Caitlyn Box Set

by Elizabeth Davies

  ‘Children! Stop squabbling, else I shall bang your heads together.’ Blod stamped a foot.

  ‘Aye,’ he said to me. ‘That’s right, get my grandmother to do your dirty work for you. You are good at getting other people to hit me over the head.’ Hugh tapped his temple.

  ‘Better than strangling or suffocation. Ow!’ Blod slapped me across the back of mine and I saw stars for a moment, as her palm caught me right where my head had connected with stone earlier.

  Hugh dodged back, avoiding his own slap. She thumped his arm instead, and he rubbed the spot with a wry expression.

  Maude clapped, her eyes alight with excitement. Did she think the whole performance had been staged purely for her benefit?

  ‘Shift up.’ Blod sat next to me on the bed. ‘I need to sit down. I’ve got old bones.’

  ‘Hah! Not nearly as old as mine,’ I said, without thinking, shuffling up to give her more room.

  She stared at me.

  ‘What?’ I asked, the intensity of her gaze boring into me.

  ‘How long have you been bespelled?

  I counted on my fingers. ‘For nearly two hundred years.’

  The bed bounced as Hugh dropped onto it next to me. His colour had fled once more. The man looked positively unwell.

  ‘So old,’ he muttered.

  Thank you, Hugh.

  ‘And you have been a cat all this time?’ Blod asked.

  ‘Not all the time. Sometimes I am allowed to be Caitlyn, when circumstances and my mistress permits it.’

  ‘Your mistress? But you claimed she is dead. There is another witch? Who is she?’

  Aware that the conversation was travelling in a dangerous direction, I clamped my mouth shut. They already knew my secret, but I must keep Joan’s hidden. Not out of loyalty, or duty, and certainly not out of affection, but because to reveal it might cause her harm, and the ancient spell would not allow that. I was surprised it had let me say this much…

  ‘Why protect her?’ Blod asked, when it became clear I would say no more.

  ‘I should like to rest now,’ I said.

  ‘Oh no, my lovely. If you think I am leaving you alone…’

  ‘I shall watch over her,’ Hugh offered.

  Blod leaned across me and patted him on the knee. ‘Good idea. Get to know her better. See if you can winkle it out of her.’

  ‘I am here, you know. I can hear every word,’ I pointed out.

  She ignored me. ‘Come, Maude. Give Uncle Hugh and Aunt Caitlyn some privacy.’

  Aunt Caitlyn? Blod must be joking. I watched them leave with a sour face. Hugh’s expression was more battle-shocked.

  We remained side by side on the bed for some considerable time. Neither of us spoke.

  I tapped my bare foot, wishing for a pair of dry stockings.

  Hugh bit his lip.

  I pulled the cloak tighter, hoping no flesh showed.

  Hugh examined the opposite wall.

  ‘Well?’ I said, when the silence goaded me into breaking it first. ‘Will you not say something?’

  ‘What would you like me to say?’ he asked.

  ‘Something. Anything.’

  ‘Alright. You deceived me.’

  I wanted to slap him. ‘I could do nothing else, could I?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Anyway, why would I tell you? Would you have believed me?’ I asked.

  ‘I might have.’

  ‘Pish.’

  ‘Pish?’ he said.

  I risked a quick glance. He faced straight ahead, but his lips twitched and I had an urge to kiss them.

  ‘Yes, pish,’ I repeated, annoyed. Despite recent events, my attraction to him hadn’t waned. If anything, it had increased. My almost-nakedness did not help. His hands were resting on his knees, and I wondered how they would feel on my breasts, how all of him would feel on all of me. My irritation deepened. Poor Margedd, she hadn’t stood a chance, but I did. I had more control. My response to him was because of his gift, not because of the man himself – of course, it was.

  But, God help me, I liked him. More than I had liked any man for a very long time. Would it hurt to invite him into my bed? I could kiss the trouble from his face, make him think of Caitlyn, not Cat. I could pretend we were still on the journey to Abergavenny, before he became cold and distant. I could pretend I was a normal woman, and he—

  Ridiculous. I had been down that path before. It had ended in tears. My heart still mourned for what Queen Matilda had done to Brihtric, and I wondered how big a part I had played in his death. Matilda had borne a grudge, and if my William, her husband, had mentioned that Brihtric had wanted to marry me after he had rejected her, then that would explain why she’d had him killed.

