Knight of Desire

by Knight of Desire (lit)

  When she increased the rhythm, he could not find his voice to tell her she must stop. She was relentless and he loved it. She arched her back, letting her head fall over the side of the bed. Her breath came in short gasps as he felt her tighten around his shaft.

  And then she called his name. She was his. She was his.

  With her cries ringing in his ears, urging him on, he pounded into her, again and again, until sight and sound were obliterated in an explosion that was near death.

  He could barely keep from collapsing with his full weight on top of her. Breathing hard and dripping with sweat, he let his forehead rest on the bed beside her head.

  “God in heaven, what have you done to me, Catherine?”

  When he heard her low chuckle, a wave of tenderness swept over him. How long since he had made her laugh? He pulled her into his arms as he sank down beside her.

  He lay with his face buried in her hair.

  “I wish I did not have to leave you so soon,” he whispered.

  He needed more time. Time to heal her, to heal himself, to be with her like this. With a sense of desperation, he turned to her again and again in the night. In the heat of passion, Catherine told him she loved him.

  But William—though he tried to show her with his every touch—could not yet confess his love aloud.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The men of Ross Castle were gathered near the gate, their armor shining bright in the August sun. Shielding her eyes with her hand, Catherine took in each man and prayed for his safe return.

  The news came an hour ago. The French-Welsh army was nearing the English border, marching toward Worcester. Glyndwr’s move was both unexpected and brilliant. Taking an English town for even a short time would be a devastating blow to English pride. A blow that King Henry, already hanging on to the throne by his fingernails, could ill afford.

  Caught by surprise, the king was racing his army headlong across the length of England to save Worcester. William and the other Marcher lords were commanded to await him there with their men-at-arms. If Henry could reach Worcester in time, the major battle between the two armies would be there.

  Catherine swallowed hard to keep back the tears. One night was not enough to recover the closeness they had before. She could not forget so soon how much he’d hurt her. Nor did she believe he’d overcome his mistrust of her. Still, it was a magical night, and she was hopeful. Very hopeful.

  She caught sight of Edmund, talking with several of the men.

  “Why is Edmund not in armor?” she asked William, tightening her grip on his arm.

  “Edmund is staying here with a few of the men,” William said. “Glyndwr has his army moving fast, hoping to take Worcester before the king can reach it. There is almost no danger of an attack on the castle; still, I cannot leave it completely undefended.”

  “I have been left in charge of this castle many times,” Catherine said. “I neither need nor want Edmund Forrester here.”

  William ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. “I am sure you managed well enough on your own, but Edmund has years of fighting experience.”

  She was unmoved by his argument and did not hide it.

  “I warned Edmund that if he does anything to offend you, I’ll not keep him in my service.” He held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “Please, Catherine, I do not want to argue with you as I leave. I need to know my best man is protecting you if I’m to keep my mind on what is before me.”

  She ceased to argue. It was dangerous for a man to be distracted when he fought. For this same reason, she was waiting to tell him about her pregnancy until he returned.

  Stephen appeared beside them with Jamie in tow.

  “You were fighting Scots at my age,” Stephen said to William, his eyes bright with anger. “You treat me like a child!”

  Catherine grabbed Stephen’s arm and hauled him a few feet away where William would not overhear her.

  “With William gone, I need you here,” she told him in a low, fierce voice. “Do not abandon me.” She held his eyes until she was sure he understood she meant it.

  When she rejoined William, he whispered in her ear, “What did you do, promise to marry the lad if I do not return? He’s puffed up like a peacock!” He squeezed her hand. “Whatever it was, I thank you.”

  The men were mounting their horses, so William threw Jamie into the air one more time and ruffled the boy’s hair.

  Next, he turned to say farewell to Stephen. With a nod toward Catherine and Jamie, he said, “Keep them safe, brother.”

  Finally, he gathered Catherine in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth in front of everyone.

  He mounted his horse. “You will be safe here,” he said, looking down at her. “I promise you.”

  “Promise only that you will come back to us.”

  “You need not worry for me,” he said, flashing her a wide smile. “I will always come back for you, Kate. Always.”

  Those left behind at Ross Castle waited for news. They heard, first, that King Henry reached Worcester faster than anyone thought possible—and not an hour too soon. Since his arrival, however, the two great armies had been in a standoff.

  While the commanders decided what to do, individual knights met in single combat on the field between the armies. This served no purpose, except to relieve the boredom. The stakes were too high to be decided by knightly challenges.

  Catherine’s tension over the coming battle grew as the days of waiting continued. Having Edmund unclothe her with his eyes every time she crossed his path did not help. He was, however, careful to speak politely and show her every other courtesy.

  The memory of how he cornered her in the solar still rankled. While he would not dare harm her, neither did she want to be caught alone with him again. With Stephen here, there was little chance of that.

  Stephen took William’s admonition to keep her safe to heart. The first night, she found him sleeping in front of her chamber door. Her promises to have her maid sleep with her and bar her door were not enough to dissuade him. Only when she showed him the blade under her pillow did he finally agree to return to his own chamber.

  “I would like to visit Abbess Talcott today,” she announced at the midday meal, pushing her food away.

