by Anita Mills
“Ask de Comminges, then, Cat. I dare not attempt it.”
“I’d expected more of you, Brian, for you are like a brother to me,” she reminded him. “To ask William is like asking Guy if I may leave him.”
“Your husband would kill me, Cat. And if he did not, your father would.” His brown eyes considered her soberly. “What has happened to overset you so?”
“My husband loves me not.”
“Jesu,” he sighed in disgust. “It is not true, but even if it were, ’tis no reason to leave his house. He makes you a countess, you are chatelaine here, he does not beat you even as you deserve—nay, but you know not when to count your blessings and thank God for what you have been given.”
“I thought you of all people would understand.”
“I understand too well—you would leave your lord over a quarrel with him and bring his wrath down on me. Nay, he mistrusts me enough already.”
“Then why do you stay here? Why did you ask your father for leave to defend Rivaux’s walls with his men? If you fear him, why stay?”
“Because ’tis close to Mayenne.”
She sucked in her breath and stared, her own misery forgotten for a moment. “Sweet Mary,” she breathed in shock.
“Aye, ’tis strange, is it not?” He nodded. “All those years I thought I loved you, but ’twas not so. So I wait here for Geoffrey of Mayenne to die, that I may take her home ere the old man makes her his prisoner for her dowry.”
“Does she know?”
“About Count Hugh’s plans?”
“About you.”
“Nay.”
“I’d not thought you knew she lived, Brian—never once in all those years do I remember a word of love between you.”
“There were none, but I think I was blinded by you, Cat. You are the one every man looks on and admires, whilst Linn is but Linn. Away from you, there are many who would think her a beauty, but in your presence, she fades. I did not note how truly beautiful she was until she kicked me awake and told me to leave you be and make my own way.”
“She must have kicked your head,” Catherine muttered dryly, “for I have never heard such a thing. You and Linn? She’d never allow your whores, Brian.”
“I can accept that. Have you heard of my lying with any of the women here?”
“You are serious, aren’t you?”
“Never more serious or sober in my life, Cat. If Aislinn of the Condes chooses me freely, I’d not ask God for more.”
“And if she does not?”
“Then I will go to Wales and fight for my mother’s husband, I suppose.” He turned to stare unseeing at the workmen on the wall. “’Tis no easy thing to wait for a man to die, Cat.”
“We could bring her here. Aye, ’tis not far, and mayhap Count Hugh would let her visit me.”
Perplexed by the sudden change in her, he looked back. “I thought you wanted to leave Rivaux.”
“Aye, I did, but mayhap with Linn here I’d not miss Guy so. I’d go with you to get her, and Count Hugh would never suspect your interest.” Her troubled eyes met his again. “In truth, Brian, I know not what I wish to do, but I’d not live like this. I need Linn or Maman.”
“Linn is with child also—I doubt Mayenne will let her come.”
“Geoffrey yet lives, and she is his wife rather than Count Hugh’s. Nay, the choice is Geoffrey’s whether she stays or goes. I’d ask him, Brian.”
“You will have to tell de Comminges of it.”
Hawise put her hands on her hips and drew her mouth into a thin line of disapproval. Despite her status as tiring woman to Catherine, she spoke with the audacity of one long in service. “’Tis folly, Cat, and well you know it. Nay, but your lord would be displeased to even think you rode that far with his babe in your belly.”
“’Tis your place to pack rather than censure,” Cat retorted.
Unabashed, the plump woman shook her head. “I’ve known you since you were birthed, and I can tell you that your mother and your father would tell you not to go—not without your lord’s permission.”
“My lord is not here to ask, and I’ve not seen my sister since I left the Condes, Hawise. Besides, ’tis not that far. I’d take my purple gown, and the red one also, and the golden net for my hair, I think. Aye, and I give you leave to pack another gown also. We will not be staying overlong, as ’tis my intent to ask that Linn come here.”
“And leave a sick husband?”
