little
secret.”
    It was all Braedon could do to keep himself
from dragging Achard into the bailey and plunging his head into the
horse trough. The cursed man had ruined the pleasure of the race
with his thoughtless accusation.
    It wasn't until Braedon reached his chamber
and was sluicing cold water over his face and shoulders that he
understood there was nothing Achard could do to ruin Catherine's
win because, whatever Achard believed, she had earned it. He stood
with towel in hand, reliving those moments again, seeing in his
mind's eye Catherine's slim figure leaning low against her horse's
neck as she raced down the road, and his heart beat faster with the
excitement of it.
    He pulled on a clean tunic and belted it
before descending to the great hall for the evening meal, and all
the while Catherine's delighted, triumphant laughter echoed in his
ears.

Chapter 5
     
     
    By the time Catherine completed her morning
duties on Monday and descended to the inner bailey, prepared to
join the hunting party her father had arranged to entertain his
guests, most of those guests were already on horseback and riding
out of the castle gates. Aldis was gone, too, for Catherine had
sent her on ahead with several of their lady guests.
    Unfortunately, Achard lingered. Not yet
mounted, he was standing near the groom who held the reins of
Catherine's favorite horse.
    When she saw Achard, Catherine's spirits
sank. She wasn't sure she was going to be able to maintain her
polite facade with him, and certainly not if he continued to treat
her as if she was some bird-witted creature. It was quite enough to
have her father avoid telling her the truth about his activities,
and still more galling to believe that Braedon was manipulating her
feelings. It was entirely too much to have Achard hanging about
with the intention of convincing her to marry him.
    “My sweet lady, the sight of you delights my
eyes,” Achard cried. He rushed forward to grip her arm as though
she was incapable of taking the last few steps to the bailey
without his aid.
    “Good morning, my lord. It was unnecessary
for you to wait for me.” Catherine tried to pull away from Achard,
but he only tightened his grasp on her arm.
    “I will wait until the end of the world if
need be,” he declared. “I beg you, allow me to assist you in
mounting your horse.”
    “That won't be necessary. My groom is used to
mounting me.” Catherine succeeded in wrenching her arm out of
Achard's grip. She saw his mouth tighten and knew he was annoyed by
her refusal. She didn't care. She was in no mood to provide him
with an excuse to