Knight of Desire (30 page)

Sometime later, a maid peeked through her door. “I’m to help you dress, m’lady.”

Catherine was about to object that she had nothing to wear, when the maid held out a lovely, pale green gown.

She decided that with God’s help and a clean gown, she could face what came.

A few minutes later, she followed the maid down the stairs to the main floor of the house. The hall was empty, save for Marged
Tudor and a couple of servants.

“Good afternoon, Lady FitzAlan,” Marged greeted her. “I understand you had a hard journey.”

The woman smiled kindly at her, all the hostility of yesterday gone.

“I do not like this business of taking a woman from her home and family,” Marged said, shaking her head. “Until you can be
returned to your own home, I want you to be comfortable in ours.”

“I appreciate your kindness,” Catherine said. “And thank you for the use of this gown.”

“I am afraid yours could not be saved,” Marged said. “I gave it to one of the servants to cut for rags.”

“Good. I never want to see it again.”

“You must call me Marged. We must not be formal, since you may be our guest for some weeks.”

“Weeks?” Catherine sank onto the bench beside Marged.

Marged patted her arm. “If it were up to my Maredudd, this would be resolved quickly. But Glyndwr… well, you know what he
thinks. These foolish men! Just looking at you, I can see you are not the kind of woman to commit adultery.”

Catherine wondered how but did not ask.

“Still, I will admit,” Marged said, “when I first laid eyes on you yesterday, you gave me quite a fright.”

Catherine could not help but laugh. “You should have made me wash in the yard!”

“That is not what I meant,” Marged protested. “You looked like a wood nymph with your hair all wild about you and that lovely
face of yours. I thought my husband had the gall to bring home a mistress!”

Catherine looked at her, startled.

“But Maredudd let me know last night how much he missed me,” Marged said, her eyes twinkling. “I should have known, but a
woman needs to be shown sometimes.”

Marged paused to wave a servant over with a platter of food for Catherine. “Maredudd was worried bringing you on such a hard
journey, but he was afraid to leave you at Harlech.”

Catherine raised her eyebrows. “He thinks Glydnwr would harm me?”

“Of course not,” Marged said. “But he says that if Prince Glyndwr discovers you are with child, he will never agree to release
you.”

“Maredudd knows I am with child?”

Marged laughed. “You were sick in the morning. ’Twas the same with me when I carried Owain.”

“Why would Glyndwr not let me go if he knew?” The answer came to Catherine even before Marged spoke.

“To hold the prince’s lover as hostage is one thing; to hold the prince’s son is quite another,” Marged said. “In exchange
for the only child of the heir to the English throne, Glyndwr might ask anything—even an independent Wales.”

“But this is not Harry’s child!” Catherine closed her eyes and put her head on the table.

“Glyndwr would want to believe it was,” Marged said, resting her hand on Catherine’s back. “And that is what matters.”

C
atherine, where are you?

William stared across the distance, as if he could find her if only he looked hard enough. From the top of this hill, he could
see across the border into Wales. He rode out here when he needed to be alone.

As the weeks passed, he began to fear he might never get her back. He was a man of action. The frustration of waiting wore
his nerves raw. There were days when foolish action seemed better than none, and he rode out blindly into Wales.

Other days, he lost himself in regret and self-recrimination. He made promises to God. If God would return his wife to him,
he would protect her always. If God would grant this one request, he would do whatever it took to make her want to stay.

Things remained cool between him and Edmund. Although Edmund seemed to sincerely regret all he’d said about Catherine, the
sight of him reminded William of how quickly he himself had questioned her loyalty. In sooth, Edmund had done little more
than express the same doubts he had. All the same, William spent more of his time with Stephen and Jamie these days. He liked
to keep the boys close.

He took Stephen with him whenever he went to the abbey to hear the cryptic messages Robert sent to the abbess through the
hands of monks, musicians, and itinerant workers. The messages relayed Robert’s journey as he trailed Catherine along the
south coast of Wales, then north to Aberystwyth. Their hopes soared when, at long last, he sent word he had found her—then
fell again when they read she disappeared again.

