Margo Maguire (12 page)

Darkness fell and Kathryn felt restless, more pent up than she’d ever felt before. ’Twas Edric’s touch, his kiss, that had done it, had made her feel as though tiny moths were fluttering at her skin and in her belly. Pacing did not help. Finally enlisting Gwen’s assistance, she left a sleeping Aidan with the housemaid in the nursery and went in search of Lora.

Kathryn hoped to find her in Lord Bryce’s chamber, so she went to the young man’s room and found him awake with his guard napping in a chair beside him. But Lora was not there.

Bryce waved her inside. He woke the guard and sent him away. “’Tis past time for you to relieve yourself, is it not, Alf?”

The guard took his leave and Kathryn sat in the chair beside the bed, glad of a diversion. She had to put all her yearnings aside for they were mere foolishness. “How do you feel?”

“As though someone ran me through with a steely blade,” he quipped.

“Aye, but are you improved at all?”

“Are you worried about your handiwork?” Bryce asked.

Kathryn gave a nod, but when Bryce threw off his blanket and started to lift his sherte, she looked away. “I’d rather not see it, my lord. I would be satisfied with
hearing
how it mends.”

He gave her a wicked grin. “I forgot about your delicate stomach.”

Kathryn doubted it, but knew he was just toying with her. “So…how is it?”

“Sore. Hot. Sometimes Lora makes a face when she tends the wound, and I know she’s concerned about the fever that comes and goes. She worries too much.” He shrugged and covered himself again. “But tell me—have you no faith in your own handiwork?”

“Since I’d never sewn a man before…No.”

“Truly?”

She shook her head. “Your brother bullied me into it.”

“Edric? Bully you?”

She heard the sarcasm in his tone but refused to play his game. “Is it true you refused last rites?”

Bryce looked down.

“My lord, if your condition should change—”

“Do not preach to me, Kate. I have enough with the damned priest and my overbearing brother.”

“I apologize. I did not mean to lecture you. ’Tis only that I fear for—”

“I am not close to death, Lady Kate.”

Kathryn’s breath quickened. “What did you call me?”

“Merely jesting with you,” he said, brushing off her question. “Lora said you ordered our furnishings brought here from the old keep.”

She felt her face heat. “Was I too presumptuous?”

“Not at all, though Edric might be opposed at first. But since he does not intend ever to wed again, there will be no wife to order new furnishings. He’ll soon see we need to make use of what we have.”

Kathryn winced. “Was his marriage so very bad, then?”

“Bad? The only time the two of them conversed
was when Cecily screamed at him in her god-awful gibberish. Oh, sorry.”

“And did he shout back?”

“Not usually. He spent as much time as possible away from here. Fortunately, Aidan was conceived quite soon after the nuptials.”

Kathryn felt her face heat. She did not like to think of the intimacies Edric must have shared with his wife, even though he’d been far from enamored with her. It only demonstrated that a man—that Edric—might have no feelings at all for the woman in his bed, yet perform the act that should bind them together in affection and respect, if not love.

She stood and walked away from the bedside. It had grown cool in the room, so she added wood to the fire.

“So, you’re going to Evesham Bridge?”

“Aye. ’Tis what I intend to do as soon as another nursemaid can be found.”

Bryce said naught, but Kathryn felt him scrutinizing her. She felt vastly uncomfortable.

“I cannot return to Rushton.” The name of the estate rolled off her tongue as though it were not a lie. ’Twas not a good sign that she was becoming so accustomed to telling falsehoods.

“Being abducted makes you…unacceptable?”

She nodded, and when he looked at her, Kath
ryn had the oddest sensation that he knew more about her than she’d said.

“I will never understand Normans. Your king, for example, has squeezed us until we can barely squeak.”

“What do you mean?”

“In spite of the attacks upon us, he has never sent assistance. He has refused to lighten our burden here, and even continues to change the terms of Edric’s enfeoffment.”

Kathryn knitted her brows together in concern. “He knows of your difficulties with the Fergusons?”

