Samantha James (9 page)

A small group of men had just entered the hall. They had to skirt them in order to get by, and as they passed, one of them fixed greedy eyes on Elizabeth and Kathryn. "Now there's a way to warm a man's behind the night through," he said to his companions. "One on each side! What say you, lads? Shall we roll the dice? We've yet to see the spoils of victory."

Elizabeth went deathly pale. Kathryn whirled on the knave, a scathing denunciation ready to spring from her lips.

"There will be no plunder. There will no booty taken from this keep. Did I not make myself plain, gentlemen?"

Kathryn knew, even before her head whipped around, who stood behind her. That chillingly cold voice was one she'd not soon forget. She thought dimly that the Earl of Sedgewick possessed an uncanny power. He had no need to resort to violence; he could punish and whip with only the sound of his voice... the touch of his eyes.

One by one the men fell back beneath his blistering stare.

Something seemed to freeze inside Kathryn. How kind. How noble. Ashbury would not be looted or robbed. The earl was no better than their uncle. He would steal what was theirs, hers and Elizabeth's, and claim it all for himself. Yet such was the nature of life. Such were the ways of men, she thought angrily, hopelessly.

"My lord." Kathryn tipped her chin up and regarded Guy de Marche coolly. She neither curtsied nor offered him her hand. By God, she'd not humble herself before him.

His gaze had settled upon Elizabeth, who was still visibly shaken. She was also clearly anxious to escape the hall—or perhaps the earl's presence. Kathryn fancied it was the latter and slid a protective arm round her sister's shoulders. "You have not yet met my sister, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, Lord de Marche, Earl of Sedgewick."

"Lady Elizabeth. The pleasure is mine, I assure you." He bowed slightly and gave a smile that was almost warm.

Kathryn was suddenly overwhelmed with angry frustration. Why did he bother? Why had Sir Hugh bothered? They played at pretense, both of them, when in truth they were the triumphant heroes and she and Elizabeth naught but the vanquished. Yet a tiny inner voice whispered that their circumstances could have been dire indeed. He could have enslaved them. Worse, they could have been fair game for his men.

Not for the first time that day, Kathryn wondered what plans the earl had for them. Yet what did it matter, for he would soon be dead...

Guy watched her, silently weighing and measuring. He saw many things flit across her lovely features in that moment. Anger, though he knew not why. Defiance. Even the unexpected—a hint of defeat. But haughty pride quickly followed, an expression he was beginning to grow rather familiar with. He curbed his irritation and stripped off his gloves, tucking them under his arm.

It was then that Kathryn spied Roderick past his shoulder. Roderick and several more of her uncle's knights. Mother of Christ! Was it true then? Did her uncle's men even now hatch the plot that would set him free?

Too late she saw that Guy's gaze paralleled hers. She wet her lips, suddenly nervous. "Is it not dangerous to let Uncle's knights wander the halls?"

"Your lov—" There was a small pause where he glanced at Elizabeth. "Your betrothed and a few others," he finished, "have sworn fealty to me as their new lord."

Kathryn glared at him. She sensed his scorn, and his mocking half-smile told the tale only too well. If Elizabeth had not been present his words would have been far different.

"You are a trusting man," she told him stiffly, "to free them so quickly."

He fixed those strange crystalline eyes upon her face. "There can be no honor without trust," he murmured. "And Sir Roderick, as your uncle's chief retainer, has some influence over the other knights. You may rest assured these men are being watched, despite my show of good faith. But do not count on seeing the rest of your uncle's knights up and about so quickly. In time, they will be given the choice to accept me as their lord as these others have done."

"And if they do not?" Dimly Kathryn wondered what madness possessed her that she challenged him so.

He shrugged. "They will regret it," he said simply.

A smile that was almost lazy lurked about his lips, but Kathryn was not fooled. There was no mercy She could detect no hint of mercy in his carved features. Did the man have no heart? she raged silently. No compassion? Was he as merciless and cruel as their uncle?

