I would like this opportunity to thank all you wonderful people for your feed-back. It is very much appreciated.

Mutpadarra, thank you so much for your review and to answer your questions, I see this story set some time after the battle at Badon Hill and of course Tristan, Lancelot and Dagonet are not dead! (They'd be no use to me if they were!lol!) The Roman forces have now all left British shores, Arthur has been crowned King and is busy in his attempt to unite all the tribes of Briton. Cait, I see as a girl of about 19 when she was married off, so that makes her now 27-28. Fast approaching old maid status for those times! Lol, Poor woman! Tristan of course is any age you want him to be! :) To me he's always pushing 40! But that's because I am!

Hope this next update is ok. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2 – The Man

"Still yourself woman!…It's just one little kiss!" The soldier grinned as he tightened his grip and his head bobbed from side to side as his mouth failed miserably to catch lips that evaded his so infuriatingly. Cait thought her spine about to snap as she arched further and further back.

"Leave me be, you animal… stop it.!!" She cried as she reached up, clawing desperately at the mocking face bearing down on her.

Why had she tarried so long? She thought desperately as she fought off the soldier's unwanted caresses. Twilight was quickly encroaching around them, casting her bewitchery upon all that walked within her folds and even in this time of relative peace - with the marauding Saxon's driven from Britain's shores and the Roman army deserting them so close behind - the haven of Badon Hill's fortress walls, as anywhere, was still no safe place for any young woman after dark.

Following days of autumn harvesting, making her way back from the granaries through the drafty stone corridors of the Keep, she had almost reached the waiting carts set to ferry the farmers back to their small settlement just a mile or so away, when she found her way halted by two soldiers. Their watch duty was at an end for the day and naturally they were in boisterous spirits and looking forward to a long deserved night of ale and dice. Attempting to shuffle past unnoticed had proved fruitless and Cait soon found herself the object of their unwanted intentions.

They had not truly meant her harm to begin with - only light hearted teasing had been their aim and had she only laughed along with them and eased herself past, they would no doubt have let her on her way with nothing more than a blush on her cheeks. But Cait, being Cait, had instead unleashed her temper upon them with unreserved zest, scolding them for the insolent bitch's whelps she swore they were.

The crude, though light-hearted comments soon became angry taunts as hands snatched at her skirts and pulled at laces about her neck, with one soldier tearing the neck of her smock as he pulled her roughly to his chest. Laughing, he brought his mouth down hard upon her own and Cait continued to curse against his bruising lips. With a sudden sense of the opportunity, she brought her knee up hard between his legs and the soldier gave out a breathless groan as his legs buckled beneath him. As Cait pushed his folding body away from her and made good her escape, the second soldier made a grab towards her but only succeeded in tearing the wrap from her head. Throwing it to the floor with a frustrated growl, he decided to let her fly and instead bent down to help his whimpering comrade to his feet.

Cait flew down the dark, drafty corridor, her long dark hair- now free of it's binds- cascading behind her and her heart hammering rhythmically with the echoing stamp of her fleeing feet. Her hand made a desperate grab for the icy cold cornerstone as she careered around into the next passageway which would lead her to the gatehouse. But her flight was too speedy, her attempt misjudged and Cait found herself hurtling forward and she braced herself against the inevitable pain that would follow her crash upon the solid stone floor. Her breath left her lungs as she collided not upon stone but into the steely grip of another's arms.

Stunned, Cait found herself unable to react right away. A few moments of stilled gasps and gazing up into a pair of the most overwhelming eyes she had ever beheld and panic once again took her. Struggling furiously, she began to shriek only to have a firm hand silence her cries.

"Hush, wench!" a low husky voice commanded "I'll not harm ye"

Cait fought the hand at her mouth; clawing determinedly she found her chance to bite down hard against its calloused palm.

The man hissed as he felt the teeth sink deep into his flesh. In one swift manoeuvre he grabbed her long tawny hair and entwined his fingers firmly behind her neck forcing her eyes to his.

