Knight of Desire (18 page)

William could not help but feel some sympathy for the boy. With both him and John beyond her reach, their mother’s ambition
would all fall on her youngest. The woman could be relentless.

“I appreciate your candor,” William said. “You are not as much like our mother as you look.”

William took a drink of wine, then asked, “So tell me, Stephen Carleton, is wealth all you want in a wife?”

“Not all,” the boy mumbled, giving Catherine a furtive glance. He colored again and fixed his eyes on the table.

William rubbed his hands over his face. He had not seen this young brother since Stephen had been a babe—and not for long
then. Truth be told, he’d forgotten all about him. Now that the lad was here, what was he going to do with him? Should he
send him back? Leave him at the mercy of their mother?

He would have to think on it long and hard.

“You can stay until I decide what to do with you,” he said, and stood up. “Now I must speak with my wife.”

“I have matters to report to you, things you must hear,” Edmund said, also rising.

“All seems safe and sound, Edmund. I will find you later,” William said, keeping his eyes on Catherine. “Come, m’lady wife,”
he said, offering her his hand.

As soon as they were out the doorway, he pulled her around the corner. He kissed her long and hard, not caring if a passing
servant saw them.

When he moved his hand to her breast, she said, “Not here, William!”

He took her by the wrist and led her up the stairs to the solar. As soon as he closed the door, he had her up against it.

“It seems like three months, not three days,” he said amidst a frenzy of kisses.

He wanted to touch her everywhere at once. With a hunger of her own, she met him kiss for kiss and touch for touch. Her little
moans of pleasure increased the urgency of his desire. Unfastening the endless line of buttons was beyond him. He sucked on
her breast through the bodice of her gown until he felt her nipple harden through the layers of cloth.

His cock was so hard it pained him. He would die if he didn’t have her soon.

He worked her skirts up until, at last, he felt bare thighs above her stockings. Groaning with pleasure, he slid his hands
along her warm skin. She caught his face in her hands and locked her mouth on his, hot and wet and urgent. When she sucked
his tongue, he felt it to his toes. He thought he would explode.

He cupped her bare buttocks, lifting her off the ground, and ground against her. His need was mindless, pulsing.

Afraid of frightening her with the violence of his passion, he leaned over her shoulder to rest his forehead against the door.
He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. His effort at control was severely challenged when she wrapped her legs
around him.

“Catherine, if you want me to stop, you must drop your legs,” he said in a ragged voice. He did not ease his pressure holding
her against the door. “If you leave them around me like this, I cannot be sure I will hear you if you tell me later.”

Her breath in his ear was as hard and fast as his own.

“I want you inside me. Now.”

The saints preserve him! With one hand, he loosed the ties that held his leggings as he kissed her fiercely. Then, in one
strong thrust, he was deep inside her. The only place he wanted to be. Sweet Jesus! He hoped she would forgive him, but he
could not go slowly. Not this time. As he pumped into her, her high gasping breaths sent him to the very edge. She screamed
in his ear, and he went over with her.

Afterward, his legs were so weak he was afraid he would topple to the floor with her. He leaned one arm against the door until
he could get his balance. With her legs still wrapped around him, he managed to carry her into the bedchamber and collapse
with her on the bed.

Good God!
He was light-headed and out of breath. Never in his life had he wanted a woman that badly.

They lay side by side, barely touching, staring at the ceiling. When she still said nothing, he thought uneasily of the night
he caused her to flee to the abbey. Though he was not drunk this time, his behavior was no less aggressive, no less coarse.
Nay, he was worse this time.

God’s beard.
He had taken her against the wall, faster than lightning, without so much as a greeting.

What had he been thinking? The truth, of course, was that he had not been thinking at all.

“I did not intend to misuse you,” he said. “I just wanted you so much.”

She took his hand and squeezed it. “And I you.”

Hearing no censure in her voice, he sighed with relief. “So you will not be packing off to join a nunnery the moment I close
my eyes?” He was only half joking.

She laughed. “ ’Tis much too late for that!”

“Aye,” he agreed, smiling back at her. “No one who has seen us these past weeks would believe this marriage was not consummated.”

His heart turned in his chest as he looked into her face. The spark was back in Catherine’s eyes, as the abbess said. He meant
to keep it there.

“Do you think I could be with child already?”

He heard the hopefulness in her voice and felt an unfamiliar joy rise in him. She would be the mother of his children. He
had no words to tell her what this meant to him. Hoping to show her how grateful he was, he pulled her into his arms and gave
her a long, gentle kiss.

One kiss led to another. This time, he took her with a slowness that nearly drove them both mad. When they finished, he lay
sprawled across the bed. He felt suffused with well-being and peace.

He was jarred from this pleasant state when Catherine sat up and burst into convulsive weeping.

“What is it?” he asked, jolting upright. “What could be wrong?”

He had half expected something like this earlier, after he’d taken her against the door. But, God in heaven, why was she upset
now? The second time, he’d been slow and gentle. She had certainly seemed to appreciate his efforts.

“I do not mean to weep,” she said, wiping her tears away with her hands.

Her shoulders shook again, and she tried to turn away from him, but he put his arms around her and held her.

“Kate,” he said into her hair. “Tell me.”

She took a shaky breath. “It is just that I feel so close to you when we are like this.”

He kissed her fingers and looked into her wet eyes, waiting for her to make sense of this for him.

“But I know it is an illusion.” She wiped her hand under her nose. “ ’Tis all false.”

