With Her Kiss (Swords of Passion) (9 page)

He narrowed his gaze on her. “You are.”

“I lay with you often years ago. As I do now.”

He shook his head. “Yes, but—”

“That is not virtuous. You and I always enjoyed ourselves. I allowed you to bare my breasts and suckle me. I let you pet me, make me wet and want—”

He put up a hand. “You do yourself a disservice, Kat. We did not couple, save for that one time.”

“One time, aye. When I took your seed and carried Matthew to term. No one knew he was yours. Not my father or mother. I lied so easily. Even to my husband.”

“‘Twas a good lie you told. Rumour said he beat you even for the smallest slight.”

“He did until I learnt how to escape his temper. I became an even better liar. I was flippant to him, demeaning to him in public and more so when he had been cruel to me. I was shrewd. That is no virtuous woman, Geoffrey. That is a woman who—”

“A woman who did what she must to avoid bruises and broken bones. Much evil comes from a man’s harsh hand to a woman. She can begin to think as cruelly or, worse, devalue her own worth.”

She looked towards the rolling green horizon, recalling the years she had avoided her husband’s anger. “My trouble was I valued myself very highly.”

“My lord!” A cry came upon the gentle winds.

The sound of horses’ hooves churning the earth had Kat and Geoff turning towards the castle. The sight of the messenger sent blood rushing to Kat’s head. She swayed, her mouth working at impossible words.

“Who is this?” she asked as the young man rode nearer and she recognised him as the ghost who had accompanied Geoffrey into the main hall the night before then dissolved into the background. He had seemed familiar then. His height, his breadth. His voice a familiar timbre.

“My newest knight, my dear.”

Now as the youth rode closer, Kat stared at him, her lips parting, her jaw dropping.

“My lord, come quickly!” The man, breathless in his haste, drew up to them and controlled his panting mount. “We have visitors.”

“Who are they?” Geoffrey asked.

The messenger was a striking young man. And she knew him. In her heart, she recognised him.

Matthew!
The auburn hair, the forest green eyes, the square jaw, the flashing and endearing smile.

“Geoffrey,” she asked him on a whisper, “who is this?”

Geoff took her arm.

“My lady.” The knight greeted her with a generous smile and swept her a courteous bow from his saddle.

“Matthew, oh, Matthew!”

He dismounted, gentled his horse and strode to her to wrap her in his arms. His embrace was fierce but brief. “My lord,” he addressed Geoffrey, “forgive me for this.”

“No forgiveness is needed, Matthew.”

“My God.” Kat clung to her son. “How handsome you are, my darling.”

“Thank you, madam.” Her son peered down at her with tears in his eyes. “I am honoured.”

Kat could not get enough of looking at her child, her fingers digging into his forearms, her heart so full with love for his remarkable appearance here.

Geoffrey waved a hand and tossed off a smile, his expression tightening with tension. “Tell me, boy, what goes?”

“A party of men, my lord.” Matthew circled an arm around Kat’s waist and hugged her closer.

“How many?” Geoffrey asked.

“Ten. Fifteen at most. We cannot be certain until they draw closer.”

“Who are they?”

“We think they bear banners of red with white stripes along the distaff. Mayhap the symbol of a white boar as well.”

Katherine took these details in as if in a haze. To find Matthew here, and so suddenly, had infused her with hope and joy, more than she had known possible ever again.

Geoffrey frowned. “It sounds like Ferrer.”

Kat nodded. “It is. Those are his colours.” The threat of Ferrer here snapped her mind to clarity about the dangers they faced. On the heels of fear, she had a hundred questions about Matthew. She faced Geoffrey in awe and gratitude. “Matthew has been here and you did not tell me?”

“You were weak, muddled. I did not wish to confuse you more.”

She turned to absorb more of the sight of her boy, now a man. He was a handsome, dashing creature who resembled his father so exactly that Kat was taken back two decades to the hours when she had looked upon his charming father and learnt the meaning of love.

She examined this stunning replica of his father at the age of nineteen. “You are healthy?”

“And happy. I am my lord St Claire’s man.”

“In many ways,” she acknowledged.

“I am his son, I know,” her boy declared with ease. “He told me years ago when first I came to his service.”

Geoffrey came to stand beside her. “One look at him and I knew I was his sire.”

She yearned to run her fingers through Matthew’s burnished hair. “Aye. Never could anyone mistake you. Then or now.”

“I have raised him as my own, Kat. Yet never proclaimed him as such, lest the news travel and your husband learn it.”

“And did you ever wait table?” she asked of her boy who smiled broadly at her.

“Nay, madam. Never in my father’s house.”

“That was a tale we told abroad,” said Geoffrey, “to protect him from gossip and trickery. I sent him to Simon de la Poer in the north when he was fifteen. The older he became, the more striking the resemblance. For his protection and yours, he left. We declared he went to serve de la Poer. In fact, Matthew perfected his knightly skills with sword and dagger.”

“Did John ever notice the likeness?” she pressed for an answer.

“Aye, he told me so after he visited the north country last year. Quite by accident, he saw Matthew at a joust. He confronted me. Sneered at me. I did not take it lightly. He resented it. And I fear my reaction spurred John to act more viciously towards you, Kat.”

Tears stung her eyes. “I am so sorry for the years we spent apart.”

“Mother, none of that was your fault.”

“I’d say it was.”

“What’s done is done.”

She squeezed her son’s hand. “A tangle of problems.”

“But we are at an end of them, Mother.”

She swept her tears away, hoping he was right. “We solve today’s challenges. But soon I wish to hear more of your life with your father.”

