Margo Maguire (13 page)

But there was no one who could go. All the men had gone to battle, and the serving maids…Could Kathryn waste precious time to send one of them on such a perilous errand?

Swallowing her own fears, she went back down the steps and headed in the direction of Lora’s cottage. Staying in the shadows as she hurried down the path, Kathryn refused to let her fear paralyze her. She reminded herself that this was nothing like the raid on Kettwyck. Edric’s men had been
warned in time, and had quickly met their enemies at the gates.

But Edric was involved this time, and as a leader of his men, he would be in the thick of it. She’d seen him in battle, and knew he was a master swordsman.

Such knowledge did not keep her from worrying. Taking no time to consider the significance of her fears for him, she banged on the doors of every cottage in her path, running and shouting for all to seek shelter in the keep.

Circling ’round to Lora’s cottage, Kathryn saw the two women arguing. “Elga, we must go,” Lora pleaded. “Your life is more important than your looms!”

“Lora! Elga! Come with me to the keep!” Kathryn cried. “The Scots have attacked the gate!”

“Do you hear, Elga? We must go!” Lora had hold of Elga’s arm, but the older woman showed no fear, only confusion. She clung to a basket of colorful yarn, as if letting it go would be disastrous.

“’Tis my son’s house,” cried Elga. “I cannot leave it!”

“If you cannot reason with her, Lora,” Kathryn said, “we must force her! ’Tis too dangerous to stay here!” As the smell of smoke thickened, she took the woman’s other arm and helped Lora pull
her from the house, then joined the others in the lane who were hurrying toward the keep.

Elga stopped resisting and their progress became easier as they were swept along in the crowd. They soon reached the keep, where throngs of Braxton’s people were crowding each other to climb the steps and fill the hall.

Oswin stood just inside, and he glowered at Kathryn as she entered with Lora and Elga. “Who gave you the authority to send these people here?” he demanded.

Kathryn swallowed. “No one. It only seemed—”

“Begone with you! The lord’s son is clamoring for a feeding and you are nowhere to be found! ’Twould be well for you to remember the only purpose for which you’re tolerated here!”

A lump jammed in Kathryn’s throat. Mortified to be so chastised before all these people, she ducked her head and hurried toward the staircase, never looking back at the crowd in the hall.

Battle was just the thing to raise Drogan’s spirits, and Edric was heartened when he joined the fray. ’Twas a bloody melee, with Scots managing to slip inside the walls, attempting to cause as much damage here as they’d done to the fields and forests in past raids.

“Gildas, have your men encircle them! Cut them off!” Edric dismounted and fought hand to hand, until he spied one of his young grooms. “Caedmon, get Modig and go with him to the keep. Find the Norman woman, Kate, and have her show you where the Ferguson chief lies dead. Bring his body back here.”

“Aye, my lord,” the boy replied as he hurried away to do Edric’s bidding. The lad was small for the task, but Edric needed every grown fighter to remain here.

He dodged a wicked blow from the ax of Robert’s second-in-command, battling against the man’s heavy weapon, and thrusting his sword. “Robert is dead, Douglas Ferguson!” he shouted at Robert’s cousin. “Killed by one small maiden in my keep.”

“You lie, Saxon, and now you will die!”

Douglas used two hands to slam his ax into Edric’s side, but Edric jumped nimbly away. “Yield, Douglas!”

“Never! Braxton Fell will be ours!”

The fight continued as fires flared all ’round. Edric had no interest in sparring verbally with Douglas. He wanted an end to this fight, and he could almost taste it. Robert was dead, and ’twould likely take years before this band of filthy Ferguson raiders could muster a good fight again. Years in which
Braxton would recover and gain prosperity in spite of their Norman overlord.

“Drogan!” Edric shouted as he continued to parry with Douglas.

Drogan heard Edric’s call and made his way ’round the thick of the battle. “Aye, my lord!” he shouted against the cacophony of battle.