  “I will be your escort,” Stephen said.

  Edmund shook his head. “I doubt that is what your brother had in mind when he told me to provide a proper escort for his lady wife.” To Catherine, he said, “I will take you myself, since that is what William would wish. I have an errand in the village today, but I’ll gladly take you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” she said, thinking William must have lectured Edmund to accommodate her.

  “I’ll come, too,” Stephen said.

  Edmund took one look at the stubborn set of Stephen’s jaw and shrugged. “I cannot spare another man to go with us, but there isn’t much danger with the whole of the rebel army at Worcester. You are both fine riders, so we should be able to outrun any other kind of trouble.”

  Edmund took a piece of roasted pork with his eating knife. “All the same,” he said, pointing his knife at her as he chewed, “I would not take your son along.”

  Much as Catherine hated to admit it, Edmund was right. It was safer to leave Jamie at the castle. He would be fine with his nursemaid for the day.

  “Did you get your business done in the village yesterday?” Catherine asked Edmund. Now that they were on their way, she could afford to be friendly.

  “Aye.” Edmund’s reply was curt.

  She had to admit Edmund took his responsibility to protect her seriously. Riding in front of her, he kept a sharp watch, constantly moving his head from side to side. She turned in her saddle and found Stephen doing the same behind her. In the North, boys learned to watch for raiders from a young age.

  Catherine blinked as they rode into a copse of wood, and her eyes adjusted from bright sun to dappled light. The green canopy overhead was lovely. She was leanin
g back to look for birds when she heard the sound of hoof-beats. In another moment, a half-dozen men on horses burst into view around the bend ahead.

  Edmund turned and shouted, “Ride hard back to the castle! I will hold them as long as I can.”

  Catherine was unable to tear her eyes from the men galloping toward them. She watched Edmund spur his horse forward to meet them, his broadsword ready in his hand.

  “Now, Catherine!” Stephen shouted. He grabbed her horse’s bridle, turned her around, and slapped her horse’s hindquarters. It took off with a jerk.

  Over her shoulder, she saw Edmund fighting off two of the men. As she watched, four other riders rode past the swinging swords without breaking their speed. The four charged toward her and Stephen.

  Too late, she spurred her horse. As she left the copse for the open field, two horses came thundering beside her, pinning her between them. One of the riders leaned down and snatched up her reins.

  As the man pulled her horse to a jarring halt, she tried to keep her eyes on Stephen. He was sweeping across the field ahead of his two pursuers. Praise God, he was going to outrun them. But then Stephen looked back and saw her.

  “No, Stephen, no!” she shouted as he turned his horse in a wide arc to evade the two men and head back toward her. To her horror, he was brandishing his sword as if he meant to take them all on to rescue her.

  She turned to the dark, fierce-looking man holding her horse’s reins. “Please, sir, do not hurt him!”

  The man squinted against the sun and watched Stephen’s progress without giving any sign he heard her.

  Frantic, she turned to the man on her other side. “Please, he is only a boy!”

  The man flashed her a smile. “If you can convince the lad to put down his sword, I can promise his safety.”

  Stephen came thundering down on them, and the man who had just spoken was forced to fend off his attack. Though Stephen was skilled with a sword for his age, the man easily parried his thrusts. The silent man who held her horse watched them, looking unconcerned.

  “M’lady?” the man fighting Stephen called out. “I need your help.”

  “Stephen, put down your sword!”

  Her shout caused Stephen to glance toward her. The man took advantage of Stephen’s momentary distraction to take his sword.

  “Listen to the lady,” he said, “and you shall not be harmed.”

  Stephen reached for the dagger at his belt, but the man anticipated the move. Holding Stephen’s forearm, he reached across Stephen’s body and took the dagger.

  Without taking his hands off Stephen, he said to the other man, “Rhys, do you think that is all?”

  The man called Rhys flicked his eyes to Stephen’s foot. At this silent signal, the first man checked both of Stephen’s boots. When he had removed the hidden blade, he glanced again at Rhys. Rhys nodded, apparently satisfied Stephen was disarmed.

  Ignoring the men, Stephen said to Catherine, “I am sorry I failed you.”

  “You could not have done more.” Even in the midst of their danger, it hurt her to see Stephen look so defeated. “I do not believe these men mean to harm me,” she added, and regretted the note of uncertainty that crept into her voice.

  “Most assuredly we do not, dear lady,” the handsome man who disarmed Stephen spoke up.

  The two riders who chased Stephen had joined them by now. Catherine examined their four captors closely. They looked as though they had been traveling rough, but their clothes were finely made. She guessed they were Welsh noblemen. If she was right, their intent was likely ransom, not rape and murder.

  “You are Welsh rebels?” she asked.

  “Aye, that we are, Lady FitzAlan,” the handsome one answered.

  They knew her name. That meant they did not just happen upon her, notice her fine clothes and horse, and take advantage of a chance opportunity.

  “My name is Maredudd ap Tudor,” the man said, bowing his head. “These two”—he pointed to the two young men who had chased Stephen—“are my brothers, Owen and Maddog.”

