Page 55 of Wolf's Prize

Chapter Twenty-Six

Kathryn’s eyes fluttered open to a cold, bare space beside her. She looked around the room. It was empty, save for her. Her heart dropped to her stomach. After the intimacy they had shared, he had left her? When had he retreated from her bedchamber? In the early hours of the morn, or the moment she had fallen asleep? Her throat tightened, and she tucked the covers up under her chin. Her bottom lip trembled. How naïve of her to assume one night in each other’s arms would mean as much to him as it did to her.

The door swung open, and Anne bustled in, a dress slung over her arm. “Up and out of bed, my dear. You have a big day ahead of you.”

Kathryn rolled herself into a ball and buried herself in the bedcovers. How could she face Aimon if last night had been nothing more than the result of moonlit madness? How could she spend another day with him pretending last night had not happened, had not changed everything? Had not meant everything? For her, at least.

“Now do not be like that, child. A little more excitement on your behalf is warranted, I should think,” said Anne. “Aimon tells me you are going riding today.”

Kathryn’s heart stuttered. He was taking her riding? Was that why he had left? To prepare for the day?

“Come. I have the perfect thing for you to wear.”

Kathryn peered over the bedcovers. Anne held up an under-dress unlike any other she had ever seen before.

“It belonged to Elise. Your aunt simply refused to ride sidesaddle, or on a pillion box, so she had these made so she could ride astride. I thought you might have a similar preference.”

Kathryn roused herself from the bed to examine the dress. Someone had split the bottom half and sewn it into two halves, one for each leg. Like men’s breeches and yet not, allowing for the legs to be held apart, like when riding astride. The volume of the skirt remained, so when not riding, it would appear like any other dress. Having the chance to ride again was beyond anything she had hoped for. Riding astride as she used to, without censure, enabled by this altered dress, made her eyes sting with unshed tears.

“Oh, come now, lass. No time for crying. That man of yours is already awaiting you at the stables.”

That man of mine?Her heart fluttered like a thousand butterflies. Could this be what falling in love felt like? Careening from one emotion to another at every thought, every mention of the object of one’s desire? Could Aimon be experiencing the same?

Anne held out the modified under-dress for Kathryn to step into, then pulled it up over her shoulders, buttoning it up. She slipped the over-dress on after it. It, too, had undergone alteration, with large splits up the center and the side.

“Thank you, Anne.”

Anne patted her cheek. “You are most welcome, child. Now go. If I keep you too long, Aimon may well come looking for you. I imagine it is difficult for him to have you out of his sight after last night.”

Anne propelled her toward the door. Her cheeks heating, Kathryn ducked her head and descended the stairs, eager to ride again and impatient to see Aimon, the unfamiliar feel of her dress swishing between her legs. She passed the library, its door ajar and the soft glow from the oil lamps spilling into the corridor. A rustle of parchment and the scrape of a chair on the floor gave her pause. Pressure built in her chest. She had never gone so long without speaking to her father. Before she could change her mind, Kathryn pushed the door open.

Her father looked up from his book as she entered the room, regarding her with sad eyes. Kathryn closed the door behind her, unsure of what to say or where to begin.

“Kathryn? Are you unwell? Is there a problem?”

Kathryn smoothed down the skirts of her dress. “Can we…can we talk?”

Marking his page, her father snapped his book shut and placed it aside. “Of course.” He motioned for her to come sit with him. She shifted from one foot to the other, then moved to a chair by the brazier and sat. The last time they had sat thus, things had not gone well.

He smiled at her, and Kathryn dropped her gaze to her hands.

“Kathryn, I know I hurt you, though believe me, it was not my intention. If you need to rail at me, curse me, then do so, butplease, talk to me.”

She fidgeted in her seat.

“I have missed you,” he said.

Her shoulders slumped. “I have missed you too, Father.” She looked at his familiar face, the regret shining in eyes so like her own.

Her father exhaled a long, low breath. Coals shifted in the brazier. Flames sputtered in the oil lamps. Kathryn picked at her fingernails.

“How is your training with Aimon going? Is he teaching you all you need to know?”

Kathryn blushed. “It is going well. I am learning many things.” Her eyes dipped to her hands in her lap. “Father…”

Talking to her father never used to be this hard. She had always talked to him with openness and honesty, no matter the subject. Had they lost that?

Her father reached out and took her hand in his. “What troubles you, Kathryn?”

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