Unsure what he expected of her, she murmured, “Thank you.”
“I have come to take you back, but I will give you my promise.” He spoke his next words slowly and deliberately, his eyes never leaving her face. “I swear to you, Mary Catherine FitzAlan, I will never harm you.”
His apology and promise made, he rose to his feet and said, “That is not to say I think you are without fault in this.”
Catherine felt her face color, thinking of her refusal to come willingly to the marriage bed. “I am most sorry for my failures, m’lord husband,” she stammered. “I intended to ask your forgiveness as soon as I came in.”
“You broke your word to me.” He loomed over her, his fists clenched, his voice sharp with anger. “You agreed to tell no one our marriage was not consummated. Now I find you’ve told Abbess Talcott as well as the housekeeper.”
“I am sorry,” she said, surprised to learn this was what he was most angry about. “In my fright, I forgot my promise.”
“You may as well have announced it in the hall,” he said, raising his voice and spreading his arms wide. “Everyone you did not tell outright will know it when they hear you came here seeking an annulment!”
After a few moments of silence, he took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair.
“We shall return at once,” he said, his voice deadly calm now. “You will not leave Ross Castle without my permission again.”
She nodded her agreement. Obediently, she took his proffered hand, but he made no move toward the door.
“You will keep your word to me in the future,” he said, fixing her with a look that was as hard as granite. His words were both a demand and a warning. “I cannot abide deceit.”
Catherine averted her eyes as William marched her past the half-dozen men waiting with their horses in the courtyard. He headed straight for Jacob, who stood alone a few yards away from the others.
“You should not have been party to this foolishness,” William said, tapping a menacing forefinger on Jacob’s chest. “You took a great chance with my wife and Jamie, traveling alone at night as you did. You and I shall come to an understanding, or you shall not remain in my service. The men at the gate who let you pass shall answer to me as well.”
Catherine appreciated that William gave the reprimand out of the other men’s hearing. She understood, too, why he said it in front of her. It had been reckless of her to travel with only the old man for protection. Old Jacob would do anything she asked, and she had taken advantage of that.
Hearing Jamie’s shout, she turned around to see him break loose from the novice’s hand and run across the courtyard toward them. Instead of coming to her, he barreled into William. He shrieked with pleasure as William caught him. Reminded of Abbess Talcott’s reproof to be grateful for William’s kindness toward her son, she felt ashamed.
William put the boy on Jacob’s horse, gruffly telling the old man to take care with him. It was a sign Jacob would be forgiven. Catherine made herself turn to acknowledge the other men. None would meet her eyes. Forgiveness would not come so easily for her.
The ride back to Ross Castle was long and silent, broken only by Jamie’s occasional question and Jacob’s murmured reply. After a time, even Jamie picked up the somber mood and grew quiet. Finally, Ross Castle came into sight. The ordeal was almost over.
As soon as they were within the protective watch of the sentries on the walls, William sent the others ahead.
“There is something I must ask you,” he said to her.
William lifted her down from her horse. He took her elbow and began walking with her, slowly and without direction. The ground was rough, and she had to watch her step.
Suddenly, he stopped and pulled her around to face him. “I want to know the nature of your relationship with the prince.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What is it you wish to know?”
“I can think of no other way to say it, except bluntly.” William looked off in the distance and then back at her, as if expecting her to discern his question without his asking it.
When she continued to look at him blankly, he said in a strained voice, “I must know if you have lain with him yet.”
She did not immediately respond, because she simply could not.
“If you have,” he said in a gruff voice, “it must stop.”
Her hand went to her mouth, and she stepped back from him. “You would say such a thing to me!” she said, torn between shock and outrage. It was unthinkable. She turned on her heel to walk away from him, but he grabbed her arm.
“You betrayed your first husband while you shared his bed—a favor you have yet to grant me.” His voice was caustic. “Why should I believe you would not betray me as well?”
Before now, the intensity of his desire for her had so overwhelmed her that she had failed to perceive the depth of his distrust of her. Why had he chosen to marry her?
“I see what you think of my character, husband,” she said, spitting out the word husband. “But how could you believe it of Harry? He is selfless and righteous and honorable.” She was ranting now, and she did not care whether her defense of Harry was helping her case or not. “How could you think he would be a guest in your home and bed your wife?”
She jerked her arm from his grasp but remained facing him, defiant and angry.
“If you have not yet acted upon what is between you,” he said, his eyes spitting fire, “then I am telling you now that you shall not.”
She slapped him so hard that the stinging of her hand brought tears to her eyes. Seeing her handprint on his face brought visions of the marks Rayburn had left on her.
She covered her face and crumpled to the ground. She was both startled by her own uncontrolled rage and humiliated by William’s accusations.
The future seemed very bleak, indeed.
Eventually her raging emotions receded, leaving a heavy tiredness that weighed down every bone and muscle. William knelt beside her, but she did not look at him. Staring, unseeing, into the distance, she made one last attempt to make him understand the impossibility of what he was suggesting.
