Samantha James (46 page)

The afternoon sun glittered brilliant and golden as they left Sedgewick behind them, but fear enveloped Kathryn's heart like a shroud. Where was Guy now? Did he yet live? Or had the steely tip of some warrior's sword wrenched from him his last gasping breath of life?

Nay! a voice inside her cried. He yet lives, for she could not bear to think otherwise. She clung to that meager hope, and it was that alone which kept her from plummeting to the depths of despair.

Wordlessly she began to pray for Guy's safety, for the safety of their child... She prayed as never before.

"Hold!" Guy flung up his arm and reined his destrier to an abrupt stop. Behind him, the crashing thunder of hooves dwindled as the long column of men and horses behind him came to a standstill.

Sir Michael trotted his horse forward, casting a wary eye beyond his lord toward the encroaching woodland. "Milord?" he queried, drawing up beside Guy. "What is amiss that we halt so soon?"

For a moment Guy said nothing. He could not explain the nagging restlessness within him. He knew only that it grew apace with every step that took him further from Sedgewick... and Kathryn.

"I cannot say for certain," Guy said uneasily, "but I am unable to rid myself of the feeling that something is not right."

"How so, milord?"

Something Roderick had said earlier tolled through Guy's mind.
I value my life
. . .
as you should value yours.
Only now did he perceive it for the threat it may have well been. . .

"Roderick left only this morning," he told Michael. "In but a matter of hours we received a message that Ramsay Keep is under siege. I know that is the way of raiders, to attack with the element of surprise in their favor. Yet now that I think on it, it seems almost a little too. . . convenient."

Sir Michael rubbed his chin, his expression now as troubled as his lord's. "You think this summons was meant to lure you away from Sedgewick?"

Only now did Guy fervently wish he'd left more troops in place at Sedgewick. The thought of Kathryn alone there with only a skeleton force to defend her kindled a tingling of unease deep in his gut.

"I do not know," he said grimly. "But I mean to find out."

"You will return to Sedgewick, milord?"

"Aye. And Michael, I wish for you to escort these men the rest of the way to Ramsay Keep. If all is well there, we have lost nothing. If not, my troops are in your hands to lead in battle as you see fit. Guard yourself well against a trap, my friend."

Michael drew himself up very straight. He was aware of the responsibility Guy had placed on his shoulders. False alarm or no, Guy was not a man to entrust another with so great a task. He felt oddly humbled, knowing the earl trusted him as he had trusted few others. "I'll not fail you, milord," he promised.

Guy left a billowing cloud of dust in his wake.

It was his most fervent prayer that when at last he arrived back at Sedgewick, all would be as before. Kathryn would be presiding over the evening meal in his absence, or mayhap tending to Brenna in their chamber. He pictured the tender scene that might greet him—Kathryn enthralled and smiling at the babe, while Brenna supped at her mother's breast, kneading the ivory fullness with a tiny fist.

But he found the great hall at Sedgewick nearly deserted. Guy strode toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Nor was Kathryn in her chamber—their chamber. He advanced within, idly picking up the gauzy folds of a wimple and bringing it to his lips, inhaling deeply. The scent of Kathryn's hair still clung to it, flowery and sweet and fragrant. He imagined he could feel it flowing through his fingers, thick and lustrous and silky... Where was she? A flicker of disquiet took root inside him, for it was then that he noted Brenna did not sleep peacefully in her cradle either. Indeed, it was quiet as a tomb.

He whirled, a slight rustle at the door catching his attention. Gerda stood there, her hands gathered tightly at her waist. Guy's eyes narrowed, for he did not imagine her wide-eyed dismay.

"Where is my wife?"

Gerda hesitated. The leap of fear in her eyes gave her away; Guy knew then the answer to his question. There was a sharp, dagger-like twinge in his chest that he refused to acknowledge as pain. A stab of anger pierced through the hurt, and then a violent rage erupted inside him. The delicate material of her wimple rent in two beneath the pressure of his powerful hands. He flung it aside and turned to Gerda.

"By all the saints!" he ground out furiously. "She's gone, isn't she? And taken Brenna along with her!"

Gerda opened her mouth but he gave her no chance to speak.

"I suppose I need not ask if she's gone to Ashbury!"

Gerda winced, for his anger was a terrible sight to behold. "Milord," she began shakily, "not long after you and your troops departed, Roderick returned here alone—"

"Roderick, that bloody bastard! She left with him?" When Gerda nodded miserably, he swore vilely from between clenched teeth. He would have spun and stalked from the room but Gerda latched onto his arm.

"Milord!" she cried. "Will you not go after her?"

"Aye!" he thundered, while Gerda quailed beneath a glare of fearsome intensity. "I'll have my daughter back but I'll be damned if I'll take her mother. I do not know if it's Roderick she wants or Ashbury—but either way she has made her choice for the last time, and by God, she shall live with it!"

Gerda began to weep. "But it is not what you think, milord! Aye, she left for Ashbury because of Sir Roderick, but I cannot believe she left willingly! Oh, milord, she cares naught for Roderick. This I know with all my heart and—and you should, too!"

