The Raven's Revenge (25 page)

She edged away from Nicholas’s warm body.

He made a light snore, and settled her back close to him.

* * *

Nicholas awoke refreshed and with a plan. It had come to him during the night. In the clear light of morning, he rejoiced at its simplicity.

Katherine slept soundly, tucked into his warmth. Her head lay a heavy weight on his arm. She snored light puffs of air. He craned his neck to look at her. Tears stained her face. Had she cried during the night?

He blew into her ear.

She brushed at the place he had blown and made a gentle snort. This time he kissed her there, and began to suckle on the lobe.

Katherine moaned and opened an eye.

“Good morn,” he said.

She yawned and closed her eyes again.

“You must get up. ’Twill be a big day for us.” He gave her a jiggle. “Arise, Lady Katherine. Today we shall be wed.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

KATHERINE’S EYES popped open.

She could not have heard him correctly.
Marry? Today?

How could that be?

She lurched up, holding the bedclothes to her chest. “What did you say?”

Nicholas beamed at her. “Today you will be my bride.” He plucked her fingers from the sheet and brought them to his lips, planting a tender kiss on her knuckles. “I have compromised your honor, so I shall marry you. You shall be safe from Finch and your father. And my heir will be protected if you carry him.”

Katherine swallowed. She would be safe, a babe would be safe. It was a show of his good honor that he wished to marry her. Yet, she felt a great disappointment at his words, as though she’d received a drenching of cold water. She wanted more from him than duty.
 

She wanted love.

Avoiding his eyes, she began to finger-comb and plait the tangled mess of her hair. He had once said he would require passion in a mate.

But passion was not love.

And he had not asked her if she would be his wife. Nay, he had told her they would marry. Yet, had he asked her, how could she say ‘no’ when she loved him so?

For she did. God help her she did.
 

She looked up, and their eyes locked.

“Have you naught to say?” Nicholas asked.

“You have taken me by surprise,” she said. “I could not speak at first. Truly, Nicholas, I thank you for your wish to save my honor and protect me. ’Tis very good of you, and I am very grateful. Yet, I would hope there is more to such a request as this?”

He sat up and looked at her oddly. “No, I do not marry you just to save your honor.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Katherine, I often act on my instincts. It is my way.” He took her hand and drew slow circles on her palm with his forefinger. “I know ’tis not romantic to say so, but my instinct is to marry you. It is the right thing for both of us.” He smiled. “I find myself wanting to take care of you. You already take good care of me in so many ways. You inflame me, Katherine.”

His voice had gone husky. He leaned to her and put his lips on hers. Their tongues met in a deep, passionate kiss that sent a hot thrill through her. When they broke apart, they both were breathing hard.

“What say you, dearest Katherine?”

Katherine smiled. “Yes, Nicholas, though you have not actually asked me, I say ‘yes I will marry you,’ and without my father’s consent. But however can we do it today?”

“One can do anything in London, even find a clergyman who will marry an impatient groom and bride without a special license, banns, or questions.” He got out of bed and began to dress. “You bide here while I make the arrangements. I will have your breakfast and have the cat sent up in the meantime.”

Katherine slowly plaited her hair and watched Nicholas dress, admiring the long lines and flexing muscles of his hard body.

“You will have to get up, lass, to lock the door after me,” he said when he was done.

Still holding the night rail to cover herself, Katherine rose and followed him. He captured her in his arms, raising her chin for a deep kiss.

“I will be back as soon as I am able.” His eyes smiled into hers. “Ah, Katherine, you look so tired.” He gave her a squeeze then raised his hands to her shoulders. “But do not go back to sleep. Be ready when I return?” He raised an eyebrow.

Katherine nodded, and gave him an uncertain smile as he departed.

Standing alone in the quiet room, Katherine did not know whether to laugh or cry.

Marry Nicholas?

Become a Baron’s wife?

Plain Katherine would be Lady Katherine. The thought brought a giggle to her lips, but then she sobered as her disappointment returned.

It had not mattered that John Perkins did not love her, because she did not love him. But she did love Nicholas. A declaration of love on his part would have filled her heart with joy.