“Harry does not think of me that way,” she said. “He is like a younger brother to me and I an older sister to him.”
William put his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “My mother gave herself to whomever she pleased, regardless of the consequences to anyone else. I will not tolerate such behavior in my wife.
“We must have this understood between us.” His eyes held hers with a burning intensity. “I will not share my wife with another man, whether he be prince or king or commoner. I keep what is mine.”
As they remounted their horses and rode in silence to the gate, Catherine was grateful he had not asked the one question she could not answer honestly. She had one secret she would keep from him, no matter what his threats or her promises.
One secret she would never tell.
Chapter Nine
The tension was thick at the table. News of her flight had spread through the castle—and likely to everyone in the village below as well. William’s men were restless. The servants gave her worried looks as they carried in jugs of wine and heaping trays of food. Beside her, William was as silent as the grave.
As soon as the interminable meal ended, Catherine made her escape.
“Jamie, come with me,” she said, taking his hand. “I will tell you tales of King Arthur before you sleep.” They were his favorites, so she knew he would not argue.
She sat beside Jamie on his bed and recited every Camelot story she knew. When she could no longer justify keeping him awake, she made him say his prayers and kissed him. With a nod to the nursemaid, she slipped out.
Jamie had slept in her bedchamber until Rayburn came home unexpectedly one night. That was the only time Jamie saw Rayburn hit her, but he was so upset by it she did not risk it again. The next day, she settled him into his own chamber on the floor above.
Her feet dr
agged as she went down the stairs. Knowing what she must do did not make doing it any easier. When did she become such a coward? William was not like Rayburn. As furious as he was with her today, he did not strike her. He might punish her by keeping her under lock and key, but his sense of honor would not permit him to physically harm her.
Perhaps sharing his bed would be no worse than unpleasant. Women all over England submitted to their husbands; most seemed none the worse for it. Aye, she would hope for the best.
Her maid was waiting for her in her bedchamber. “You may go now, Mary,” she said after the woman had helped her out of her gown and into her night shift. “I shall not need you until morning.”
Mary smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Of course, m’lady.”
There were few secrets one could keep from one’s maid.
“Tell Thomas he will not be needed either.” Covering her embarrassment as best she could, she said, “I shall help my husband prepare for bed tonight.”
The look of approval on Mary’s face did not make Catherine feel any better.
Once she was alone, she went into William’s bedchamber. She stood uncertainly before the bed. Remembering William liked her hair down, she loosened it from the braid the maid had just made and climbed up the step to the bed.
William sighed as he made his way up the stairs. Catherine had been as nervous as a cat at supper. Then she left in such haste, he could have no hope she would come to him tonight. Though he forced her to return, she did seem to accept she must fulfill her marriage vows to him.
If he had any reason to believe it would be tonight, he would be running up these stairs.
Making her so angry had not helped, of course. He was now inclined to believe her relationship with the prince was yet innocent. Still, he was glad he made it clear to her he would not tolerate infidelity. He knew from experience how lightly many noblewomen took their marriage vows.
He was not ready to face his empty bed, so he continued up the stairs to the upper floor. When he stepped into Jamie’s chamber, he nodded to the startled nursemaid who sat in the corner stitching.
He watched the boy’s face in the lamplight. Jamie, who was always in motion when awake, had the face of a cherub in the peace of sleep. The sweetness of his expression made William think of his brother John at that age. William had not been allowed to visit his mother’s home often. But when he came, it was to see John.
“God protect you,” he said, touching the top of the boy’s head.
Having no more excuse for delay, he trudged down the stairs to his and Catherine’s rooms. He gave yet another heavy sigh when he saw no light under her door. For the hundredth time that day, he reminded himself of the abbess’s advice. He must give Catherine time to trust him.
Where was Thomas? God’s beard, the man did not even light a lamp for him. Further punishment for his sins—as if he needed to be chastised by his manservant.
He felt his way in the dark to the table and lit the lamp. He yawned and stretched his arms wide as he turned toward the bed.
Catherine. Catherine was in his bed.
In three heartbeats, he went from dumbstruck to breathless. She was stunning, with her fair hair spilling over his pillow like a river of moonbeams. It was a long moment before he thought to drop his arms.
“You have come to me,” he said, not quite believing it.
She clutched the bedclothes to her chin and nodded.
Now that she was here, he could show her she had nothing to fear in his bed. He uncurled her hand from the coverlet and pressed it to his lips.
“It pleases me very much that you are here.” He squeezed her icy fingers to reassure her and kissed her cheek. “I will give you no cause to regret it.”
He undressed quickly, dropping his clothes on the floor before lifting the bedclothes. Ignoring her sharp intake of breath, he slid in beside her.
She was wearing her tunic, but that meant he would have the pleasure of taking it off. He tentatively placed his hand on the flat of her stomach. Imagining the feel of the smooth skin beneath the cloth, he closed his eyes. He was determined to go slowly and not frighten her. But he wanted her so badly that would not be easy.