“Take a company of men to the postern gate. Go outside the walls and circle ’round—cut off every Scotsman who would retreat!”

“’Twill be
Saxons
retreating, not Scots, Edric!” cried Douglas.

Edric did not dignify the Scot’s words with a response. He knew Drogan would follow his orders, and was certain that once the Scots saw Robert’s body, they would run for the hills.

“Do you need assistance here, my lord?” Drogan asked before he left.

Edric gave a mocking laugh as Douglas swung once again. The man lost his footing and Edric took advantage, delivering the fatal thrust of his sword.

“Well done,” said Drogan. “Have you a plan, then?”

“Robert is dead—killed in the hall.”

Edric hardly noticed Drogan’s expression of astonishment as they hastened to the wall. “I’ve sent
for his body to be brought here. The Scots will turn tail when they see he’s dead.”

“And you want me to cut them off at the knees.”

Edric grinned and slapped the huscarl’s back. “That’s the general idea.”

“W
hat can you see?” Bryce asked.

Kathryn looked out the window once again. “Fires. Smoke.”

“Damn Oswin!” Bryce muttered.

Kathryn did not understand the young man’s curse, but paced the room, paying him no heed. She’d sent Gwen away to find a guard who could be spared to come and protect Bryce and Aidan if need be. The warrior now stood outside Bryce’s chamber, while Lora had taken Elga to rest in the privacy of one of the chambers above.

Kathryn returned to the window several times,
her worry for Edric nearly palpable. It burned in her throat and churned in her stomach and would not relent until she saw him again, healthy and whole.

When her feelings for the Saxon had changed, she did not know. Mayhap ’twas when he’d said she was made for his touch…for she knew it was true.

He’d vowed never to take another wife, but Kathryn recalled Elga’s words to Lora—that she should not pine for what could never be.

Did the woman’s advice apply to Kathryn, too? She would never be a wife if she went to Evesham Bridge, never bear a child. Every dream Kathryn had ever had would come to naught. Her life at the nunnery would be barren and joyless.

Yet if she remained at Braxton Fell, she had no doubt that her virtue would go the way of her dreams, for she was defenseless against Edric’s allure. Her powers of reason abandoned her when he touched her, and she melted into a pool of pure sensation when he kissed her.

How could she remain at Braxton Fell when she knew what would happen between her and Edric if she stayed? ’Twas wicked even to consider such a thing…

She glanced at Aidan, sleeping peacefully on Bryce’s bed. Her life had been immeasurably
enriched by caring for the tiny bairn. Could she abandon him to some strange nursemaid?

Bryce made a small noise and Kathryn looked at him. “What is it?”

“I still cannot believe it…You killed Robert Ferguson.”

She chewed her lip. “’Twas Gwen who made it possible.”

“She told me what happened, Kate.”

Resuming her pacing, Kathryn was hardly able to keep all her thoughts straight. If Edric…no,
when
Edric returned to the keep, could she let herself become his leman? Every pore in her body wanted him, yet every pore knew ’twas wrong to give herself to a man who was not her husband.

Even if she loved him.

“Let me see the knife,” Bryce said.

“The knife?” She felt for the strap on her leg and the knife secured there. Turning away, she reached under her skirt. Sliding it out from the strap, she handed it to Bryce without even looking at the vile thing.

“You saved Aidan from Ferguson…You realize you are the heroine of Braxton Fell.”

“No, Lord Bryce, I simply did what was necess—”

He shook his head. “Edric will see that you are
well rewarded. ’Tis likely he will take you to Evesham Bridge himself, if that’s what you want.”

Trembling with indecision, Kathryn turned away and went to the window again. Nothing had changed. Smoke still obscured what view she might have of the battle. When they heard a knock at the door, Kathryn was afraid it might be Oswin, come to berate her once again for her presumption.

“My lord, ’tis Caedmon and Modig,” said the guard outside.

