Samantha James (34 page)

Down the passageway, Kathryn lay huddled in the narrow bed. She twisted her head around, trying to decide if she'd heard the faint rumble of voices. Or was it merely her imagination?

The thought progressed no further. The door of her room crashed open. Stark terror brought her upright in the bed.

A powerful figure filled the doorway. In the gloom he appeared dark and faceless—until he stepped forward and she found herself captured in the ruthless hold of glittering silver eyes.

This time there was nowhere to go... nowhere to run.

He stripped off his gloves and hurled them aside. "Well, milady—" His expression was as cutting as his tone. "—you've really done it this time."

Kathryn's heart beat like a trapped bird's. She drew the sheet up to her breasts, a pitiable shield against such a peremptory presence. His eyes stabbed at her, piercing her to the quick. "Do not look at me so!" she cried feebly. "What have I done that is so awful?"

All the fires of hell leaped in his eyes. "My God," he said, his voice was shaking with the force of his anger, "that you can ask that—" Anger exploded into violence. He slammed his fist against the wall. Kathryn had seen Guy angry before, but not like this—never like this! A murderous rage contorted his features into a mask she scarcely recognized.

"How could you!" he shouted. "How could you marry him when it's my child you carry?" He started toward her, menace apparent in the tightly leashed tension of his body.

Kathryn's eyes cleaved to his, shadowed and frightened. The very air seemed charged with his fury. She scrambled back instinctively until her spine encountered the cold stone wall and pulled her knees to her chest, cowering like a child. Suddenly, without warning, something inside her crumpled. Never had she felt so defeated—so utterly alone. She'd tried so hard to be strong for months now, clinging to a meager thread of hope. But now even that hope was gone and the hurt that descended was unbearable. And in this, her moment of greatest despair, she rested her head in her hands and began to cry. Helplessly. Uncontrollably. With all the tremulous fear hidden deep in her heart.

Shaken and stunned, Guy could only stare, caught wholly off guard and totally unmanned by the sight of this strong, fiery woman in tears. He swallowed. Christ, how many times had he thought her cold and heartless? Never had he considered her vulnerable... never, until now.

"Kathryn." His hand hovered just above her head. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to frighten you, I swear." He eased down on the bed and touched her shoulder.

A tremendous shudder wracked her body. At his touch, a dam seemed to break loose inside her. "Don't be angry," she moaned, over and over. "Oh, please, do not. . . I—I didn't know what else to do. . ."

Her spirit was broken, her bravery and pride in tatters. Seeing her like this was like a knife turning inside him. He wrapped her in his arms with a surge of fierce protectiveness.

"I'm not angry." He sought to reassure her. "But Kathryn, you must understand, I could hardly let you marry Roderick."

Her head came up. Her face was pale and ashen, her eyes huge and wounded and pleading. "You must!" she cried. Her small hands clutched at him, and suddenly it was all pouring out—the angry hurt she felt in losing Ashbury, her fears and uncertainty about the future... the shame she felt in carrying his child.

"Do not take me back to Ashbury," she begged. "I cannot go back there. Everyone knows that we lay together. They—they think I am your whore."

His anger erupted anew. 'The devil take them!" he stormed. "Who would dare to say such a thing!"

"I heard them," she choked. 'Two knights... they said I was not so haughty now you'd put your bastard in my belly." She began to sob again. "I—I don't want my babe to be a bastard. I don't want this child to be scorned or—or become like my Uncle Richard, selfish and greedy because he must always do battle for what little he has. Peter will have Sedgewick," she wept, "but this child will have nothing. I beg of you, do not stop this wedding. At least let this babe have a name."

Guy closed his eyes, his throat achingly tight. His arms tightened. She was shaking uncontrollably. Scalding tears soaked the front of his tunic; they seeped clear to his heart. Each jagged sob was like the piercing thrust of a blade. She cried until she had no strength left, until he was sure there could not possibly be a drop of emotion left inside her.