  Both young men nodded politely. She could see the family resemblance, though neither was quite as good-looking as their dashing older brother.

  Tudors? She had heard the name. She knew she had. Were they not close kinsmen of Owain Glyndwr, the rebel leader?

  And then it came to her.

  “Are you the same Tudors who violated holy Good Friday to take Conwy Castle?”

  “That would be our elder brothers,” Maredudd said, and all three Tudor men grinned.

  God have mercy, she was a captive of the wily Tudors!

  “The church decree to shed no blood on the holy day was not violated,” one of the younger Tudors put in. With a wink, he added, “The castle guards were strangled.”

  The story of the unexpected attack was told up and down England. The rebels took the castle easily, since the entire garrison was at Mass in the nearby village.

  “And the man holding your horse,” Maredudd ap Tudor continued, “is Rhys Gethin.”

  Upon hearing the name, Catherine gasped aloud and brought a hand to her chest.

  “I see you have heard of him,” Maredudd said with an amused smile. “Then you will know why we call him ‘Gethin.’ It means ‘the Fierce’ in Welsh.”

  Rhys Gethin had led the Welsh forces in their great bloody victory at Bryn Glas three years before. Against overwhelming odds, the Welsh killed nearly eleven hundred Englishmen. It was said that at the end of the battle, the field was knee-deep in English blood.

  “I am surprised men of such importance have come on such a lowly errand,” she said, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice. She risked a glance at Stephen, hoping he would not contradict her. “You go to much trouble for little, I fear. It is unlikely my husband will pay much for my ransom.”

  Maredudd Tudor threw his head back and laughed. “Faith, m’lady, a man would pay a good deal for the return of so fair a woman. The rumors of your beauty hardly—”

  “Enough!” Rhys Gethin’s deep voice cut Maredudd off. “We delay too long. Glyndwr needs us at Worcester.”

  With that, he tossed her horse’s reins to Maredudd and spurred his own horse forward. Maredudd tied her horse to his and fell into line behind him. The two younger Tudors followed with Stephen between them.

  Catherine looked over her shoulder at the copse of wood, hoping Edmund got away.

  They rode for hours, stopping only once to allow her to stretch her legs and relieve herself. Toward evening, small groups of men appeared out of the woods and joined them. Now she understood why English soldiers claimed the Welsh came and disappeared like fairies, with the help of magic.

  At nightfall, they stopped in a heavy wood to make camp. Her legs were so weak that Maredudd had to catch her to keep her from falling when she dismounted. He led her to sit on a fallen log, holding her a bit more tightly than necessary.

  “Lady FitzAlan, I would have your promise you will not try to escape,” he said as he sat down next to her on the log. “You would only get lost, and I am too tired to go chasing about the woods for you tonight.”

  There was no point in trying. The woods were unfamiliar, and in the dark, she had no idea in which direction to go.

  “If you make an attempt, I will catch you. And then you will sleep tied to me.” His face broke into a wide smile. Giving her a wink, he said, “Perhaps you should try after all.”

  “With such charm, sir, how is it that some maid has not yet captured you?”

  “Ah, but one has,” he replied genially. “I am married to a remarkable woman named Marged.”

  “She is remarkably trusting to let you out of her sight.” She surprised them both by speaking the thought aloud.

  “I do enjoy your company,” Maredudd said, slapping his thigh. “Marged knows I am devoted to her. Fortunately, she has the wisdom not to expect the impossible from me. In sooth,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “she is quite content with me.”

  Catherine wanted to
roll her eyes at the man’s vanity, though she suspected he spoke the truth. Maredudd Tudor was charming and devilishly handsome. Despite the circumstances, she also trusted him to protect her in this camp of armed men.

  “May I speak with my young friend now?” She was anxious to talk with Stephen.

  “We know the lad is Stephen Carleton, FitzAlan’s half-brother,” Maredudd said.

  They could have guessed who she was. They found her near Ross Castle, and her family was well known in the Marches. But how did they know Stephen?

  “Do not fret over the lad. He’ll be returned safe and sound,” Maredudd said. “If it had not been plain the boy would follow us, we would have left him where we found him.”

  At the sound of a scuffle, she peered through the growing darkness. A moment later, the younger Tudor brothers appeared with Stephen kicking and twisting furiously between them.

  “God’s beard, can you not see the lady is well?” one of them shouted at Stephen.

  “We Welshmen are not the savages Englishmen are,” the other complained. “Besides, no man here will dare touch her while she is under the protection of a Tudor.”

  Stephen saw her and ceased to struggle. The men dropped him to the ground.

  “He does not believe you will be safe, m’lady,” one of the brothers explained, “unless he is the one who guards you.”

  She saw the flash of Maredudd’s white teeth in the rapidly falling darkness. “It is encouraging to find chivalry still lives in at least one young Englishman,” he said. “Stephen, you can make your bed next to the fair lady. That will make it easier to keep watch over the two of you.”

  Leaving them in the care of his brothers, Maredudd left to talk with some of the other men. Catherine and Stephen sat huddled together while the younger Tudors cooked a supper of small game over the fire. The two men were too near, however, for them to speak freely.