The Game (22 page)

He held her.

She clung to him, her sanity returning, afraid to lift her head and meet his mocking eyes.

“Kate,” he said harshly. “Sweet, priceless Kate.” He pushed her back against the wall and tilted up her chin. Katherine had no choice but to meet his smoking gaze. “You are mine. Mine. Remember that when the nights are long and lonely—or when Leicester and his kind come panting after you.” He turned and strode to the door, then paused. “I am coming back. And when I do, I am coming for you.”

Shortly after Liam had left, a servant brought Katherine a large, linen-wrapped bundle. Katherine had just dressed. She was still weak from the passionate encounter with Liam, and feeling somewhat bereft. She told herself that it was nonsense. That she was glad he was gone.

Now she stared at the manservant, who held the large parcel in his hands. “What is this?”

“A gift from Liam O’Neill,” the servant said.

Katherine’s pulse raced. She told herself she must send the man and the gift away, but instead she said, “You may put it on the bed.”

When the servant had left, Katherine closed and bolted the door. Then she rushed to her bed, tearing open the inexpensive, colorless wrapping. She pulled out a brilliant turquoise gown, embroidered in silver thread. She discovered two more gowns, just as beautiful. Of course he had included ruffs, coifs, underskirts, and undergarments. Katherine laid the clothing carefully aside.

“Damn you, Liam,” she whispered hoarsely. She blinked back a tear, then hugged the turquoise gown to her breast. She buried her face in the soft silk. His parting words echoed in her mind.
You are mine. Mine. Mine…

She inhaled, still clutching the gown, until she realized that she would wrinkle it. Promptly she stood and laid it flat. What did he mean by this act?

Was it charity, generosity, or both? Or did he seek to entice her toward him, knowing as he did how she secretly yearned for such finery? Or did he merely think to prove his point: that she was his; therefore, he would clothe her
as other men did their wives? Did he still think to make her his wife?

If so, he thought erroneously. Katherine looked longingly at the pile of clothes, knowing she could not wear them.

Not because people would speculate about how she had come to be dressed in such a noble and expensive fashion, but because she sensed her weakness, sensed she could be seduced by him—even from afar.

Katherine looked down at the gown she was wearing, which Helen had procured for her. Her dismay tripled. It was a plain brown velvet. Once it had probably been quite pretty, but it had been well worn. The cuffs of the sleeves were faded and tearing, and the scalloped hem of the skirt was frayed. Katherine sighed, then quickly, before she might stop herself, she jerked a beautiful ruff from the pile of gowns on the bed. Her hands shaking, she fixed it to her gown, watching herself in the small looking glass above the room’s single table. It improved the gown enormously. And she would not dwell on who had given it to her.

Katherine unbolted the door. “Helen?”

The maid appeared. “Mistress?”

“Please fold the garments on the bed and put them away neatly, as I will not be wearing them.” Her voice was not quite steady.

Helen nodded. Then, “Mistress, the earl of Ormond is below in the gallery. He wishes a word with you.”

Katherine froze.

“Do you wish me to tell him you are otherwise occupied?” Helen asked quite shrewdly.

Katherine’s heart beat again. “No, no,” she said. And as she went downstairs to meet with him, she told herself that it was foolish to be afraid. She was one of the queen’s ladies now and although Ormand was her father’s age-old enemy, he was also her half brother, and surely he would not hurt her, not in any way, not now.

Katherine hesitated before entering the Stone Gallery on the floor below. The weather was not inclement, and
through the windows facing west she could see ladies and gentlemen strolling on the walks of the Privy Gardens outside. A multitude of other windows on the hall’s opposite side looked out on the River Thames, where fishermen and barges jostled for space, and on the banks, where carriages passed one another and numerous pedestrians. Many other courtiers and noblewomen ambled up and down the long hall inside, or were clustered in small groups, conversing.

Katherine saw Ormond at the same time that the earl espied her. She did not move as he detached himself from a group of gentlemen and strode to her. He appeared as he had the last time they had met, a tall, dark, and imposing man clad in dark, almost funereal clothes. He was not smiling. Katherine tried to still her racing heart yet again by reminding herself that they were related.

He took her arm. “I wish to speak with you, Katherine,” he said, moving her back the way she had come.

