Samantha James (16 page)

Her eyes flew open as remembrance flooded her mind. She did not snuggle in the warm comfort of her bed at Ashbury—she was at Sedgewick. With a heavy sigh, she heaved onto her side beneath the covers, only to stare straight into a pair of eyes as blue and brilliant as the morning sky.

Her startled gaze beheld a small cherub face and plump, pink cheeks, a small nubbin nose and chin that even now proclaimed a hint of arrogance. Fine, black curls as dark as her own. Her heart lurched as recognition tore through her like a shock wave.

There was no doubt as to this child's identity— he was clearly the earl's son.

Kathryn pushed her heavy hair from her face and sat up, keeping the fur tucked around her night robe. The little boy displayed no fear. His eyes were round with curiosity. "Good morning," she said with a smile. She patted the rumpled covers beside her. "Come and sit," she invited.

He clambered atop the mattress, curled up his legs beneath him, and gazed at her.

She tipped her head to the side. "My name is Kathryn," she told him. "What is yours?"

A hint of shyness crossed his features. He said nothing, merely bit his lip.

"Well, then," she went on lightly, "I suppose I shall have to guess. Is your name Eugene?"

He shook his head.

"William? Duncan?"

Again he shook his head. His eyes had begun to dance.

"I know. 'Tis Wickham!"

A broad grin crossed his face. The sight made her wounded heart lift and soar. Kathryn rattled off another name, still another and another, each more ridiculous than the last, until he was giggling outright.

It was in the midst of this scene that a knock sounded on her chamber door. Neither Kathryn nor the boy heard. The door swung open a second later.

"Peter! There you are, you little scamp!"

The boy was snatched from the bed by a young serving girl of perhaps her own age, with chestnut hair and wide dark eyes. For an instant, Kathryn went utterly still. For the life of her she didn't understand why, but she had the feeling she'd just done something very, very wrong.

"Please forgive Peter's intrusion, milady," the girl said quickly, "and my own lax behavior in letting him stray so far from me."

Kathryn smiled at her. "I did not mind," she said softly. "Indeed, he and I were having great fun."

But no answering smile broke the straight line of the girl's generous mouth. Kathryn watched her, faintly puzzled. Was it her imagination, or did the girl clutch the boy even closer, as if she sought to protect him?

She tried once more. "As I just told the little lord, I am Kathryn." She winked at the little boy. "And I am heartily glad that I've finally learned his name is Peter."

The girl bobbed a curtsy. "I am Gerda, milady."

Kathryn suddenly felt very exposed in the big wide bed. "I see." She feigned a lightness she was suddenly far from feeling. "And do you tend to Peter, Gerda?"

"Aye, milady." Peter was struggling in her arms. "And milord has instructed that I attend you as well. Will you be needing a bath this morning, milady?"

Kathryn's smile froze. Although Gerda's tone and manner were far from lacking in respect, she was stunned at the coldness she sensed in the girl. "If it’s not too much trouble," she murmured.

"I'll see to it then, milady." Gerda backed away, still holding the wiggly little boy in her arms. Kathryn inhaled sharply. It was impossible not to note the girl's clumsy, awkward gait as she withdrew from the chamber.

Alone once more, Kathryn pushed back the covers and rose. She'd been too weary to look about last night, but she did so now, and was unable to suppress a feeling of awe.

The chamber was easily twice the size of her chamber at Ashbury, and far more richly furnished than any she'd been exposed to. The bed was wide and long, curtained with crimson hangings. Her chest had been brought in, pushed against the far wall next to a bench. A beautiful woven rug lay upon the floor, finer than anything she'd ever seen. Wooden shutters framed the window to shut out the chill of winter; it was there that Kathryn directed her steps. She pushed the shutters aside and let the sun's warming rays shower down upon her, noting that her chamber looked upon the inner courtyard.