“You can open it,” Bryce said. “Caedmon is one of our grooms.”

Two youths stood outside the room alongside Bryce’s guard. They did not enter, but spoke to Kate. “Lord Edric sent us to collect the body of Robert Ferguson. ’Tis said you will know where it is.”

“Aye. In the nursery.”

The boys’ eyes grew round with surprise at her words.

“Do you know which room is the nursery?”

In unison, they shook their heads, and Bryce called out to them, “Does my brother plan to display the Scot for all his men to see?”

“Aye, we think so. They’ll surrender if they see their leader is dead.”

“Kate, will you take them?”

She nodded. “But Aidan is asleep. I’d rather leave him here with you—under guard.”

“Do not tarry, then. He may be my nephew, but I am no nursemaid.”

Dismay and alarm swamped the Scots’ ranks when Robert’s body was dropped into their midst. They’d seen Douglas Ferguson killed and now they knew there was no choice but to retreat toward the gates, just as Edric had predicted. Drogan awaited Robert’s men outside, and attacked them as they fled. Few managed to escape, and ’twas even possible Drogan let those few through to return home and tell of their defeat at Braxton Fell.

Edric hoped this would mean an end to warfare now, for Braxton needed peace in order to rebuild and replenish.

Upon the morrow, he would send Drogan to lead the fyrd to Dunfergus, where they would deal the killing blow. Empty wagons would follow him, and when Ferguson’s lands were conquered, Drogan’s men would fill those wagons with grain and other stores that were needed at Braxton.

The battle outside the gates lasted only an hour more. When it was done, Edric headed back to the stable to divest himself of his horse and his armor. He had only one goal in mind—to return to the keep and find Kate.

As soon as he found her, he was going to take her where she stood, and satisfy the lust that had been pounding in his veins since he first laid eyes on her.

Edric left the stable and started walking toward the keep, toward Kate, the woman who’d almost miraculously saved Braxton Fell from disaster. Killing Robert Ferguson had been a stroke of luck, something that Braxton Fell had been sorely lacking of late. If ’twas Kate of Rushton who brought such good fortune, then Edric was in no hurry to let her go.

Anticipating the pleasures they were about to share, he hurried toward the keep. Once he took the edge off his unrelenting lust, he was going to draw her into his bedchamber and remove every bit of clothing she wore, piece by piece, baring her delectable body to his hungry perusal. One hurried coupling would not be enough. Nor would two. He was going to taste every inch of her, make her cry out with pleasure, and he would sink so deeply into her that his hunger might finally be quenched.

He wanted her for the whole night.

When the keep came into sight, it looked as if every torch were burning, and Edric saw people from the eastern end of the village milling about on the main steps. They called to him for news as
he approached—the chandler, the baker, a tinker. Edric did not understand what they were doing here, but he did not much care. Oswin could deal with them while he found Kate and dragged her up to his bedchamber.

He climbed the steps, but before he could enter, the door swung open and he saw a clamoring crowd inside the hall. Clenching his teeth, he realized ’twould be some time before he could go after Kate.

A
fter showing the youths to the nursery, Kathryn went down to the hall, where she walked among the villagers seeking shelter. There were so many, she ushered the poorest of them into the chapel to avoid Oswin’s scorn and await word from Lord Edric or one of his men. She took particular care with the beggar family she’d seen earlier, the frightened parents and children with nowhere else to go, and no food to eat.

Just as all were settled upon benches and engaged in quiet prayer for the safety of the fyrd, Father Algar came into the chapel and began to
chastise Kathryn for defiling God’s house with the least welcome of all Braxton’s people.

“Mon père, s’il vous plaît.”
Angrily, she attempted to draw the priest away from those he insulted, but he pulled his arm away from her.

“Do not touch me, Norman!”

