Mary Reed McCall

by Secret Vows

  “I swear that I never wanted to deceive you.”

  “And yet you did. Every time you let me call you Elise. Every time you let me call you wife.” His already hoarse voice broke on that last word, and he took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “For God’s sake, tell me why! Did you and Eduard plan this to make a fool of me? To humiliate me further at Court?”

  Exquisite pain shifted over her face, that face he loved so well, but she shook her head. “Nay. ’Tis worse than that.”

  “Then tell me, damn it.”

  Biting her lip, she paced a few steps away, her fingers clenched tight. Finally, she faced him again. “All of this began when Elise died. She took her own life, driven to it by Eduard’s cruelty. When he discovered that she had escaped him, he came up with his own solution to the problem. He forced me to marry you in her place so that I could aid him in committing the terrible deed that he’d already planned…” Catherine gazed at him blindly, her eyes pleading with him.

  “God forgive me, Gray, but I married you in order to help kill you.”

  He didn’t think he could breathe for a moment. Her words hammered through his skull with cracking blows. She stared at him now as if he might crumble to dust before her eyes. And he felt like doing it. Felt like disintegrating rather than having to face what she’d just said. He should have expected as much, but hearing her say it made it that much more real and painful.

  His breath finally exploded from him in a rush, and he jabbed his hand through his hair, swinging away from her. He held himself very still, very stiff. What he’d stumbled upon in Somerset was true, then. His real betrothed, the woman he’d forced himself to accept to appease King Henry, was dead, and he’d been duped into a marriage whose sole purpose was to ease the way to his murder. And Montford had plotted it all…

  His stomach rolled, his mind careening with the duplicity of it. With a growl, he slammed his palms into the wall above the fireplace, closing his eyes against the pain.

  God it hurt.

  The lies…sweet Jesu, the lies. Even with his eyes closed he could see her face, so beautiful and serene—on the altar, with his people, in front of his men. Aye, even cradled in his arms as they made love with a passion that had pierced him to his soul.

  And it had all been a lie…

  Desperately, Gray searched within himself, looking for some dark, dangerous emotion to swell and ease the pain of this betrayal. He’d always been able to summon such feelings at will, call up rage or battle lust to wipe out all else from his mind. But this time, nothing happened. This time, the hurt went too deep. No matter how hard he tried, it still seethed beneath the surface, vying for power and precedence.

  And for the first time in his life, Gray feared that the hurt would win.

  “I’m sorry,” Catherine whispered. “I should have told you the truth long ago.”

  “Aye,” he said finally, still leaning into the wall. “But you didn’t.”

  “Because I was protecting my children.”

  For the second time in less than a minute, Gray felt like someone had impaled him with a bloody lance. “Your children?” he asked in a raw voice, swiveling his head to look at her. “You have children, lady?”

  “Aye,” she murmured, looking startled. “I thought you’d learned about them as well.”

  Of course. The realization of it sliced him like a blade. He should have made the connection back at the tavern, only he hadn’t allowed himself to think beyond the excruciating point of learning that she’d played him false.

  When he didn’t answer, she looked down at her hands, still clasped tightly in front of her. Then, with slow, even steps, she walked over to the trunk by the bed, lifted the lid and retrieved the portrait that Gray had somehow known from the first would come to mean more than just a wedding gift. His heart throbbed, the ache inside him thrumming with each beat.

  “I named them Ian and Isabel,” she said softly. “They were born to me eight years ago, through my cursed union with Eduard’s brother, Baron Geoffrey de Montford.” She stroked her finger over their images, her lips tight. “They were the only joys of my existence, and that is why Eduard chose to use them against me, to get to you.”

  “How?” Gray couldn’t seem to stop himself from asking.

  When Catherine raised her gaze to him again, her eyes were shadowed by that same haunted look he remembered from their very first night together. “’Twas simple. Eduard forced me to comply with his schemes by threatening to kill my children if I did not.”

