“As my lady wishes,” he said with a crooked smile. “When the temptress demands, what can her lover do but obey?”
But he moved away, just far enough to lavish attention upon her aching breasts. He suckled hard, drawing an answering response from deep within her. Soon her legs entangled with his, and her hands moved lower to caress him.
“Do you want me now?” he asked, staring into her eyes. “Do you want what I can give you? Passion? Love? A child of our own?”
Her heart stilled for a moment, then picked up again at a frantic pace. Could it be that he offered her all, everything she thought she could never have?
“Yes, Nicholas,” she whispered, welcoming him into her body. She had never felt such joy! “Yes.”
He watched with heart-melting intensity as they moved together, the look in his eyes, his expression making this act a promise, a solemn vow.
“You are mine, Catrin,” he said as waves of passion broke over them. “And I am yours.”
A wordless roar woke Nicholas. His mind still caught in Catrin’s sensual spell, he shook his head to clear it and blinked the sleep from his eyes.
Ian crossed the room with murder in his eyes, jolting him awake. Nicholas jerked the coverlet up over Catrin’s nakedness and scrambled from the bed, hands held before him. “Ian, it’s not what you think.”
“Do you think I’m blind, you Norman bastard? I’d say this looks clear enough.” His sweeping glance took in the clothing scattered about, the disheveled bed and Nicholas standing nude beside it. “The question is, what do you intend to do about it?”
Before Nicholas could answer, Ian turned his back and crossed to the open door. “FitzClifford!” he bellowed down the passageway. “FitzClifford, get in here now.”
A maid passed the doorway, pausing briefly to look inside the chamber. She stared past Ian to Nicholas, her eyes growing wide, then covered her mouth with her hands and scurried off down the hall.
Nicholas picked his chausses up off the floor and stepped into them. Evidently Ian didn’t intend him harm, for the moment, at least. “Why don’t you just invite everyone in while you’re at it?” he asked dryly.
Cursing, Ian slammed the door shut and turned. “At least you’ve the decency to cover yourself now. Too bad you didn’t think of it earlier—before my sister saw you.”
Catrin stirred behind him. Ignoring Ian, he sat on the edge of the mattress and reached out to tug the blankets around her.
“A little late for modesty, don’t you think?” Ian sauntered over to a chair by the cold fireplace and slumped into it.
“Shut up, Ian.” Catrin pushed her hair back from her face and leaned against Nicholas. His heart warmed at the sign of trust. “I doubt anyone invited you in, so don’t complain if you see something you don’t like.”
“You can’t talk your way out of this,” Ian snarled, his eyes flashing. “I’ve permitted you too much freedom. That much is clear. First you race off from home and get four of my men killed, and now this.”
Nicholas didn’t intend to sit idly by while Catrin’s brother took her to task. “It’s not her fault she was attacked—”
“Keep out of this,” they both snapped. He might have found their expressions humorous in another situation, but not when he was on the receiving end of their matching glares. However, since Catrin obviously didn’t want—and likely didn’t need—his help, he folded his arms across his chest and resolved to hold his tongue, no matter the provocation.
Catrin snuggled closer to Nicholas’s side and turned toward her brother. “Why do you have to be this way? Can’t you allow me the first happiness I’ve had in years? What I do is none of your business.”
“Do you think it doesn’t matter to me that this Norman took your maidenhead?” Ian leaned forward in his chair and glowered at Nicholas. “I should take him out to the bailey and run him through.”
“He didn’t take anything from me that I didn’t give willingly.”
“Took, gave—the word doesn’t matter. But the fact that you permitted him to take liberties—”
“Liberties! Listen to yourself, Ian,” she said with a mirthless laugh. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve never taken a woman to your bed?”
Nicholas missed Catrin’s warmth next to him when she straightened and moved toward the side of the mattress. Once she was beside him again, he slipped his arm around her and held her close.
“What I’ve done is not the issue here,” Ian said.