She was about to turn away when a tall figure intruded into her field of vision. She could have screamed when she recognized the earl. His graceful, long-legged stride carried him across the courtyard. He did not stop until he was almost directly below her window. The boy—Peter—suddenly appeared and darted toward his father.

Some inexplicable force beyond her control kept her rooted near the window. It was as if her entire being were riveted to the pair below as the earl awaited his son. She blinked as the hard edge fled his granite-hewn features. Was it a trick of her eyes? Peter raced toward his father as fast as his chubby legs would allow. With a squeal of excitement, the boy was snatched high into strong arms.

The unexpected sound of low male laughter reached her ears. The features she had thought so grim and ruthless were filled with warmth and love—the harsh, unyielding man she had come to know might never have existed. One dark hand gently cupped the back of Peter's head, a gesture that bespoke all that words could not.

Yet something must have alerted him to her, for at that moment he half-turned. His gaze climbed inevitably to the place where she peered out. And for the space of a heartbeat, the mask of icy coldness so familiar to her was back in place.

Back with a vengeance.

Kathryn recoiled as if she'd been struck with a fist. The breath left her lungs in a rush. She stumbled back, feeling oddly shaken. It occurred to her then. She was an outsider here at Sedgewick. She did not belong...

The warm soak in her bath did much to ease the soreness wrought in her aching muscles by the long journey, but it did nothing to boost her flagging spirits. She allowed Gerda to dress her hair, though it was a luxury she hadn't known at Ashbury. Again the girl displayed no sign of friendliness, no sign at all. When Gerda wordlessly began to unpack her chest, Kathryn looked away, biting back a swell of humiliation, unwilling to suffer the sight of the girl's hands on her meager belongings. She didn't see Gerda's smooth forehead crease in puzzlement, or the confused glance she directed at the newcomer. Kathryn ventured downstairs to the great hall for a hasty meal, but the suspicious glares she encountered there soon drove her back to her chamber.

A narrow shelf had been fashioned just below the window overlooking the courtyard. Kathryn discovered it was big enough that she could sit quite comfortably, her legs stretched out before her. She spent the remainder of the day cloistered there.

The evening's first star had just made its appearance when a knock sounded on the door. Thinking it was Gerda with the evening meal, she bade her come in. Feeling low and dispirited, she wrapped her arms around her knees and laid her cheek against her knees and watched a second twinkling star appear. She paid scant attention to the footsteps crossing the room.

By then it was too late. The hair on the back of her neck stood up in warning.

"So meek, Lady Kathryn. So humble. You surprise me, for I had thought you would have my household in a rampage by now."

She gritted her teeth against that velvet-honed voice of steel. "You know nothing of me." She delivered the words curtly, refusing to look at him.

"Indeed," he mocked. "A situation mayhap we should remedy."

"I think not."

"How quickly you forget, Kathryn! My will prevails, does it not?" Before she knew what he was about, a muscled arm shot out. He scooped her from her perch and deposited her before him. He then proceeded to inspect every detail of her appearance, from the glossy black hair concealed beneath her wimple to the much-mended seam in the shoulder of her woolen kirtle.

"You will do," he announced at last. He reached out to grasp her elbow.

She snatched it back. "Do for what?" she cried. "Where are you taking me?"

He merely sighed as if she were an unruly child. "Cease your prattle, Kathryn. I merely mean to feed you."

She spurned his touch when he would have reached for her again. Guy allowed it, though he clenched his fist at his side in order to do so. This was one wench who possessed pride aplenty. And if he were honest with himself, he would admit he found himself both intrigued and irritated by it.

In the hall, servants scurried to and from the kitchens, seizing empty platters and piling food onto trestle tables. Guy led her to the high table and saw her seated. Kathryn stole a quick glimpse in all directions from beneath her lashes, relieved to find that they attracted no more than a passing glance. When her gaze returned to the earl, she found it disconcerting to find herself the sole object of his scrutiny.

The way he arched a single black brow lent him a satanic look. "I trust your chamber is adequate."