  “Sweet Christ.” Even through his own pain, Gray couldn’t escape the horror of what that must have meant to her. Montford was a sick bastard. As corrupt and evil as the devil himself, to be willing to threaten the lives of his own niece and nephew.

  Gray shook his head, feeling blessed numbness begin to creep in. It was all starting to make more sense now. At least he was beginning to understand why Catherine had betrayed him. He couldn’t blame her for going along with Montford’s plots. Nay, not when her children’s lives were at stake.

  But that didn’t change what had hurt him more than anything else in all of this. She should have told him the truth. Weeks ago. Christ, she should have trusted him enough to tell him the truth.

  He pushed away from the wall, the heaviness in his soul near to choking him. “On the morrow, lady, I will lead my forces to Faegerliegh Keep and take your children back, by force if necessary. At the same time a message will be dispatched to the king, informing him of the situation. We will await his answer and direction here, with you and the twins safe under my protection.”

  She stared at him, eyes wide. “You would do that for me? Even now, after all this…?”

  “I would do no less for anyone, lady. ’Tis justice, pure and simple.”

  “But what of King Henry’s sanctions against it? Will you not be risking everything if he does not see this thing in the same light?”

  “Aye,” Gray said, snapping his gaze to hers in exasperation. “’Tis a distinct and unhappy possibility. And yet do you think I could live with myself if I let any number of sanctions—or even the king himself—stand in the way when children’s lives weigh in the balance?”

  She looked as if she would answer, then. Perhaps assure him that, nay, she’d been foolish not to trust him. That she’d always known he would do what was right, regardless of what he risked or how he’d been hurt. But in the end she said nothing. She just stood there, pale and haunted, her gaze downcast.

  “Ah, lady,” Gray said at last, shamed to find his voice gone suddenly as husky as hers, “here you stand before me as you did on our very first night together, silent and frightened, uncertain of what the future may bring.” He swallowed hard. “And still knowing me, it seems, not at all…”

  Unable to say more, Gray walked to the door on legs of wood, hardly aware of leaving the chamber or pulling the heavy door closed behind him. He took several stumbling steps before the pain finally overwhelmed him and he jerked to a halt.

  Then he just stood very still in the dark, listening to the rain beating its muted melody on the roof above him, and feeling sadness sweep through him in crashing waves; it weighed him down, defeating him. He sank slowly to his knees under its power, fists clenched against the agony tearing through his brain—against the inescapable knowledge that he had just walked away from everything in the world that would ever matter to him…

  A woman and a love, God help him, that had never truly been his to begin with.

  Catherine watched the door shut, feeling its echo reverberate through her soul. She waited until the sound of Gray’s leaving faded into nothingness, until she heard naught but the cold wind rattling the panes in the window.

  He was gone.

  Wrapping her arms round herself, she gripped the twins’ portrait tight against her, letting the metal frame dig into her flesh so that she’d know she wasn’t some formless spirit, wrenched from her mortal body by the force of her anguish. The pain rocked through he
r, devastating in its power.

  Sweet Mother Mary, she’d just lost the man she loved. Lost him forever because of her secrets and her lies.

  And it was then that she began to weep.

  Chapter 16

  The hearth logs had burned to glowing coals before Catherine made up her mind. ’Twas well past midnight, she guessed. Hours earlier she’d sneaked a message to Heldred in the stables to relieve him of both his worrying and his waiting for her. Then she’d unbound her hair and changed from her boy’s clothing into her long chemise to curl in this chair near the fire. She’d tucked her legs to her chest, absently wiping tears that seemed to seep from her eyes without end.

  ’Twas high time to stop crying and get on with it.

  She’d wronged Gray, of that there was no doubt. But she loved him, too, and as she’d sat stewing in her misery, she realized that in all she’d told him when he’d confronted her earlier this night, she’d never told him how she felt. It was an error she planned to remedy right now.

