Samantha James (15 page)

All was silent for so long he was certain she intended to refuse. Then at last the door slid open. "Sir Hugh," she murmured. "You wished to speak with me?" Her eyes were lowered. She stood there, hands folded before her, her manner subdued and submissive.

"Aye, that I did." He stepped forward. "I was worried about you, Elizabeth. I thought to check on you and make certain you were not sick."

Her gaze avoided his. "I—I am well," she whispered, and turned her head.

Hugh caught his breath. Her skin was pale and colorless, her lashes spiked and damp. The fragile skin below her eyes looked almost bruised. "You've been crying," he said quietly. "Why, Elizabeth? Tell me why."

The deep shuddering breath she took made his heart wrench. Placing finger beneath her chin, he raised her face to his. She flinched at his touch, but didn't withdraw as he half-expected her to. He longed to pull her tight to his heart, but didn't think he dared. Instead he wrapped both her hands in his, and drew her across the chamber to the bench below the window.

'Tell me what troubles you," he implored. "I will seek to right it, I promise you."

Elizabeth bemoaned her foolish, foolish heart. No doubt Sir Hugh would think her weak and spineless, as Uncle had. "If only you could,” she said dully.

Her sweet gentleness held him captivated. Hugh longed for nothing more than the privilege of protecting her from any and everything that might do her harm. But he hated the air of sadness which clung to her.

"Aha," he said lightly. "Methinks I know what’s wrong. 'Tis Kathryn, isn't it?"

At the mention of Kathryn's name, her lips began to quiver. There was no need for her to answer.

"Do you miss her so?" His voice was very soft.

Elizabeth nodded. Her eyes clung to his. "I know that I'm a woman grown," she whispered. "But it seems so lonely without Kathryn. I—I have no one to talk to."

"You wound me grievously, milady." Hugh feigned a great affront. "Why, I am at your beck and call, should you feel the need to talk, to rant and rave.”
If ever you need anything
, he avowed silently.

Her fleeting smile made his breath catch, but it faded all too quickly. "You are very kind, Sir Hugh," she said slowly. Her eyes lowered abruptly, falling on their joined hands. "I do not deserve your comfort," she confided, her voice very low, "for I have sinned greatly."

"You?" he scoffed. " 'Tis not possible."

Trembling with shame, she tried to pull away. He would not let her. Her eyes lifted to his. "But I have," she blurted. "I lied to your lord."

Hugh studied her quietly. "If you did, I am certain you did so with good reason."

"There can be no good reason for such a sin," she cried in a voice thick with self-reproach. "I am guilty of selfishness and greed, Sir Hugh, more than you can ever know!"

A slight crease appeared between his brows. "How so?"

"Kathryn is not with child, Sir Hugh. I said that only so your lord would not take her from Ashbury. And now he has and I fear that Kathryn will now pay the price for my deceit!" Two scalding tears slipped down her cheeks.

Hugh was sorely tempted to slap his knees and laugh loud and gustily. But Elizabeth was so distressed he was compelled to offer what assurances he could. He wiped the tears away with the pads of his thumbs, resisting the impulse to let them linger.

"Do not fret so," he soothed. "I know both you and your sister do not yet have cause to believe it, but Guy is not without heart."

Her expression remained deeply troubled. "You do not know Kathryn. I fear your lord will be blind to the good in her, for she is ever willful and quick-tempered and sometimes far too outspoken for her own good."

She might have been speaking of Guy. Hugh suspected they had too much pride as well, both of them. He also suspected both he and Elizabeth saw the best of Guy and Kathryn, and the worst as well.

" 'Tis beyond our means now," he said with a faint smile. "Do not worry so, for 'tis not so bad as you would believe. And—" A light began to dance in his eyes. "—lock yourself away in your chamber no more, fair lady. It would please me greatly if you would come with me for a walk down to the sea tomorrow."

Her gaze flitted away. He sensed she was on the verge of refusing. Placing his knuckles beneath her chin, he guided her eyes to his once more. "Please, Elizabeth." The smile had left his voice—now his voice betrayed only the gravity of his plea. "You wound me deeply should you refuse."

Elizabeth's heart seemed to beat with the flutter of tiny wings. She gazed deeply into his eyes and saw strength tempered by compassion and gentleness... or did she see only what she wanted to see? She was afraid to trust in her judgment—and just as afraid not to.

Her lips parted. "I'll not refuse you, Sir Hugh," she said on a feathery breath of air.

Hugh's heart rejoiced, even as he heaved a soundless sigh. He longed to trap those quivering rosebud Ups beneath his own, but he didn't dare.

Soon, he promised himself. Very soon...

Chapter 6

Kathryn's first glimpse of Sedgewick came late the next day.

She lagged slightly behind the earl as their horses picked their way up a gentle slope. Cresting the rise, he reined his destrier to a halt. He swung down from the mighty steed, then stared out at the small valley before them.

The sky was clear and cloudless, but twilight cast its rosy glow on the far horizon. Kathryn brought her palfrey to a halt but didn't dismount. Instead she pressed a hand to the small of her back and massaged her aching muscles as she followed his gaze. In the distance, endless patchwork fields of brilliant green and gold stretched to the north and east. A short distance away, dozens of stocky cottages were tucked into the fold of a hillside.

But it was the huge fortress atop the bluff that dominated her attention. In stark silhouette against the clear sky, its towering limestone walls glittered white in the early-evening sun. Four round towers stood at the corners. A wide moat surrounded the thick walls. Seeing it, Kathryn felt a little stab of awe. It was easily thrice the size of Ashbury.

