A Lord for Haughmond (35 page)

     Katherine gasped in horror. Would Haughmond never be free of that caitiff’s menace? 

     “I pray ye leave be, mistress.” Joan grasped her hand with palpable fear. “His lady’s knowin’ things that ought not ta be known. I’m affrighted of her! She’s jealous and vengeful.”

     “Surely there is naught— ” Her voice ground to a halt. Aunt Matilda
had
claimed Adela was capable of murder. Forsooth, she believed it herself. Was a servant no less threatening than the lady of the hall, given sufficient reason?

     She brushed a curl from the servant's tear-stained face. “Be at peace. A husband will be found for you. I shall speak to my—to Lord Dafydd.”

     “God thank ye, mistress,” Joan wept. “’Tis grateful I am ye’re here, in yer rightful place.” She gave a quick bob of her head and fled from the chamber. 

     Katherine’s shoulders slumped. How was she to find a husband for Joan? ’Twas Sir Dafydd’s authority, as lord of the castle, to allow such a provision. He would not heed her entreaties. What husband would accommodate his wife when she stubbornly refused him his husbandly rights?

     Consumed by guilt, she fully recognized her precarious position as chatelaine of the castle. Her people would likely suffer. Were she not to render repentance to her husband, they would pay.

     With trepidation nipping at her heels, she slowly returned to her seat by the hearth. Sinking into the chair, cupping her chin in the palm of her hand, she let the lively flames ensnare her attention, even allowing the servants to set up the tables and benches without her usual guidance.

     The door of the keep slammed open and a gust of late April air blew in with the party of knights. With Sir Dafydd in the lead, they paraded their booty into the hall, boasting of their prowess and swaggering with pride. He clapped the nearest knight on the back and the man had to step lively to keep his footing.

     By rights, hunting trophies went straightaway to the kitchen. Sitting up, Katherine bit her lip to keep silent at yet another demonstration of her husband’s authority.

     Two winded serfs strained beneath the weight of a stout pole from which hung the carcass of a large buck. A bevy of rabbits dangled from a leather thong within the fist of one knight. Several grouse and pheasant were held aloft for all to admire.

     She looked away, but she could not shut out the noise of their high spirits.

     “You ran this one over with your horse. See here!” laughed one knight. “You burst its feathers!”

     Katherine glanced out of the corner of her eye to see a rather denuded bird held up amid raucous laughter.

     “’Tis akin to laying claim to this stag. On Saint Joseph’s thigh, to think it did stumble in a rabbit hole. Never have I seen such easy pickings.”

     “And a fine rack it does boast. Where will you hang it, Dafydd?”

     “Mayhap my father lays claim to it. ’Twas his sword that did bring it down.”     

     Katherine scowled, misliking the pride she heard in her husband’s voice.

     “What say you, Sir Geoffrey, would the antlers not look splendid in your hall?” Sliding onto a bench, Dafydd waved away the hunting trophies. The weary serfs hefted the booty to the kitchen. Removing his helm, he leaned back against a table.

     Stripping off their helms and gauntlets, the knights quickly joined him, lounging on the narrow benches and tables.

     “Yea!” Sir Geoffrey smiled broadly. “Mayhap I will hang it in Adela’s solar.”

     Adela’s solar? Katherine’s head snapped up. Her mother had been the lady of Myton. ’Twas her mother’s solar.

     A hoot of laughter came from one knight. “Fancy a woman allowing suchlike in her domain.”

     Another inquired, “You will wed this Adela after your year of mourning?”

     Katherine canted her head and tried not to look interested in the conversation.

     Sir Geoffrey’s blue eyes sparkled. “Mayhap.”    

     “Then again, you could find another who strikes your fancy,” came a suggestive comment.

     Sir Geoffrey shook his head. “I doubt me ’twould be wise. Adela loves the children as though they were her own. Thereto, she’s the only mother they know. My lady, Constance, was abed for much of their brief lives.”

     Katherine trembled in silence. How quickly her mother was replaced, in both the husband’s eyes and the children’s. Though she staunchly believed the three babes were not her mother’s offspring, hearing how easily her mother was dismissed shot terror and fulsome anger through her. She bit down on her thumb and struggled to keep silent.

     “I do recall you have two heirs?” Sir William asked. He had moved from Katherine’s side to join his comrades.