Kathryn composed herself, reluctant to rile the man any further, yet unwilling to allow him to disrupt the peace. “I beg your pardon, Father…Please come away. These people will do no harm and I am sure you are needed in the hall. Can you not allow the humblest of families to pray here in Lord Eric’s chapel?”

He took hold of her upper arm with more strength than she would have thought him capable. ’Twas more than anger in his eyes…’twas rage, not so much for what she had done here, but for who she was.

“Who are you to give orders here? You are cursed. The sooner you leave Braxton Fell, the better it will be for everyone.” He waved his free arm toward the people on the benches. “Even them!”

Kathryn pulled away and hurried toward the door, stopping short when she saw the steward standing there. He’d observed her interchange with Father Algar, but said naught as she bolstered her courage and swept past him, going in search of a place that felt marginally less hostile.

Oswin would treat her with deference if he knew her true rank…Or mayhap not. She wondered if Cecily had been treated with respect, or if she’d met with the same disdain Kathryn had felt since her arrival at Braxton Fell. ’Twas only Lora’s influence that had eased the animosity directed toward her from every Saxon here, with the exception of Drogan and Bryce.

Kathryn did not belong at Braxton Fell, any more than Cecily did, and she could hardly expect Lora to smooth the way for her at every turn.

Seeking to return to the quiet refuge of Bryce’s chamber, Kathryn made her way through the crowd in the hall toward the stairs, but she did not go unnoticed. Some of the villagers called out to her.

“What news is there?” asked one of the shopkeepers she’d met near Lora’s cottage.

“Naught,” said Kathryn. “But ’tis early.” At least, she hoped that was the only reason they hadn’t heard from Lord Edric or any of the other men of the fyrd.

“I can smell smoke now,” said an old woman nearby. “I couldn’t before, but it’s coming closer. They’re burning the village!”

A ripple of panic ran through the crowd. Kathryn had to do something to help keep their terror at bay.

Uncertain and uneasy with what she was about to do, she climbed two steps and turned to speak. “
Non! Calmez-vous! Calmez-vous!
Is not Lord Edric a powerful warrior?”

Kathryn raised her voice and drew the attention of those who stood close by. “Your fyrd is the most powerful in the land. Have faith in them!”

More heads turned to look at her. “How can you think the Fergusons will prevail? Mighty Drogan stands with Lord Edric, and they fight to defend all at Braxton Fell!”

A few voices shouted in agreement and she felt encouraged to continue.

Edric pushed his way into the crowded hall and saw that most of the people were turned toward the staircase, quietly listening to the sound of a feminine voice. ’Twas Kate, and she stood on a step slightly above them, admonishing them to have confidence that Braxton’s fyrd would triumph.

A feeling rushed through him, one unlike any he’d ever experienced. This maid from Normandy was calming his Saxon villagers and admonishing them in softly accented English to believe in him.

“Your warriors are the mightiest in the realm! Have you not seen them at practice? Have you never thought of the risks they take in your behalf?”

Edric caught sight of Oswin pushing through the crowd to get to her, and he thought his steward’s scornful expression puzzling. She might be Norman, but her actions seemed entirely appropriate and lawful.

Edric also started moving in her direction, intending to get there before Oswin. The people made way for him, crossing themselves and calling out prayers of thanks when they realized who passed through their ranks.

Oswin reached the stairs first, and Edric saw him bend to speak to Kate. Her expression tightened and the color drained from her cheeks. Yet she stood her ground, deliberately turning away from the steward and calling out once more. “Soon your men will return to their homes and we will all be safe here, inside the walls of Braxton Fell”—she gave a quick glance toward Oswin—” just as King William intended these mighty walls to be used!”

Edric could do naught but admire her for holding her own, not only with Oswin, but through the whole night. She hadn’t allowed her fears to overcome her, but had managed to keep her wits when Robert had sneaked into the nursery. She’d ensured Aidan’s and Bryce’s safety, and was now calming the people with her well-chosen words.

