Gayle Callen Read Online Free Page B

“I give you my word of honor I will not harm you.”
    A familiar pain twisted her heart. “A monk’s word does not mean much.”
    He stiffened and slowly got to his feet. Looking down on her from his great height, he said, “Mine does.”
    Katherine felt suddenly small against this monk’s anger, something she thought could be asoverwhelming as his body. When he knelt down in front of her, she pressed back hard against the uneven wall, trembling uncontrollably, tears burning her eyes. Black robes still haunted her dreams, and now they’d come back to torment her waking hours.
    The monk searched her face a moment, then sat back on his heels. “Why do you fear men who have taken God’s vow?”
    Katherine forced herself to look up into his eyes. “Because in my experience, they seldom keep it.”
    He remained close to her, staring at her with dark heavy brows lowered over eyes she still could not believe were true. He seemed perhaps honest, definitely determined, but Katherine could no longer find it in her heart to give away her trust.
    But she knew when to give up the fight. What choice did she have? A woman alone would not last in this dangerous countryside, now that the threat of war inflamed men’s minds. She smoothed the smock over her knees. “You said there was a gown to wear over this? And something about food?”
    He smiled, and it transformed his face. He looked truly happy to be of service. Katherine should be thankful he seemed dedicated to his vows; instead the thought of them made her uneasy. He was large and strong, obviously not bred for the clergy.
    “What is your name?” she finally asked.
    The monk’s dark head lifted as he reached into his sack. “Reynold.”
    “Brother Reynold,” she said.
    He nodded once.
    “Brother Reynold, do you know how to reach Nottingham?”
    “I do, but I am not convinced that you have relatives there.”
    Katherine forgot herself for a moment and smiled at him. “I don’t. But I must arrive there soon. ’Tis either that or wander about on the moors, for I will not tell you where my family lives.”
    Brother Reynold tossed a brown woolen gown onto her knees and Katherine grimaced.
    “And I should ask no more questions?” he said, rummaging once more in his sack.
    She nodded as she stood and turned her back, drawing the sleeveless gown over her head and knotting the crude leather belt.
    “My lady, though I am curious about your intentions, do not think that I will let you follow a whim.”
    Katherine combed her fingers through her hair as she faced him. “Then I will walk alone and you will follow if you like. But we will still go to Nottingham.”
    From his wallet of provisions, Brother Reynold brought out a round loaf of bread and a moldy piece of cheese, which Katherine pounced on. For once she did not care what someone thought of her appetite.
    “Heaven help us,” he said, eyeing her with a dubious frown.
     
    The horse, big and dull from field work, kept its head down, following a faint path through the grasses of the moor. The red-haired man pushed a ragged wool cap off his forehead as he squinted up at the hot morning sun. He wiped sweat off his crooked nose, and rubbed the ache that had already settled into his neck. He was sure the girl had come this way, running back to Durham and her father.
    The monk’s aid had come as a surprise. He had been warned this could happen, but he had not heeded it. It mattered little. He was sure the monk would pose no problem. And he always finished the job. He had sworn to keep the girl safe, but nothing had been said about interfering fools. This one would be easy. The monastery didn’t prepare a monk for life on the road with a hunted girl.
     
    Katherine watched the monk gather up their old clothes and bury them at the back of the chasm. He was so broad and tall, all bone and hard muscle. He did not look like any priest she had known, with either their fat bellies full of good living, or bodies pale and