Samantha James (22 page)

"I've made no secret of that!" she replied with a toss of her head. "Ashbury belonged to my father, and his father before him! It should have been mine—mine and Elizabeth's upon his death. But Richard stole Ashbury from us as surely as you have stolen it from us yet again!" Thinking of Ashbury and Elizabeth made her chest hurt. But her anger at this—this arrogant interloper overrode all else. "You killed Richard. You have your revenge! Isn't that enough? I've seen enough to know that you have no need of more lands. Why must you claim Ashbury as well?"

"So instead you would have me cede Ashbury to you?"

"Aye!"

He laughed outright. "You cling to Ashbury like a mother to a suckling babe, but you forget that you are but a woman, Kathryn. Or is it your intention to scurry back and marry your precious Roderick?" He smiled cruelly when she said nothing. "No? It seems I was right after all, Kathryn. You sought not the restrictions of marriage but the pleasures. How long, then, before your knights deserted you? And what of your tenants? They look to their lord for guidance and protection in time of siege. How would you defend your precious Ashbury from attackers with no knights to rally to your defense— with no husband to command your army?"

He was cruel to taunt her so. He ridiculed her helplessness, yet it was he and others like him who thrust it upon her! His speech infuriated Kathryn, yet she could find no answer to refute him.

Guy met her stare mercilessly, yet as time spun out, he found himself torn between the urge to shake her senseless and cradle her tenderly to his chest. "That is the way of the world, Kathryn. I suggest you accept it, since you cannot change it."

The ache of tears in her throat was nearly unbearable. "And so Ashbury is your prize? And I am your possession?"

She glared at him, yet her eyes betrayed a suspicious glitter. Tears? Guy scoffed. Surely not, for she was a shrew whose heart lay cold as death.

He smiled sardonically. "I see we understand each other, Kathryn."

Kathryn gave a choked little cry. She should have known better than to expect lenience and understanding from him. He was a man with a heart of stone!

"You keep Ashbury only to spite me," she cried. "And you keep me here only to spite me. Damn you, why can't you let me go?"

His jaw tensed as he watched her flee. He'd been right about her after all. She would not bend, he thought furiously. And if she would not bend, then she must break. . . Christ, the wench was more trouble than she was worth!

If he were wise, he'd do exactly what she wanted and send her back to Ashbury. Yet even as the thought burned through his mind, he knew he would not.

Would not, or could not. . . ?

Chapter 10

It was late that night when Guy entered Peter's chamber. He paused by the side of Peter's bed to let his knuckles drift back and forth across the downy curve of his son's cheek, his features incredibly tender. Gerda looked on from the foot of the bed, aware of a painful heaviness in her chest. It had been a long, long time since she'd seen that expression on his face. . . He had been through so much heartache, she thought. She prayed nightly that at least some small measure of happiness would come to him.

He looked pensive when he straightened. Gerda summoned a smile. "He is never still, my lord. He plays so hard, he is worn out by nightfall."

His nod was rather absentminded. "Gerda," he murmured, "someone mentioned that you've assisted with a number of births these last few years."

Gerda frowned, unsure what he was after. "Aye, my lord."

"You have more experience than I in these matters then. When would you guess that the lady Kathryn's babe is due?"

The girl's jaw sagged. She gaped disbelievingly. "Her babe? My lord, I. . ." A fleeting puzzlement crossed her features. "How can this be when she..." She broke off, blushing hotly.

"What?" Guy demanded. "Gerda, if there is something I should know, spit it out, girl."

Utterly mortified, Gerda stared at the floor, then finally decided there was nothing for it but to blurt it out. "My lord, she had her monthly flux just a few days after you brought her here! I—I do not see how she can be with child."

Guy's whole body went rigid. How, indeed, he echoed silently. Aloud he said, "Gerda, are you certain you are not mistaken? You're positive this was her monthly flux?"

"I am not mistaken," she said faintly. "My lord—" She got no further. Stunned, she watched him whirl and stalk from the chamber. There was an air of leashed savagery about him that she feared did not bode well for the lady...

Snug in her chamber, Kathryn held luxuriant blue velvet. She rubbed the swath across her cheek, still rather stunned by the earl's unexpected kindness, her own response to it. She had no desire to be beholden to him. She wanted nothing from him, save that he remove himself from her life! It was inevitable, perhaps, that she should be reminded of what had passed between them in the forest. His ardent kiss had shaken her sorely. But in truth, it was his achingly tender caress of her cheek that sent a tremor through her anew. She had not realized that a mere touch could be so painfully sweet, so gentle... that he could be so gentle. A bittersweet pang pierced her breast.

He had threatened her, brought her to Sedgewick against her will. Ah, but she preferred that he rant and rave, strike her, even beat her, for she could rally her defenses against his anger.. . Twice now, she had glimpsed a side of him she had never dreamed might exist in this iron-hearted knave. For all that he was fierce and warlike, he had shown her he could be gentle—

She feared his gentleness far more.

The heavy footfall of steps in the passage outside jarred her from her musings. Her door crashed open. Kathryn drew no more than a quick startled breath than the earl stepped within, his powerful frame filling the doorway. His dark head nearly touched the cross timber; his shoulders eclipsed her view of the passage.

His presence was dark and menacing. Kathryn stared as if she'd come face to face with her executioner. And indeed, she thought faintly, perhaps she had, for was it not true that her very life was subject to his every whim and will?

The moment of weakness passed, mercifully quick. She squared her shoulders and fixed him with a blistering glare. "Do you not knock, my lord? It occurs to me that for one so nobly born, your manners are no better than the lowliest villein's."

Guy was in no mood for the tartness of her tongue. He was furious with himself for feeling any softness toward her—for feeling anything at all! He need not think long and hard on her trickery to be filled with a rage darker than any he had known. She had deceived him, made a fool of him!

