Her Lord and Protector (formerly titled On Silent Wings) (9 page)

****

Alex rode Neos
up his drive at the slowest possible pace. Even after three days away from her,
taking his time both there and back, he couldn’t shake Katherine from his mind.

Thomas Bliss,
Lord Wiltshire, would suit her perfectly. The baron owned a country estate as
well as a London residence, and he and Katherine had probably met at one time
or another. Since they no doubt socialized within the same circles, Wiltshire
would be able to keep her in the lifestyle to which she’d grown accustomed.

She probably
couldn’t wait to return to fashionable London and its parties. As someone’s
property in marriage, Katherine’s punishment for her father’s crimes would
become invalid, and Wiltshire would treat her well.

Yes. Alex had
done his part and could now let her go.

He glanced up at
the top of his favorite hill, and then reigned in sharply.

There she sat,
still and pensive, the wind caressing her long, beautiful brown tresses.

After a moment,
he opened his mouth and gasped, and realized he’d stopped breathing.

She reached up
and back, and brought her hair around to one shoulder. Despite the bulky
bandages covering her hands, the movement was graceful and feminine, and it
captivated him.

He hoped she
wouldn’t look to her left and see him watching her because he knew he would
continue staring. He simply couldn’t look away.

Then, she
lowered her head, and her shoulders shook.

God’s nails. Was
she weeping?

Alex’s hands
tightened on the reins as pangs of guilt slammed into him. Her tears were his
fault. She had lost her voice, her family, her home, and whatever dowry she’d
had, and all he had done was to add to her misery by making her feel as if she
were nothing but a burden to him. He’d even voiced this to Robert within her
hearing. It was probably what had made her wander around and become trapped in
her closet.

When had he
become such an insensitive, heartless man?

Her father had
been a spy, yes, and his death in the fire put the burden of punishment on
Katherine to bear. But did she know what he’d done? Or was she pretending
ignorance? Should Alex find out or just leave her alone?

While he
pondered what to do, his horse whickered to another in the field nearby.

“Ah, Neos, you
cannot be quiet, can you,” he murmured, and patted the horse on his silky gray
neck as he looked back up at Katherine.

She had seen him
and jumped to her feet. Hiking her skirts to her shapely ankles, she descended
the hill.

Alex trotted
Neos toward her. “Katherine.”

She stopped and
looked up at him. Her face was pink from weeping, and in her eyes shone a
tender vulnerability that twisted his heart into a knot.

He dismounted,
unable to take his eyes off the sunlit copper glints in her hair. “You are the
first woman since my mother to climb that hill. I go up there when I need to think.”

Katherine,
looking tired and forlorn, nodded her understanding.

“You’ve lost a
great deal.” Alex stared at the ground and struggled for words that he’d never
spoken to anyone. “I also know of grief. Last year, I lost my wife when she
killed herself.”

A guarded
concern, and puzzlement, flickered in her eyes.

He went on, the
words falling from his lips like a halting confession. “My parents died under
the hands of Cromwell’s men when I was twelve.” Alex looked at an area of grass
just beyond the drive. “There they were murdered. Then, one of the men came for
me. While the others watched, he beat me and threw me onto my parents’ bodies.
I suppose he thought I would die.”

Katherine stood
very still, deep compassion now evident in the softness of her lips, the moist
intensity of her eyes.

Alex touched the
white scar along his jaw. “He wore a ring with some hard edge that cut me.
Perhaps that saved my life, because my face was covered with blood.”

Why was he
telling her all this? These memories only brought forth the surge of anger that
he tried to keep locked up. But now it was too late, and his long-buried fury
spilled forth. His voice became a growl in its intensity and he clenched his
hands. “I have always wanted to find that man. I want to find his family and
make him watch while I run them all through with my sword. And then I want to
kill
him
.”

Katherine
stumbled back with a frightened grimace, tears glistening in her wide eyes.

“No. Wait,” Alex
said, walking toward her, hating himself for fouling this up. “I am sorry. ’Tis
an old boyhood wound within me that has never healed. I just need to forget
about it.” He speared his fingers through his hair. “I am not doing so well in
helping you lessen your pain, am I?”

In answer,
Katherine shook her head. For a frozen moment she wavered. Then, she moistened
her lips, slowly reached out her hand, and folded her bandaged fingers over
his.

Her gentle brown
eyes and tender touch made Alex take a sudden, ragged breath. He looked down at
her small hand in his and then enveloped it, gently and completely, with his.

And by the
heavens, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away all her hurt. “Katherine,
I—”

A sudden flap of
wings and angry chirping broke the moment. Overhead, two birds carried on an
in-air brawl, mayhap over some female.

Katherine
blinked then, seeming to awaken from a dream, and pulled her hand from his.
Without a glance back, she whirled and fled toward the house.

Alex stood
staring after her with a mixture of bemusement and relief. Then, shoving out a
breath, he remounted Neos and trotted the horse toward the barn.

He hadn’t asked
her what she knew. But her acute compassion told him he didn’t have to.

Until she was
protected by marriage, he would keep her safe.

****

That evening, as
Katherine finished dressing for dinner, she frowned with concern at Millie’s
despondent countenance. She placed a light hand on the maid’s shoulder.

“It’s yer hands,
the bandages. Reminds me of Lady Drayton. She often—” Millie abruptly turned to
the dressing table. She busily straightened the brush, comb, and ribbons in
their case.

Katherine
stepped closer to Millie and met her eyes in the mirror.