  Anyway, I could never be normal. Any normality I possessed was nothing more than an illusion, and Hugh had already expressed his revulsion for my felineness quite clearly. I would not risk rejection. Besides, even if he didn’t spurn me, what good would it do? I had to die soon, and becoming involved with this man would only make the task harder. I needed no reminders of life’s sweetness.

  ‘It is late. I wish to rest,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not yet supper time, but I will respect your wishes.’ He got up from the bed and sat in the chair.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘You wish to sleep, so I will take the chair.’

  ‘Oh, no. You’re not staying here.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ He leaned back, one leg resting across the other, and folded his arms. ‘You cannot be trusted to be left alone.’

  ‘Because I might swallow more poison?’

  ‘You can’t. Granny destroyed it.’ He glanced at the fire.

  Thank the Lord. Now I had an excuse. I could not use the belladonna to kill Eva. My hands were tied. If I tried to dispose of her by a more direct method, my actions would be discovered. Joan would not want to risk it.

  I took a deep, shaky breath. Perhaps I did not have to die after all.

  Yet… I did. Three people knew my secret, one of them a child. How long before one of them talked? And even if they didn’t, at some point Joan would want an explanation for my failure. She wouldn’t take kindly to the tale I would tell her, and she would also insist I made another attempt on Eva’s life.

  I was caught between an archer and a swordsman. Best to end it now, as soon as an opportunity presented itself. I would return to my original plan of high tower and long fall. Charcoal wouldn’t be able to remedy the effects of that.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Hugh offered.

  ‘No, thank you.’ I felt sick. If I thought too long about it, I could still taste the over-sweet berries. I swallowed, not wanting to vomit again.

  Lifting the covers, I crawled underneath, turning my back to the room. Hugh stayed silent. I wished he would say something. Or leave. I lay rigid and unmoving, pretending to sleep.

  After a while, he stirred and tucked the blankets around my shoulders. I felt the faintest of strokes of his finger down one cheek, before he returned to his seat.

  A tear leaked onto my skin, tracing the path of his touch, then another. I gulped, trying to stem the flow, wishing he would leave me to my misery.

  His weight dimpled the bed, and his arms came around me. He kissed my head, my ear, and I turned and buried my face in his chest, the sobs coming so fast I couldn’t breathe.

  ‘Hush, Cat. It will be alright. Hush.’ He crooned and stroked my hair. I cried harder at his gentleness. ‘Granny will free you, I promise.’

  I loved him for his optimism and his unwavering belief in his grandmother, but I knew the truth.

  I pushed away from him and sat up. ‘She cannot free me.’

  ‘She can. You don’t know her,’ he added, dryly.

  ‘I mean, she does not know who… what… she is up against. La-’ I pursed my lips. ‘My mistress will destroy her.’

  Hugh held my arms. ‘I know who she is. It is Lady Joan. You were going to say Lady Joan. Admit it.’ His fingers dug in
to my flesh.

  ‘I cannot.’

  His eyes searched mine. ‘Not because I am wrong, but because you dare not?’ he said. ‘That’s it. I have the truth of it.’

  My silence told him he did, and when he pulled me to him, I let him, finding quiet comfort in his arms.

  ‘Let me tell you a story,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to say anything, just listen. Once there was a princess, beautiful and young, full of hope and ambition. She imagined being married to a great and handsome king, but her brother (for her father was dead) married her to a man over twice her age, and the kingdom her husband ruled wasn’t a great one, but a small one. He loved his young wife, and she produced many children, but she didn’t love him, and one day a handsome lord came into her life. She fell in love with him, and he loved her, but he had a wife, and the princess had a husband, so nothing could ever come of their passion. However, the princess was jealous of this wife, and even though the princess had a husband, she couldn’t bear the thought of her lover with his wife, so she concocted a plan to kill the lady. Do you like my story so far?’

  I said nothing.