“Aye, else she will be at Count Hugh’s mercy when Geoffrey dies.”
“That is between Earl Roger and the count,” Hawise reminded her. “You’d embroil your lord in a quarrel not of his making, and him with an unfinished wall.”
“’Tis not your place to scold me, I said. Leave me be and pack my things—Brian says I cannot take above three boxes.”
“And that is another matter, Cat. ’Tis not likely your husband will welcome the news that you’ve ridden out of Rivaux with Brian FitzHenry, no matter where you go.”
“He will not,” Cat conceded, “but ’tis none of your concern. If you cannot keep your tongue civil, I’ll have Beda in your stead.”
“Mayhap he will beat you.”
“Nay, he’d have to come home first.”
34
He saw the pack animals in the outer bailey and the mounted escort waiting in the courtyard when he rode in. And then he saw her, dressed and ready to ride, crossing the open yard ahead of him as he came over the lowered bridge. In that moment he knew a fear greater than that which had been plaguing him: Cat thought to leave him.
The escort scattered before him as he rode into its midst, and she turned to gape, speechless, as he tossed his helmet to a startled ostler and dismounted. A host of emotions paraded across her face as she backed away from his determined advance—shock, hope, dismay, were mirrored in turn in dark eyes made enormous by his wrathful gaze. William took a step forward to stay him and then dropped his hand, while Brian sat uneasily in his saddle above them. The clatter and bustle of preparation froze into silence as all watched their lord face his lady.
But when he spoke, it was with a calm that belied his anger and his fear. “I’d speak with you alone, Catherine,” was all he said to her, disappointing those who thought to watch.
The gold flecks in his eyes receded, chilled by the green. For a moment her chin came up in defiance, and then she exhaled sharply and nodded, looking away. “Aye.”
She turned back toward the tower to hide the sudden fear she felt, but his hand caught her wrist painfully as he leaned over her to mutter for her ears alone, “You can walk or be carried, but afore God, I’d not stand here and quarrel in front of mine own men.” Without waiting for a decision, he pulled her none too gently toward the doors.
“God’s blood, but I think he means to beat her,” Alan breathed to break the silence.
“He’d best not.” Brian spoke grimly, dismounting.
“You’d not dare to interfere.”
“Of a surety I would.”
Guy pushed Catherine up the narrow stairs and through the solar door before turning to kick it shut with his heavy boot. Releasing her wrist suddenly, he unbuckled his sword belt and stood Doomslayer in the corner by the door. His hands worked the fastenings of his mail coif at his neck while he walked to face her.
“Tell me how it is that you thought to leave me.”
“I was not leaving you! As I recall the matter, ’twas you who left me,” she added defensively.
The thin white scar on his cheek tightened as he tried to control his conflicting emotions. “Then where did you think to go?”
“’Twas Mayenne, Guy.”
“Mayenne?” He stared blankly at her for a moment. “Why?”
“I’d see how Linn fares. I am told her lot is even unhappier than mine own.” Her heart beating heavily in her breast, she raised her eyes to his. “And now that I have answered you, will you tell me how it is that you are come back but one day since you left?”
“I
could not leave the quarrel between us,” he admitted simply. “’Tis wrong of me to punish you for mine own dark moods.”
“Then…then you are not angry with me?” she asked.
“Only when I saw you ready to leave with the FitzHenry. My first thought then was that I’d kill him and beat you.”
“You have naught to fear of Brian. He did not truly wish to take me without your permission.”
“I feared to lose you.”
He towered over her, seeming bigger than ever in his mail, and his face still bore the imprint where his nasal had lain against his cheek, but his rumpled black hair and those flecked eyes of his were the most endearing of any she’d ever seen. He opened his arms to her and folded her against him as she leaned her head into his shoulder.
“Sweet Mary, but I feared to lose you, Cat.”
