Samantha James (44 page)

Her color heightened, along with her temper. Guy was well aware of the storm building inside her but paid no heed.

"As you can see, the duties of a wife are many. Kathryn must see to the needs of our daughter—" He gave a low, husky laugh and pressed a kiss on the scented hollow in front of her ear. "—and her husband."

With that he spun her away, his fingers digging unmercifully into the soft flesh of her arm. Once they were out of sight, she wrenched herself free and glided up the stairs before him, her head held regally high.

A savage stare tracked their progress; neither one noticed Roderick's tight-lipped regard.

Guy said nothing while Kathryn dismissed Norah for the night, nor did he miss the way her lovely mouth tightened in disapproval as he bolted the door.

"I take it," he said mildly, "you have something to say."

"That I do," she snapped, and wasted no time in heaping her displeasure on his head. "Your behavior was rude and inexcusable, milord. Need I remind you that we have guests? 'Tis not right that we leave them unattended at such an early hour. Nor was it right for you to suggest that we. . . that you..." Color stained her cheeks as she struggled to find the right words.

Guy had no such problem. 'That I had every intention of dragging you off to my bed? As if I could not wait to lay my hands on that luscious body of yours?" He tugged off his tunic and dropped it on the bed. "Why pretend otherwise when it's true?"

Such arrogant self-confidence! And no wonder, she thought in bitter frustration. His arms were roped with muscle, his shoulders bronzed and sleek. The sight of his naked torso made her middle tingle. With a ragged inhalation, she tore her gaze from his chest. "You're drunk," she snapped. "Well, you can go below and drown yourself in ale for all I care. I'll not have you in my bed in such a sorry state."

A dangerous smile curled his lips. He advanced closer, his aura distinctly predatory. "Ah, but you will have me in your bed, sweet. This night and every other night."

She placed her fingertips upon his chest, not resisting, yet not yielding either. Yet she could not help the way her chest grew heavy and tight. With every breath, with every heartbeat, she wanted him more—she loved him more! If she cast her heart before him, he would stomp on it, cast it aside, and then where would she be? She had to have something for herself, no matter how little!

"It's not me you want," she said shakily. "You only do this because of Roderick. You do this only because I married you and not him! You wish only to flaunt me in his face." Her dignity was lost in an angry cry. "You do this only as punishment!"

His features were shadowed and tense. His fingers tangled in her hair. He brought her head back so that her face was tipped to his. "Then tell me this," he said roughly. "Who do I punish, Kathryn—you or me?"

His mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding, and all at once her heart beat wild and reckless. Lean fingers swept away her kirtle, and her feeble resistance along with it. Heat rose inside her, like a raging fever. And when he lay her back upon the bed, imprinting her body with the weight of his own, she surrendered her lips with a low sobbing moan.

Her nails dug into the sleek flesh of his shoulders. Their union was heated and driving, breath- stealing and desperate. Her legs clamped about his hips, as if she would keep him inside her for all eternity. She found her pleasure in his, and he in hers. With one final groan he collapsed against her, spent and sated.

The tempest within them grew still and silent. Kathryn slid her fingers through the midnight darkness of his hair; only then did she feel the scalding tears slipping down her cheeks. She cried because she loved him and dared not let him know it.

Guy was certain she cried because she did not.

The eastern sky was awash with a pale-violet haze when Guy slipped from the bed the next morning. He rose and quickly donned his tunic, chausses, and boots. Near the foot of the bed he paused, glancing down at the wooden cradle. The unflagging determination on his face eased slightly. His daughter, angel that she was, had obliged her father greatly. She'd slept the night through and not awakened her mother for her nightly feeding. Her legs were drawn up beneath her tummy so that her little rump protruded into the air. One small fist lay near her cheek; even as he watched, her little mouth opened and made small sucking movements. He laughed softly and laid a hand on the soft down of her scalp, aware of a slight tug at his heart as he noted how his big hand engulfed the babe's dark head. Pride swelled his chest, for she would someday be as beautiful as her mother.