  ‘She sent for a witch, who used her familiar – a cat – to poison the wife. But the familiar couldn’t bring herself to kill an innocent lady, and she took the poison herself and died. Only, the familiar was saved, because you are clearly not dead,’ he added.

  Close but not close enough. I relaxed a little. He had not guessed Joan’s ultimate plan, nor that she was the witch.

  ‘There is only one flaw,’ he said.

  I tensed again.

  ‘The familiar killing herself will not stop the princess from wanting Eva – I mean the wife – dead. The princess will find another way.’

  She most certainly will.

  ‘I have to tell William,’ he said.

  My heart leapt in my chest. ‘You cannot.’

  ‘I have to tell him something. I have to warn him. I have to warn Eva.’

  ‘No one will believe you.’

  ‘I’m not going to tell them about the cat. I will say you were sent to murder Eva by poison.’

  I gasped at his stupidity.

  ‘What?’ He saw my expression. ‘It is the truth. Once the plot is exposed, Joan will not make a further attempt on Eva’s life. She would not be that stupid.’

  Stupid no, ambitious yes. ‘If you expose it, you will hinder all chance of peace between England and Wales. The wife of a Welsh prince poisoning the wife of an English lord? Everyone will say Llewelyn is behind it, and the King will not thank you for another war.’

  ‘That might be true, but I have to stop her. Eva does not deserve this, and William won’t countenance an attempt on his wife’s life. Or will he? What is it I don’t know?’ he said. ‘Tell me.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Is Llewelyn behind it?’ he demanded. ‘Does he want to draw the English into all-out war? He must know he cannot win.’

  ‘No! Of course not.’ Llewelyn did not want to go to war with the English. He intended to reclaim the English-held lands in southern Wales by the force of marriage rather than arms, and Llewelyn planned on disposing of the husband, not the wife.

  ‘I shall not let it lie,’ he promised. ‘I will discover the truth.’

  I had no doubt he would try.

  ‘Help me, Cat. This is a situation not of your making. You like it as little as I do, otherwise you wouldn’t have attempted to take your own life. Help me keep Eva safe. Tell me what you know, and I promise you will be set free of your bond to this witch.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if I am free from her or not. I will be immediately bound to another. The face my mistress wears, and the name she bears, makes no difference – I shall still be enslaved.’

  ‘But Granny can—’

  ‘Your grandmother cannot break the spell. No one can. Death is my only release.’

  Hugh leapt to his feet, his back to me. He held himself rigid, and I wondered what he disliked about my suggestion. I thought the bargain was a good one.

  ‘I will not let you die,’ he said, through gritted teeth.

  ‘You must,’ I said. ‘If you love Eva, it is your only option.’

  I watched the muscles in his back ripple with tension, and he let out a low moan and shook his head. ‘But I love you, too,’ he said.

  Chapter 26

  Should I laugh or cry? How could he possibly love me when he knew nothing about me. He was using love to trick me. Anyway, I did not love him. Admittedly, my attraction to him was strong, but everyone felt the same attraction to him. He had the ability to draw others, to make them like him, love him. I had seen it for myself. Why should I be any different?

  ‘You have ignored me since Montgomery,’ I pointed out. I now realised that he had not spied a grey moggie under the holly bush, nor witnessed that feline becoming human. So what reason could he give for pretending I did not exist?

  He turned to face me, his expression wary. ‘I had to,’ he said. ‘For my own peace of mind.’

  ‘You are not making sense.’

  ‘I barely knew you, but there was something…’ Hugh scratched his head. His shoulders slumped, and he looked defeated. ‘I have never loved before.’

  ‘What about Lady Eva?’ The words were out of my mouth before I realised what I said.

  He laughed. ‘You have heard the rumour? I do love Eva, but I am not in love with her, whatever Hesta thinks. Eva is my half-sister.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Marshal claimed droit de seigneur with my mother.’ Hatred dripped from every word, and Hugh sat rigid and tense, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard.

  Droit de seigneur? I thought the custom of a lord claiming the right to spend the first night with the bride of his vassal was either a myth or had died out long ago. Obviously not.

