by Pam Roller
Another knock came, this time gentler yet rapid.
Alex sat up in a fog. “By the devil,” he muttered.
“I have it,” Sam sighed, and rose from his truckle bed.
“Wake the cooks and give the soldiers food, if that’s what they want.” Alex lay back down and rolled over onto his side. Vaguely, he heard Sam open the door.
“Lady Elizabeth, what ails you?”
Instantly alert at Sam’s alarmed voice, Alex leaped out of bed and dashed to the door.
“Alex!” Elizabeth cried. “Lady Katherine is missing!”
Alex grabbed Elizabeth’s thin shoulders. “How do you know this?”
“I—I went to bid her goodnight. She didn’t answer her door. When I looked in, she wasn’t there. I searched the parlor. I do not know where else she could be!”
Alex released Elizabeth, fetched his candle from his night table, and began a fast pace down the corridor with his hand in front of the flame to keep it from blowing out. Elizabeth was soon left behind, and he stopped at the stairs to wait for her. The pierced iron lantern she held by its top handle swung crazily left and right as she limped toward him. Sam, following behind her in his own shuffling gait, puffed for air.
“Slow down. Both of you!” Alex ordered. “Where is Millie?”
“She is searching the unused rooms,” Elizabeth said. “She said Lady Katherine dismissed her. We thought perhaps she walked through the house and couldn’t find her way back to her room. Oh, Alex, where could she be?”
She could be anywhere in this rambling fortress. Beneath the castle wound a labyrinth of passageways where one could become lost in minutes. And the ancient keep behind it was dangerous with its tumbled rocks and fallen floors. If she ventured off and hurt herself, no one would know.
Alex’s heart wrenched in his chest.
He tried to keep his voice calm, yet his words sounded too rapid. “Tell Millie to alert the servants to a search. And look downstairs in the buttery. Perhaps she was hungry. She barely touched her meal.”
As Elizabeth hobbled down the steps, Alex dashed down the hall toward Katherine’s bedchamber, slamming open doors of the rooms near hers as he went, pausing, shouting her name.
Nothing.
His feet slowed of their own accord when he drew closer to Katherine’s bedchamber. He could almost hear the nightmarish screams tearing from the room as they had on a night like this a year ago.
His mouth dry, he stopped at her door. Going in here now, at night, was much worse than it had been in broad daylight when he’d inspected the room for her arrival.
But he must find her, and he forced his legs to move. He opened the door, trudged in like a man ascending the gallows, and set his candle on the writing table next to a brown leather journal.
He envisioned Mary crouched on the floor, her wrists bruised from the ropes that had bound her to the bed. He’d hated to restrain her like this, but it was the only way. Except this time, someone had let her loose.
He drew in breath between clenched teeth as her shrill voice filled his head.
You killed them, didn’t you. Didn’t you! But I won’t let you murder this one. Do you hear me? I hate you, Alexander! I detest you for what you did to my babes!
“No,” Alex whispered, lowering his head and bringing his fists to his temples. “I would never hurt my children.”
Swallowing hard, he brought himself back to the present. He ran unwilling eyes over the seemingly empty room and saw the curtain move on a current of air.
Like the gaping mouth of hell, the window was wide open.
He felt the blood drain from his face. “No. Not again. Please.” His muscles seized and he ran on stiff legs to the window. It took everything he had to peer out to the darkened ground.
Soldiers of His Majesty’s Guard milled about below, talking, removing gear from their horses, and ambling to the lofts in the barn.
No shouts of alarm. No blood-pooled body lay shattered on the cobbled drive or earth packed yard.
Alex sucked in forgotten breath.
Then, he looked more closely at the men. Had one of them enticed her to go outside? Would she be so foolish? He turned to race for the door. Grabbing the candle, he glanced down at the open pages of her journal. And froze.
I need to leave this place. He does not want me here. He holds something against me. Perhaps he is embarrassed to be seen with me, as was Ellis.
He will find someone to marry me, but I wish to marry someone I can love. Someone who will treat me well.
