Catriona’s Secret

by Madeline Martin

  “It isn’t that easy.” She cast an anxious scan about the room and returned her gaze to him, as though trying to determine if she could trust him. “Not everything can be fixed.”

  “But it can be.” Geordie felt the shift of her trust back toward him. “Together, we can do anything. Cat, marry me.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and stared at him, her face crumpling. “I…”

  “Please.” Geordie was nearly begging now. It was pathetic, he knew, and yet he could not stop. Never in all of his life had he wanted something more than he wanted to take Catriona Barrington as his wife. “I will always treat you well and be forever faithful. I will love and cherish you every moment of our lives together. Be my wife.”

  A sob choked from her throat. “I can’t, Geordie.”

  He shook his head, nearly wild with frustration. “Why not?”

  She gazed miserably up at him. “Because I am with child.”

  15

  An ache pulsed in the depths of Cat’s heart and spiraled out through her entire chest. I am with child. She had finally said those four damning words.

  Geordie’s brows raised in surprise and then furrowed. “I beg your pardon? I believe I did not hear you properly.”

  Cat squared her shoulders. “You did.”

  He regarded her a long moment, his mouth opening as if to prepare for speech, then closing again. His stare dipped to her stomach, which appeared flat beneath her kirtle. But she knew well the intimacies of her own body. The bump was now swollen enough for her to cover with the expanse of her hand, the budding life able to be cupped in her palm.

  She self-consciously smoothed her dress and had the urge to cross her arms over her stomach to protect the babe within from Geordie’s judgment. “I am not far along.”

  “How?” he demanded.

  “At court.” The threat of tears pulled at her once more and she swallowed hard to hold them back. “I am apparently one of those empty-headed women you spoke so highly of.”

  His expression flinched. “Who did this to you?”

  She did cross her arms over her lower stomach this time. “I will not tell you.”

  Geordie’s chest rose and fell with heavy breath. “Why not?”

  She knew how this game played out. If she told him and confessed that she feared he would kill the man, he would vow he would not. Then, he would pick at her until she finally divulged the truth. In which case, he would doubtless kill Sir Gawain, and make all her lying and hiding an utter waste.

  She simply remained silent.

  “Lord Loughton’s son?” he said, more to himself than to her. “But you swear you have not met him.”

  Cat said nothing.

  He narrowed his eyes in thought as he worked through it all to figure out what she would not say. “If the father of your babe was a worthy enough man to wed, you would have asked your father. You would not be meeting Lord Loughton’s son. Unless he was baseborn, or…” He sucked in a breath. “Or already married.”

  Cat slid her gaze away, unable to meet the accusation in Geordie’s stare.

  “Was it Lord Loughton?” he asked. “Now ready to pass you off to his son?”

  “Nay,” she exclaimed.

  A group of men nearby began singing a bawdy tune. Geordie edged back against the wall, leaving Cat with no choice but to join him.

  Geordie was staring down at her, incredulous.

  She wanted this conversation done, for Geordie to say his piece. To bear the weight of the wretched conversation and be done with it for good. “Say something,” she said.

  Geordie shook his head. “It is too horrible to say aloud.”

  Cat steeled herself. “Say it and be done.”

  Even with her permission, Geordie hesitated before speaking, his words slow and careful. “Lord Loughton’s son. You have not yet met him, yet you plan to wed him. Was that why you were so determined to travel so soon? So that he would not know you were with child, so he might think the child was his own?”

  Her stomach churned. She wanted to protest that she’d never intended to meet Lord Loughton’s son, that she’d wanted only to speak with Sir Gawain. All of this had only ever been to find a safe home for her child.

  But she could not tell Geordie as much. Better that he believe her capable of such perfidy, better that he see her knocked from a pedestal she had no right to be on, than to put him at risk.

  Her silence was answer enough. Geordie dragged a hand through his thick dark hair. It fell becomingly around his handsome face, highlighting his high cheekbones, straight nose and square jaw. He was truly a beautiful man. One who would have to belong to someone else. Someone worthy of loving a man as good and just as him.

  “You have gotten with child by a married man at court,” Geordie said. “You seek to pass his bastard off to another man before you are too far along for him to suspect as much. And as we have traveled to court, you have kissed me.” Pain sparkled deep in his eyes. “You have told me you love me.”

  It was too much. Too much. All of it too awful to agree to. And yet, she must. To protect Geordie, for he was an innocent in all of this as much as the babe in her belly.

  She lifted her face to him, accepting the entirety of his accusation, to leave no question in his mind. It was better for him think poorly of her and move on with a life with a woman deserving of him, than to try to save her.

  “Aye,” she said firmly. “That is the whole of it.”

  He stared at her for a long time, his face a mask of horror. “Cat, you are…” He blinked, and she realized that he was near tears.

  The ache in her chest squeezed into something far more acute and wrought an agony unlike anything she had ever known.

  “Cat, you are not the woman I thought you were,” he said at last.

  Cat absorbed the barb of his words and somehow managed not to flinch. “No woman can be what you thought me to be, Geordie.”