  ‘Is that why he trained you to be a knight?’ I asked.

  ‘Probably, although Marshal denies he is my father.’

  ‘Eva doesn’t know of your relationship?’ I asked.

  ‘No, and neither does Will. Marshal threatened to kill me if I told anyone of my “wild accusation”, as he called it.

  ‘Yet, you are telling me?’

  ‘You should know the truth.’

  ‘Why? Because you intend to marry me?’ I scoffed. ‘You cannot. I belong, body and soul, to another, and she will not let me go simply for the asking. Besides, I turn into a cat.’

  ‘A pretty cat.’ He looked me square in the eye.

  ‘You are joking. Or mad. Your grandmother’s insanity has rubbed off on you. Betrothed indeed!’

  ‘Do you know why she came to Abergavenny?’

  I shook my head. How would I know? The woman was an egg short of a dozen.

  ‘Because she sensed you needed her,’ Hugh said.

  ‘Pish.’ I quite liked that word.

  ‘She made the decision to travel all the way from Pembroke on the exact day I realised I loved you,’ Hugh said.

  ‘When exactly was that?’ I scoffed.

  ‘The night you were attacked by the men after Llewelyn’s gold. I knew then, when I saw you lying helpless on the ground, terrified yet defiant, that I loved you. It scared me.’

  It scared me, too. I didn’t want to hear this. I realised I had come to Blod’s attention only when Hugh knew he loved me. Blod had been in Pembroke…

  ‘How did she know?’ My voice cracked. I wondered if she scried, like my mistress.

  He shrugged. ‘She knows many things she shouldn’t.’

  ‘It wasn’t a wise woman who told your grandmother that you had a gift, was it? Your grandmother told you herself. Any gift you have is because of her.’

  ‘She claims to be part fae, but I do not like to bandy that tale around. If she isn’t careful, she may be accused of being a witch,’ he said.

  ‘While the real witches are rarely caught,’ I said, sourly.

  ‘Like Joan.’

  My expression told him he was right, that it was Joan who was really the witch and n
o one else.

  He walked to the tiny window and stared out. ‘It is still snowing,’ he said. ‘She will not expect anyone to ride in this.’

  ‘Who will not expect anyone to ride?’ I had a horrible feeling I knew the answer.

  ‘Joan. I have to ride to Criccieth and kill her.’

  ‘That is the most stupid, most ridiculous idea I have ever heard. You cannot appear at Llewelyn’s gates, kill his wife, and leave unharmed. One, the Prince may not let you in; two, Joan is not stupid, and she has defences you know nothing about; three, if, and I do mean if, you manage to take her by surprise, Llewelyn will slaughter you. Even if you manage to make it appear an accident, he will suspect the Englishman.’

  ‘I am not English!’

  ‘You fight on the side of the English, therefore in his eyes, you are English. Killing Joan makes no difference to me. I told you, another witch steps into her shoes, and I carry on being a cat.’

  ‘I wish you were a cat now,’ he said in a strangled voice, and I followed his gaze. The cloak in which I had wrapped myself had fallen open, giving Hugh an excellent view of most of me, those bits which mattered to a red-blooded male. From the bulge in his breeches, I think he liked what he saw.

  I hurried to adjust the material, my skin burning, his look branding me with flame, and I closed my eyes, willing my nipples to behave themselves. And I did not want to begin to think about the state of my nether regions.

  A flush reddened my cheeks and throat, and my lips parted. I could have sworn I panted. I wanted to rub myself all over him, like a cat over catnip, coating my skin with his scent. I purred at the thought.

  Hugh groaned and stepped back. The bulge had grown.

  ‘I will wait outside the door,’ he said, then thought better of it. One glance at the window and I read his thoughts.

  ‘I promise not to escape.’ I crossed my fingers to ward off any ill luck the lie might bring. ‘You have to trust me. You cannot guard me forever. You have to eat.’

  ‘I can send for food.’

  ‘What if Lord William asks for you?’

  ‘I shall tell him I am indisposed.’

  ‘Headache?’ I asked, sarcastically.

  He gave a slow smile, his eyes smouldering with desire. ‘Not that kind of indisposed.’