He jeered openly. "I am lord here, Kathryn. I go where I please. I ask what I please. I do what I please. And it occurs to me that a reckoning of accounts is due—from you, my lady, you who profess to be such a great seeker of truth."

Two steps brought him before her. Her hands still clutched the blue velvet. He snatched it from her grasp and flung it across the room. Shaken by the venom in his eyes, Kathryn dared not move as he walked in a slow circle around her. When at last he spoke his tone was feathery-soft, belying the ruthless tension constricting his features.

"Your child, Kathryn. When do you expect it?"

Kathryn blanched. Surely he did not know, she thought in panic. Yet something deep inside her cried out a warning. . . A strangled exclamation broke from her lips. "You know, don't you? Oh, God... you know..."

"What, Kathryn? What do I know?"

He stopped before her. His hands lifted, circling her neck. With his thumbs he traced a path up and down the slender column of her throat. Suddenly she felt fearful. She pictured his fingers, tanned and powerful, against her skin. Ah, he played the game so well. He toyed with her as a lion toyed with his prey before pouncing for the kill. He had only to tighten his grip and the life would be crushed from her. Her presence on this earth would be no more . .. She closed her eyes and wrenched her face away. 'There is no child," she choked out.

His thumbs ceased their caressing motion. She heard his voice, caustic and grating, above her head. "There never was, was there?"

She tensed, afraid of the moment she would breathe her last, even as his accusation splintered through her like the tip of a lance. She shook her head mutely, then opened her eyes.

The cold condemnation on his face stabbed at her. "It was a plot, then, conjured up by you and your sister—"

"Nay," she cried. "Not in the way that you think! I admit I planned to tell Uncle I was with child so that he would allow Roderick and me to marry. But then there was no need to go through with it—" She floundered helplessly. " 'Twas Elizabeth who told you, not I, my lord! Why she did so I—I do not know!"

Oh, she lied so prettily. But Guy would never again be so gullible. His lip curled in disdain. "No doubt your sister sought to save you from my evil clutches. Perhaps she feared that I would ravish and defile you—take you unto me and use you... like the whore we both know you are!"

She flinched, stung bitterly by his contempt. His quiet rage was worse than if he'd bellowed with fury. His hands fell away from her, as if he found her revolting. He stalked away to survey her coldly from across the room. Deep within her, a reckless courage surged to the fore.

Her chin angled high, she matched his stare as boldly as a warrior with sword at his side and shield at his breast. "You've found me out, my lord earl. So punish me," she challenged clearly. "Aye, do your worst to me. Beat me, whip me, thrash me, I care not. Indeed, I welcome it, for it will kindle my hatred for you. But know that someday I will be free of you and your hold over me. And then vengeance will be mine."

Guy sucked in a harsh breath. He wondered if this rebellious chit truly realized how very much she risked, that she dared to threaten and defy him now, when he was so close—so very close— to venting all his pent-up wrath.

He stared into those flashing sea-green eyes, eyes that had scarce given him a moment's peace since the day they'd met. And then every thought in his mind blurred beneath the onslaught of just one.

He did not welcome the seething pulse of desire that leaped within him, but the burning in his soul would not be silent. It struck him then— this was something he could control, something easily quenched... And now there was no reason not to.

His time of waiting had come to an end.

"That would please you, would it not? For me to lay my hand on you in anger. But you may rest easy, lass, for 'twould give me no satisfaction to see that lovely skin bruised." An ugly smile distorted the chiseled beauty of his hard mouth. "But I promise you, sweet, you will feel the touch of my hand this night."

Her breath tumbled to a standstill. She had to struggle to find voice. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember Ashbury, Kathryn? The eve you came to my chamber?" he asked, striding toward her.

She blanched. Dear God, she thought numbly, how could she forget? Through a haze she heard him continue. "How shall I put this... You sought to ease the loneliness of my solitary bed." Eyes starkly brazen, his gaze raked over her from head to toe.

Kathryn went rigid. Icy fingers of dread crept up her spine. She read his intent in the flaming glitter of his eyes—he meant to bed her! "Nay," she cried. She flung out a hand as if to ward him off. He caught both her wrists and dragged her up against him.

"Yes," he mocked. "Oh, yes."

She struggled against him, but his hands curled around her wrists like manacles of iron. "You detest me," she reminded him desperately. "And you denied me that night, milord. You did not want me!”

"Oh, but I did, sweet witch. It's true I am an unwilling victim of desire. I swore that night that you would be mine, Kathryn, but the time would be of my choosing. Then I learned of the child you were to bear. I told myself I could not take a woman with child. But now that obstacle is no more, and tonight, sweet witch, tonight we shall finish that which you started so long ago."

Her heart lurched sickeningly. Too late Kathryn realized her position. His time of waiting had come to an end. And there was naught she could do to stop him.

There was no gentleness in him now. There was nothing but cold, implacable purpose that sent terror coursing through her body. He towered over her, big and powerful, and suddenly she was frightened of what she sensed in him. She feared the fury leashed so tightly inside him, as if a tempest raged deep within.

She wanted to twist away, to flee as far and fast as her legs would carry her. But she couldn't move. She was held chained by the realization that it was too late—that there was nowhere she could go where he would not find her.

"I will not lie with you. Do you hear? I will not!"

It only frustrated her further that he found her outrage so amusing. "Come, Kathryn, I'm but a man, much the same as any other. Why should you withhold from me that which you gave so eagerly to your lover, Roderick? Besides, there are many who feel I am quite skilled in the arts of bringing a woman pleasure."

"Pleasure!" she flared. "I'll derive no pleasure from your touch, you conceited lout! You tout yourself and your manhood like a merchant selling his wares, but you are as repulsive as a toad. You disgust me!"