It was inevitable that his gaze return to Kathryn. His footsteps carried him to the bedside. There he stared down where Kathryn lay curled on her side, sleeping as sweetly and innocently as their child. His gaze lingered on the smooth ivory flesh of one bare shoulder, peeping out from beneath the tumbled darkness of her hair. Her features were fragile and dainty, her cheeks the creamiest of pink, her lips as moist as fragrant summer rain. He felt his loins tighten and swell. The urge to explore the warm, sleep-scented hollows of her body swept over him, weakening his resolve, eroding his will.

But sweet and innocent she was not, a harsh voice inside reminded him caustically. She plied the arts of feminine bewitchment with the hand of a master, weaving him ever more deeply into her spell.

The smile deserted his heart. He turned away with a black scowl.

He had a purpose for rising so early, and he'd not be swayed from it, no matter how strong the temptation.

But the great hall was already stirring to life when he arrived below stairs. Most of Roderick's entourage was breaking the morning fast, dressed in boots and hauberk, clearly ready for travel. Guy stopped short, for this was an unexpected pleasure. He'd thought to prod Roderick on his way, but apparently there was no need.

"Milord!"

The subject of his thoughts hailed him. Guy remained where he was, his relaxed manner giving the lie to the seething tension that roiled within him.

"Sir Roderick," he said coolly. "You leave us today for Warwickshire?"

"Aye, milord." Roderick hesitated, appearing as if he wanted to say more.

Guy waited, his jaw tense, his expression remote. His dislike of Roderick had long ago hardened into hatred.

"Milord, if I have done something to incur your displeasure I am heartily sorry."

"Are you now?" Guy's tone was aloof and detached. It was plain that he tolerated the other man, but only barely.

Roderick shifted uneasily. "Milord, I tell you true. Whatever was once between Lady Kathryn and me is no more. I have accepted that she is your wife and I've no wish to make trouble between you and your lady."

Hah! No doubt that was his only wish.

"Sir Roderick," he murmured, "had you openly shown some sign that you covet my wife, you'd not be here in the flesh before me right now." His voice was so pleasant. He was even smiling. It took an instant before Roderick perceived it for the threat it was.

His eyes flickered, but he stood his ground. Guy decided idly that he was either very courageous— or very, very foolish.

"I value my life," Roderick said stiffly, "as you should value yours."

In the back of his mind, it struck Guy that there was something vaguely disturbing about that statement. But before either of them could say more, one of Roderick's men called for his assistance outside in the bailey.

Minutes later he watched Roderick and his men parade through the gatehouse. A smile of satisfaction curved his hard mouth, the first genuine one that day. He did not regret Roderick leaving... Then his smile withered.

He suspected Kathryn would not feel the same.

Neither Guy nor Roderick was anywhere around when Kathryn found her way to the hall several hours later. After the furor of the past few days, it seemed abnormally quiet. Kathryn questioned the first maid she came upon, who told her Roderick had left early that morning.

"I see. And the earl? Is he about this morning?" Kathryn was half-afraid Guy had driven Roderick from Sedgewick with the point of his sword at his back.

"No, milady. I heard him tell Sir Edward he planned to be out hunting this morn."

It was not a good way to start the day. Kathryn was hurt that Guy hadn't seen fit to tell her his whereabouts. And she was also rather miffed that Roderick had left without saying good-bye. It took no stretch of the imagination to know that Guy had something to do with that.

The noonday meal passed with no sign of Guy. Kathryn stewed silently and retreated to her chamber. She was stabbing her needle in and out of a length of cloth when he made an appearance early that afternoon. She ignored him completely.

Guy discovered the coolness of her mood the minute he entered their chamber. He knew she was aware of his presence, for her lovely mouth tightened. But she neither raised her eyes nor spoke. At any other time, perhaps, Guy might have been amused. Today he was not so inclined.