Oswin stepped away from the stairs, but when
the crowd moved aside for Edric to come forward, Kate’s eyes alighted upon him. Her speech faltered and she put one hand upon her breast. Her eyes filled with moisture, and a tremulous smile warred with the single tear that rolled down her face. Edric felt a sudden, sharp pang in the center of his chest. He rubbed it away as he reached the steps and turned to the people who’d come to the hall for safety.

“The battle is done and the Fergusons gone, defeated once and for all!” Edric called out. “Return to the village now and help put out the fires!”

A cheer rose up and Edric could not resist pulling Kate into his embrace. He did no more than hug her, releasing her quickly and then going to Oswin. Beckoning the steward to his study as the crowd dispersed, Edric took a lamp and went into the private room.

“My deepest congratulations, Lord Edric,” said Oswin.

“You should applaud the Norman maid, Oswin. ’Twas she who alerted us to the attack before it had even happened.” He began to unbuckle the fastenings of his hauberk. “More remarkably, she was the one who killed Robert Ferguson.”

Oswin made a rude noise. “That is hardly likely, my lord.”

“’Tis true. Ferguson stole into the nursery and tried to take Aidan. Kate prevented him.”

Oswin placed his hands upon the desk and leaned forward, his expression intent. “Is that what she told you?”

Edric stopped moving. “Do you question the truth of it?”

Oswin straightened. “Do you think she could kill
you,
my lord? For Robert is every bit the warrior you are. Not so easily overcome.”

“It matters not,” Edric said, returning to the task of removing his armor. “One of the housemaids took part in the deed. Tomorrow will be soon enough to sort out the tale.”

“My lord…”

The steward hesitated, but Edric wanted to waste no more time with the bitter old man. “Drogan will take the fyrd to Ferguson’s holding tomorrow,” he said. “They will finish the Scots and take what goods they leave.”

Oswin nodded but said naught.

Edric took his leave, heading for the kitchen where there would be buckets of clean water. He took one outside and removed his sherte, then doused himself to wash away the stench of battle.

A moment later he was walking through the hall. He noticed the old cradle, lying near the chairs
by the fireplace, and collected it before climbing the steps. Though it was not entirely proper to walk about the keep in this half-dressed manner, it seemed that he was the only one about. The servants and all those who’d come to the keep for shelter had now left.

Anyway, in a few short minutes, Edric would not be needing any clothes. He left the cradle at the door of his own bedchamber and made his way to the nursery where he found the door ajar and the room empty. Stepping inside, he held his lamp high and saw bloodstains beside Aidan’s cradle. ’Twas there that Ferguson had died.

The bastard had sneaked in like a lowly mealworm and would have killed Aidan. Stomach-turning disgust filled him. The world was well rid of Robert Ferguson and his ilk. He had no doubt Drogan would be successful in routing the rest of the clan and taking what they’d stolen from Braxton Fell. He doubted it would be enough to see them through the winter, but it would certainly help.

He left the nursery and went on to his brother’s chamber, hoping to find Kate there. Bryce was alone, but for the guard who was assigned to him.

“Where’s Kate?” Edric asked. “Have you seen her?”

Bryce roused himself just enough to look over his brother’s nearly naked form. “I’m impressed, brother,” he said, “but I’m not sure the sight of so much flesh will attract an innocent maid.”

“Where is she?”

Bryce pointed to the ceiling. “She might have gone to sit with Cecily’s old nurse…mayhap she’s helping Lora with Hrothgar’s mother.”

Edric left his drowsy brother to his sleep and took himself off to the back stairs. Reluctant to go near Berta’s chamber, he went to the circular tower room first and found Lora with Elga. They looked up when they saw him.

“What is amiss here, Lora?”

“All was well until the fires started. Then Elga seemed to lose…” Lora shook her head in puzzlement. “She was not herself.”

“Well, I’ve recovered, lass,” said Elga. “’Tis time we went home.”