Alex stared at her words in apprehension. She had left him, at night, because of his treatment of her.
Then, his eye caught a thin yellow light along the floor. The closet. He set down the candle, dashed across the room, and whipped open the door.
There she lay near the back, crumpled on her side with her legs drawn up to her chest. With a harsh cry, Alex went to her and dropped to his knees. He lifted her hand and saw her raw and bleeding fingers. Gently he touched her warm cheek.
“My God, what happened to you?” he whispered.
To his right, he caught a glimpse of black hair. Mary stared at him from her portrait a few feet away, her pale face shimmering in the light of the flickering candles on the closet shelf. He looked into the startled vacancy of her eyes and felt the familiar hopelessness of saving her.
Gathering Katherine in his arms, he lifted and carried her toward the bed. Her face turned toward his chest and her loose hair swung over his arm. Her breasts moved softly beneath the lace of her white nightdress.
The feel of her warm, supple body through the gauzy material roused a sudden passion and tenderness within Alex that he had thought quite dead. Unwilling to let her go, he stood cradling her to him.
She was hurt and in a faint. But he couldn’t stop his body’s craving for her, couldn’t stop himself from lowering his head and touching her soft lips with his.
She sighed and stirred, and then opened eyes cloudy with confusion. Slowly she raised one injured hand and caressed his cheek with her palm.
Oh, but to have her awake and doing this! He stayed perfectly still, waiting, willing his heart to slow its relentless hammering.
She sighed again and lowered her hand. He moved forward and lay her on her bed, and then held the candle near her hands to inspect them. Her nails were intact, thank God. The small splinters beneath them could be removed, and her fingertips would heal.
As he pulled the counterpane over her, his fingers unintentionally brushed over her breasts. He couldn’t stifle the guttural moan that emitted from deep within his chest.
“Katherine.” His throat felt full of grit that made his voice rough and unsteady.
He watched her eyes flutter, then open fully and focus on him. Distress tightened her features. She scooted away and seized the counterpane to pull it to her neck. Gasping, her face contorting in pain, she glanced at her wounded fingers and then darted confused, frightened eyes at him.
Alex stepped back and raised his hands. “All is well, my lady. Do not be alarmed. You fell while in your closet.”
She looked toward the closet. Shame filled her face. She lowered her head but continued to gaze at him with wide eyes. Wisps of her hair floated over her cheek and he wanted to brush them away with the gentleness of a lover.
“No need for embarrassment. Perhaps you were overtired and went in there by mistake.” Feeling powerless to help her, Alex glanced around for her slate, and saw it on her chest of drawers. “Would you like to write? If you can?”
She shook her head.
He considered pressing her for information. It could wait until morning. With great effort, he shook off his desire and cloaked himself with habitual indifference. “Good night, then. I will tell the others you’ve been found, and send Millie to bandage your fingers. And someone will come in the morning to look at the closet door. The handle is old. Perhaps it became stuck.”
Alex stepped over to the window to shut it. “I do not know if anyone
informed you,” he couldn’t help but add, “but I do not allow the windows in this house to show.” He jerked the curtain into place. “Ever.”
Even with her narrowed look of annoyance she was stunning, lying there with her hair flowing over the pillow and the lace of her nightclothes caressing her breasts with each breath she took. The memory of her firm warm body in his arms made him remain, unmoving, until she looked pointedly at the door.
“Yes. Goodnight.” He left the room and strode down the corridor with his hands balled into tight fists. He must be hard, unbreakable. No emotion.
He would absolutely begin sending word tomorrow that there was a marriageable woman of nobility under his guardianship.
Chapter Seven
The pulsating pain in her fingers woke Katherine, and the feminine snore resounding from one corner made her sit up hurriedly. She slipped out of bed, crossed the floor, and moved the drapes with her thumbs just far enough to see Millie asleep in a chair with her ample chin resting upon her chest.
The maid puckered her brow and smacked her lips. “Toll ye t’fetch th’ blasted hot water,” she mumbled.