Fierce pride in this big man who loved her flooded over her. She clasped him tightly, rubbing her cheek against the roughness of the mail beneath his surcoat. “Nay, you fear nothing—art as fearless as Belesme, Guy.”
The muscles in the arms that held her tensed and his body went rigid for an instant, and then he mastered himself. “As long as I have you, Catherine of the Condes, I fear nothing,” he said.
“What do you mean to do about Vientot?” she asked suddenly, remembering why it was that he’d left her.
“Send William to collect the rents and taxes for me. I’d spend my winter here with you.”
“Guy…” Her hands released his waist and came up between them to press his chest as she leaned back. “I…that is…well, the babe sickens me no longer, and…” She reddened at the amused gleam in his eyes. “Well…I would!”
“Would what?” he asked, grinning. “Come, there’s naught you cannot say to me.”
“I…I’d lie with you again, Guy.”
The gold flecks became more prominent, warming his eyes. “Whenever you wish it—I am prepared to do my duty by you whenever, wherever, and however you want, Cat.” His grin softened to a crooked smile. “But I’d as lief get out of my mail first.”
A sobering thought occurred to her. “But I will become big-bellied and you will think me too ugly.”
“Nay, I will not. I promise we will find a way.”
“Cat! Cat! Are you all right?”
Catherine turned in Guy’s arms at the sound of Brian’s voice on the stairs. “Aye,” she called back. “All is well, but would you ask Hawise to see to the ordering of a bath for my lord?”
There was a pause before he answered. “Aye, but since we are already saddled and ready to ride, I mean to go on to Mayenne.”
Her passion spent, Catherine lay with her head cradled against his shoulder. It had been as good between them as it had ever been, and now he was silent as he caught his breath. Her fingers crept to play with the dark, curling hairs on his chest as she mused aloud, “What think you we should name the babe? If ’tis a daughter, I would call her Aislinn or Eleanor, unless you would name her for your mother. What was your mother’s name?”
After a brief hesitation he answered simply, “Alys.”
“’Tis a pretty name. Would you wish to name her that—or we could save the name for a later daughter—what say you?”
“I’d not name any of them Alys. Eleanor or Aislinn is fine.”
“If ’tis a son, I’d expect you to name him,” she continued in the same vein. “What was your father’s name?”
This time, there was a sharp intake of breath beneath her head. “Eudo—there have been four counts of Rivaux so named.”
“Eudo?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste and sighed. “Well, he could have more than one given name, I suppose.”
“You needn’t worry—I’d name no son of mine
Eudo. For one reason, I hate the name, and for the other, I hated the last to bear it.”
Her fingers ceased playing on his chest and she rolled to prop herself up on an elbow to look at him. “Then what would you name him?”
“I had not thought of it.”
“We could name him Roger for my father,” she ventured.
“Nay, there is but one Roger de Brione. A Roger of Rivaux would be unable to equal him.”
“What about Guy?”
“And be like the Alans of Brittany? Once ’twas impossible to remember whether ’twas Alan I or Alan II when people talked, and now ’tis Alan III and Alan IV. Nay, I never favored the name Guy, anyway, and I’d not give Rivaux a Guy II.” The image of Robert of Belesme went through his mind, sobering him. “Truth to tell, I think I would rather have a daughter.”
“And I would rather have a son like his father.”
He was unprepared for the chill that such innocent words gave him. He’d thought that in those hours on the road to Vientot he’d come to an understanding with himself—that he’d come back to Catherine and hide the terrible guilt, the terrible secret he bore from her—that he loved her so desperately that she could save him from himself. But he feared what she would do if she ever knew that the babe within her carried the blood of Belesme.
“Guy, are you all right?” she asked suddenly.
“Oh…aye.” He rolled on his side to face her and reached to stroke the smoothness of her hip. “I was but gaining strength.”
“Strength?”
Easing closer, he bent his head to tease the nipple of her already swollen breast with his tongue, and was rewarded with a moan that ignited again the fire between them. “Aye, I’d taste of you again,” he whispered as her hands twined in his hair and her body responded to his words.