Catrin leaned against Nicholas’s shoulder, grateful for his support. “I’ve tried to shield you, Ian. But I’ll do it no more,” she said, her voice quavering. “I won’t let you ruin my happiness simply to protect you from my past. Not any longer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I wish I could have come to Nicholas untouched, but I didn’t.”
“That’s impossible,” Ian said flatly. “You’ve never allowed a man that close. I’m surprised you let him.”
“You don’t know everything.” She felt like getting up and clouting him in the head, but it wouldn’t have done any good. Why did he have to barge into her chamber and find them like this? Now she had no choice but to tell him—but she didn’t have to like it. “Don’t pretend you do. I was raped.”
“What?” Ian sprang from the chair. “When did this happen? You never said a word.” He paced before the fireplace. “Who was the bastard? He’ll not live much longer, I promise you.”
“Sit down,” she said, weariness edging her voice. “It happened four years ago. And I never told you because there was nothing you could do about it.”
“Who was it?” Ian repeated, his tone lethal.
“Madog ap Gerallt.”
Ian looked at her as though she’d gone daft. “Madog is dead, Catrin. He died in a fire.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down. She didn’t dare meet either man’s eyes. “I know he’s dead. I killed him.”
“Are you sure?”
She met Ian’s gaze. “Oh, yes, I’m very sure. If a knife through the heart didn’t kill him, the fire certainly did.”
“That’s not what I meant, Catrin. Are you sure ’twas he who raped you?”
“How dare you doubt me?” Anger burned through Catrin’s veins, cleansing away the fear she’d felt about confessing to Ian—and Nicholas.
Now she’d truly like to smack her witless brother in the head!
“Don’t tell me you were misled by his charming ways, as well,” she said sweetly, then allowed her rage to show through. “Do you believe I’m stupid? Of course I know who raped me. I’m hardly likely to make a mistake about it. He held me captive for nigh a week.”
Nicholas’s arms closed about her, pulling her back against his chest. She burrowed into his embrace, but his solace didn’t soften her toward her brother. “Shall I tell you how many different ways there are to take a woman? How many ways to bend her to your will? I know you’ve been to war, Ian. You’ve seen the horrors men can do. But I very much doubt—” Her voice broke. Dashing away tears, she cleared her throat. “I truly don’t imagine you have any idea the evil some people are capable of.”
Ian knelt before her and took her hand, his eyes moist. “I’m sorry. I wish he were still alive so I might kill him myself,” he fumed, clasping her hand in both of his and raising it to his lips.
She felt a tremor run through Nicholas. “You’d need to wait your turn,” he said, his voice deadly.
A surprising thread of humor wove its way through her mind as she listened to Ian and Nicholas. What did they think to accomplish by this?
“I’m flattered to have two such notable champions, but the man is already dead. Be glad he is, for he’d surely have killed me once he tired of me. I used to wish I could kill him over and over, for everything he did to me, but such wishes are futile. I cannot change the past. But that does not matter anymore, because now I have a future.”
She squeezed Ian’s hand and slipped hers free. “
I am a woman grown, Ian. I know I haven’t always behaved that way, but ’tis the truth. Nicholas and I have harmed no one, so I’ll thank you to mind your own business.”
Although she didn’t quite trust the look in Ian’s eyes when they rested on Nicholas, there was little she could do beyond warning him off.
She turned toward Nicholas. “Did he knock before he barged in?” She wondered why Ian had come to her chamber.
“If he did, I didn’t hear it. I was asleep.”
“Did you come here for a reason, or were you spying on me?” It wouldn’t be the first time her brother had snooped in her room—or her business, she thought, frowning.
“You may acquit me of that,” Ian said, rising to his feet. “Before I got distracted by Talbot, I’d come to tell you I’ve news about the men who attacked you. I’m going to Chester to see what I can discover. And before you ask, Talbot—no, I don’t need your help. Besides, I believe there’s a messenger downstairs looking for you—from your king,” he added with a grin.
He headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the latch. “At any rate, ’tis just as well you cannot come with me. I still don’t like the idea of you sleeping with my sister. It’s better you’re not around to tempt me,” he said, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. Catrin squirmed in Nicholas’s clasp as Ian opened the door.
How dare he continue thus!
But she restrained herself when she saw Rannulf standing in the doorway, hair mussed and half-dressed, a sword in his hand. “One of the maids said there was rape and murder going on,” he said, gasping for breath. He lowered the sword. “I’m relieved to see she was mistaken.”
Nicholas moved his arms from around Catrin and stood. “’Tis a good thing she was,” he said with a grin. “It took you so long to come to our rescue, we could have all been dead by the time you got here.”
“Evidently Emma refused to wake me—an error she won’t repeat, I assure you. And not only did the maid demand my presence, but a messenger from the king has, as well.” He looked about the room. “I believe it’s safe to leave. I’ve kept the man waiting long enough.”
Hand on the door, Rannulf paused. “He wants to see you, too, Nicholas, and he sounds impatient. Perhaps you should come with me now.”
Nicholas picked his shirt up off the floor and put it on. Catrin tried to smile when he looked up and sent her a steaming look, but she felt exhausted, drained by the past few days.
He was beside her in a moment, his hands cradling her face. “Go back to bed, love. We’ll talk later. I won’t be gone long.”
He kissed her gently, then followed Ian and Rannulf out, closing the door firmly behind him. The warmth of his mouth lingering on her lips, Catrin slept
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nicholas sat on the edge of Catrin’s bed and watched her sleep. Her delicate beauty touched him, made him yearn for a life with her. He could face anything if he knew she’d be waiting for him, ready to flay him with her tongue. He smiled at the imagery that phrase called to mind.
She could flay him—in word or deed—anytime.
He hated to wake her, but he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. His duties for the king had been of little importance of late, but he could ignore them no longer. Damn the king, sending him to Llywelyn with “urgent business.”
It seemed the messenger had left court with further information for him within days of his departure for Wales. More likely King John hoped to catch him in some misdeed. Who could fathom John’s thoughts?
Any fool could have performed this chore. Indeed, he knew of no reason why the messenger couldn’t simply climb back on his horse and continue on to Llywelyn’s keep himself. Yet it was clear that King John derived great pleasure from dispatching Lord Nicholas Talbot to do it Perhaps it gave the king a secret thrill to entrust these ridiculous diplomatic chores to a man of his background. Mayhap he believed Nicholas might throw in his lot with the mighty Welsh prince and leave his English possessions open to forfeiture to the Crown.
But though he didn’t know his liege lord’s reasoning, he wasn’t fool enough to ignore a royal command.
The sooner he left, the quicker he could return to Catrin.
He smoothed the sleep-tangled curls away from her brow, his body quickening as he breathed in her scent. So sweet, yet seductive, a perfect complement to her tart tongue. He stretched out beside her on the mattress and kissed her brow.
“Time to awaken, my beauty,” he whispered into her ear.
“Nicholas?” Eyes still closed, she cuddled against him through the blankets.
“Wake up, love. I need to speak with you before I go.”
Her eyes snapped open and she lifted herself up, leaning her hand on his chest. “Go? Is something wrong?”
“I have to leave now, for Llywelyn’s keep. I’ve put it off as it is, and now there are more messages for the prince—important business only I can impart, no doubt,” he said sarcastically. “Evidently the man set out after me shortly after I left court. The weather held him up, and he’s only now made it this far. ’Tis likely all an excuse to spy on me. The king’s been hounding me, one way or another, ever since I failed to secure l’Eau Clair for him last year.”
“I could go with you, if you’d like,” Catrin suggested, toying with the ties of his shirt “Llywelyn is my kinsman. I know him well.”
He knew she’d offer, but as much as he’d like to accept, he didn’t dare. “It’s not safe,” he said, seizing her fingers when she tugged at the curls of hair at the base of his throat. “Until we discover who attacked you, you shouldn’t travel.”
