Samantha James (35 page)

"Oh, Kathryn, I never thought to see the day... you and the earl married! Do you realize you are now his countess?"

Kathryn's reply was lost on him. He scowled when tears sprang to her eyes—tears of happiness? Doubt marched like an invading army inside him. Relief, mayhap? Or tears of despair?

He stepped up and took her elbow. "We must be off, Kathryn. We've a long journey ahead of us." A wounded look sped across her features. Too late he realized he spoke more harshly than he intended. But it was just as he'd told Hugh. Perhaps it wasn't the best way to begin a marriage, but he was eager to be back at Sedgewick.

Little did he realize that Kathryn's thoughts followed that same channel. They spent their wedding night lying on cold hard earth, surrounded by a small contingent of men he'd brought with him from Ashbury. There had been reports of several bands of outlaws preying on travelers of late, so Guy took his turn standing watch with his men. Kathryn huddled beneath a pile of furs, cold and miserable and very alone in the meager shelter of their tent. It was very late when he crawled within. He threw an arm around her and brought her close. Within minutes his deep even breathing told her he was asleep.

Her wayward mind gave her no peace. How very different this must have been from his wedding night with Elaine! It might have started out with artless shyness on her part. Sweet persuasive kisses and tender caresses would have followed, and then. . .. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed away the vivid picture in her mind. But if her thoughts were faintly textured with bitterness, she couldn't help it. Elaine had been the bride he loved.

She was only the bride he hated and despised... the bride he had not wanted at all.

By the time they arrived at Sedgewick, Kathryn was drained, both physically and mentally.

One of his men rode ahead to announce their arrival. The bailey was filled with knights and servants alike. The crowd let out a cheer and scurried to make way for the horses. Near the entrance to the great hall, Guy dismounted, then lifted her from her palfrey. His hand in hers, he mounted the stairs with long determined strides. Kathryn was gasping when they reached the top. Raising their joined hands high, his voice rang out over the crowd.

"I give you Lady de Marche, Countess of Sedgewick!"

A roaring, deafening cheer went up. Stunned and amazed at such a welcome, a smile appeared from nowhere, wide and radiant. The next thing she knew, a rock-hard arm curled along her waist and pulled her around.

The softness of her form was crushed against unyielding male strength. Even as she drew a startled breath of surprise, his lips boldly captured hers, the contact deep and slow and rousing. Yet even while she clung to him, weak and hot and shivery, her spirits plummeted to a deep despair. For all that his embrace was heady and all-consuming, there was little of tenderness and gentleness, and she wondered at the emotions that prevailed within him. Was this kiss naught but a spectacle to please his people?

When he finally let her go, her radiant smile had withered. Afraid her face would betray the tumult in her soul, she turned and fled into the hall without a backward glance, struggling for control. The crowd, thinking her embarrassed and shy, roared again.

The evening meal dragged on forever. She sat on the dais beside Guy, her head buzzing from all the laughter and shouting. He was accommodating and solicitous in much the same way he'd been these past days of their journey here. Was it her imagination or did he seem rather distant? She clasped her fingers tight in her lap to keep them from trembling. Had she done something to displease him? To anger him perchance? A sudden notion knotted her stomach. They were but four days wed—did he already feel trapped? Did he regret those sacred vows that bound them husband and wife?

A little moan escaped her. She was simply too worn out right now to seek answers, particularly when she suspected they would scarcely be to her liking.

At the sound, Guy fixed that disturbingly intense gaze on her profile. "What is it?" he asked sharply. "Are you unwell?"

She shook her head and summoned a wan smile. "I am fine. To be sure," she admitted, "I would like nothing more than to seek my bed."

She didn't see the pulse that ticked hard in the leanness of his cheek. "Then you have my leave to do so. I will not be long." Kathryn scarcely heard this last. She needed no further urging to be on her way.