  Grasping one of the tapers from the mantel, Catherine eased open her chamber door and stepped into the corridor. She sucked in her breath as the stinging cold of the stones assaulted her bare feet, moving quickly to keep them from going numb.

  She needed to find Gray.

  Should she look in the tilting yard? Nay, the lists would be soaked from the rain. Besides ’twas too late for him or anyone else to be engaged in any kind of exercise outside.

  Some corner of the great hall, perhaps? She chewed her lip, pausing in her progress until the chill made her pick up her pace again. Nay, not the great hall. He’d avoid company in his current state of mind; there would be too many people to see him there and remark on his presence among them.

  His solar. Aye, his solar was the perfect place for him to be alone, though ’twas possible that by this time of night he might already be asleep. Still, she couldn’t help thinking that if he managed to fall into blissful slumber after all that had happened between them, then she would have her answer and no more need be said.

  There was only one way to find out.

  She made her way to the stairs, creeping down them in silence, moving even more carefully when she reached the bottom and the entrance to the great hall. She snuffed out her candle, stealing round the edge of the huge chamber to avoid rousing any of the sprawling squires, servants, retainers and knights asleep on the rushes or benches.

  The rain had ceased more than an hour before, and a thick crescent moon hung in the sky, providing enough light through the arrow slits and windows high near the vaulted ceiling to allow her shadowy view of those sleeping below. She saw no sign of Gray anywhere.

  After picking her way carefully around the groups of sleepers, none of whom offered more than a snore or cough to mark her passing, she reached the corridor leading to his solar. ’Twas darker in the passageway, especially without the light of her candle. Feeling silly holding an unlit taper, she set it down. Then, straightening, she wiped her palms on her shift, breathed deep, and pushed the solar door open enough to slip inside.

  A fire crackled in the grate, banishing the chill of the corridor; it drew her gaze, and a joyful shock went through her. Gray himself leaned back in a chair before the blaze, dressed only in his shirt, boots and breeches. His long legs were stretched out to the heat, and he sipped from a cup as he stared into the flames, unaware, it seemed, of her entrance.

  Catherine hesitated, wondering if she wasn’t risking a beheading to startle him without warning, when suddenly he spoke.

  “I see that you’ve found me.”

  The sound of his voice, deep and smooth, made her jump. But then she wondered if she’d imagined its echo; Gray hadn’t shifted even a hair from his position. He continued to stare into the fire, drinking again, but otherwise moving not at all.

  She took another step, and another before he turned his head and directed the full force of his gaze on her…

  And then she knew that she hadn’t imagined anything.

  His expression was primal in the firelight, dangerous and untamed. Catherine swallowed. Now that she stood closer, she saw that his shirt was unlaced, and as he sat up and twisted to face her, the muscles of his chest and belly rippled. He rested his forearms on his thighs, his cup gripped loosely in both hands; the firelight shone through his open shirt from behind, glowing tawny on his skin and his ebony hair.

  “Welcome to my haven, lady, such as it is,” he murmured, his brow arching in time with one corner of his mouth. He lifted his cup to her in salute.

  His haven from her. The dark thought pushed its way into Catherine’s mind, shoving aside the curls of heat invoked by his stare. But she stopped herself from voicing her fears aloud, instead nodding to his hand. “What is that you’re drinking?”

  “This?” He glanced at the cup. “’Tis my usual brew—would you care for some?” Then he looked at her again and understanding dawned; his expression turned almost mocking. “Ah, I see. You were wondering, perhaps, if I’d forsaken my vow of so many years ago in order to indulge in something stronger tonight.”

  “Nay. I mean, I didn’t think you would, but—” she stumbled over her words, feeling awkward and stupid. Finally she clamped her lips shut and looked away. By the Rood, what had possessed her to come here and intrude on him like this? She was a fool. Gray owed her nothing. She was naught but an imposter in his eyes. A cheat. Once her children’s safety was resolved, he would probably send her packing, with good riddance.