“Aye,” Lora said quietly. “Edric, what news…What of Drogan?”

He’d seen Lora weep only once, and it had been when he’d told her of her husband’s death. But a suspicious brightness filled her eyes now, and Edric realized that the huscarl’s soft sentiments toward Lora were reciprocated.

“When last I saw him, Drogan was leading a
company of men to deal with the last of the Scottish stragglers. In the morn, he will set off for Ferguson lands to finish the deed.”

Lora placed a hand upon Edric’s wrist. “Thank you for this good news, my lord. I…”

He covered her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Have you seen Kate?”

“She went to Berta’s room. I assume she is still there.”

Edric turned to leave. When he reached the door, he looked back at Lora. “One more thing…When Drogan returns, put him out of his misery, will you?”

He did not wait for her reply, but quit the room and went in the direction of the bedchamber where Berta had retired. He had not given the woman much thought since Cecily’s death. ’Twould probably be best to send her back home with Cecily’s father when he came to see his grandson, but that would take some time. For Oswin had sent a message to Lichford only yesterday.

Turning the corner to the next corridor, he saw someone far ahead, coming out of the room. ’Twas Kate.

She hesitated when she saw him with his small lamp. “M-my lord, you startled me.”

Her eyes glanced down to his naked chest and
Edric felt a punch of lust unlike anything he’d ever known.

Holding Aidan in her arms, she shut Berta’s door behind her, but did not move. It occurred to him that he should tread carefully, but his lust outweighed his good judgment. Moving one step toward her, he saw her close her eyes and take a deep breath, as though girding herself against what would come. Edric closed the distance between them and drew her into his arms, holding their son between them.

No, Aidan was only
his
son, but at the moment, the distinction seemed a trivial one. With one hand, he touched her jaw, caressing her mouth with his thumb, then sliding his fingers into the hair behind her ear. He drew her close and kissed her.

He did not take her mouth gently, but claimed full possession at once, melding her lips to his in a primal fusion of her body to his. Instinct compelled him to take her there, to press her against the wall and claim her as his own. Instead, he broke the kiss, grabbed her hand and pulled her to the staircase, leading the way with the flickering light of his lamp.

He felt her tremble, but her unease did not deter him from his purpose. Partway down the stairs, he stopped and turned to her. As she stood
on the step below, her mouth was level with his, but he did not trust himself to kiss it.

He slipped his free hand ’round her waist. Touching his mouth to her throat, he tasted her tender skin as he moved his hand lower, onto her gently rounded buttock.

Though he heard pure desire in the soft sound she made, her trepidation remained.

Yet he’d never wanted anyone the way he desired Kate.

“Jesu,”
he muttered, quickly resuming their descent, unwilling to give her time to draw away from him. ’Twould take but a few kisses, a few intimate caresses, to win her.

They soon arrived at Edric’s bedchamber where he pushed open the door. Wasting no time, he picked up Aidan’s cradle and put it inside, then set the lamp upon a small table near the bed.

The fire burned low in the grate, but neither of them noticed the chill in the air. Edric took Aidan and laid him in the cradle, covering him quickly with his blanket. He turned to Kate who stood perfectly still, shy and very much unsure.

“Do not fear me, sweeting. Touch me.”

“I cannot…m-must not.”

He took her hand and placed it upon the bare skin of his shoulder, then drew it down to the center of his chest.

Her palm was smooth and cool, and when her fingers slid across his nipple, Edric’s cock throbbed in anticipation.

“Can you deny the attraction that arcs between us?”

Her throat moved tightly and he tipped his head, then kissed her softly, pulling her fully against him, causing a sweet kind of agony.

He did not think his cock could grow any more, or become any harder, but when he pressed against her, he worried that he might finish, when they’d barely just begun. Kissing her lightly on her cheeks, then on her jaw and down the tender flesh of her neck, he shifted his position, untied the laces that held her bodice closed, and slid the garment down her arms.