He had brought her to this, he realized numbly. He had robbed her of her innocence, stolen her reputation. He had wronged her deeply.

And now he must do what he could to set things aright.

"Kathryn." He nuzzled the baby-soft skin of her temple. "You must cease this weeping—" With his palms he framed her face and tipped it to his. "—for a bride should not cry so the eve of her wedding."

Another time, and he might have smiled at her expression of wide-eyed shock. Instead, he merely awaited her reaction.

Her eyes clung to his. "Do not—toy with me." Her voice caught, still thready with tears. "Please, speak plainly."

Staring into her tear-ravaged features, Guy decided she'd never looked more beautiful. He heaved a sigh, for he was feeling rather possessive of her right now—and protective as well. His body, however, was far from immune from those sweetly feminine curves nestled so cozily against him.

But she was so disarmingly vulnerable right now, too vulnerable, he reminded himself firmly. He ached with the need to lay her down, strip away her gown, and explore with lips and hands all the fascinating changes that had taken place since the last time he'd touched her. Unfortunately, as he'd so forcibly cued Roderick, this was God's house, hardly the place to make love to a woman, married or otherwise.

With his thumb he sponged the dampness from quivering pink lips. "I can speak no more plainly than this," he whispered. "In the morning you planned to speak your marriage vows—and so it shall be."

Very gently he put her from him and rose. She huddled beneath the covers once more, but her troubled gaze followed his progress toward the door.

"Guy?"

He half-turned.

"I must know... you'll truly not prevent this wedding?"

He watched her a moment, his features unusually grave. "This I promise," he said finally. "On the morrow, you will no longer be a maid—" His eyes cleaved directly into hers. "—but a wife."

In the morning, it all seemed like a dream.

Kathryn had slept deeply, though she had thought not to sleep at all. She dimly recalled hearing the chapel bell which summoned the monks to morning mass several hours earlier. But she remained where she was, her limbs weighted down with a weariness she suspected was more of the mind than body. With a dispirited sigh, she finally thrust her leg from beneath the covers.

There was a knock on the door. "Kathryn?" called a voice. "Kathryn, are you awake?"

Elizabeth! For a moment Kathryn feared the worst, that Elizabeth was here to dissuade her from her chosen course. Yet when Elizabeth let herself in, her lovely face was wreathed in smiles.

She threw her arms around Kathryn. "Oh, Kathryn, I cannot believe it! You are to be married!" She hugged her fiercely. "You see? I knew things would work out. I knew it!"

Kathryn was still rather stunned at her arrival. "Elizabeth," she murmured, "I do not understand. How do you come to be here?"

"The earl woke me early this morning and told me the news," she said gaily. "I've come to help you dress and—oh, you could hardly let your wedding take place without your only sister in attendance, could you?"

It was a relief to let Elizabeth take charge. She helped Kathryn dress, then plaited her hair into a shining coronet atop her head. When she'd left Sedgewick, Kathryn had taken none of the gowns she'd fashioned from the cloth Guy had given her, save one—the midnight-blue velvet. In a rare display of vanity, she'd simply been unable to part with it. Now, hearing Elizabeth exclaim delightedly, Kathryn was glad she had not left it behind, if only for Elizabeth's sake.

"Oh, Kathryn." Elizabeth clapped her heads and sighed dreamily. "Your gown is beautiful! You are truly a vision, for I've never seen you look lovelier."

The words made her heart catch. In spite of all that had been between them, she thought of how she had once longed to wear this gown for Guy. But Guy had never seen her in this dress—now he never would.

She summoned a wobbly smile. "Lovely?" she murmured dryly. "Lumpy is more like it, Elizabeth." Her hand moved instinctively to that slight roundness.

"Why, it hardly shows!" Elizabeth replied staunchly. "I only wish there was a glass here in this monk's cell that you might see for yourself."

Kathryn merely shook her head and allowed Elizabeth to lead her from the chamber toward the chapel, feeling numb inside. Where her heart should have dwelled, abrim with joy, there was only a hollow, empty ache that went on and on.