She dropped the sheet and began to dress. Struggling with her stays, she chided herself for being fanciful. Then she looked at her black dress and pursed her lips. Black did not bode well for a marriage. But there was naught she could do about it.

Just as she could not make him love her if he did not. 

* * *

Two hours and a short hackney ride later, the bride and groom stood in St. James, Duke’s Place, a church noted for thousands of ‘special’ weddings. An aged parson stood before them, reading from the
Book of Common Prayer
.

Jeremy and Henry stood behind them as groomsmen. Jeremy, looking battered, but approving, supported himself on one-side with a stick. Henry propped him up on the other. Montford sat in the crook of Henry’s elbow. The kitten, Katherine’s only female attendant, wore a bit of ribbon about her neck that she noisily tried to chew off.

Katherine had not been able to fashion a true bridal garland, but had created a coronet with her braid and ribbons, hoping the bright colors would offset the dour black dress.

The clergyman intoned the words in a singsong of sounds that had apparently lost meaning—and clarity—after so many recitals. Katherine found herself almost unable to understand him, but she smiled and held Nicholas’s hand through the proceeding. Waves of exhaustion rolled over her. A sense of unreality grew until she wondered if she was in a dream standing next to Baron Nicholas the outlaw,
her
outlaw, and marrying him.

Finally, Nicholas said “yes” at what seemed to be the appropriate time and prompted her so she said “yes” as well.

It was over.

Nicholas gave her a long lingering kiss that singed the roots of her hair, but stopped short of her heart.

Jeremy and Henry shook Nicholas’s hand in turn.

The parson wrote their names in his parish register. “Make haste and bed the wench,” he admonished Nicholas. “The marriage can be annulled if ’tis not consummated.”

Katherine blinked. The minister had clearly misconstrued the nature of the wedding and Nicholas’s purpose in making her his bride. Although clandestine, it was not an abduction.

But a niggling doubt remained. Would Nicholas’s instincts and his willingness to protect her be a good enough foundation for a good and satisfying marriage?

She would not think about that right now. Katherine squared her shoulders. Taking her husband’s proffered arm, she strode beside him out of the vestibule to the waiting hackney.

* * *

The quiet group gathered in the small parlor back at the
Hawk and Pheasant
. Nicholas sipped his coffee and studied the lot of them. Jeremy balanced on his stick with one hand and ate a chicken leg with the other. Henry eyed the candied fruit but did not take one. Katherine sat on a stool by the open window. In the diffused light, the blue circles under her eyes stood out.

Nicholas felt a crush of disappointment. Where was the gaiety? Song and dance? Where were the smiles? They acted as if they had just come from a funeral, not a wedding.

“Shall we sing a song?” he volunteered.

Jeremy looked back at him in mild alarm. Henry coughed and shook his head. Katherine yawned.

“Then shall we dance?” he asked Katherine.

“Dance?” she said. “Thank you, Nicholas, but I think I am too tired to dance.” She turned away from him, resting her chin on her hands on the windowsill.

“I would dance if I could,” said Jeremy. “But I cannot.” He tapped the stick. “I do not even think I can stand much longer.” He limped to the chair next to Nicholas. “May I sit?”

Nicholas nodded permission, and Jeremy awkwardly sat down.

“I cannot say I have been to many weddings,” Jeremy said, “but I did think this one to be prodigious quick. Did the hackney ride not last longer than the ceremony?”

Nicholas smiled. “I believe it did.”

“Nor could I understand most of the words. I think I heard ‘matrimony’ once or twice—at least ’twas a relief to know the parson performed a wedding and not a christening.”

Nicholas chuckled. “Even had he, ’tis true and legal for he listed it properly in the parish records.”

“If it’s all the same to ye,” Henry broke into their conversation, giving Nicholas a glum look. “I’m going to find a strong drink. Me tooth requires it.” He nodded at Nicholas and then to Katherine where she sat quietly at the window, her back to them. “I wish ye both the best, of course,” he said and left.

Nicholas’s attention drifted to his lady, to the elegant line of her neck, the relaxed slant of her shoulders. She had been so quiet since the ceremony. Mayhap she did not know what to do with a husband anymore than he knew what to do with a wife. Except for bed-sport, of course. He smiled. They could look forward to long hours of that.