  “You were.” He drew in a shaky breath and lifted his hand as if he intended to touch her before it fell away. “I loved that woman, Cat.”

  Loved.

  The word was so devastating, it nearly cracked her carefully held composure. “And now?”

  “And now I realize I have wasted four years of my life.” He clenched his jaw hard enough for the muscles to stand out. “Thinking myself unworthy of a woman who was herself unworthy.”

  Cat swallowed down a sob. No woman could ever be worthy of a man like Geordie, who did no wrong in his life. “It is better for you to know before we go to court.”

  He looked away and sniffled. “If there is nothing else, my lady, I believe I shall retire for the evening.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “There is nothing else, is there?”

  “Nay.”

  With that, he inclined his head, coldly bid her good night and departed up the stairs. She went to her own chamber moments later, not bothering to summon Freya to join her. She wanted the solitude, the darkness of the empty room wrapped around her, cradling the hollowness of her chest. Once inside, she threw herself on the bed and allowed her composure to shatter into a million tears.

  Geordie lay in bed with his thoughts on fire. Cat, his Cat, bedded by a married man and now trying to coerce another man into wedding her so she could pass off the bastard as his. It was too much.

  He flopped over in his bed, restless with the miserable agitation of rage. How could four years have changed her so much? How could he have been so wrong about her?

  He was glad he had found out at the end of their journey. It would have been impossible to face her all those days on the road knowing what he did now.

  What was more, she did not even appear remorseful, accepting the guilt with a defiant set to her chin. Mayhap he never should have left to become a knight. He could have stayed at Werrick Castle. He would have gone to court with her no doubt and could have prevented her from what had happened. He could have protected her.

  What had happened. His heart twisted with ugly pain.

  W
hat had happened was sex. Fornication. Intimacy.

  All the things he had put off for those long four years to remain pure of heart and body for Cat when he returned home and was worthy of marriage. Never had he allowed a woman’s flirtations to turn his head; never had he defiled his body with that of another. It had always been Cat. Thoughts of her in his mind and a fist ready to slake out his body’s lust.

  Yet for her, it had not been him, but a married man.

  Four years wasted.

  These were the thoughts that plagued him through the stretch of one of the longest nights of his life. His mind and body alternated between rage and hurt and soul-crushing sorrow. When at last the morning came, it brought no relief, for it also brought Cat.

  She did not appear as composed that morning, her eyes swollen as though she had been crying. Foolish though he was, he could not help but hope her tears might have been for him. She acknowledged him coolly, and they went about their usual routine with him aiding her onto her horse with a foreign stiffness.

  The journey to London was heavy with oppressive silence. Durham attempted several jests that Freya had laughed too hard at, and all else had fallen quiet. At long last, they made their way down the long winding entrance to the castle where a bustle of servants greeted them, notified by Durham, who had gladly volunteered to ride ahead.

  Cat scarcely looked at Geordie as she was helped from Star and led away to her chamber. She was gone in an instant, not just to her room, but to lead a life different than his while they were at court. Would she seek out the married man to carry on the affair?

  A stab of jealousy dug into Geordie. He shouldn’t care. She was not his to worry about any longer.

  A page stopped in front of Geordie and bowed. “Sir Geordie, if you’ll follow me, please. The king would like a word with you in his chamber.”

  Geordie straightened a little taller and tried to push Cat from his mind. The king wished to see him upon his arrival. Surely, good tidings would follow such a welcome.

  Geordie was led into a long, narrow room with exquisite paintings along the walls. His lips quirked upward as he recognized the various virtues and vices. King Edward strode toward him, his brown wavy hair neatly trimmed to his shoulders and the full beard he wore likewise carefully cut and shaped.

  “Beautiful, aren’t they?” The king indicated the paintings. “Fire tried to take them once, and even an angry mob during the reign of Henry III wrought havoc upon them. All repaired with a careful hand and a considerable amount of time.”

  “They’re exquisite,” Geordie replied. And they truly were, depicted with vivid color.

  “We’re pleased to see you, Sir Geordie.” The king put his hands behind his back and casually strolled along the wall, his gaze skimming the art. “Now that you are here, the planning for your feast may begin in earnest.”

  At the far end of the room was the stately bed with velvet bedding. Several other courtiers milled about, waiting their own turn with the king.

  “You honor me more than I deserve, Your Majesty.” Geordie said reverently. He had not been an ideal soldier, for he had not followed all orders, only the ones his conscious could bear.

  “You saved the life of your king and helped change the tide of battle.” King Edward nodded to himself in confirmation. “If ever there was a man to deserve a feast in his honor, it is you, though we admire your humble reception. All our knights should be as humble and just as you, Sir Geordie.”

  Great pride effused Geordie, warming his chest to the point he feared his heart might burst. He could not wait to tell Cat of this moment. In that instant, the pride nearly deflated.

  For he would not be telling Cat, not of this or of anything else, ever.

  “We should like to have you on as one of our personal knights.” King Edward led Geordie to the other side of the room to regard the other paintings.

  “I would be honored.” And truly, it was an honor greater than any other Geordie had ever dreamed of hoping for. The king only surrounded himself by men who were the strongest fighters, the most just of spirit and strong of body.