Three long strides brought him before her. Undaunted by her aloofness, he dragged her sewing from her hands and tossed it aside. Her head shot up with a muted sound of fury. She clamped her lips together, green eyes afire.

He smiled slowly. 'Tour haughtiness does not escape me, milady. Are you so angry then that your wounded knight has gone?"

The charge was so ridiculous she'd be damned if she'd dignify it with an answer. But she didn't bother to hide her impatient disgust. "You ordered Roderick from Sedgewick, didn't you, Guy?"

"Aye, I'd have put him from here. But there was no need. Roderick made the choice himself."

"No doubt with a great deal of persuasion on your part!"

A hand at her elbow, he pulled her to her feet. "Do you call me a liar, sweet?"

The dangerous glint in his eye did not go unnoticed by Kathryn. "If I am angry," she said, determined to set him aright once and for all, "it is because you showed so little compassion."

"Compassion?" He sneered openly. "I think not, milady. Indeed, I wonder just how far your noble Roderick would go to be rid of me. What would you say if I told you I very nearly met with an untimely death?" He surveyed her closely, hating the wary suspicion which leaped inside him yet unable to still it so easily.

A hand at her throat, Kathryn stared at him, stunned and confused. "What are you saying? That Roderick tried to—" She could hardly bring herself to speak the word aloud. "—to murder you?"

"Yesterday in the forest someone sought to pierce my heart with an arrow. Considering I've had no other attempts on my life of late—" His tone was mocking. "—I think even you can see why Roderick immediately comes to mind, love."

"But Guy, while you and Sir Michael were out hawking, he was here—"

"With you?"

Too late she realized the path she trod. She nodded miserably.

'That hardly absolves him of guilt, Kathryn." His eyes cut into her, like daggers of silver. "No doubt you sought a discreet liaison, safe from the prying eyes of any who might have seen you."

It was a moment before she gleaned his meaning—and then she went cold to the tips of her fingers.

He made a sound of disgust and would have left, but she caught his arm. Beneath her fingers his muscles were rigid and taut, but she doggedly kept her hand in place. "Guy, it was not what you think! We only talked, of Ashbury and Elizabeth, I swear!"

Hard fingers caught at her chin, jerking her face to his. "Be that as it may," he said harshly. "But I ask you this, Kathryn. Did you plot with him against me?"

The words sliced through her like the jagged edge of a knife. She struggled for air, every breath burning like fire. She was well aware Guy didn't love her. . . but did they have so little that Guy could actually believe she would betray him?

Stricken, she stared at him through eyes that stung painfully. The torment in her soul brought agony to her voice. "Is that what you think?"

Her vulnerability stabbed at him. His fingers tightened so that she feared her jaw might snap. Then abruptly, he dropped his hand, wrenching away and plowing a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to think anymore!" he exploded. "By all that is holy, you've had me twisted and tied in knots for months already! And Roderick has never stopped wanting you, Kathryn!"

Kathryn flinched, remembering the day Roderick had arrived, the way he had touched her so boldly. There was a heartbeat of silence—and then another. A weary bleakness descended, like an oppressive cloud of doom. Why did she bother? she wondered achingly. His frigid regard was all-consuming... but most of all damning.

"I do not pretend to know his mind!" She pleaded with him mutely, begging him to understand, to make him see that he was the one she loved— the only one she had ever loved. "You are my husband," she cried. "I spoke our vows before God and I would never forsake them, no matter what!"

Every muscle in Guy's body was tense and rigid. He felt as if he were being torn apart inside. He wanted Kathryn's loyalty—aye, even her love, especially her love!—yet he knew not if he would ever have either! And he almost hated both himself—and her—for not knowing if he could trust her even if she swore it were true.

He stared at her, his countenance stark and unyielding. 'You turned to Roderick before, Kathryn, you cannot deny it! He was the one you sought, not I! So tell me, Kathryn. Why should I believe you?"