Jeremy cleared his throat. “I want to tell you I am truly pleased you and Mistress Katherine have wed.”

Nicholas took a gulp of the hot coffee. He might as well tell the lad as much as he had told Katherine. “’Tis
Lady
Katherine now. She married a Baron.”

Jeremy’s head snapped up and he looked Nicholas in the eye. “Then why did ye not say so before?”

Nicholas had discovered long ago, that when lying it was best to stay as close to the truth as possible. “It means naught to me.”

Jeremy looked at him seriously. “Yesterday she told me you are an outlaw.”

“An outlaw no more, lad. Soon I will be a seaman, as I was for many years past.” Nicholas took another drink of coffee. “And you, my friend groom? What shall you be now that you are in London and your Lady no longer requires you? Will you stay with the horses or try for something more grand?”

Jeremy smiled. “There are many ways a man can improve his lot in London.”

A man? Nicholas smiled. “How old are you?”

Sitting up as straight as possible, using the stick for balance, Jeremy said, “I’ll be nineteen in less than a fortnight.”

“Ah, so old then? I ‘spose you are a man, my friend. I urge you caution in this grand town. There are many ways a man can find trouble here, or trouble can find him.”

“I am not all that trusting, as you may recall, but I thank you for the warning,” said Jeremy. “What plans do you have? Would you take my mistress, I mean my Lady, to sea?”

Nicholas frowned. “We have not yet decided.” Nay, he thought, he had not even thought on it, or talked to the lass about it. He looked over where she sat at the window.

“My bride has been very quiet. Think you she has fallen asleep?” He rose and walked over to her. Katherine’s eyes were closed. She let out quiet snores. Her hair, beribboned atop her head, looked like a crown. Several wisps straggled out, one dangled before her mouth, quivering in and out with her breath. Her skin looked translucent in the sunlight, and Nicholas realized how tumultuous the last days had been for her. He fingered the love-token in his pocket. Instead of giving it to her at the wedding feast, he would wait until she awoke.

He nodded to Jeremy, carefully gathered Katherine into his arms and carried her from the parlor.

* * *

Nicholas lay on the bed, watching Katherine sleep. Four hours earlier, he had carried her into their room, over the threshold as custom dictated, and put her down on the mattress. After loosening her gown and stays, he had stretched out opposite her. His mind had begun to churn, and he’d not had a moment’s peace since.

He had satisfied his pledge to his father: Ashfield was his, as was its mistress.

But what was he to do with them?

He’d never thought to have a wife. Katherine would surely make an admirable helpmeet. She knew how to manage an estate. She could run a staff of servants, but he didn’t have an estate, and was not likely to have one—even hers—for many years. He had no servants, save Henry. Although it was arguable
he
might need some managing, there would not be much else for her to do.

And though her future was now out of danger, he was not yet clear of it. In London, there was always the possibility he would be recognized by a passing friend, and she would learn the truth about him.

On the other hand, if he were to tell her all of it—his full title, why he’d returned to England, and what Ashfield was to him—then he wouldn’t have to worry about her finding out some other way.

And she would never trust him again.

But perhaps, if he told her just right, she would understand.

Nicholas leaned forward. “Katherine,” he said softly, yet loud enough for her to hear had she been awake. “I need to tell you something.” She did not stir, much to his relief. “I have sinned against you. Since the beginning of our acquaintance, I have lied to you about who I am. I chose to help you so that I could help myself. And now I sit here asking your forgiveness while you sleep because I have not the courage to ask it while you are awake.”

Katherine shifted, and Nicholas’s heart dropped. “Are you awake, lass?” he asked, swallowing uncomfortably. But she did not respond.

Relieved, Nicholas sat back on the end of the bed. As far as rehearsals went, it was adequate. Maybe next time he told her it would go as well.

* * *

Katherine drifted awake. Through the trailing ends of a dream she became aware first of the rough broadcloth coverlet against her cheek, and then of the hazy twilight that filtered through the window. She rolled onto her back to see Nicholas sitting across from her on their bed, his expression unusually melancholy.