Bryce made a rude noise. “Oswin has penned many a letter, but they are answered rudely, if at all.”

Kathryn had never realized how coldhearted King William was. Her father had spoken highly of him, telling of his prowess in battle and his generosity toward his Norman barons. Apparently, his largesse did not extend to a Saxon holding—of which she knew there were very few.

Was it possible that King William exploited Edric? Used the Saxon lord and his men for his own purposes with little in return? This was not the same king of whom her father had spoken so highly. Or mayhap she was being naïve.

“’Tis no wonder your steward hates me.”

“He will come ’round…if you stay.”

“I cannot.” Not if she wanted to retain her chastity, for she had no doubt that if she stayed, Edric would succeed in seducing her. The idea of which both terrified and intrigued her. She longed for the experience Edric could give, but knew ’twould mean naught to him, while her own heart was at risk.

She returned to the bed and placed her hand upon Bryce’s ankle. “I should go back to Aidan. I’ll bid you good night and send your guard back to you.”

“He’ll be waiting outside my door.”

But Alf was not there. Kathryn stuck her head into Bryce’s chamber and informed him of the guard’s absence.

“Not to worry. He’s probably at the privy and will return soon.”

Kathryn decided to pay a short visit to Berta before returning to the nursery. Carrying one small candle for light, she climbed the stairs and easily found the woman’s bedchamber by the sound of quiet weeping within. After a light knock on the door, one of the housemaids opened it.

The old woman saw her and tearfully beckoned her to the bed where she lay with the curtains open, wearing a long-sleeved bed gown and a hood. Kathryn did not believe the woman had left
the bed since the funeral. Her face was unwashed, her hair a mess…“Oh, praise be to God. I thought I was alone here.” She dabbed at her nose with a bit of cloth and resumed her quiet weeping. “My poor Cecily.”

“Are you all right, Berta?”

“Of course not. My poor child is dead…Dead and buried, and I’ve nowhere to go.”

Kathryn came close and crouched beside the bed. “Have you thought of returning to Cecily’s family?”

Berta looked sharply at Kathryn. “But of course. Do you think the Saxon dog will send me back?”

“I’m sure he will,” Kathryn replied, “though it might be best if you avoided calling him a dog.”

“Bah! He does not understand us. He cared naught for Cecily and all her delicate needs.”

How could he, when Cecily apparently did not know how to make her requirements seem like anything but unreasonable demands. “I understand she wanted to return to her father’s estate.”

Berta’s weeping began anew. “Her father admonished her to make her peace with her husband, that d—scoundrel.”

Kathryn sighed. “Are you well enough to travel, Berta? If so, I will ask Lord Edric to provide you an escort to Lord Gui’s estate.”

Berta clasped her hands around Kathryn’s. “Oh,
please! If you would do so, I will be eternally in your debt!”

“Think naught of it,” Kathryn said. “Lying here despondent serves no one. ‘Twill be better for all if you return to Norman lands.”

Kathryn picked up her candle and took her leave. She made her way down the stairs and headed toward the nursery, quickening her step when she heard strange sounds coming from inside. When she pushed open the door, Kathryn was met by the sight of a man in dark clothes, pulling Gwen around to face her as he held a knife to her throat.

He looked at Kathryn, grinning, his red hair blazing in the flickering light, and Kathryn recognized the face of Robert Ferguson.

C
arrying a small lamp to light their way, Felicia led Edric up the back stairs of the tavern, her warm hand pulling his as they searched for a likely chamber for their tryst. “I’ve missed you, my lord,” she whispered.

And Edric had thought of her a thousand times during the past year. He could not help but remember the hard, peaked tips of her nipples as she fed them to him, nor could he forget the sensations she aroused when she closed her dark, red lips around his cock.

He put Kate from his mind and began to heat
up at the thought of sliding into this tavern maid, of taking his ease within her warm body.

She opened the door to one of the bedchambers and pushed him inside, giggling, trying to keep her voice quiet. She set down the candle and Edric let her take charge, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall as she kissed him. She opened her mouth and shoved her tongue into his while she pushed her body against him. Squirming, she worked hard to elicit a response from him.