     “Yea, and a precious little girl with lovely dark hair. ’Twas her birth that did take my beloved wife from me.”

     Katherine wanted to jump to her feet. Such mockery. Little evidence existed to show her mother had been cherished.

     Her insides churning with frustration, she hunched down in her seat. Her hand clasped her middle. Was Rhys’s child being harmed by these turbulent emotions? Is that why a sudden sickness made her want to gag up the contents of her stomach? 

     “Your children have need of a mother’s love,” Sir William urged in a sharp tone.

     Lowering her lashes, Katherine eyed her husband’s knight in surprise. ’Twas uncommon for men to concern themselves with such trifling matters.

     “Yea,” agreed Sir Geoffrey with a slight smile. “And I have needs of a wife. The scriptures encourage man not to be without the convenience of a woman.”

     “Ho-ho,” shouted a knight. “Speak quickly to the lady.”

     “But in truth, ’twould be unnecessary to wed her at all.” Sir William chuckled and winked at Sir Geoffrey, drawing another round of ribald laughter.

     Katherine scowled, perplexed by Sir William. This last comment, in variance to his first, made her wonder. Was he baiting her stepfather? She shifted in the chair and studied him.

     “I have never seen my young brothers and sister,” Sir Dafydd said. “Mayhap you will allow us a visit before I depart for Wales.”

     “I am at your disposal,” exclaimed Sir Geoffrey.

     “I avow my wife would take pleasure in becoming acquainted with her siblings.” Sir Dafydd turned and looked across at Katherine. “Is that not so, my lady wife?”

     Such a startling thought! ’Twould be a horror to lay eyes on those children. Katherine stared at him in silence, the tension rising in her face.

     “Your lady is dumbfounded,” chuckled Sir Geoffrey. He eyed her linen bandage. “I see you did bestow a firm hand on her. ’Tis good.” He turned back to Sir Dafydd and smiled warmly. “’Twill be a pleasure to receive you, my son. And let Anne accompany her sister. She was always my favorite.”

     Katherine’s mouth went dry. On Saint Winifred’s bones, he would not be allowed near her precious sister. Vile man! At all costs, Anne must not come to harm.

     “’Tis most kind of you to bestow your invitation.” She all but choked on the polite words. “My sister and I remain at Haughmond. ’Tis no time for women to be abroad. While the king plays at war, we will tend the planting and— ” 

     “And breed,” snarled Geoffrey, his face darkening.

     Katherine felt he blood drain from her face. She dared not behold her husband’s reaction. Rising, she squared her shoulders and headed for the stairs.

*  *  *

     Sibyl made sure they did not go wanting, bringing roast pheasant and trout boiled in a mustard sauce, spiced lampreys, bread and cheese, and Anne’s favorite, a pie of quince. Katherine kept to her bedchamber, seeking privacy, seeking to keep her sister close at hand and away from Sir Geoffrey.

     But ’twas not long before Sir Dafydd appeared in the doorway and motioned Anne away.

     “I never had the opportunity to tell you how my sister fares,” she murmured, sidling past.

     “’Twould appear so,” he snorted before bolting the door behind her retreating figure.

     Katherine glared at her husband. How easily he asserted his authority. ’Twould be difficult to assert herself, but she must attempt it.

     “If you think I will step foot in Myton Castle you are mistaken.”

     When he looked at her, she was unable to discern his expression beneath his dark facial hair. Had she vexed him, or merely drawn his attention? It made her uneasy that she could not read him better.       

     “Then I am not mistaken.” Sir Dafydd leveled a pleasant smile upon her. “I did not expect you to journey there. Lady Adela is a dangerous woman. I would not have you at risk.”

     She was taken aback. “I thought you desired Adela to rid me of my babe.”

     “And earn your eternal enmity?” The knight shook his head. “’Tis not likely I would be so reckless when I seek your love.”

     “Do you spare my child?” Her voice broke, showing her vulnerability. But there was no help for it. She trembled. ’Twas unbearable to think she would lose this precious child agrowing in her womb. Rhys’s child. ’Twas all she had left.

     “Your babe will not be harmed.”

     Katherine scowled, fearing that he forced a bargain. Bitterness filled her mouth. “Verily, to this end you expect my gratitude?”