He has spared Roderick
, a voice in her mind reminded her.
And he has spared both you and Elizabeth.

Beside her, Elizabeth edged closer. "Kathryn, I grow tired," she whispered. "Let us retire."

Sir Hugh chose that moment to finally join them. He clapped a hand on the earl's back. "Guy, you missed a most entertaining evening," he proclaimed.

Guy glanced between the two sisters. Kathryn was smiling, as if in total agreement with Hugh. But Elizabeth's face was downcast.

The two were nothing alike, he found himself musing. One was as dark as the other was fair; Kathryn was wind and fire, while her sister was soft summer rain.

"I was just about to escort these two ladies to their chambers," Hugh said. "Then I thought I'd return here for a spot of ale. Mayhap you will join me."

Guy shook his head, suddenly conscious of how bone-weary he was. "I think not. I intend to sup in my chamber and then retire for the night."

Hugh nodded. Guy turned to the two women and bowed slightly. "Ladies, I bid you good night."

Moments later, Hugh did the same, raising each of their hands to his Lips before murmuring his good night. Kathryn was startled to discover Elizabeth's eyes fixed upon him as his footsteps carried him down the long hall.

"He is not what I expected," she whispered.

"Who? The earl?" Kathryn's voice was almost sharp.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Sir Hugh." She seemed to hesitate. "He was kind and gentle and... very gallant."

Kathryn was sorely tempted to laugh in delight. Never in her life had she heard her sister use those words to describe a man. Her expression softened. "Aye," she said gently. "But he is also a knight, Elizabeth, one of the earl's knights. And—we cannot forget why he is here."

Elizabeth shivered. "Do not speak of the earl! Now there is a man who truly frightens me! He has the strangest eyes, almost like—like crystal. And when his gaze chanced to rest on me, it was as if he looked right through me, inside of me!" She shivered again.

The hair on the back of Kathryn's neck prickled. That he does, she agreed silently. She had no desire to face him again tonight, but Elizabeth had just unwittingly reminded her that she must. She leaned forward and kissed her sister's cheek. "You look tired, Elizabeth. Let me brush your hair and help you to bed."

So it was that Kathryn left her sister a short time later. She did not step across the passage to her own room, however, but started in the opposite direction.

The earl had taken a chamber overlooking the guardhouse. One of the servants had been tidying up when she visited her uncle earlier. Kathryn approached the earl's chamber with all the enthusiasm of a man going to the hangman's noose. Mercifully the halls were deserted; no one noticed her halt before his door. She marveled that her knock was so firm and sure, for inwardly she was quaking.

The door opened. The earl stood there, bold as a man can be... arrogant as only he could be.

Those eyes Elizabeth had called strange swept over her; it was almost as if he expected her. A flurry of panic set in. Surely he didn't know...

She spoke quickly, before she lost her nerve. "My lord, I crave a word with you."

Those devilishly arched eyebrows shot up in silent question, but he said nothing, merely opened the door wider.

She stepped inside. The room was brightly lit by an array of candles on a small table. A fire crackled and roared in the fireplace, casting out its warmth. Yet a chill raced up her spine when the heavy oak portal cracked shut behind her, closing the world out.

And sealing her in.

"You surprise me, Lady Kathryn. I had not thought that you would seek me out for any reason. Indeed, your sister avoided the touch of my eyes as if she feared I would cast a plague upon her. Do you not feel the same?"

Kathryn welcomed his sarcasm, for it swept away her fear and uncertainty. She watched him move to the table where the remains of a meal lay upon a small tray. He did not sit, but turned to await her response.

The bite in her tone was thinly disguised. "Elizabeth is uneasy with so many men about

wearing the trappings of war."

"I fear it cannot be helped." His tone, cool and distant, matched hers.

She folded her hands and gazed at him evenly. "She is also unsure of our position in the household, now that you are here. That, my lord, is the reason I am here. I would know your intentions regarding my sister and me."