"I told you…" he growled, still fighting the pain of her bite. "you've naught to fear from me!"

His scowl, though clearly incensed, seemed only to offer the promise of safety and Cait found herself slowly leaving-go her cat-like grip. With his hand now free he took no time at all in steeling his arm around her waist and pulling Cait firmly up against his body which was slender but hard. Cait let out a gasp and feeling the threat of her struggle once more, the man curled his fingers more tightly within her hair.

"Be warned my little vixen, should you but think of making a feast out of me again…" He whispered, leaning close, so close she could feel his whiskered lips graze her cheek, his warm breath sending tingles through her body. "…I bite back!"

He pulled back slightly to catch her eyes and for a few silent moments, Cait found herself unable to look away, helpless in his grasp. So close to his body she couldn't help but be aware of his scent. The scent of the wilderness entwined with a gentle aroma of hard toil - so masculine and feral all at once, it made Cait long to breathe him in. She felt the colour rise to her cheeks with the heat of his long slender fingers, so warm against the soft skin of her neck. Were these the arms of her saviour or her captor? She knew not what, but her desire to yield began to pulse low and deep down and Cait felt herself swallow involuntarily.

The man saw the glimmer of submission flash in the brown eyes of the woman in his arms and he loosed his hold on her hair as her body began to relax against him, confident now there would be no more assaults upon his person.

He cocked an amused brow as she continued to stare, in the dusky light he could not see the blush of her cheeks but he sensed a flame kindling before him. His eyes swept over her, coming to rest upon the torn neckline which revealed a tempting promise of an ample bosom beneath it.

He gave a rusty chuckle and tut-tuted mischievously. "It seems, you are not decent woman." He teased as his fingertips grazed lightly over the soft swell of her exposed flesh.

Cait gave a mortified gasp and slapped away his hand. A sudden tirade of insults and curses was halted at her lips by the abusive roars from the two soldiers which echoed through the corridors behind her.

The man looked past her shoulder and Cait watched as his face suddenly became stone and the eyes ice cold. He set her down so unexpectedly Cait stumbled slightly and had to catch his arm to steady her feet. Peeling away her fingers, he barely looked at her but through a fleeting, frosty glance cast down at her from the corner of his eye.

"Run along little rabbit" He warned, his voice now deathly quiet and devoid of any it's previous mirth. "night is falling quickly, tis not a place for a little thing like you."

The frighteningly abrupt change of countenance would have been enough to chill even the bravest of hearts, but wisely or not, Cait felt no alarm. On the contrary, she merely found herself feeling oddly miffed at his having let her go.

Without another word, Cait was, it seemed, dismissed and forgotten as the man stalked off toward the sound of the vulgar curses meant for her.

Cait remembered having waited a moment, hoping that he would look back, but he had paid her no more heed. As he turned into the darkness, Cait hitched up her skirts and did as she was bade…..

Easing herself back against the cornerstone of a large stable building, Cait grimaced faintly at the twist of the knot within her which tightened with every recollection of the mysterious man she now observed with clandestine curiosity. Memories which an hour ago were thought buried and forgotten, seemed now so fresh they could have been a memory of just yesterday and not from two long years previous.

She had pursued his path in and out of the crowds, around the hordes of performing circus fools, jostled her way through the peddlers' stalls and galloped past the Smithy's' roaring furnaces, infuriated at his quickness of step as he evaded her sight time and again.

'Would the man never stop?' she wailed angrily to herself when at last, reaching a small clearing just outside a heaving tavern within the courtyard grounds of Badon Hill fortress, he stopped and with gentle encouragement, sent his hawk up into flight as Cait stood and watched, mesmerised by the birds silent grace.

"Tristan! Over here…!!"

The sudden jovial, bellowing voice startled Cait, drawing her attention to giant of a man who was pushing his way through the bodies which stood within the tavern and she watched, fascinated, as he strode forward to greet the hawk-man.

'Tristan, his name is Tristan..' she smiled to herself with an approving nod and thought how much she enjoyed the feel of his name on her lips as it rolled off her tongue. She liked it. It suited him well.