It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt out that it was far more than adequate. She swiftly quelled the impulse. "Quite," she said shortly.

Neither spoke as his squire began to serve them. There was a mouth-watering stew, lamb and suckling pig, fruit and tempting cakes sweetened with honey. But Kathryn could scarcely eat more than a few bites. Her stomach felt as if it were tied up in knots. She couldn't relax. Why, she could scarcely think with the earl so close!

The earl paused, his goblet suspended halfway to his mouth as he frowned at her. "Is the food not to your liking, Kathryn?" A hint of scorn laced his voice.

"The food is excellent," she pronounced flatly.

"Eat, then, for I would fatten you up—you and your babe."

Her babe. The words hit her hard, for she'd forgotten he thought her with child.

"I must have a care," she murmured, "else my weight will be too much for my palfrey to carry me home."

His brittle laugh further set her on edge. "You wish to leave us so soon? Milady, you wound me sorely!"

For a moment Kathryn said nothing. A hot ache closed her throat as her mind turned fleetingly back. . .She had oft dreamed of the day she would finally be free of her uncle. But she had never dreamed it would be like this.

"God's blood, I—I wish I'd never come here!" Even if the longing in her eyes hadn't given her away, her fervent tone would have.

"But you are here and so I must insist you grace us with your presence." His taunt struck home. He brought the goblet to his lips. Above the dull beaten silver, his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

Rage began to simmer along her veins. Oh, he was so smug, so unutterably sure that he was lord and master of all he surveyed! More than anything, Kathryn longed to shove at his chest, topple his chair, and see him sprawled at her feet—ah, if only she dared!

Totally indifferent to her anger, Guy resumed his meal.

Something snapped inside Kathryn. Heedless of anyone who might be watching, she leaped to her feet, spun about, and stalked from the table.

He was right behind her. She could hear the determined echo of his footsteps. Her pace quickened. She silently gauged the distance to the top of the stairs. Her heart clamored like a drum, but she refused to flee like a trapped doe.

Alas, at the threshold of the dark corridor that led to her chamber, he loomed before her—thwarting her, stopping her cold.

"I did not grant you leave to depart, milady." He towered above her, his ominous presence surrounding her like a mantle of darkness. She tried to shake it off and could not.

"Oh, stop!" she cried. "I've no more wish for your company than you have for mine!"

A slow smile rimmed the hardness of his mouth.

"No?" he murmured, hiking a brow. "I'm not so sure, my lady Kathryn. I'm not so sure at all." His eyes boldly traveled the length of her body, lingering on breasts and belly and hips, taking liberties no other man had dared.

Anger brewed within her, like a storm gathering force and building to a tempest. Her teeth clenched anew. "Cease with this pretense, my lord earl! I know why you wanted me under your roof. The better to make me wait in dread while I wonder what you have in store for me—the better to toy with me the same way you would have toyed with Richard had you had the chance!"

'The better to watch you," he snapped. Her anger was vivid in her eyes, but Guy was annoyed she could think he would treat her so cruelly. Hadn't he shown her every care thus far?

"I do not trust you, Kathryn." His expression turned brooding. 'That is all there is to it. No more, no less. But if you behave, who knows? Mayhap we can strike a bargain."

"I'd as lief bargain with the devil."

His gaze flickered over her. With her chin angled haughtily, her shoulders straight, small hands fisted at her sides, she was the picture of defiance. Ever bold, ever sure of herself.. . ever beautiful.

"Mayhap you shall, Kathryn—" His smile was tight. "—and sooner than you think."

The light from the candle set high in the wall spilled down on him, outlining his arrogant profile, and the hardness of his mouth. He went on coolly, "And now I think 'tis time we returned to the hall."

Panic leaped within her. Though she was frustrated and infuriated, until that moment she had scarce given a thought to those who might have witnessed their departure from the hall—how humiliating it would be to return in his wake!