Upstairs in her old chamber, she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her wimple. Her braids came tumbling down and she loosed them, running her fingers through the thick strands to free the tangles. There was a knock and Gerda shuffled inside. As fast as her uneven gait allowed, she crossed to her mistress and fell down upon her knees.

"Oh, milady," she burst out. "When I heard the news, I cannot tell you how happy I was for you." She drew back, her cheeks flushed with enthusiasm.

Kathryn searched the girl's face, lightly laying a hand on her head. "Gerda," she murmured wonderingly. "Gerda, I must tell you. I was not at all sure you would be pleased."

Gerda tilted her head. "Why would I not be pleased?"

"I know how devoted you were to Lady Elaine," she said slowly. "I know how you loved her. And to be honest, Gerda, I thought it might be hard for you to see another woman take her place—" Her voice caught slightly. "—especially me."

Gerda's eyes darkened. "Milady," she said unevenly, "it shames me to realize that I ever thought ill of you—that I judged you because of who you were, and not by what you are. I wronged you deeply, milady, and I hope you can find it in you to forgive me." She seized Kathryn's hand and kissed it.

Kathryn slowly brought her upright. "Gerda—" She swallowed, her throat achingly tight. "—there is naught to forgive. I don't know what I'd have done these many months without you." She hugged the girl, and they drew back, exchanging watery smiles. Kathryn wiped away a tear, wondering why she was so weepy of late and ever despairing of her ability to control it.

Gerda brushed her hair and helped her undress. Kathryn slipped into bed with a sigh of weary relief. Four nights of sleeping on the cold hard ground made her appreciate such comfort more than ever. She snuggled into the softness more fully and closed her eyes.

Below stairs, Guy chafed impatiently, eager for the moment he could rise and make his excuses without appearing the overeager bridegroom. In truth, he was exactly that! The thought of Kathryn lying in his bed sent heat singing through his veins. At a lull in the conversation, he rose and gracefully took his leave. His heartbeat quickened apace with his stride. He took the stairs two at a time.

A welcoming fire warmed his chamber, glowing embers casting out their stingy heat. But the room was empty, his bed cold.

Oblivious to the vile oath hurled her way, Kathryn hovered on the fringes of a nebulous dream-world. True to the day, this was no gentle sleep she had fallen into, but restless and disturbing. Swirling fog stretched before her, as far as the eye could see. A hulking shadow, vaguely resembling a man, shifted and rose from the mists. It glided toward her, slowly at first, and then with racing speed, as if the devil himself had set sail in a sea of fog. Mayhap it was the devil. Terror engulfed her. She saw a vision of herself turn and begin to run, but it was no use. The shadow loomed closer. Ever closer. Just as it reached her, thunder split the air. Kathryn's eyes flew open. She jolted upright.

Guy towered above her, his features grimly forbidding. No mercy softened that steel-honed gaze that scraped over her. He looked for all the world like a demon bent on destruction—her destruction. With a powerful sweep of his arm, he raked the furs from her body and snatched her high in his arms.

The utter determination she felt in him crammed her protest low in her throat. Dazed and numb, she clung to his neck as he bore her swiftly down the passage to his own chamber. The next thing she knew, she'd been dumped unceremoniously in the middle of his bed.

She lurched to a sitting position while Guy began to storm the length of the room, back and forth like a caged animal. "By all the saints," he fumed, "you try my patience as no other! You are stubborn and willful and acknowledge no authority save your own. You fight me, you defy me at every turn of the hand, woman, but by God, no more. . . no more!" He stomped to a halt and glared at her.

Beneath his blistering regard, Kathryn's heart beat like a captured doe. She stared at him dumbly, wary and uncertain of the violence she sensed in him.

"So soon you forget," he said tightly. "You would pretend that nothing has changed, but you are now my wife, Kathryn. And my wife will share my chamber. She will most certainly share my bed— this night and every other night!"

Kathryn clutched a sable fur to her breast. "You think that I sought to anger you by going to my old chamber? Guy, that is not so, I swear." She began to tremble. "You gave me leave to retire," she cried wildly. "I just was not thinking... it never occurred to me you wanted me here!"