Katherine was stiff, but she tried to relax. “What passes, my lord?”

Still no smile. “I wish to know my sister somewhat.”

Katherine was uneasy. She recalled Liam’s warning not to trust anyone at court. “You have a sudden fondness for long-lost sisters?” she said, striving for a light tone.

They began to stroll down the length of the gallery behind another couple. He still held her arm. “I think that I do.”

Katherine met his dark gaze. She finally freed herself from his grasp. He wanted something from her, but she could not sense what.

“Are you happy, Katherine? To be honored with the queen’s appointment as one of her ladies?”

“Yes, I am.” Katherine smiled. “I am very honored, in truth. Although…”

“Although what?”

“Although I still pray that she will eventually heed my plea.”

“Your plea?”

She met his regard. “My plea to marry.”

“Ahh. So you do not pine for Hugh Barry.”

Katherine tensed. “My lord, Hugh was my betrothed for many years, and I was happy. When I thought he died at Affane, I was aggrieved—and ’twas my grief, in part, that caused me to be sent to the sisters in France. Returning to Southwark, I was overjoyed to learn that Hugh lived.” She paused, coming to a standstill in front of a portrait of King Henry VII.

“But?” Ormond stood slightly behind her.

Katherine glanced back at him. “I was also aggrieved to learn the brehern had judged our betrothal invalid. But I saw a side of Hugh I had not suspected to exist before.” Her jaw firmed. “Let me just say that I am glad we are not to be wed after all.”

“What did he do?” Ormond asked.

To her dismay, tears filled her eyes as she recalled his violent attempt to rape her. She shook her head.

Ormond stared. “What did he do, Katherine?”

She met her half brother’s shadowy gaze. “He was…he was not a gentleman, but then, I am no gentlewoman anymore.”

Ormond’s stare was unwavering. “I am sorry,” he finally said. “It cannot be easy, I suppose, to lose all that one once had.”

She turned to face him, unsure of whether he commiserated with her plight or not. “If you are sorry, my lord, then perhaps you will be moved to help me somewhat.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He did not respond.

Katherine grew wary. This man was an enigma. “Am I asking too much? From my own half brother?”

“I sense you have hardly begun to make your request,” Ormond declared.

“I am sorry to have even mentioned it. I beg your pardon.” Katherine started to turn away. “I do not need your help after all, it seems.” She knew now that he did not care for her at all.

But his hand restrained her. He turned her to face him again. “You are very much like our mother,” he said softly.

Katherine started.

“And I am not remarking the physical resemblance,
which is great.” He was grim. “Joan knew not when to hold her tongue. She was always forthright. Forthright, determined, and intelligent.”

“Is this praise?”

“Perhaps. If you aspire to being the woman she was.” His tone was suddenly bitter.

“Of course I wish to be like her,” Katherine could not help but cry.

“Do you?” He was darkly mocking. “Do you even know of what you speak? Joan was strong and clever, but she created the greatest scandal of her time when she began her affair with your father.”

Katherine was resentful. “She is dead and you slander their love.”

“Love?” He laughed. “Your father was a boy when Joan began to think of marrying him, shortly after my father died. Indeed, to stop
that
, she was married off posthaste to Sir Bryan. As soon as Sir Bryan became ill, our mother began to ride about the countryside with your father—who was but eighteen, and younger than I. Joan was twenty years his senior. I could go nowhere without hearing of their affair. She accompanied him openly everywhere—hunting all across Munster, joining him at the Galway fair, even residing for a time as a guest at Askeaton. ’Twas scandalous—the height of disrespect, not just to the dying Sir Bryan, but to herself, the countess of Ormond, and to me and my brothers.”

Katherine had always known of the vast disparity in age between her parents, but had never thought much of it—many widowed women remarried younger men. But now she felt Tom Butler’s pain. “How difficult it must have been for you,” she whispered. And she could not help being somewhat shocked by her mother’s indiscreet behavior—yet proud, too, of her iron will and refusal to bend to the dictates of society.

His glance was sharp. “’Twas more than difficult. The feud between Ormond and Desmond went back generations, and for my mother to behave with the Desmond heir in such a fashion was a direct affront to me and mine—it was—it is—unforgivable.”