“We cannot stay abed through supper,” she decided. “But I’d not go down and face the men when I’ll warrant every one of them knows what we have done.”
“What difference does it make? We are wed.”
“Aye, but to spend half a day and more like this…” She colored and rose hastily from the bed. “Well, ’tis sinful…and…”
His eyes traveled over her still-naked body, taking in every curve of her with pride. “If this be sin, I’d go to hell gladly, Cat.”
“I would you be serious. I cannot face them tonight—I’d have you tell them that I am ill.”
“And let them think I have come up here and beat you until you had to seek your bed? What a reputation you would give me, wife.”
“Still, I’d not go down this night.”
“We can say you bathed me—everyone will know that for the truth.”
“For hours and hours?”
“Well, maybe you deloused me also—it can take hours to pick the nits, I am told.”
“Ugh!”
“But as I have not been seen suitably scratching, we might have difficulty with that story,” he told her, grinning.
“Stop it! Being a man, I suppose you would not understand, because I am told that men take pride in such things, but I’d not have it thought that I have spent my day behaving like the castle whore.”
“Jesu, but you mean it, do you not?” Rising from the bed, he came up behind her and clasped her to him, nuzzling her bare shoulder. “I know not what castle whores you have met, Cat, but I can tell you with authority in the matter that they do not linger at the task.” Releasing her, he padded barefoot to one of the chests to draw out his clothes. “But since it troubles you, I’ll sup tonight without you and send Hawise up with food.”
“I’d not face her either—not tonight.”
“You have to eat, Cat,” he told her reasonably. “All right, I will bring you food myself, but I take leave to warn you that I am a poor tiring maid.” He eyed her tangled hair and shook his head. “You’ll get naught but one clumsy braid from me.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“Nothing. They can guess, for all I care about it. I’ll warrant there will be those who think we have comported ourselves with wanton abandon this day, and then there will be those who think I’ve beaten you until you cannot stand. Let them think what they will.”
“I’d rather you said I was sic
k with the babe again.”
“I try not to tell falsehoods.”
After tying his chausses, he pulled on a plain linen shirt that hung to his knees. Straightening, he came to face her, and his eyes searched her face. “Are you ashamed of loving me, Cat?”
Taken aback, she blinked and stared. “Ashamed? How could I be ashamed of loving Guy of Rivaux? Art good, kind, handsome, and a warrior in the bargain, Guy—nay, I am proud to call you husband.” Impulsively she threw her arms around his neck and tiptoed to hug him. “Aside from your temper, there’s naught I’d change about you.”
His amis returned her embrace, but looking over her head, his face was bleak.
With a worried eye, William watched Guy drink more than was his custom, and he was more than half-certain that he knew what ailed his master. More than twenty-four years had passed since Guy’s birth, and William had begun to relax his vigilance, thinking there was none left alive to know the tale, none but Belesme and himself. And now he believed Guy knew it also. But it went against William’s nature to think on it, much less speak of it, unless he knew for sure. He leaned back on his narrow bench and braced his back against the wall, openly watching the man he’d reared from a small boy. Aye, Guy knew, he decided finally, for there was naught else to account for the change in him since Belesme had come to Rivaux.
Guy reached to pour himself another cup of the rich red wine, but William leaned forward suddenly to stay his arm. “Nay, but I would speak with you whilst you can still stand, my lord. And the Lady Catherine would not like it were I to help a drunken fellow into her bed.”
“’Tis not your place…” Guy retorted, and then thought better of it. “Aye, you are right—I drink too much,” he sighed. “And I am overtired.”
William glanced around them, noting the thinness of the company since Brian FitzHenry and his escort had left, and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I have been with you since Lady Alys bade me keep you safe, my lord. If there’s aught you would know of it, we can walk the walls alone and speak. Or if not, I’d hold my tongue.”