She tasted of onions.

Edric separated his mouth from hers and waited for the flurry of arousal to come over him as Felicia’s hands slid down his chest to his crotch.

“Has it been so long, my lord, that you’ve forgotten how to use it?” Felicia cooed.

Edric moved his hips, letting her work him, picturing her pretty breasts and the way they would fill his hands…

But they would not…at least, not the way Kate’s breasts did. The Norman’s were tipped by nipples of the palest pink, the texture of a ripe fruit. The aroma of lavender had enshrouded her when last he’d kissed her mouth, and Edric had no doubt that she would have willingly yielded if he’d taken her to his chamber.

Felicia slipped her hand into his braies. “Remember our last tryst beside the river, my lord?”

Edric barely heard her. The alluring French cadence of Kate’s speech was so much more seductive than anything Felicia could say. Kate was the one he wanted, and Felicia a poor substitute.

He took hold of Felicia’s wrist and removed her hand from his body. “I should not stay away from Bryce for so long.” ’Twas a lame excuse, but he saw no reason to pursue this empty assignation.

“But my lord, we’ve only just started.”

“Mayhap another time,” he said, though ’twould not be soon. He righted his clothes and left the chamber, fully intending to make Kate his mistress and show her how unsuited to the nunnery she was.

“Don’t hurt her,” Kathryn whispered.

Robert laughed and tossed Gwen aside, knocking her to the floor where she fell against the wooden frame of Kathryn’s bed. His eyes were the same flat gray of his father’s and the coldness of his gaze made Kathryn shudder. Gwen whimpered once but did not move from the floor.

“I’ll scream for help!” Kathryn was so frightened that her knees shook, making her aware of the knife that she’d strapped to her leg. If any of them were going to survive this encounter, she would have to use her wits.

“Screaming will do you no good.”

She feared that was true. Alf had not returned to his post and there could be only one reason for his dereliction. No one else would be nearby at this hour, except Bryce. “What do you want?”

“Edric’s son.”

“No!” Horror made Kathryn’s cry come out as a mere whisper. “Take me instead! I’ll make a better hostage than this innocent bairn.”

Robert laughed again and placed his foot upon the rocker of the cradle. He pressed down, rocking the small bed in a parody of parental care. “I’ll take the brat, and when Edric comes for him, ’twill be my pleasure to put an end to both father and son.”

“You would not harm an innocent child.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“You cannot possibly think you’ll get away with this. Not alone.”

“Ha. My men are outside the gates, waiting to see my torch on the battlement. When they see my signal they’ll know I have the bairn. They’ll attack, and nary a stick of Braxton Fell will remain standing.”

“Why go to such trouble here? Can you not leave the child with me—”

“No! ’Tis the only way to assure that Edric dies.”

Kathryn shuddered and risked a quick glance
at Gwen who lay insensible with a bloody gash on her head, and she knew she would have to do something drastic to divert Robert from his purpose. She wiped her damp palms on her thighs and wished Edric had taught her something she could use now.

Mayhap he had.

On trembling legs, she approached the man before he decided to grab Aidan. “Take me, Robert. My father is a wealthy Norman baron. You could demand any ransom.” Terrified of what might happen if she did not distract him, she clenched her teeth and loosened the laces of her bodice. “I will be most cooperative…”

His eyes flickered over her and his foot stopped moving on the rocker. Kathryn wondered if she was going to be able to move fast enough to grab her knife and jab it into the Scot’s heart before he hurt Aidan…or herself.

She swallowed, and as she thought of the things Edric had told her, she let her eyes drift down—to the man’s most vulnerable part—and considered how she could do him some damage. Edric had asked if she’d aimed her blows when she was attacked. This time, she intended to inflict as much damage as…Oh! ’Twas growing. Under her scrutiny, the Scot’s private part became a large bulge behind his tunic.