It was almost December. There had been no word from Robert for weeks.

At the sound of a horse crashing through the trees behind, William turned and pulled his sword. He sheathed it when he saw
who the rider was.

“How the devil did you know where to find me?” he called out to Stephen.

“The abbess sent word she has news!” Stephen said as he drew his horse up.

“Praise God!”

They galloped all the way to the abbey. When they burst into the abbess’s private parlor, they found it was not a message
waiting for them this time. It was the troubadour himself.

“Heaven above,” William said, clapping Robert on the back, “who would have thought I would be so glad to see you!”

When Robert laughed, William noticed the lines of fatigue etched on his handsome face.

“I have found where she is,” Robert said. “It will not be easy, but there is hope we can get her out.”

“God bless you, Robert,” William said as he squeezed Stephen’s shoulder. “I am forever in your debt.”

“I was able to speak with her briefly at Harlech,” Robert said. “She was well and sent her love.”

William ran his hands through his hair, overcome with emotion.

“The next day she was gone,” Robert said. “No one—except Glyndwr himself—knew where she went or who took her.

“Eventually, I heard a whisper that someone had seen Maredudd Tudor in the castle the night she went missing,” Robert continued.
“Glyndwr loves music, so it was another week before I could leave Harlech without raising suspicion.

“I followed Maredudd’s trail to the south, until it disappeared. On a hunch, I went north again. I did not catch wind of an
English lady again until I was all the way to Beaumaris Castle.”

“Beaumaris is a fortress on the coast of Anglesey,” William explained to Stephen. “It is still in English hands.”

“I sought news among the Welsh servants at Beaumaris,” Robert said, picking up his tale again. “I found a maid whose sister
works for the Tudors at their manor house, Plas Penmynydd. From her, I learned a beautiful Englishwoman is living with the
Tudors.”

Robert leaned forward. “William, the house is but
five miles from Beaumaris.
”

“You know this for certain?”

“I do.” Robert stretched out his long legs and folded his hands on his stomach. “Believe me, I had to work hard to get the
information. That Welsh maid is homely, but energetic.”

“Robert!” the abbess said, but her lips twitched with amusement.

“As I see it, there are two ways to do this,” William said. “I can surprise the Tudors and take her by force. Or, I can approach
this Maredudd Tudor and see if he is willing to give her up for a price.”

“If you parlay with him first,” Stephen interjected, “you lose the advantage of surprise.”

William nodded and turned to Robert. “Do you think it worth the risk?”

Robert would understand, as he did, that there was a greater chance of Catherine coming to harm in an attack.

“I will go to Plas Penmynydd and find out,” Robert said.

When William started to object, the abbess put her hand on his arm. “Robert can gain entry to the household without alerting
them to your plans.”

“You can take your men and wait at Beaumaris,” Robert said. “Catherine has been in the household for weeks and can tell me
whether Maredudd Tudor will negotiate. If she says nay, I can forewarn her to be ready for the attack.”

M
arged frowned as she came into the solar and saw Owain asleep on Catherine’s lap.

“Owain is too big for that,�� she said, resting her hand on Catherine’s shoulder.

“Please, Marged, it comforts me to hold him,” Catherine said. “I miss my own son so very much.”

The two women watched the sleeping child in silence for a time.

“One thinks of beauty as an advantage in finding a good match for a daughter,” Catherine said, teasing her friend, “but I
swear this boy of yours will marry up. Some wealthy widow will decide she must have him.”

Marged laughed. “He has his father’s charm as well as his looks, so God help the woman he sets his sights on. I only hope
it is an heiress and not a milkmaid.”

Marged pulled a stool next to Catherine’s and pushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “Perhaps we will have good news
soon. It’s been a fortnight since Maredudd wrote to Prince Glyndwr urging him to take your husband’s ransom.”

“What if Glyndwr tells Maredudd to take me back to Harlech?”

“Maredudd will find a way out before then,” Marged said in a soothing voice.