I would know your intentions.
Her choice of words was irksome. She did not ask. She did not plead or gently seek. She demanded, as if it were her due.

His eyes narrowed. "I had not given it much thought."

Her lashes lowered. The merest of smiles curved her sweet lips. "We are yours to command, my lord, yours to claim by right of ownership. I am prepared for anything, be it slave, servant, or scullery maid. I ask only that you take heart and rest easy on Elizabeth. She is much more delicate than I."

Guy was both angry and impressed. God, but she was a cool one, cool and enticing and defiant. He could sense it in her, though her pose suggested she was the humblest of women. The fighting spirit in her could simply not be ignored. It beckoned to him. It challenged and dared.

"There's no need for that." His tone was curt. "You and your sister may remain here. Your position is no different than it was before I came."

A taut silence descended. Kathryn couldn't bring herself to thank him. Her expression held a watchful caution as he half-turned and poured wine into a silver goblet. Watching him, Kathryn experienced a curious pang. He had removed his hauberk and wore only his boots and a light linen tunic. His dark hair was tousled, as if he'd run his fingers through it repeatedly. He looked tired. There were faint lines etched beside his mouth, a mouth that no longer looked quite so hard.

The reality of what she was about to do sank in like the talons of a hawk. She thought of the dagger strapped to her arm, hidden deep within the folds of her sleeves. She was to kill this man, who was so tall, so strong, so vitally alive. Soon his heart would be still and silent, his body cold and stiff.

Her mouth grew dry. Her palms felt sweaty and damp.

I cannot do it,
she thought in sudden panic.
I cannot
. . .

"You must tell me about your visit to your uncle."

A little shock went through her. Her eyes jerked up to find him regarding her with a knowing expression on his face. Panic raced through her like flames blazing out of control. He couldn't know why she'd come here... He couldn't!

"I would not have gone if he had not summoned me." To her horror, there was a slight catch in her voice.

He paused, the goblet halfway to his lips, his fingers curled around the dull silver. They were long and bronzed like his hands, not fleshy like her uncle's, but lean and strong-looking...

Silently he approached her. "I have the feeling," he said very softly, "that you hide something from me, Kathryn. I ask again what has brought you to me."

She wet her lips nervously, unaware that Guy's eyes tracked the movement. "I have told you, milord. I came to discover your intentions for my sister and me—" She broke off, for he was shaking his head.

"I think not. You must forgive my suspicious nature but I'm much more inclined to believe your uncle sent you."

Kathryn gritted her teeth, neither confirming nor denying his words. She despised her own transparency.

He stopped before her. The self-satisfied curl of his lips was maddening. His eyes slid leisurely down the length of her body. Kathryn's face flamed. She felt stripped to the bone.

"He seeks to appease me, eh? You are to be the bartering chip, the sacrificial lamb. He would use you to sweeten my soul and thus go easy on him?"

"I think your soul is already black," she said daringly, "and cannot be sweetened."

He laughed as if she'd said something truly amusing. "And you, dutiful niece that you are, would do anything for him."

"Nay! If the truth be known, I would do anything to be rid of him. Why else do you think I sought to marry Roderick?"

"Why, indeed?" Guy quirked an eyebrow. "Pray go on. I would know all the petty little intrigue that goes on in your uncle's household."

"Uncle's household!" Kathryn's eyes blazed. "Elizabeth and I were here long before Uncle. He paid a king's ransom to steal Ashbury out from beneath us!"

"So I've heard," Guy murmured. "And you sought to wrest Ashbury from his grasp?"

"Aye!"

Guy frowned. "I do not understand. How, pray tell, could you hope to accomplish this by marrying Sir Roderick?"

Kathryn was too angry to think clearly. What did it matter if he knew? "You said it yourself in the hall. As chief retainer of uncle's knights, Roderick carries considerable influence. If he were to turn against Uncle, many of the knights would follow his lead."