His condemning silence was unbearable. Her throat worked convulsively as she fought to hold back tears. Her breath tumbled out in a shuddering rush. "I'm sorry," she said brokenly, and then again. "I'm sorry." To her horror, a scalding tear slipped down her cheek, then another and another, for all at once her emotions were a hopeless tangle. She dropped her forehead to her knees and struggled vainly for control.

Guy stared. Her shoulders were shaking. Soundless sobs wracked her body. His fury drained as suddenly as it erupted. He swallowed, aware of an odd tightening in his chest.

"Kathryn." He eased down beside her and awkwardly touched her shoulder. He felt her stiffen, then all at once she turned blindly into his chest. His arms encircled her, bringing her shaking body close. With his hand he stroked the midnight cloud of her hair.

"Guy—"

He kissed away the tears spurting from her eyes. " Kathryn." He nuzzled the soft skin of her temple and sighed. "Ah, lass, we've had so many battles, you and I. I feared this was but one more."

Her jagged sob tore right into his heart. "I did not mean to fight you. Or even to spite you. It’s just that I was so tired."

"I know, sweet. 'Tis my fault and none of yours.” He caught her fingers in his and pressed a kiss on her palm, holding her misty green gaze with his own.

"Please do not cry," he pleaded. 'This has not been an easy time for either of us. But now that we are home, I swear it will be better."

Kathryn buried her face in the side of his neck. He was being so kind, so gentle. As always, his gentleness tied her heart in knots. He cradled her against him until her shaking began to subside. Then he eased her back against the pillows. Rising to stand beside the bed, he stripped off his clothes and crawled in beside her, tucking the furs about her shoulders and bringing her flush against his length.

She melted against him like a kitten seeking heat. The warmth of his body was like a benediction straight from heaven. She rubbed her cheek against the sleek hardness of his shoulder, loving the musky male smell of him, the hardness of his arms tight about her back. Why it was so, she did not know, nor did she care. She nestled even closer, for the sheltering protection of his arms offered all she needed in that moment.

Guy savored the way she rested against him, even while he discovered it came with a price. It was impossible not to hold her like this and ignore the soft, womanly shape of her. A hot, familiar ache flooded his loins. But her pride had been sorely battered and bruised these past days. Though his body craved release, she was simply too vulnerable right now.

She twisted slightly, bringing the rounded plumpness of her breast in fleeting contact with his hand. The spiky dampness of her lashes brushed his neck and fluttered closed. Her thready breathing slowly evened out. Her very defenselessness spurred his torment further. Did she cling to him because she sought him, the man who was now her husband? Or because he was simply there, the only one who offered strength and security?

It was a long, long time before he was able to join her in slumber.

Kathryn woke alone the next morning—and with the certainty that Guy had held her close throughout the night. She shivered, recalling how angry he had been—and then later, how tender and gentle. Her throat swelled just thinking about it. But his abrupt change of mood puzzled her. It troubled her as well, for she never knew what to expect of him.

It was then that she realized... They had spent the last four nights together. Guy had yet to consummate their marriage. A nagging fear tugged at her heart. Had time and circumstances managed to erase all desire for her? The thought was devastating. She wanted him to make love to her, she realized. She wanted it with an intensity that left her weak and yearning. But he had scarcely touched her, except for last night when his touch spoke more of comfort than passion. Why, he hadn't even kissed her, save for yesterday in the bailey—and that for the benefit of his people!

Righteously outraged, she pushed off the furs and glanced down, only to confront her swelling belly. She groaned, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Could she really blame Guy if his passion lay dormant, like a fallow field? It seemed she grew rounder with each day.

She spent the day wavering between hurt and indignation.

Guy had ridden out early to catch up on estate affairs, and arrived home late, looking disheveled and tired. He ate a hasty meal then excused himself so that he might bathe. Kathryn helped Gerda put Peter to bed, then approached Guy's chamber with a distinct trepidation.