“At supper. For now, Matthew, return,” Geoffrey declared and Matthew parted from her to mount his horse. “Do not keep our unexpected guests waiting. Lower the drawbridge. Invite them in. But man the murder holes. And after you close the portcullis behind them, tell Reginald to strip them of their arms. They will not walk through Chepstow armed to their teeth with pikes and arrows.”

Matthew nodded.

“Make them wait in the bailey until I call for you. I will receive them in the main hall.”

“Wait!” Kat grabbed Matthew’s reins. “Check their boots.”

He tipped his head in question.

“Ferrer and his men like to carry Italian daggers in their boots.”

Matthew scowled. “Is that how they subdued you, Mother?”

With the painful memory, she said, “Aye.”

“Well, then,” Geoffrey said, “do as your mother says, Matthew. I would like to own a collection of
stiletti
.”

* * * *

“I count twelve in chain mail,” Kat told Geoffrey as they stood on the dais in the main hall and peered out at the men who approached them. Lining the walls stood Geoffrey’s knights complemented by twenty or more from his friends’ retinues. Ferrer filled the entrance, clad in green velvet under chain mail. He was slim, balding, sharp chin up, dark eyebrows arched in haughty demeanour. Behind him, his men assembled in a phalanx, blinking, glancing to and fro, sceptical of what fate might hold here in this room.

Geoffrey snorted. “He seems a peacock.”

She nodded, rejoicing in Ferrer’s predicament and this chance to see him brought low. “True. Like so many, he has won his place in our King’s heart by his slavering and bowing. His serfs hate him for his greed. His poor wife was forever with child, losing each one, and finally losing her own life in the process.”

“A blessing that the children did not live to learn their sire’s ways.”

“Aye, a father should be an upright model for his sons and his daughters.” She briefly admired the sire of her own firstborn. “As you have been for Matthew.”

“You nurtured him well with your love.”

“And you with your strength of character.” She smiled at him in tender gratitude.

“He is my only child, Kat. Though I confess I have taken many women to my bed, none—I ensured—could ever conceive. I want you to know that.”

“The knowledge thrills me as much as your willingness to tell me.”

“I never treated him as my servant, Kat. Never.”

“Forgive me that I believed the lie.”

“You reacted to gossip. ‘Twas best for all of us that you did. Once John realised that Matthew was mine, he used it as additional fuel to his own greedy ambitions. This act by Ferrer and John to rob you of your lands and your widow’s rights to freedom is a heinous one. They need to be defeated.”

“Whatever occurs here,” she said with solemnity, “I will forever honour your name for the service you have done me.”

He eyed her, alarm grim on his thinning lips as he curled his fingers to summon Ferrer forward for his audience. “What happens here is that you win your freedom. Let us greet our unwelcome guests.”

* * * *

“Lord St Claire,” Ferrer began, irritation in his tone, “I object that you treat us like Welsh vermin. Your men take our dignity by manhandling us.”

“A small precaution.” Geoffrey clasped his hands before him, looking bored.

Ferrer shot a look of pure hate at Kat. She pursed her mouth in distaste for his posing.

“I am not your enemy,” Ferrer declared. “Indeed, I come only to remove you of your burden.” He nodded towards Kat.

To not even deign to utter her name was such a ripe insult that her blood ran hot with hatred for this little turd.

“She remains here.”

“Of course she remains!” He lifted a shoulder in nonchalance. “I understand she fucks you!”

Kat clenched her fists. How had he learnt that? From whom? Was the resentful maid an informer? How easily she could have used the little door to the plain.

Geoffrey bared his teeth. “State your intentions, Ferrer. I grow bored with your dithering.”

“I have a King’s writ to take her from you.”

“How wonderful for you,” Geoffrey commented as blithely as if they were sharing a cup of wine.

Ferrer reached inside the collar of his mail.

Geoffrey’s knights rushed forward, one waylaying Ferrer from his effort with a hand to his wrist and a knife to his throat.

“If you would have your man take his hand from me, St Claire, I would show you the writ.”

“Ferrer, I do not care if you show me Jesus walking on the River Wye, I will not give you the Countess Harleigh. Not now. Not ever.”

He dropped his hands, his shoulders lax. “You risk war.”

Geoffrey shook his head. “You risk stupidity. Do take the remnants of your abundant pride and leave.”

“You would let me go?” Ferrer startled.

Geoff’s long red eyebrows arched in humour. “Do you mean to stay?”

Ferrer frowned.

Geoffrey took two steps down to face the man, toe to toe. Even then, he bested him by at least ten inches in height and many stone in weight. “You are a little man, whose devotion to John will bear its own consequences. The Welsh princes will surely seek you out for abducting a woman who is one of their allies. Your English neighbours will not easily forget you captured one of their own. A woman, too. Nay, I would not go home without ample guard, if I were you, Ferrer. For who will slink into your home at night and slit your throat? Anyone, I would wager. Anyone.”

Ferrer’s men shuffled from foot to foot. Their gazes skittered about the room, checking the movements of any of Geoffrey’s men. They put Kat in mind of rats wishing to run from a house afire. She would have laughed had this been any other man than the one who had bound her arms, shoved her in a hole and left her to starve.

“My lord! A message, sir.” From the back of the room, Matthew hurried forward. With his hand up, he signalled to his father to wait. Then he leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Well, Ferrer,” Geoffrey addressed his intruder once more. “It seems you and your men will enjoy our hospitality after all.” He flicked a hand so that his guards doubled up on each of Ferrer’s men. “Our dungeons await. And I am eager to duplicate for you the kind of generosity you showed to Countess Harleigh.”

“Foul!” Ferrer dug in his heels as two men lifted him under his arms and dragged him towards the far door. “You said you’d let me go.”

“I would have,” Geoff said with a sardonic smile, “but that was before I knew John camped outside our gates.”