He had wanted her for such a long, long time.
“Turn toward me. I want to look into your face.”
As she turned, his hand slid from her stomach to the dip of her waist. He smiled at her. He hoped his eyes did not have a predatory gleam. But he thought they might.
He held her eyes as he ran his hand up her side to the tantalizing swell of the side of her breast. Gritting his teeth, he reminded himself to go slow. He moved his hand back to her waist, then over the curve of her hip and down her thigh.
He was as tight as a bowstring.
His only thought now was that he had to touch her skin. He tugged at her tunic, but it was caught beneath her.
“Help me.” He heard the desperate, pleading note to his voice, but he didn’t care.
She rolled onto her back and lifted her hips, the saints be praised. Without touching her, he drew the shift up to her waist. His heart pounded in his ears. She lifted her shoulders and raised her arms as he eased it up and over her head. His hand shook as he reached to touch her. Then he shut his eyes, his whole being focused on the silky softness of her skin.
Repeating his earlier journey, he slid his hand along her side with exquisite slowness. When he brushed the still softer skin of the side of her breast, his breath caught. How long he had waited to touch her. No other woman felt this good.
In a daze of desire, he kissed her face, her hair, her neck. Against her ear, he murmured, “I have dreamed of this.”
He pulled back to look at her again. Good Lord, she had her eyes squeezed shut and her arms clenched in front of her breasts. He pried one hand free and held it.
“What is it?” he asked as he looked at her across the pillow.
She did not speak or move. He pressed her hand against his cheek and turned to kiss her palm.
When she opened her eyes, he asked again, “What is wrong?”
Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. She seemed to have trouble finding her voice. “I did not know what to expect. Since you were ready at once, I… I thought it would be over quickly.”
William guffawed. So, she had taken a good look at him as he climbed naked into bed.
Grinning, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her neck. “You have good cause to fear I will be much too quick this first time.”
Her naked body felt glorious against him. As he moved his mouth down the curve of her neck, he whispered, “I promise I shall do better the second time. And still better the third.”
He was lost in the feel of her. Her breasts against his chest, her legs against his thighs. And, oh yes, her stomach against the length of his erection.
“I have longed for this,” he murmured, breathing in the scent of her skin. How could a woman smell this good?
It was no longer enough to feel her breasts against his chest; he had to touch them. The sensation of her breasts filling his hands was heaven itself. He trailed kisses down her throat to her breastbone. He turned his head to feel the softness of her skin against his cheek. The wild beating of her heart matched his own.
He kept one breast cupped in his hand as he dragged his tongue across to the other. When he reached her nipple and flicked it with his tongue, she squeaked. He smiled.
Intent on claiming every inch of her, he eased himself down her body. He ran his tongue along the undersides of her breasts and planted slow wet kisses across her flat belly. He fought the temptation to move farther down and taste her. Though the thought made his cock throb, he did not want to shock her. All things in good time.
Still he toyed with the temptation. He grazed the silky skin of her inner thigh with his fingertips as he kissed the inside of her knee. So close. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand was gripping her buttock and his mouth was where his fingers had been and was moving upward.
/> All he wanted in this life was to taste her and then drive into her until her screams rang in his ears.
He got up on his hands and knees and shook his head.
He looked down at her breasts and sighed. How long he’d waited to see them. To touch them. He gave each nipple a light kiss, then wanted more. When he took the tip of one in his mouth and sucked, he was rewarded by her sharp intake of breath. He slid down to feel her body beneath him. She felt so good against his chest, his thighs, his shaft. All the while, he sucked her breast harder, losing himself in the sensation.
The urge to enter her was almost more than he could bear. Perhaps if she’d not kept him on edge every minute of the last week, he would not be so close to losing all control. He lifted his head and, breathing hard, tried to calm himself.
Dragging his gaze up from her breasts, he saw her perfect mouth. How had he missed kissing it? He desperately needed her kisses—deep, deep kisses—before he entered her. As he slid up her body to take her mouth, the sensation of skin rubbing against skin set his every nerve tingling.
She opened her legs as he moved, and he gasped as he unexpectedly found himself at the threshold. With all his being, he wanted to keep moving until he was deep inside her. One strong thrust. The urge almost overpowered him. And yet, he held back. He wanted her mouth on his first.
“Kate,” he moaned as he lowered his mouth to hers.
He anticipated a warm joining of mouths and tongues as a prelude to the joining of their bodies. But she kept her lips firmly together. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. But he was sliding into her now. It was too late. He could not stop. The urge overwhelmed him, taking over his body. His mind was one with his body, set on the same goal.
He had to have her. He had to have her now.
At last. At last. At last.
He came in an explosion of pent-up lust and longing, hunger and desire. She was his. She was his.
When he was able to move, he rolled to his side, taking her with him. He had not performed with such speed since his youth. Happy, but a little embarrassed, he held her close and kissed her face and hair.
Knight of Desire Page 9