Catherine did not argue, but she did not expect Maredudd to defy his prince. Though Maredudd was fond of her, he would put
his family first. She could not fault him that.

She rubbed her cheek against Owain’s head. “Do you think Jamie has forgotten me?”

“I am sure your husband speaks of you often,” Marged said. “The boy will not forget.”

Catherine did not share the other worry that plagued her. Had she been gone so long that William had stopped caring for her?
Did he ever, truly, care?

“William wanted a child so very much, and he does not even know.” She shifted Owain on her lap so she could rest a hand on
her belly. “I want to birth this child at home.”

“You’re not far along,” Marged said. “There’s plenty of time yet.”

“Are you coddling that boy again?” Maredudd called from the doorway. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Just as well he’s having
a rest, for it will be a late night for all of us.”

He came over and shook Owain’s shoulder. “Owain! A troupe of musicians is here!”

Owain awoke wide-eyed and wiggled off Catherine’s lap.

“They’ve just come through the gate.” As Owain scampered off to look, Maredudd stooped to kiss his wife. “This should cheer
up my beautiful ladies.”

“ ’Tis a long time since a troupe has come this far,” Marged said, smiling up at him.

“The musicians say they’ve traveled across the whole of Wales this autumn, so they should carry much news.”

Catherine closed her eyes to make a silent prayer. A moment later, the players entered the hall. Her prayer was answered.
It took all the self-control she possessed not to run to Robert and throw her arms around him. His eyes held no surprise;
Robert expected to find her here.

With her thoughts spinning wildly in her head, she did not hear Marged speak to her at first. She blinked at her friend, having
no notion what she had asked.

Marged laughed and took her hand. “Come with me to talk with the cook. I want a special meal prepared for this evening.”

As Catherine got to her feet, Robert gave what was meant to be a casual glance in her direction. As good as he was, he stared
a moment too long at her belly.

The Welsh loved music, and the Tudor household was no exception. They kept the musicians playing late into the night. Catherine
sat through it as long as she could. When she could bear the strain no longer, she put her hand on her belly and whispered
to Marged that she must go to bed.

In her bedchamber, she paced the floor. At long last, the music died and she heard the sounds of feet on the stairs and doors
closing. The house finally settled into silence.

She never doubted Robert would learn which room was hers. When she heard the faint tapping she was waiting for, she unbarred
her door and Robert slipped in.

“I was almost without hope,” she said into his shoulder as he held her. Leaning back, she asked, “Are they all well? William
and the boys?”

“They are,” he said, and kissed her forehead.

“Where is William? Has he not come for me?”

“The devil could not keep him away,” Robert said. “He is waiting nearby, at Beaumaris Castle.”

“It’s been so long that I feared he did not seek my return,” she confessed. Only now did she admit to herself how deep her
doubts had grown.

“You will be happy to know your husband looks quite ill with worry,” Robert said, lifting her chin with his finger. “I doubt
he’s had a full night’s sleep since you were taken.”

It was wrong to feel so pleased that William suffered, too. Of course, Robert could be lying.

“I see you have news for him,” Robert said, letting his eyes drop to the slight swell of her gown.

She smiled. “Aye, the babe should come after Easter.”

Robert turned to the business at hand. “We have two possible plans for getting you released.”

When she heard them, her response was adamant. “He must talk with Maredudd. I will not have harm come to—”

She stopped at the sound of the door creaking. With growing horror, she realized that she had failed to bar the door behind
Robert. She watched helplessly as it eased open.

Marged’s head peeked through the opening. Her eyes bulged almost comically, then she leapt into the room and closed the door
behind her.

She fixed her gaze on Catherine and began speaking in a rush. “I beg you, do not do it! I know you fear you shall never see
your husband again, but I promise you shall. And when you do, you will regret what you are about to do.”

Marged stopped her lecture long enough to cast a good long look at Robert. “I can see the temptation.” It was evident she
could, from the way she flushed. “Truly, I can.”

Marged could not seem to drag her eyes away from Robert. Her color deepened when Robert brazenly winked at her.