  “I—I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” she managed to say around the lump in her throat. “I’ll leave now.” Her eyes burned and her stomach felt sick as she turned to go.

  “Wait, lady.”

  She stiffened but didn’t look back.

  “Please, Catherine. Don’t go.”

  The sound of her name uttered in his husky plea made her stop. She faced him again. His mocking look had vanished, leaving in its place the fullness of his emotions, raw pain and need, burning clear in the emerald depths of his eyes.

  She took two steps toward him, uncertainty assaulting her anew. “Gray, I—”

  “Why did you really come here?” he said quietly.

  She stared back at him, realizing that she risked everything if she told him, but knowing that if she didn’t, she’d spend the rest of her miserable life alone, wishing she had.

  She swallowed hard again, her heart pounding.

  “I—I came to find you because there is something else I’ve kept from you. One more truth that you deserve to know.”

  “Another truth, lady?” His gaze remained leveled on her, so cautious, so unsure, that her heart wrenched again.

  She blinked, his face blurring in the flood of heat that swelled and stung in her eyes. Somehow, she managed to nod, and then the words flowed from her in a torrent. “Gray, I know that our marriage is false because of my deceit, and that it is your honor alone that has compelled you to offer your help in rescuing my children. For that I am forever grateful. But once their safety is achieved, I also know that I will—” her voice wavered under a fresh assault of pain, “I know that I will have to leave you and Ravenslock forever, and—”

  Her composure was beginning to slip, but she struggled to stay strong through the rest of what she had to say. Choking back her tears, she finished, “The truth is that I love you. Through all this time, it is what has helped to keep me going, what has kept me strong.” She fisted her hands, willing them to stop trembling. “I love you, Gray, and I couldn’t leave until I’d told you.”

  While she spoke, Gray closed his eyes, sitting back as if she’d struck him a mortal blow. He remained still and quiet for a few moments. Then, without opening his eyes, he said raggedly, “Nay, Catherine. I do not accept it.”

  The grief that had been balled up inside of her unfurled into agony at his response. She felt it rising, suffocating her. She’d told him how she felt, exposed her innermost feelings to him, and he was rejecting her out of hand. ’Twas no less than she deserved
, she knew, and yet she’d been foolish enough to hope…

  She turned away from him, holding herself still and trying to remember to breathe as she squeezed her eyes shut and let the hot flow course unhindered now down her cheeks. She had to go, had to leave this chamber. It hurt too much to look on this man she loved and know that he could never—would never—return what she felt for him.

  “I do not accept what you’ve said, Catherine, because if you leave me forever, I think that I will die from the pain of it.”

  Gray added this last statement hoarsely, quietly, but Catherine felt the words clear through her soul.

  “What did you say?” she whispered, still facing away from him lest he dissolve before her eyes like the traces of a dream.

  “I said that if you leave me, I’ll die.”

  His voice was very gentle, very close to her now. In the next instant she felt his hands slide around her waist from behind, splaying warm across her stomach as he pulled her against him and rested his cheek against hers. “God, Catherine, don’t ever leave me.”

  A great dam seemed to break in her then, flooding her with almost painful sweetness. She closed her eyes and leaned back, releasing a deep, shuddering breath; when his mouth brushed her neck, it sent shivers of longing through her.

  “By all that is holy, Gray,” she breathed, “I never want to leave you. But I thought that I’d have to. That you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

  At that he turned her around to face him, cupping her face in his palms, and the intensity—the love—in his eyes seared her to the depths of her being.

  “Don’t you know, Catherine? I want you with every breath I take. You. I don’t care if your name is Elise, Margery, Ann, or Jane. It matters not, because ’tis you that I love. Only you.”

  “But I thought—”

  “Hush,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her lips. “I was angry when I learned that you’d deceived me, I’ll not deny it. And it hurt to know that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about Montford’s plotting.”