Gerda could not have known the pain she wrought, for within Guy's breast a fierce and tumultuous battle was being waged. He shut his eyes, feeling as if he were being ripped apart inside. How, he wondered bitterly, with his heart so full of pain and distrust, could he still love Kathryn?

Fool!
taunted a voice inside. Was it any wonder that she harbored no tenderness toward him? He had wrested her away from all she held dear. He had toyed with her, stolen her innocence and taken her to him, heedless of her wishes. He had not cherished her tenderly, as a wife deserved to be cherished and adored. Instead, he was ever suspicious, ever wary. There had been so much bitterness between them, so much distrust, he thought bleakly... Everything within him cried out in anguish. Mother of Christ! Did his own wife truly wish him dead?

Gerda tugged frantically on his arm. "Oh, milord, you judge her too harshly and far too quickly! God forgive me for speaking so to you, but how can you not see all that you are to her? She would never willingly seek another man. Not Roderick or any other!"

His eyes opened. He stared at her mutely. In the far reaches of his mind he recalled how Kathryn, too, had accused him of being blind. Her image danced before him, her eyes huge and pleading, silently beseeching, all that she felt nakedly exposed. And again he heard her desperate cry.

Oh, God
...
Don't you know that I love you
!

He despised the voice inside that reminded him she had deceived him before. Still another refuted it. But his heart remembered. His heart knew... Kathryn was strong and fiery, so rebellious and mutinous. She would curse and battle him to the ends of the earth before she would ever yield or surrender. And never—never!—would she swear love so lightly. A fierce exultation shot through him. Suddenly, despite his doubts and fears, Guy was very very certain he would have known had she lied—

She loved him. She loved him.

Gerda wept openly. "Oh, please, you must go after her and bring her and the babe home again, for I say again, milord, something was not right! She said nary a word before they left. She was pale and subdued and... oh, it was almost as if she were afraid. And she is never afraid, milord, never!"

No, Guy thought slowly. Or if she were, she was not one to show it.

All at once he went pale as linen. Was it true then? Had Roderick coerced Kathryn into leaving with him? For all that she was fierce and defiant, she did not possess the physical strength of a man.

In that moment, Guy knew fear as he'd never known fear before.

He spoke quickly. "How long ago did they leave, Gerda?"

"Several hours ago. If you hurry, milord, mayhap you can catch them before nightfall." Gerda choked back a sob, her voice frantic. "Oh, I will never forgive myself if anything happens to them! I wanted to send someone after them but I feared what Sir Roderick might do if he realized he was being followed!"

"You did the right thing, Gerda." He patted her shoulder awkwardly, then strode down the hallway, his mind racing. Roderick was several hours ahead of him. But he could hardly set a breakneck pace for Ashbury. Having Brenna along, he thought, would slow Roderick's speed considerably .. .

His bellow for his destrier shook the rafters.

No sound could have been more dear to Gerda's ears.

Roderick was in no particular hurry; he was convinced the time for haste had passed. Indeed, he was feeling immensely proud of himself. By now his plans had been launched and executed. The trap had been well and truly sprung! His men would not fail him. They did not dare for fear of forfeiting their own lives. The Earl of Sedgewick could not have survived the fray.

His enemy was dead and no longer posed a threat.

So it was that when Kathryn pleaded to stop for the night he did not argue. He led them to a sheltered clearing behind a bluff which shielded them from the night breeze. Roderick dismounted and reached for her. Kathryn stiffened and suffered his touch while he lifted her down, but the instant her slippers touched the ground she jerked away.

Roderick laughed, a sound that set her teeth on edge. "You'll come to me soon enough, I vow."

She gritted her teeth and presented him with her back, marching toward a tall oak tree. She lowered herself to the damp earth and settled herself against the rough bark to watch while Roderick built a fire and set out a meal of bread and cheese. Though she had no stomach for it, she forced herself to eat and drink, knowing she would need her strength. Her arms ached from holding Brenna for so long but she'd not give her babe over to Roderick no matter what! She had barely finished her crust of bread than Brenna began to squirm and cry fretfully. Kathryn tried to soothe her but it was no use.

Roderick's lips pulled over his teeth in a nasty smile. "What ails her, milady?"

Kathryn's lips tightened—as if he did not know! "She's hungry!" she snapped.

He leered openly, refusing to grant her the privacy he knew she craved. Brenna's cries had turned to screams which reached an ear-shattering pitch. Directing a scathing glance at Roderick, Kathryn turned aside and fumbled with her kirtle. Brenna's wails ceased abruptly as she latched onto her mother's nipple. The babe was bundled well to guard against the cold. Kathryn tugged on a corner of a woolen blanket in an effort to shield herself, but even then she felt invaded by Roderick's hated regard.

Her hand cradled the soft dark fuzz that covered Brenna's head. A painful tightness crept around her chest, threatening to choke her. Guy, she thought piercingly. Did he yet live? Or did he lay sprawled upon the damp, bare earth, his heart still and silent? She inhaled sharply, for the thought pained her. She could not bear to think him dead and so she must believe that he still lived.