     “Mayhap I will earn your love.”

     “False hopes, sir. You align yourself with your father and his misdeeds. When I convince the king of Sir Geoffrey’s perfidy, what will you then?”

     “Perfidy?” His bushy brows rose. “I would like to know exactly what that means.” 

     “Your father murdered my mother!”

     “Many women do not survive childbirth.”

     “’Twas more than that.”

     “What is your proof?” Scowling, Dafydd’s brows beetled over his eyes, casting his face in shadows, lending him a fiendish expression.

     Her gaze skittered away. Aunt Matilda’s warnings were all she had, certainly no evidence of the dastardly deed. Given her aunt’s enmity toward Sir Geoffrey, an old lady’s rants would easily be discounted. The son would deem his father blameless.

     “I—have none.”

     She heard what sounded like a growl and the shadowed monster stepped closer. Swallowing nervously, she took a step back, despising her fears.

     “Do not accuse my father without sufficient cause.” His eyes drilled her with disgust. “His weakness is women, not misappropriated violence. Do not sully his good name.”

     “Good name!” Katherine thumped her fists on her hips. “I am accustomed to deceit and mistrust. For years I have been girded by such foolery. His son does not inspire a different inclination.”

     Dafydd’s fist shot out, plowing into a jug perched on a table near the hearth. Shards of pottery crashed to the floor amidst a cascade of water.

     He turned and stalked toward Katherine.

     She cringed. She could not help it, though it did strengthen her ire. The scent of wet leather filled her flaring nostrils as he passed close to her and strode to the bed. 

     “Come hither,” he commanded.

     “Nay.” Her whisper was barely audible.

     “The servants think I beat you. Do not press me.” His voice was low, yet it brooked no argument. “Come hither.”

     Her palms broke into a sweat. “Nay, I will not submit to you.”

     Sir Dafydd shook his head. “What makes you so ill tempered, when pain will be the result?”

     She backed away from the fiend, but it did no good. Advancing, he grasped hold of her wrist.

     “Unhand me!” She struggled to free herself, yet found herself dragged to the bed.

     Fighting to pry her arm free, she tried not to scream.

     But scream she did, when she found herself airborne, tossed gracelessly but unharmed onto the mattress. She twisted to face the demon, but Sir Dafydd had turned his back on her.

     “Are you not weary after such a day?” he inquired, proceeding to the far side of the chamber, where he commenced to prepare a pallet on the floor.

     In silent wonder she watched him. This knight acted like no other husband. Did he love her so much, as he claimed, that he was unable to reprimand her as others would their reluctant wives? And why did she yet doubt him? He continually demonstrated noble restraint. ’Twas astounding!   

     Was it possible he possessed a measure of good?

     Was it possible to love him, to be his wife in every way?

     Sir Dafydd lay down on the thin mattress and heaved a tired sigh. “You will not leave this chamber this night, else you test my limits. There exists a stout chain attached to the foot of your bedstead. ’Twill encourage your pliancy, if necessary. Pray, give me no cause to humiliate you.”

      Ah, he was as capable as other husbands in demonstrating the heavy yoke of matrimony. Polite words laced with threats. For years she had witnessed Sir Geoffrey exhibiting similar traits with her mother.

     Verily, Sir Daydd
was
his father’s son.

     Drenched in sorrow, she blew out the candle beside the bed. If only Rhys had been the victor, her life would be such happy delight. The chamber felt suddenly cold and drafty. Or was it her fears, having to accept reality? Sick at heart, knowing she was a prisoner, she burrowed under the thick coverlet.

     “I am for Myton on the morrow,” came Sir Dafydd’s voice through the dark. “I will go with my father and see his newest offspring. Be at peace, Katherine. You shall have the castle to yourself for the day. Does that prospect not please you?”

     Jolted by the relief of his words, pleasure, indeed, filled her. “Yea,” she whispered. Then anger surfaced anew. She poked her nose out from under the cover.      

     “’Twas heartless of you to imprison me.” Her rebuke contained more frustration than venom.

     “You were not a prisoner, Katherine.”

     Anger boiled up within her. “’Tis a lie, else you would not threaten to chain me.” Her voice shook, she forced herself to be calm. “Your conscience must bedevil you.”

     “You were safe in Sir William’s care while I was absent.”