He had never felt so close to a woman before, but he was not sure how to tell her that. Or whether he should. Instead, he
asked, “Why do you think it false?”

“Because you do not trust me at all.”

There was a long silence between them. When he did not take the opportunity she gave him to confess, she laid out her complaint
in full.

“You have told me nothing. Nothing. Nothing of your family, your life. Imagine my surprise at finding a boy at our gate claiming
to be your brother, when the only brother you mentioned to me is dead.”

Once she started, she was going to say it all.

“I have to learn from a twelve-year-old boy that Northumberland is your father! That Hotspur was your brother!” She was sputtering
now, her anger gaining ground. “I am your wife, and everyone knows this but me.

“You distrusted me because I fought my husband’s treachery. Yet, I did not go against my own blood as you did.” She gestured
wildly as she spoke, pressing her hand to her chest each time she referred to herself.

“You fought on the king’s side when it was your own father and brother who led the Northern rebels.” She shook her finger
at him. “Do not tell me your brother and father did not expect you to join them or that they did not feel betrayed when you
did not.”

William let her talk until she ran out of words. His reasons for not telling her no longer seemed important. He had hurt her,
and he did not want to do that anymore.

“Where would you like me to start?”

Catherine listened as William told her his story.

“My mother played a high-stakes game and lost,” he began. “Northumberland took his time looking for a second wife after the
death of his first wife, Margaret Neville Percy. He had three sons by Margaret, so he could bide his time.

“My mother was Margaret’s niece and visited often.” In an indifferent tone, he added, “She is quite beautiful.

“She was married to an elderly man named FitzAlan. She might have looked forward to life as a wealthy widow if FitzAlan had
not crossed King Richard. When most of FitzAlan’s lands were seized, she anticipated the need for a second husband. She set
her sights high.

“She toyed with Northumberland, putting him off until FitzAlan was on his deathbed,” he continued. “When she found herself
with child a few weeks after the funeral, she expected Northumberland to marry her.

“What my mother could not anticipate was that Robert Umfraville, Earl of Angus, would die at just that time, leaving his titles
and vast wealth to his widow, Maud. Maud was a widow but two weeks before Northumberland wed her. My mother was left to make
the pretense that FitzAlan miraculously conceived a child on his deathbed. That is how I came to bear his name.

“Northumberland arranged for her to be married to one of his knights. Everyone knew I was the result of Northumberland’s dalliance
with my mother—most especially her new husband.”

Catherine understood from this that, even as a very young child, William was aware of his stepfather’s resentment.

“She sent me to live in Northumberland’s household when I was six.”

He spoke with little emotion, but Catherine sensed the great bitterness he harbored against his mother.

She ventured to ask, “How old was your mother when she had her affair with Northumberland?”

He shrugged. “She was married to FitzAlan at fifteen, so I suppose she was about sixteen.”

“And yet you believe it was she who seduced him?” she asked. “Northumberland must have been, what, forty? And he was a very
powerful man. It may have been difficult for her to refuse him.”

When he did not respond, she said in a soft voice, “I cannot help thinking you judge her harshly.”

William folded his arms. “You do not know her.”

“You as much as called her deceitful and manipulative at table today,” she said as gently as she could. “You should consider
the effect of your words on Stephen. He is just a boy.”

“Stephen seems to have her measure.” After a moment, he took a deep breath and said, “Perhaps I should take more care with
him. He looks so much like her that it is difficult for me to remember he is an innocent.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a furious knocking at the door.

“Who is it?” William demanded in a booming voice.

The words were indistinguishable, but the high-pitched voice on the other side of the door was Jamie’s.

She and William scrambled to the floor for their clothes. Catherine slipped her gown over her head and jumped back into the
bed just as William reached the door.

“Jamie!” William called out in greeting. Scooping Jamie up with one arm, he brought him over to the bed.

“Did Mother make you take a rest, too?” Jamie asked, rubbing his eye with his fist.

William nodded. “I suspect she will make me go to bed early tonight as well.”

“ ’Tis best to just do what she wants,” Jamie said, his blue eyes wide and knowing.

William could not keep back his smile. “I will do everything she asks.” He caught Catherine’s eye over the boy’s head. “And
then I will do it all again, just to be sure I’ve got it right.”

T
he next morning, Catherine suggested they take Stephen riding to show him some of the nearby area. It was another lovely summer
day, and it felt good to be outside the confines of the castle walls. She maneuvered her horse so that she and William rode
behind the others.

“Stephen is a charming lad,” she said.

“Charming?” William said in a sour tone. “What good is that?”

She laughed. “Stephen will need it! Something about him tells me he has a talent for getting into trouble. He’s already gone
into the village without telling anyone.”

“That seems harmless.”

“The illness we had at the castle earlier in the summer spread to the village,” she explained. “I thought it had run its course,
but two villagers died of it just this week.”

“Stephen seems healthy enough.”

She nodded and went back to what she had been saying before. “Stephen may have more charm than is good for him, but he has
a good heart. He has been very kind to Jamie.” She turned to smile at William. “Just as you are.”

Unable to help herself, she added, “Truly, your mother cannot be as bad as you say to have raised two such sons.”

“If either of us has a soft heart toward children,” he said, staring straight ahead, “do not credit it to her.”

Mentioning his mother was a mistake. She regretted letting herself get diverted from her purpose.

“So, William, what are your plans for your brother?”