Tristan walked over and murmured some unheard greeting to his large, shaven headed friend, who in turn gave him a crooked grin and thrust a mug of ale into his hand. Cait watched engrossed as her quarry drained the cup and slammed it down upon a nearby tabletop whilst wiping his whiskers with his sleeve, seemly unaware that his every move was being scrutinized.

Her gaze never faltered as her curious eyes studied his tall, untidy figure which now leant itself carelessly against a wooden post as he nonchalantly reached into a pocket and began whittling away at some unseen object in his hands, whilst listening to whatever banter his tall companion had to share with him. Every so often, Cait was sure she could see the ghost of a smile lighten his stoic features and she felt the knot in her stomach tighten all the more in response to the rugged charisma that captivated her eyes. Believing herself unnoticed, she took time to wonder that his was a face that would have, in its youth she was sure, been considered quite beautiful. The perfect slender nose, the full-lipped, down turned mouth barely hidden within prematurely silver tipped whiskers, the high carved cheek bones both ornamented with two curious dark flashes upon each. All in all it must have been a face almost feminine in its design, but now hardened by life; it had taken on a coarse and roughened magnetism, leaving no doubt of the man behind it. He was every bit as breathtaking in appearance as she'd tried so hard to forget. No, he was not typically broad in stature. Yes, he was uncommonly dishevelled in his dress with his hair long and unkempt, but still he held an air of magnificence that was undeniable and so painfully evident to Cait as to cause her to hold the breath in her lungs.

The enchantment was broken for a moment as Cait found herself rudley shoved from behind by a passing gaggle of drunken, caterwauling women. She threw them an irritable scowl as they staggered on their way and then turned once more to find, to her utter surprise, the hawk-man's eyes clearly locked with her own. Her cheeks flushed with heat and she dropped her gaze and quickly turned away.

'God's breeches!!' she whispered to herself, feeling a slight panic that her secret surveillance was discovered. After a few minutes, convincing herself that he couldn't possibly have thought her the spy, she dared to turn back only to find him gone. Disappointment melted her brief anxiety as her eyes darted from one place to another. She caught sight of his tall companion but of himself, there was no sign. Cait wilted, feeling despondent and strangely empty.

"I have the distinct feeling you are shadowing me, woman." Cait gave a little yelp as she found herself whirled around to face Tristan, who now held her fast by the top of each arm. "So, are you assassin or thief?" he whispered close to her ear, with more than a hint of mockery lacing his tone

"Really….what nonsense, Sir!" Cait cried "Why, in heaven's name, would I be spying on you?"

"You've been scurrying about at my back like an inquisitive mouse for the last hour"

Tristan smiled secretly behind his whiskers. At that moment, she did indeed look like a mouse – cornered, her large brown eyes wide and desperate for an opportunity of escape.

Cait was mortified, her slender neck glowed red with embarrassment and a rapid pulse pounded in her chest.

"Nay, sir…" she stuttered "you are mistaken, I..I..I am not..I was not…" her voice trailed into silence as she stared up at the emotionless, stone-like expression which again bore not a flicker of recognition.

There was silence for a moment, then suddenly he smiled; only the ghost of a smile, but it was enough to light the flame which melted his ice cold eyes, turning them a warm golden brown and slowly, Cait felt herself tumbling into their web, spellbound once more.

She suddenly became aware of the tatty grey head-wrap and the ugly heavy smock that adorned her head to toe and for the first time in many a year, she felt ashamed. She so wished she had worn her hair long, with tiny flowers laced through braids about her face as Ros had tried so ardently to persuade her to do that very morning.

As if reading her very thoughts Tristan suddenly remarked

"If it's bed-sport yer after, you only had to come ask, wench."Letting go his grip on her arms, Tristan ran his eyes slowly and deliberately over the woman in front of him. "But mind, I'll have to charge extra if y'insist on wearing this old mother's cap and rags" He gave a throaty mischievous chuckle as he ruffled the grey wrap upon Cait's head, "an' I don't come cheap at the best of times"

From captivated admiration to shame-filled anger in a flash, Cait smacked away the hand from her head and puffed herself up like a mother-hen.