Hugh was there at the entrance, waiting, his smile broad. Kathryn felt him press her hand. He murmured something, she knew not what. Elizabeth hugged her and drew back. Her beautiful blue eyes glistened with a betraying sheen, but her expression was rapt.

"Oh, Kathryn," she whispered, "this day is just the beginning. Your life will be filled with happiness. I feel it with all that I am!"

Her legs leaden, a suffocating heaviness in her chest, Kathryn forced herself to take those first steps that would take her to the man about to become her husband. For the first time that day, Kathryn allowed herself to think of Roderick. An unseen hand seemed to close around her heart and squeeze. If only she could share Elizabeth's elation! This was her wedding day, she realized desperately, but she could not think of it as a blessing. She didn't love Roderick. He wasn't even the father of her child!

Tears pricked her eyelids. She saw everything through a watery blur—the dark-robed priest, the broad back of a tall figure elegantly garbed in rich brown velvet. She cringed inside, not wanting to look at him, yet he drew her gaze with a force more powerful than she.

The tilt of his head was impossibly arrogant. .. impossibly familiar.

Her mouth went dry. Her knees went weak. Her head swam dizzily, and for a mind-splitting instant she thought vaguely that surely this was but a dream. For the man who awaited at the altar was not Roderick at all...

It was Guy.

Chapter 16

That she could walk was a mystery. Her legs were shaking so that she could hardly remain standing. As always, Guy's face was a mask that betrayed nothing of his feelings. She could read nothing in his expression—not dismay or anger, defeat or indifference. Then, all at once, something flickered in his eyes.

He held out his hand.

She never remembered taking that last, fateful step which brought her to his side. Nor did she remember if he reached for her—or she reached for him.

Their fingertips touched. Her heart lurched. Was she elated? Or horrified?

His fingers weaved through hers, warm and tight, reassuring despite the upheaval raging inside her. A gentle tug brought her down on her knees beside him. From then on, Kathryn did not notice the cold of the hard stone floor. Heat and vitality radiated from the man at her side. Swept into the sheer aura of his presence, she found the strength she so sorely needed. She did not stumble and falter as she spoke her vows. And when it was over, a firm hand at her waist guided her to her feet.

As they glided down the aisle, a surge of some powerful, unnamed emotion swelled inside her. This man, she realized dazedly—so tall, so strong and ruggedly handsome—was now her husband. And she was his wife... his
wife
.

Outside a tepid sunshine weaved through naked tree branches. Elizabeth had remained inside to help Kathryn gather the rest of her belongings. Hugh turned to Guy. "Will you return to Ashbury?" He chuckled. "You can oversee my first duty as lord there—providing your wedding feast!"

Kathryn's frozen features flashed through Guy's mind, that moment she had realized it was him and not Roderick who stood as her bridegroom. He had held his breath, half-afraid she would run, even when she laid icy-cold fingers within his.

Something hotly primitive surged inside him. The temptation to return to Ashbury was strong. He'd have liked nothing more than to flaunt the morning's deed before Roderick. But, he decided wryly, Kathryn would probably not take kindly to being displayed as a battle prize.

He laid a hand on Hugh's shoulder. "Much as I appreciate the offer, I fear I must refuse. I've been away from Sedgewick too long as it is and I'm anxious to be home again." He paused. "I must ask a boon, though, my friend."

"You have only to name it, Guy."

"I want it known that Kathryn is now my wife." His smile did not reach his eyes. "Roderick may find it to be of particular interest." A silent glimmer of understanding passed between the two men.

Kathryn and Elizabeth emerged then. Kathryn didn't seem surprised when he told her he intended they leave for Sedgewick from here. Whether she was relieved or disappointed he couldn't tell, perhaps because he didn't want to. But he couldn't suppress a twinge of guilt when she and Elizabeth said their good-byes. He watched her embrace Elizabeth, who was both laughing and crying. Elizabeth's voice drifted to him.