“I thought Ian had found the men.” Since he continued to hold her fingers captive, she began nibbling at his chin.
“Catrin, enough! I haven’t much time. As much as I’d love to strip off my clothes and climb into bed with you, I cannot.” Lifting her and setting her beside him, Nicholas sat up. “Stop trying to tempt me. It’s working all too well.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. Rannulf is going with me—”
“But Gillian just gave birth,” she protested, placing a hand on his arm. “Surely he doesn’t wish to go.”
“He has no choice, ’tis by the king’s command. I swear John has become suspicious of everyone. He tests us constantly. And ever since Rannulf married Gillian, the king has delighted in testing both Rannulf and me.”
“I’ll take care of Gillian and the babe as well as I can.” Catrin wrapped a sheet loosely about her and stood.
Nicholas took her in his arms. “I know you will. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. We’ll be back before you’ve had the chance to miss us,” he murmured. He took her mouth in a passionate kiss, then strode from the room before he changed his mind and stayed.
The king’s command be damned!
Catrin pressed her fingers against her lips and watched him leave. Damn his king, and her cousin Llywelyn, too! Why couldn’t they play their petty games themselves, instead of sending others to do it for them? Gillian and the child needed Rannulf here with them.
And she needed Nicholas. So much lay unresolved between them. It seemed every time they came close to speaking of all the things in their hearts, something or someone interrupted them.
Fearing she’d grow maudlin if she stayed alone, Catrin dressed in some of Gillian’s cast-off clothing and tied back her hair. No doubt Gillian would be glad of company now, and Catrin wanted to examine her and the baby.
Her life had been a constant whirl since she set out from Gwal Draig. It would be a relief to rest awhile and gather her scattered thoughts and emotions. What better way to pass the time until Nicholas returned?
Ian left his horse—and his troop—in the woods outside Chester and motioned for Dai to accompany him. They set off down the winding track, heading toward an alehouse on the outskirts of town where he’d heard they’d find the men he sought A dove cooed in the growing twilight, lending an air of peace to the evening that I
an hadn’t experienced in far too long.
Doubtless it wouldn’t last. Peace never did; it was as fleeting as a morning mist.
If he found the knaves who had attacked Catrin and Nicholas—and killed his men—peace would be the farthest thing from his mind. Once he got his hands on the bloody bastards he’d make them wish they’d never been born.
The tavern was a shabby place, surrounded by others in similar disrepair. When they ducked through the low doorway, they were assaulted by the sour smell of spilled ale mixed with smoke and the stench of unwashed bodies—the customary alehouse perfume.
A slatternly wench sidled up to them, her homely face lit by a smile. “Wot’s yer pleasure, milords?” she asked, leaning her impressive bosom against Dai’s arm when Ian glared at her.
She turned her attention back to him when he held a coin over her gaping bodice. “Do you know a man who’s missing half his fingers? I’ve heard I might find him here.”
“Ye mean Ralph? He’s sittin’ over there, by the back door.” She pointed to a shadowy corner of the room.
He dropped the money into her gown and headed for the table.
Four men sat around a table, all drunk from the look of them. One man balanced a wench on his knee, one hand thrust down her bodice, the other under her skirts.
When Ian halted beside the table, the man dumped her off his lap onto the filth-strewn dirt floor, earning him a glare from her and a roar of laughter from his companions. “Ralph, what did ye do that for?” one whined. “Ye get yerself a woman and then toss her away…”
“I’d like ta toss her—” another cut in.
“Don’t make sense to me,” the first continued. “First there’s that feisty wench with the sword—remember how Ned wanted her, even when she were dead?”
“Shut up, Will,” Ralph snarled, swatting Will on the side of the head. “Can’t ya see we got company?”
Ian tightened his fingers around the hilt of his sword, barely resisting the temptation to use it. But he permitted none of his frustration to show in his face. “I’ve been looking for you, Ralph. I’ve some work for you.”
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