My Lady Imposter (18 page)

Richard’s cheeks colored a little, but he frowned. “I dislike anyone to chastise her but myself, my lord.”

“And so it should be,” Ralf replied, frowning at Wenna, who turned her face haughtily away. “But do you not think it is foolish of you to grow too... attached.”

There was a silence. Kathryn looked from one to the other as they stood apart, faces gone cold and stern. And than Ralf s mouth twitched, and his lashes flickered over his golden eyes.

“You remember our plans, my friend.” The eyes slid to Kathryn. “I believe it is time. The King is all but in our grasp.” He smiled. “Did you know, Kathryn, that we mean to overthrow this bad-tempered monarch? He lies beyond Winchester, and will come to de Brusac within a few days. Once here, we shall kill him and the barons will rise, arid I will rule England in his stead.”

Her silence was evidently taken for stunned disbelief.

“And then, of course, de Brusac will be mine without further pretence, and you, my sweet, will be of no further use to us. You are already obsolete, apart from one final service you will do us. It is simply this: you will die, and your sudden death will bring the King the more speedily to dispense justice to the ‘wrong-doers’. So you see, Kathryn, how very important your death is?”

She felt Richard’s hand on hers, and yet could not find the strength to shake it off. Behind her, Wenna was laughing softly. Ralf beamed, as though he had just told her some wonderful tale for bedtime. Her throat was as parched as drying leather.

He took a step towards her, but Richard had put her behind him before she could utter a sound. “My lord,” he said, swift and hard. “The girl is beautiful—you have said so yourself. Would it not be better for her to remain living? I admit I have a fancy for her. I would take her to mistress, if not wife.”

Ralf shook his head. “You know it is not possible. You have let your lust overcome good sense, Richard! She must die, if the King is to come to de Brusac to show us his so-called justice.”

“Then let me have this one night with her. You may do as you will after that. Let me take my fill of her this night, my lord. That is all I ask.”

Ralf seemed to hesitate, and then threw up his hands. T see you are determined, Richard, and I hate to deny such a request. However, will she not escape? Will she not hurry to give warning to her mercenaries?”

Richard glanced around, as if only just remembering the men-at-arms waiting at a distance, watching. Kathryn opened her mouth, remembering too^ but Ralf stepped closer and hissed, “If you speak I will kill you without pause, my lady.”

Richard”s hand tightened on her arm. “She will say nothing, my lord. I will see she is watched.”

Another silence, while Ralf watched him like the falcon on his arm. But what he saw seemed to satisfy him. “I would hate to lose the support of a man such as you, Richard. And so I will grant your request. This is your test, my friend—fail me not!”

Richard bowed his head. “I will not fail. Our cause is more important than a peasant in fine clothes.”

With that he turned and, catching her roughly about the waist, threw her up into the saddle. She swayed, but Wenna caught her arm, sharp nails digging into her flesh. “You see,” she whispered. “It is your flesh he seeks, not your life. Enjoy your night while you may, girl. Tomorrow will see your death.”

Kathryn said nothing. She could not speak. She was trying to think of some way of escape, but her mind seemed too numb with what had passed to think of anything. Moments later, the grey walls of the castle reappeared before her dazed eyes.

The gates opened without hindrance and they passed in. Above them, the sky was already darkening to twilight, and as she dismounted Richard said, “Go with Wenna to your chamber, my love. You are feeling ill, and we will excuse you from supper.”

She met his eyes, her sight blurring with tears. He was looking down at her, and something in his face seemed important. But she was too saddened and numb to be able to read it.

“May I not have a priest?” she whispered. “To hear my sins?”

Ralf snorted. “To spill our secrets, my lady? I think not.”

Wenna pulled her away, holding her arm like a prisoner. It was a moment before she saw the dagger in the woman’s hand, and looking up met Wenna’s brilliant eyes. “I will use it, if you seek to escape or give warning,” she hissed. “I hate you well, and it would require no effort to slide the steel between your ribs!”