Katherine’s chin rose. “She loved Gerald greatly, despite his age. ’Twas a marriage made for love.”

“Aye, she loved him,” Ormond said darkly. “And that, too, is unforgivable.”

Katherine felt for Tom Butler then, seeing into his very soul. “She loved you, too,” Katherine cried. “I remember as a little girl when my father took his army to meet yours. I remember my mother weeping in fear for
your
safety! I remember that she disobeyed my father and rode after him as he rode to make war on
you
.”

“Yes.” Ormond’s face softened. “For thirteen days she rode back and forth betwixt husband and son, betwixt our two great armies, which lay crouched like hounds prepared to pounce and fight. The soldiers on both sides began to call her the Angel of Peace. And she begged first him then me, repeatedly—morning, noon, and night—to cease our fight. She was tireless.” He glanced out of the window. “She was an Angel of Peace.”

“And?” Katherine hardly breathed.

Ormond smiled faintly. “I cannot remember which of us heeded her first. But in the end there was no battle; both armies, led by husband and son, turned around and went home.”

Tears glistened in Katherine’s eyes. “Joan was a
great
lady.”

“She was formidable, clever, and headstrong. Too headstrong. She did not care about the scandal attached to her and Gerald; indeed, she laughed about it.” Ormond eyed her.

Katherine hugged herself, uneasy. She thought of Liam now—and her own passionate nature where he was concerned. Now she knew that her dark side came not just from her father, but from her mother as well.

But surely she was not like Joan in all respects. Katherine could not imagine laughing at any scandal that might arise in regard to her and the pirate, Liam O’Neill. A scandal would horrify her; she would die of the shame.

“Did he abuse you?” Ormond asked abruptly.

Katherine knew he also thought of Liam, but she feigned ignorance. “Who?”

“The pirate, O’Neill. Talk is all over town. A hundred ladies and gentlemen saw him kiss you in the Banquet Hall before he bore you off to Ireland. Now another rumor flies about, that someone saw you alone with him in the queen’s private rooms, in a compromising, nay, scandalous position.”

Katherine flushed scarlet: Oh, God. Someone had seen her on the floor in Liam’s arms? But who?

“Are you more like Joan than I thought?”

“No!” she cried, suddenly furious. “I am not eager to court scandal! I do not laugh at hearing these rumors! I want nothing from the pirate, nothing but for him to leave me alone! I am determined to marry a decent, God-fearing man. ’Tis most important to me!”

Ormond’s gaze was penetrating. “And what does your father wish for you?”

“I do not know,” Katherine replied truthfully. She could not help but be somewhat bitter. “I have not seen him since that night O’Neill took me to him. I doubt he knows that Hugh has betrayed me. I…doubt he cares. He is overwhelmed with his losses and his confinement.”

Ormond said nothing, but his gaze was unblinking.

“My lord,” Katherine said earnestly, “I am past eighteen. Although I am pleased, nay, thrilled, with the queen’s appointment, time hardly favors me. By now, most women have had several babes, and if a few more years go by, I will be past my prime childbearing years.” Suddenly her gaze was beseeching and locked with his. “Could you not help me, sir? You are the queen’s cousin. Could you not sway her to my cause? I do not expect much, just a gentleman who is decent of nature.”

Ormond stared at his sister. She was much like Joan, and it was almost painful. But she was not Joan. His sister had no power. She had been stripped of her name and possessions. She had naught but her beauty—which men like Hugh Barry and Liam O’Neill preyed upon eagerly. Despite his overwhelming interest in protecting Ormond’s power he did not particularly care for the thought of Katherine being used by either man. Although he had no use
for a sister, nor any care for one, they had shared the same mother.

He reminded himself that she could not be as innocent or as sincere as she sounded and appeared. She had every reason to conspire with her father to regain what had been lost, and if she were like Joan, she would use her beauty to ensnare a powerful man like Liam O’Neill as a determined ally.

And as this was the case, her wish to wed must be a clever, treacherous ruse.

Given Liam O’Neill’s interest in her, it was best to remove her completely from his grasp. And what better way to do so than with a husband of her own? “Aye,” he said abruptly. “I will take up your cause, Katherine.”