Whether ’twas caused by the loosening of her bodice or her gaze upon his crotch, Kathryn did not know. She took another step toward him, and started raising her skirt on the side where the knife was hidden. If she could make him believe she would welcome him under her skirts, mayhap ’twould give him a moment’s pause, and her a quicker access to the dagger.

Gwen moaned just then, and started to rouse herself, drawing the Scot’s attention for a mere second. Kathryn moved fast, hurling herself toward Ferguson, raising her knee as she did so, and jabbing as hard as she could between his legs.

He did naught but grunt and clutch her arms.

Aidan awoke and started to whimper. In a panic, Kathryn kicked frantically at Robert, but he stayed clear of her feet and knees. Even so, he was unable to wield his knife effectively while holding onto her with both hands.

With Kathryn’s struggling and the noise of Aidan’s wailing, the Scot did not see Gwen rouse herself. Stealthily, the maid crawled toward Robert, and when he noticed her, ’twas too late. She sank her teeth into his ankle, eliciting a roar of pain from him.

Kathryn took advantage of the moment and drew her knife. Using both hands, she plunged it into the Scot’s chest. For one terrifying moment,
she thought the blow had had no effect. Robert stood still, his gaze locked on her, unwavering.

Then his knife fell from his hand. A stain of red began to spread upon his chest and the blood dripped onto the floor, but Robert’s astonished gaze held her fast.

“You’ve killed him,” Gwen said, though Kathryn could barely hear her over Aidan’s loud cries. She stood as if paralyzed and her stomach roiled with nausea.

The Scot finally fell and she was able to turn away. She picked up Aidan from his cradle and crushed him to her chest.

“Come, Gwen.”

“Where?”

“You must take Aidan and go lock yourselves in with Lord Bryce. I’ll see if I can find Lord Edric and Drogan.”

“Y-your knife.”

Kathryn steeled herself to look down at Robert, at Lora’s knife that protruded from his chest. “I think I’m going to be ill,” she said.

“Here.” Gwen bent down and pulled it from the man’s body. She wiped it on a nearby cloth and handed it back to Kathryn. “You saved my life, Norman…Kate.”

“Aye, well, we’d best get help, or none of us will be saved.”

Quickly, they made their way to Bryce’s chamber. Pushing inside, Kathryn was not surprised to see that Alf had not returned. Bryce was asleep until Aidan’s wailing woke him. “What is it?” He squinted his eyes against the torch light.

“The Fergusons are about to attack,” Kathryn said, rocking the bairn to quiet him. “I must go find Edric and Drogan.”

“What! How do you know? Where’s Alf?”

“I fear he’s been killed,” she replied. “Robert Ferguson sneaked in with the intent to steal Aidan.”

“Kate killed him,” Gwen announced.

Bryce pushed up in bed as far as his wound allowed. “Kate?”

Kathryn laid the sleeping bairn on the bed with his uncle. “There is no time now. I must go. Bar the door when I am gone and do not let anyone in unless you are certain it’s safe.”

“Wait. Hand me that sword,” Bryce said.

Kathryn saw the weapon lying in its scabbard upon a trunk and handed it to him. “Keep the door barred,” she reiterated. “Let no one in.”

“Kate—where is Edric?”

“I do not know.” The last time she’d seen him, he’d just kissed her senseless. “But I promise you I’ll find him before it’s too late.”

She exited the room and heard the bar drop against the door frame. Haste was absolutely vital,
for Kathryn did not know how long Robert’s men would wait for his signal. If it did not come soon, she feared they would attack without it.

Afraid to take any light with her, she made her way to Edric’s bedchamber. Knocking as she pushed open the door, she called his name. When he did not reply, she hastened to the farthest end of the hall to the solar.

No one was there.

A moment later, she was moving down the stairs to the great hall. She picked up one of the lamps and poked her head into every room, afraid to call Edric’s name for fear of alerting some lurking Scot. But she found no one skulking in the dark hall, not even Oswin.

The kitchen was quiet, too, though she found a few maids asleep on low cots in their quarters nearby.