His voice came to her then. "You see before you Sedgewick."

She thought to detect arrogance in his tone— instead there was only that which bespoke strongly of pride. A heavy weight seemed to settle on her chest. Her unblinking gaze remained fixed on the fortress and surrounding landscape. Sedgewick truly was a breathtaking sight, she thought vaguely. Some might think it a wondrous haven.

For her it was but a prison.

Guy swung back on his destrier. "Let’s be off," he said. "I'm anxious to be home."

That he was, Kathryn decided irritably. He dug his heels into his destrier's sides; the pair leaped forward as one, down the slope and out across the valley. She found it more irksome still when Esmerelda took off in fevered pursuit, at no urging from her mistress! He slowed only when they approached the castle. Kathryn brought Esmerelda up beside his mount. Together they clattered across the drawbridge and entered the dark tunnel beneath the gatehouse.

With every step forward, her muscles began to tighten. Her body gave an involuntary jerk when the gaping iron teeth of the portcullis clanged shut behind her, closing out the world as she had known it. . . and sealing her in.

A squawking hen weaved across a dusty courtyard, a long-legged hound at her tail feathers. The sounds that reached her ears were familiar ones— the shrill squeal of animals in their pens, the echo of the smithy's hammer, the scream of falcons in the mews. But unfamiliar were the open stares directed her way. A wide-eyed groom spotted them and ran over to grab the destrier's halter.

"My lord." He looked up at his master with shining eyes. " 'Tis good that you are back."

The earl addressed the boy by name. "Jon," he said easily. " 'Tis good to be home again." He dismounted and tossed his reins to the boy, then turned to Kathryn and extended a hand.

The weight of that cool gray stare made her spine go rigid. She stared at his steel-gloved hand, wanting nothing more than to slap it away. His eyes chilled, a silent promise of swift retribution if she dared .. . Kathryn swung her leg over the saddle. Her fingertips resting lightly on his shoulders, she suffered his hands at her waist and let him swing her to the ground.

He released her immediately—and she him— as if neither could stand the touch of the other. But to her dismay, his fingers curled around her elbow. He led her up the stairs and into the great hall.

The hall was ahum with activity. At their entrance, several knights rushed over to greet their lord. One of them, a huge hulking man with a reddish-gold beard, laughed and clapped him heavily on the shoulder. "God's blood, man, but you took your sweet time finding your way home! We thought you were lost!" The knight laughed heartily.

Guy's smile was rather tight.

The knight swept an appreciative gaze toward Kathryn. "And who might this lovely lady be?"

A trace of panic raced through her. What would he say? she wondered wildly. Would he brand her friend or foe? She tried to jerk her elbow away but his fingers dug into her flesh in warning. She could feel his eyes upon her, cold and totally without mercy.

"Sir Edward, may I present Richard of Ashbury's niece, Lady Kathryn. As I anticipate being granted wardship of her from King Henry, she will be staying here at Sedgewick for a time."

He spoke loud enough that everyone might hear—he intended it that way, Kathryn thought half in anger, half in despair. He sought only to hurt and humiliate her.

With his pronouncement, there was a shocked silence. In the blink of an eye, their expressions changed from curious to condemning, knights and servants alike.

It was because of Richard. Because she was his niece. It spun through her mind that even from the grave, her uncle possessed the power to hurt her. . . Her only sin was in sharing the blood of her hated uncle, yet Kathryn felt scorching shame as never before.

Her lashes lowered. She could look nowhere but at the rush-covered floor. She was scarcely aware when he called a servant.

"Show the Lady Kathryn to her chamber," he directed.

Kathryn climbed the stairs behind the woman. She spent the rest of the evening in her room.

Sleep did not come easily that night. She lay huddled in her bed, trying desperately to make sense of all that had happened. Had the earl killed Richard? If not, then who? And why had he insisted she accompany him to Sedgewick?

His ruthless features filled her vision.
He despises me and mine
, she thought with a shiver. Now Richard was dead. Murdered. The earl claimed he'd been cheated of his revenge on Richard. A horrible assumption formed in her mind. She went cold to the tips of her fingers. Was this to be a reckoning of accounts? Perhaps through her—through her—he sought to gain his revenge on Richard.

Those words she had flung so recklessly came back to haunt her.
Mayhap now that you've killed Richard, you've a mind to murder me as well
. . . She envisioned his hands, dark and lean and strong.

It would be so easy for him. He had only to wrap his fingers around her throat—or fell her with a single blow.

He could kill her and there was naught she could do to stop him.

A tight band seemed to wrap across her chest, stealing her breath. She made a choked sound deep in her throat. How could she endure it here? She couldn't stand it. . . she could not! Yet escape provided no alternative either—the earl had hunted her down once. She had no doubt he would do so again. So what was she to do? She was trapped, like an animal in a cage. There was nowhere to go, she realized bleakly, that the earl would not find her. No one to care.

She thought of Ashbury... and Elizabeth... dear, sweet Elizabeth... Would she would ever see either of them again?

Never had she felt so alone! She wished desperately that she could cry, but all her pain remained locked tightly inside her.

Kathryn surfaced slowly from beneath filmy layers of sleep. A sense of befuddled confusion nudged the fringes of her consciousness. Something was different, she thought hazily, for every morning of her life she woke to the whistle of the wind whipping round the tower. Still half-asleep, her ears strained to hear the restless wash of the surf scouring the shoreline.