"You are indeed cheap, Sir… cheap and arrogant!" she snapped acidly. "And I'd ask ye to keep yer insolent remarks and grubby fingers to y'self"

The bemused man stood back slightly and measured her rapid change of manner and now seemly fearless stance with a perplexing stare. He was certain, just a moment ago he had witnessed the glimmer of a wanting, willing maid, but now…

She didn't seem a woman without her wits to him but, he concurred, she was most certainly foolish with that caustic tongue of hers. He could flog her on the spot for such impertinence, if he'd a mind to. Did she really have no idea of his name and rank? He rather hoped that she did, for he found that he liked her spirit and wouldn't care to see her reduced to the level of a snivelling and submissive serf just because he was one of the King's own knights. A small smile began to curl at the corner of his lips once more. Come to think of it, if he were honest, the way her nose wrinkled when she spat out her tetchy remarks was somewhat amusing and rather appealing.

"Ah, smooth ya feathers woman, I mean you no offence" he growled cordially and then asked, as if it were a momentary afterthought "Come, share a draft with me in the tavern…. by way of amends"

Cait's angry frown turned swiftly to open mouthed incredulity and she found herself unable to answer for fear of only the sound of her heart - which had begun to beat furiously once again - being all that would be heard.

Seeing her begin to yield once again, Tristan arched an eyebrow and with an enticing glint in his eye, purred

"Don't take too long to accept now, it is not everyday I offer such recompense."

Cait found herself in awful turmoil. In just a few moments, this man had made her heart pound with longing, then startled her half to death, reduced her to a stuttering fool, crudely insulted her and now offered her an apology of such, that she so desperately wanted to accept it, but instead found herself battling her stubborn pride to allow.

Cait looked back into the honey-brown eyes that danced tantalizingly behind a shroud of dishevelled locks as he waited for her answer and remembered all those nights she had dreamt of such a moment as this, with this very man. Why one brief meeting, so long ago had haunted Cait so intensely, she could never fathom but here he was again, and again he was releasing all those clandestine emotions Cait always fought hard to keep firmly locked away. How could she refuse but equally, how could she accept? Suddenly, her mind made up, Cait finally dared to open her mouth to speak but found her words drowned by a familiar holler.

"Cait! Cait! 'ere you are, gurl! Well I'll be! If that spawn of a whore, didn't give me the boot and go off with that maggoty cunny, Morag! And her, with her poxy skin and her hog-grease black hair! I ask ya!" Ros came stomping churlishly to Cait's side, the indignant frown slipping swiftly away as she eyed with surprise, her friend's rather unexpected companion.

"Why Cait, ya dark mare, ya!" she laughed coyly "I didney know you had a hankering for Sarmatian knights" Cait felt herself enfold with embarrassment. "Be careful sweeting, I hear this one's a wildcat"

Tristan gave out a short laugh as Ros flashed a saucy smirk in his direction.

That was enough. She'd be damned if she would stay there to ridiculed by Ros in front of him and endure his laughing at her, too. Lord knows what would spill from Ros's cesspit mouth next. It was more than Cait could bear. She saw her escape and took it quickly.

"Have no concerns for me, Ros" Cait snapped, her voice hoarse with humiliation "I have no wish to share the swill with such an arrogant swine."

Cait turned and flounced quickly away, paying no heed to her friend's calls behind her.

"Aw, Cait! I were only jestin' gurl! Wait up there!" Ros called, but Cait just kept right on going, disappearing out of view within the crowds.

Ros sighed despondently. That woman could be such a humourless crone at times. Looking back over her shoulder she watched as Tristan just scratched at his beard and shrugged. Her eyes then slowly wandered down to a bulging leather purse tied at his belt and her expression soon took on a less sullen tone. Eyes trailing back up the length of his tall, lean frame to meet his own, Ros gave him her most alluring smile.