There was little to say to that, and she remained silent as the door was closed and Emma was summoned to undress her. The girl chattered, despite Wenna’s grim presence, and Kathryn told her to hold her tongue. The girl looked hurt, but Wenna sent her out for a supper tray.

Kathryn did not eat, but sat staring at her trencher while Wenna watched her, satisfaction adding a glow to her pale cheeks. It seemed ages before at last Richard came.

Wenna rose then, and without a word went out. The arras fell with a dry rustle behind her, the door closed firmly. Kathryn looked up, her dark eyes unblinking.

He smiled, a mere flicker of his lips. Unbelievably he smiled! “Poor Kathryn. You said you would trust me. Does so small a test shake your promise?”

“Small?” her voice cracked and broke. She dropped her face into her hands and wept as if her heart would break too.

His arms closed about her, and he held her, rocking her against his chest. “Calm yourself, my love. We have much to do. The King is on his way. I have given instructions he is to be allowed in quietly. He brings with him men, and letters intercepted from our dear Ralf. It will soon be over.”

She looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. “The King? But I thought... they spoke of murdering me!”

He smiled wryly. “Kathryn, I would have snapped both their backs, if they’d hurt you truly! I was playing my own game, and luckily they fell for it. I needed time, Kathryn! You were in no danger.”

“I thought you a traitor,” she breathed, gazing at him. “Forgive me.”

“You were meant to think so. But the truth is I have sworn to seek out traitors, and must play one myself for the purpose. I dislike the work, but it must be done. But after Ralf is brought to justice, the King has promised to release me from my task and give me my lands back. My father lost them,” with a half smile, “in an earlier rebellion. I have been doing penance for him.”

Suddenly, she saw it all so clearly. The plots and counter-plots, his brother coming with messages from the King, Richard’s seeming loyalty to Ralf and Wenna.

She looked up at him, and he smiled at the light in her eyes. “Last night,” he said, “when I came to you so late, I had been to see the King. Your messenger was a godsend. Once I knew Ralf was here, I knew I must give swift warning. And yet, all the time I rode so quickly there and back, I was afraid that Ralf would have decided to dispense with you and I would return and find you dead. Kathryn, when I saw you sleeping there, so peaceful, so safe, I wanted to squeeze you until you were a part of myself. I love you, girl! Don’t you see? I’ve always loved you.”

Her arms slid around him, her lips sought his. It was a desperate series of kisses, making her throat ache between laughter and tears. “Oh Richard,” she whispered, “I have loved you too. I was so hurt, when Wenna told me what she had been to you.”

He drew back, mocking her with his smile. “She used me as a step-ladder, nothing more. She is an icy-hearted bitch.”

She kissed him again, leaning closer. “I’m so glad.”

The blue eyes gazed down into hers. “Kathryn, if you love me... this night was to be for us.”

For a moment she was still, and then with a laugh she drew him down against her.

He found the fastenings on her gown and drew them apart. His hands and lips found the secrets of her body and soul, and she gave herself up to his love as if there were, indeed, no tomorrow for them.

Wenna, peeping around the arras some hours later, saw only the moonlight on pale limbs, entwined, and the dark pool of Kathryn’s hair against the white sheets, as they slept.

It was almost dawn when they heard the clatter outside. A voice cried out, incomprehensible, and Richard started up in the bed, his back naked to the chill dawn.

Kathryn woke more slowly, stretching like a kitten. “What... what is it?”

“I heard cries. I’d best go down. Stay here, sweeting. I’ll return.”

She smiled at him, and, stooping, he caressed her mouth with his before hastily dressing.

She lay there when he had gone, remembering. She had never dreamed anything could be like having Richard for a husband. If she had loved him before, she decided she loved him doubly now. With a sigh, she turned over, and smiled into the empty room... and froze.