  With the income from being a king’s knight, Geordie could easily afford land, a home. A family. His stomach dropped.

  He did not need land or a home any longer. There would be no family, not like he had been anticipating.

  “We are of a mind to betroth you to a woman as well.” The king had lowered his voice, clearly intending to speak only to Geordie. “Sir John Howard’s daughter, Elizabeth Howard, has recently returned from the convent where she had been raised and will be in attendance at court on the morrow.” The king raised his brows. “We hear she is quite a beauty and seeking a husband.”

  Geordie knew Sir John would have had to have given his permission. That he felt Geordie would make a suitable husband for his daughter was an honor indeed. Except that he could not get Cat from him mind, or his heart, and doubted he ever could.

  Still, he lowered his head at the honor. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  The king laughed. “You needn’t look as though We’re marching you to your death. Allow the introduction and make up your mind. If you want her, she is yours.” He clapped Geordie on the shoulder as though they were old friends, and with that the king was gone, off to discuss something with a courtier who milled closely by.

  Geordie followed the page moments later to his own rooms, ones far more finely appointed than his prior ones had been that he’d shared with several other men. Through it all, he could not stop thinking of the king’s offer to meet Mistress Howard.

  In Sir John’s years of success, he had acquired a great amount of land and wealth. A marriage to Elizabeth would be advantageous, no doubt coming with land, coin and prestige.

  But beautiful or no, Geordie dreaded his introduction to the fair lady, for none would ever be as fair as Catriona. No one’s laugh tingled as beautifully, no one’s smile shone as brightly, no one’s presence warmed his heart as much as hers.

  Dread squeezed in on him as he shut the door to his chamber. No matter how Cat had lied and deceived him, he knew in the depths of his heart that he still loved her.

  16

  Cat remained in the room longer than was necessary. It was a comfortable chamber assigned to Ella and her husband, Lord Calville, given to Cat to use during her stay at court.

  Cat was grateful to be alone now. Even Freya had gone to fetch refreshment for her, giving Cat a precious few moments to succumb to the crush of emotion. Her heart raced impossibly fast and roared in her ears, sweat prickling at her palms and brow. The journey to court, the stretch of days it had taken—through all of it, she had planned exactly what she would say to Sir Gawain when she saw him again.

  In her thoughts, she had been composed, deliberate in her speech and action. Now though… anger coursed through her like poison. Not only at Sir Gawain who had taken what she’d never meant to give, who had ruined her chance for happiness and love, but also at herself. She had been so eager to please a man who was older and seemingly in possession of greater sophistication. She had flirted and drank and drank and drank, she had followed him into the garden and then had tried to retract her affection when it was far too late.

  Her hands balled into fists. She had to do this. For her baby. She had to see if he would take the child from her, if he would at least aid her in finding a proper home for it if not in his own household. Once it was done, she could go to Ella’s in privacy where the babe could be delivered, and Cat could then return to Werrick Castle. Without Geordie. Without her baby. As only a shell of herself, coming home with nothing left to give.

  Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away as the door rattled and Freya entered the room. It was time.

  “I should like to go to the gardens for a moment,” Cat said, as though the idea had suddenly struck her. As if she hadn’t been thinking of it for their entire journey to London.

  She hadn’t divulged her plan to Freya. The maid had kept Cat’s discretion and had not as
ked any questions, but still Cat had been too frightened to share her plans with the young woman who had become a friend. Not because she worried Freya would talk her out of it, but because saying it out loud might make Cat realize how hopeless and ridiculous a plan it was.

  And it was a ridiculous plan.

  Freya did not question Cat’s sudden desire to go to the garden. She simply set the flagon of watered-down ale she’d fetched and nodded. Cat steeled her resolve with a pleasant smile, and together they made their way out into the hall, threading their way down the path to the gardens. It was where Cat had first seen Sir Gawain, sitting in the sunshine while playing a lute and smiling charmingly. A rush of fresh anger roared through Cat’s veins. How had she been so foolish?

  So…empty-headed.

  That last thought she had to shove aside, lest her heart crumple. She had lost Geordie. Forever.

  Out in the gardens, she found many familiar faces, and several new. Lady Jane Steward, one of the many Janes at court and the snidest of all of them, approached first. She ran to her in short little steps that set her ample bosom bouncing, no doubt a display for the men nearby. And they all noticed.

  “Lady Catriona,” she cried as though they were the dearest of friends. “It is so good to see you.”

  “I am here for Sir Geordie’s feast.” It was not a lie. At least not entirely. For Cat did intend to stay at least for Geordie’s feast. To see him honored.

  Lady Jane’s eyes went wide and she looked behind Cat. “Is he here with you now? Oh, I’d love to meet him. I hear he’s terribly handsome, and of how intense he is on the battlefield. If a man has such physical prowess in battle, one can only imagine what other skills he might possess.” Lady Jane’s gaze dart around to see if anyone happened to overhear her loudly stated comment. “He isn’t betrothed to you now, is he?” She gave a little pout.