Katherine turned back toward the window and blinked at the sunlight that soaked into her face like a welcome poultice. The incident of the night before seemed now only a dream, but her throbbing fingertips confirmed that it wasn’t. How shameful that Lord Drayton had found her in a faint in her closet. Her misfortune would only quicken his removal of her.
She examined her hands, wrapped in cloth to anchor the pad of cotton wadding at the ends of each of her fingers. Communicating through written words would be difficult until her fingertips ceased their throbbing ache.
In the meantime, golden shafts breaking through the clouds bathed the green hills outside her window. The bright, open space pulled at her spirit. She would never grow used to this dark, depressing castle, her somber room, the portrait of the wretched woman in the closet.
One hour later, Millie helped Katherine into a blue skirt and then laced it at the back. She waited while Katherine eased her hands through the sleeves of a loose jacket, and then she fastened the tiny pearl buttons up the front. “Poor lady,” she cooed. “Stuck in yer closet. Wish I’d stayed in here at bedtime. It’s me own fault, y’know.” She stared ruefully at Katherine’s hands.
Katherine shook her head and patted Millie lightly on her plump shoulder, then stepped into heeled leather shoes. Her fear of small spaces was her own foolishness and nothing more.
“Lady Drayton, she never wanted me in here,” Millie continued as she folded Katherine’s nightclothes. “Specially when Lady Agnes came over t’help her. They would whisper and laugh, and I think there was drinkin’ goin’ on. I found empty brandy goblets.” She turned to Katherine. “So I didn’t know if ye wanted me t’stay with ye or not. I told Lord Drayton as much, but I fear he’ll put me out because of what happened to ye.”
He would do no such thing. Katherine watched Millie, shoulders slumping, put her nightclothes into the cabinet. She must let him know right away that the maid was not at fault for what happened. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door.
Her remaining days in Lord Drayton’s home simply could not be as dreadful as these first few.
She gestured for her slate, and Millie picked it up. No matter that she wouldn’t be able to use it until her fingers healed, the slate had become such a part of Katherine that she couldn’t bring herself to leave it behind.
Nearing the stairs, she heard heavy footsteps. At the sight of Lord Drayton below on the first landing, Katherine wasn’t sure whether the sudden fluttering in her stomach meant hunger or anxiety. She strongly suspected the latter and paused at the wooden balustrade overlooking the stairs to watch him complete his ascent.
Dark blond curls peeked through the loosened laces of his brown linen shirt. Wetting her dry lips, she forced herself to meet the inquiring gaze that heightened the tremor in her gut.
He glanced down at her hands. “Good morning. I trust the remainder of your night passed without incident?”
Was there the slightest mockery in his expression? Not to be intimidated by his sarcasm, she held her head high and gave him a proud nod.
“Good.”
Now he would declare his intentions of sending her away. She steadied her gaze with his and waited while her insides fluttered like a frenzy of wings.
His voice was flat and unapologetic. “I read your journal last night. I respect your desire to leave here and plan to act on it as soon as possible.” His lips curved up, but his eyes showed no amusement. “And your desire to marry someone whom you can love, as you put it, is absurd. Love is a useless waste of time. Do not look for me to bring around a parade of eligible men and wait for you to fall in love with one of them.”
Katherine’s mouth moved to speak, and she felt the color rushing to her face. Gads, but it would take too long and cause too much pain to write the hot retort that should pour forth from her lips.
“Did you love your betrothed? Ellis Potts?” he asked unexpectedly.
Ellis? Of course. Hadn’t she? She nodded.
The cynical twist of Lord Drayton’s mouth took her aback. “There you have it. Look where it got you. He threw you away like so much garbage.” He began to turn away with a disgusted shake of his head. “Do not look for love in marriage either, Katherine. I can tell you that it doesn’t exist.”
Katherine threw up her hands in vexation. She glared at him and tried to will away her tears of frustration.
He didn’t understand. She wanted sanctuary, that was all. A life with someone who would accept her for who she was.