Finally, Millie
spoke. “She bit her nails, tore at them until her fingers bled. I tried to keep
them wrapped, but it didn’t help. She just took off the bandages. Two of her
fingers lost the nails completely.”

Katherine’s
fingertips stung afresh. In the mirror she caught her wince, but also saw the
same sorrow she had felt this morning after Lord Drayton had shared his grief.
Briefly felt, anyway, until he had gone into his tirade of revenge.

Did it matter
that his heart could shatter, that he was not the unemotional boar he strove to
appear? No. It did not. She would do well to remember not only that he wanted
her gone from his life, but also that he was capable of a fierce vengeance.

What of the man
he had gone to see in Kensington? She would try to write her questions during
the meal.

As Millie helped
her put on her shoes, someone knocked at the door. Millie opened it to a
sprightly maid who stood with a tray of food in her hands.

“Lord Drayton
sends her ladyship’s meal.”

Katherine stared
at the tray in confusion.

“Her ladyship is
going to the dining room,” Millie told the girl. She turned questioningly
toward Katherine.

“But he ordered
supper brought to her room,” the younger servant said.

Why? To make her
stay in her bedchamber until her departure? Katherine’s cheeks flushed hotly
and her heart drummed like the hooves of a runaway mare.

Oh, no. The
scoundrel might think he could dictate every aspect of her life and frighten
her with his seething male anger, but he was truly mistaken. Hot wrath rushed
through her as she looked at Millie and pointed to her slate.

She strode past
both servants out of her room.

When Katherine
stood in the doorway of the dining room, Alex knew that his calm dinner,
attended by Elizabeth, Robert, and two woman-chasing merchants from London, was
at an end. But with her eyes ablaze and cheeks flaming color, Katherine’s fury
only made her more beautiful.

“Good evening,
Lady Katherine,” Robert said in a mild tone. Brows raised, his gaze lowered to
her hands, then back to her face. “How are you?”

She acknowledged
Robert with a curt nod and then resumed glaring at Alex, who, despite his
decision to exclude her from this meal to keep her away from the lewd stares of
the merchants, rose to help her into a chair next to Elizabeth. He drew in
breath as he took in the graceful curve of her neck. Were he only able to lean
down and touch his lips to her creamy, scented skin.

He crushed his
thoughts and returned to his chair, giving an inward growl at the merchants
licking their lips over her low bodice. Elizabeth, thankfully, had dressed with
her customary modesty. “Your meal was sent to your room,” he said to Katherine,
gesturing to a servant to bring writing supplies to the table. “Did you not receive
it?”

Sitting on
Alex’s left, Elizabeth flitted him a bird-like glance.

Katherine
reached for the quill. Mouth set and brow furrowed in concentration, she
brushed her hand over the pen until she could grasp it, then maneuvered it
within the cotton bandages of her hand until it was upright.

His guests’
eyes, Alex noticed, followed her hands as she maneuvered the tip into the
opening of the inkwell, held it over the bottle to catch any drips, and then
wrote on the paper in slow, meticulous strokes. Too many times during the process
she re-inked her quill.

They all waited
in silence for her to finish. Even the servants at the sideboard seemed to hold
their breaths.

Alex wished to
God she could just voice her reply to his question. How any man would be able
to put up with her lack of speech, he had no idea.

Katherine
finally set down the pen and held out her paper to him. Without taking it, he
leaned toward Elizabeth and read her words.

I wish to eat at
your table
.

“I disagree,” he
replied with a surreptitious glance at the merchants. “’Tis better for you to—”

Katherine
smacked her left hand on the table, cringed, and then stretched her right arm
over Elizabeth’s plate, thrusting out the paper until it hovered inches from
Alex face.

Elizabeth made a
small, shocked sound and leaned back.

Alex snatched
the paper from her hand, balled it up, and flung it onto the floor. Despite his
effort to stay composed, his voice gained volume. “The answer is
no
.
Millie,” he ordered the maid standing near the other servants, “Escort Lady
Katherine back to her room.”

Katherine
flashed a scathing look at him and stayed seated, and for a moment Alex felt an
unexpected approval of her courage. He waited.

Her fingers
inched toward the pen.

“I have given
you my answer.” Ignoring the curious stares of the merchants, who clearly
expected him to control his lovely but disobedient ward, Alex picked up his
pewter wine goblet and took a slow sip. He watched the intelligent sparkle of
challenge in her eyes and hid the delight that trickled through him. If she
could only speak, what glittering discourse they would have!

He’d much rather
see her furious like this than sad. No. What he would rather see was her naked
and writhing with pleasure in his arms.

His goblet
almost toppled in his hand at the thought.

But she narrowed
her eyes. Pure insolence gleamed from them as, instead of picking up the pen,
she held out her hands for the slate and chalk that Millie held.

Keeping her eyes
lowered, Millie plucked the chalk from its holder and set it into Katherine’s
hand.

Katherine
clutched the chalk, sent a warning glance toward Alex, and battered it over the
slate with long, hard strokes.

Each drawn out
screech gouged reverberating ice into Alex’s ears and straight down to his
feet. He gripped the edge of the table.

On his right,
Robert breathed, “God Almighty.”

On his left,
Elizabeth gave a small whimper. The merchants were rendered slack-jawed.

Katherine raised
her chin and turned the slate toward Alex.

NO.

The word took up
the entire surface.

Alex bristled
and shot to his feet, his approval of her vivacity pooling like melting wax.
She knew he hated the chalk’s sound. Why else did she think he had set up paper
and pens all over the house? “By God, Katherine, you
will
do as I say,”
he said through clenched teeth.

“Indeed,” Robert
said under his breath.