The room was not empty. A glint of steel in the faint light from the slates. A woman stepped into her vision. Pale hair and pale robe. The grey eyes surveyed her dispassionately. “It is dawn,” that voice said. “You have had your night.”

Kathryn sat up, her limbs cold with fear. “But... Richard!”

“He will not hear you. He’s gone outside. I’ve been waiting until dawn. Waiting and listening.” The eyes narrowed. “And now the time’s come. It won’t hurt me, you know, to kill you. You’ve been my cross ever since Ralf found you. And now he laughs at me, when Richard threatens me. But when you’re dead, it will all be as it was before.”

She came forward another step, making Kathryn retreat on the bed. “No,” she whispered desperately. “Please. Listen to me. It’s changed. You’re not to kill me now. It’s all changed!”

“Everything will be as it used to be.”

She realized that Wenna hadn’t even heard her. The woman kept coming, closer and closer, the knife held ready. Kathryn screamed then, and as she screamed Wenna lurched forward, swinging the blade back to strike.

Kathryn screamed again, waiting for the death blow. It never came. A short, furious rustle of the arras. The knife dropped with a clatter on to the stone floor. For a moment the grey eyes stared up at Kathryn in disbelief, and then they had glazed over as she fell forward onto the bed. There was a knife hilt in her back. Already blood was seeping out, spreading like a flower.

There was a light at the doorway, blinding her. She hid her eyes, and a deep, angry voice said, “I’ve killed one of them, man; but which one I can’t say!” And then Richard, lifting her away from Wenna’s cooling body, holding her safe and warm. The angry voice laughed abruptly. “Well let me see her then, Richard!”

Kathryn peeped up at him. Red hair, a hard, sun-burnt face. The King laughed. “A beauty! As well she’s wed to you or I’d take her back with me.” He turned away. “Come to me when you’ve done. We have many things to discuss.”

“Sire,” Richard said, and went down on his knee. It was only then Kathryn realized the angry man was the King.

When they were alone again, she said, “What of Ralf?”

“He’s held, never fear.” His smile made her quiver. “Are you truly safe? I hardly dare to leave you again, sweeting.”

“I am safe now, Richard. Can we live here in peace now?”

“Here, or in London. Kathryn, you are my wife. I never took that lightly. Wherever I go, you must come too.”

She snuggled closer with a sigh. “Even though I am a simple peasant girl?”

He pulled a strand of her hair. “If you recall, I loved you as much when you wore rags as I do now you wear silk. And you need not fear the King—he is so beholden to me at the moment he will grant anything I ask of him. You are the Lady de Brusac and shall remain so, now and forever.”

Her reply was all that he might have wished.

Lizzie, My Love

My Lady Imposter

The Lily and the Sword

The Rose and the Shield

Led Astray by a Rake

Rules of Passion

A Seduction in Scarlet

Mistress of Scandal

To Pleasure a Duke

The Decadent Countess

A Most Sinful Proposal

Her Secret Lover

Kissing the Bride

Once He Loves

Lessons in Seduction

Beloved Highlander

Sara Bennett began writing at a very early age because she loved making up stories. She was the only girl in a family of three brothers, and she spent much of her time daydreaming. The past has always been her favorite place, and the next best thing to building a time machine and visiting was to write about it. Sara has worked as a shop assistant, a clerk, and a bookkeeper, and found all of her jobs mind-numbingly boring. Writing was the only thing that kept her going.

When she won a local short story competition, she felt confident enough to begin sending some of her work to magazines, where it was published. She also wrote for Harlequin and then the Australian mainstream market, before finding a home at Avon. She now writes historical romances as Sara Bennett and paranormals as Sara Mackenzie.

In 2007 one of her paranormal books was nominated for a RITA Award. Sara lives in a goldfield town in Victoria, Australia, with her tax agent husband, two children who are grown up but yet to leave home, and an ever expanding collection of animals.

To discover more about award winning romance author, Sara Bennett, please visit
www.sara-bennett.com
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