Lonely despair spilled through her.
He glanced back as he walked away, and stopped. The sarcasm on his face altered to genuine puzzlement. “Tears? Why? Do you truly think you will find what you are looking for?”
She brushed by him and headed for the stairs. Explaining herself to this bitter man wasn’t worth the pain in her fingers.
“Do not go downstairs. I will have a servant bring you breakfast.”
Resenting the authoritative tone of his voice, she stopped and whirled to face him with her hands on her hips, but lowered them at the resulting sharp twinge.
“Soldiers are coming into the house for the morning meal,” he said. “’Tis a large group, and some are unruly. ’Twould be best for you to stay out of sight until they’re gone. Elizabeth is in her bedchamber. Perhaps you would like to join her.”
Katherine almost refused out of defiance, but common sense told her he was right. She shrugged and looked at Millie.
“I will take ye there, m’lady,” Millie said.
She felt his eyes on her as she walked behind the maid down the corridor.
Moments later, Katherine watched Elizabeth’s face crumple at the sight of her bandaged hands, as if she herself had caused the injuries.
Elizabeth set down her cup and a little of the black liquid splashed out onto the saucer. “Oh, Lady Katherine, I am so sorry you had to go through that horrible event,” she said with a waver in her voice. “This house is so very old. The inside handle of your closet should have been inspected to be sure it was working. Alex has instructed Millie to never leave you alone.”
I am not a helpless child, Katherine wanted to write on the slate that Millie had set on the table near her. Since she would be leaving soon, though, it was best to keep her feelings to herself.
Elizabeth’s bedchamber was plush, colorful, and comfortable looking, with dark pink walls and a pink and yellow coverlet. But in here, as in Katherine’s room, the heavy rose patterned drapes were pulled tightly shut to keep out the light.
“Would you like coffee?” Elizabeth asked, indicating the blue and white ceramic pot the servant held, “Or have you taken to drinking the tea that Queen Catharine so enjoys?”
Katherine raised her brows in interest and pointed to her cup. She had indeed come to appreciate tea as well as coffee, but this morning, she needed the strength that only a hot
cup of coffee could offer. On the table, she noticed paper, quill and a small bottle of ink. How nice that Elizabeth had procured the items for her.
Feeling obligated to write her thanks, she placed her bandaged fingers on the thin quill, but only managed to slide it around instead of lifting it. She blew out an exasperated breath and glanced down at the thick square of chalk nestled in its holding place on her slate. Perhaps, if she managed to pry it out, she could palm it in her hand as would a young child. With her thumb, she tried to lift it.
“Would ye like me to help, m’lady?” Millie asked, sounding just as frustrated as Katherine felt.
Katherine raised a hand in impatience and shook her head. She would thank Elizabeth later, when she could write again.
She concentrated on lifting her coffee cup to her mouth using both hands. Even so, too much of the hot liquid stung her lips and tongue. Gritting her teeth in frustration and pain, she eased the cup back into its saucer.
“I doubt you would like to be treated as a baby and fed,” Elizabeth said with moist eyes, “but is there anything I can do to help you?”
Katherine forced a smile, shook her head, and managed to slide her thumb under a piece of bread and lift it to her lips.
It was a stupid thing she had done, getting stuck in her closet. No matter what happened, during the remainder of her stay at Drayton Castle she would control her curiosity, a vice which had caused her to lose her voice and now injured her hands.
Lord Drayton must think her a clumsy, prying fool. For some silly reason, his opinion of her mattered a great deal.
She ate her bread and, determined to succeed, wielded spoonfuls of pottage to her mouth, spilling most of them in the process. Although Millie placed a cloth on her bodice, Katherine knew she would have to change her dress after breakfast.
Elizabeth must have shaken her head and murmured “Poor thing” twenty-odd times, so that by the time a knock came to the door, Katherine was ready to run from this smothering pink bedchamber back to her sparse, colorless room. Elizabeth’s maid opened the door.