Running back to the hall, she went for the door, hoping to find a groom or some other servant who might know where to find Edric. She put her hand upon the door latch, but before she could pull, it slammed open, nearly knocking her down.

“Edric!” She was breathless now, and close to tears.
“Grâce à Dieu, tu es revenu! Je ne savais pas comment je pourrais jamais te trouver.”

He took hold of her upper arms. “I don’t understand you. What is it? Is Bryce—”

“Non. Mon Dieu.”
She caught her breath and forced herself to speak clearly in Edric’s language. “No, he is all right for now. ’Tis Robert Ferguson.”

“What about him?” His voice sounded rough and impatient.

“His men are gathering outside Braxton’s walls and they’re waiting for his…er, his signal to attack.”

“
What?
Explain!”

“I cannot! There is no time! You must gather your men and—”

“How do you know this?” He pulled her outside, drawing her toward the practice field.

“He came to the nursery, intending to take Aidan.”

Edric drew his sword and started back up the stairs. “Where is Robert now?”

“In the nursery. Dead.”

Edric had never known such fear before. He gathered his thoughts and asked the most pertinent question. “What of Aidan?”

“He is safe with Lord Bryce, my lord. The door is locked against any intruders.”

“Come with me.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding as they hurried to the barracks where he roused his men, telling them to prepare for battle, for he did not
doubt Kate’s words. He cursed himself for failing to anticipate Robert’s desire for revenge, for failing to attack Dunfergus before Robert could come to Braxton Fell, for failing to overrule Oswin.

He ordered one of the men to go to the Silver Dragon for Drogan and to raise the alarm, then turned back to Kate. “Tell me about Robert.”

“Juste ciel…”

In the light, he could see that her face was streaked with tears. Her hands were red…bloodied. She was trembling.

“Robert…He came to the nursery while Gwen was staying with Aidan. He threatened to take him hostage—to draw you out.” She took a shuddering breath, and for a moment Edric did not think she would be able to continue, but he took hold of her upper arms and bolstered her. “I—I did as you said. I aimed my kick at his…his most private parts.”

One of the grooms brought Edric’s helm and armor. He released Kate’s arms and started donning his battle gear, preparing himself for battle. “Go on.”

“It did not work as you said.”

Frustrated with her lack of speed in telling the tale, he urged her to continue. “How did the bastard die?”

“’Twas only because of Gwen. She crept close while he was shaking me. She bit his leg and I was able to pull out the knife Lora gave me.”

He slid his sword into its scabbard, ready now for whatever awaited. “Lora?”

“Aye. For protection.” She raised her skirt to her knee to show him a dagger that was strapped there. “I stabbed him with it.”

“And killed him.”

She nodded, dropping her skirt. Edric took her shoulders in hand once again. This time, he pulled her close, and kissed her soundly. “You saved my son, and mayhap this entire holding. Go and find safety in the keep. I will come to you when all is—”

Suddenly, they heard shouts and the rumble of horses’ hooves. He turned Kate and pushed her gently toward the keep. “They must have killed the guards and scaled the walls. Go back to the hall. Go quickly.”

Flames shot up near the gate and Edric feared for the safety of the cottars. Mounting his horse, he joined the ranks of men who were riding swiftly toward the gate, but gave a look back to see Kate rushing toward the keep.

As Edric watched her move swiftly through the courtyard, he saw that no Scots had breached the
inner grounds, giving him confidence that she would make it safely into the hall. She would surely bar the doors and see to it that his son and brother were kept safe within.

Amazed at the resourcefulness of the lass who’d panicked when he’d tried to teach her to defend herself, there was no doubt left in his mind that she was not a simple maid.

Kathryn climbed the steps to the keep and turned ’round. There was fire in the distance and horrible sounds of battle. Men’s voices carried on the wind, and the crash of steel meeting steel made her tremble with dread.

She started inside, but realized the battle could easily spread, making Lora and her neighbors vulnerable to attack. Someone needed to get them, and bring them to the safety of the keep.