Knight of Desire (19 page)

“I have not yet decided, but I take it you have an opinion, m’lady wife?” Before she could answer, he asked, “Tell me, do
you think most wives offer their opinions on all manner of things to their husbands?”

“Aye, most certainly, to both questions,” she replied so quickly that William laughed.

“All right,” he said, in full good humor now. “Tell me what you’ve been planning to say from the start.”

“Stephen should stay with us,” she said without hesitation. “There is no one better to train him for knighthood than you.”
’Twas blatant flattery but true nonetheless. “And Stephen will need a steady man like you to fish him out of trouble from
time to time.”

“I was happy to settle here in the Marches precisely because it is far away from the Percys, my mother, and all the rest.
I don’t want to renew those ties. Besides, if I give in to my mother on this, she will ask for more.”

“If she is so horrid,” Catherine countered, “how can you leave Stephen in her hands?”

“Send that boy home to his mother,” Edmund warned, “before the king catches wind of his being here.”

“The king knows my loyalty,” William replied evenly.

“And you know the king,” Edmund said. “Carleton’s support for the Northern rebels makes any connection with his son too risky
for you.”

“There is some risk,” William agreed. With rebellions on both borders, Henry tended to see threats everywhere he looked.

“The king fears that the next time Northumberland calls for you, you may come,” Edmund said in a low voice. “It would take
little to raise his suspicions.”

“Then ask the king’s permission to keep Stephen here.”

Both men whirled around at the sound of Catherine’s voice.

“What are you doing sneaking up behind us!” Edmund shouted, his face red with anger.

“Perhaps you need to improve your skills,” Catherine replied with equal anger, “if a woman can surprise you in broad daylight
in the middle of the bailey yard.”

“Catherine—” William began, but stopped when she turned her glare to him.

“Stephen is twelve years old. The king will not hold him accountable for his father’s treachery.” She arched an eyebrow at
William. “He has been known to separate a father’s guilt from his son.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left them staring after her.

“You must do something about that woman,” Edmund said in a taut voice. “She interferes in men’s affairs. She does as she pleases,
and she will take you down.”

“I know you mean well.” The cold anger in William’s voice got Edmund’s full attention. “But she is my wife, and you will not
speak to her as you did.”

“Fine, just tell me you’ll not start taking her advice,” Edmund said. “For God’s sake, remember what she did to her first
husband and watch your back.”

“Rayburn deserved what he got,” William bit out.

“Aye, but at his wife’s hands?” Edmund said. “How long did she deceive him? Five years?”

“The past is past.”

“You are thinking with what’s between your legs, man. Can’t you see she has blinded you?”

“Then I’m a happy blind man.” William grabbed Edmund by the front of his tunic and looked him hard in the eye. “Find a way
to get along with her. If I must choose between you, have no doubt I will choose her.”

William was tired of this conflict between the two of them. He left Edmund and marched to the keep, intent on having words
with Catherine as well. When he reached the hall, one of the servants informed him that Lady FitzAlan was in Stephen’s chamber
on the third floor.

Puzzled more than angry now, he went up the stairs to one of the previously unoccupied chambers next to Jamie’s. He found
Stephen in bed and Catherine hovering over him, wiping his face with a damp cloth.

She looked up and saw him in the doorway. “He has the fever. That is what I came to the bailey to tell you.”

“Let one of the servants sit with Stephen tonight,” William urged Catherine when she came to bid him good night. “You must
get some rest. You are exhausted.”

For the last three days and nights, Catherine had shared the watch with Alys. Even when it was Alys’s turn, William would
wake to find Catherine had left their bed to check on him.

The lad was ill, indeed. When William looked in on him earlier, Stephen’s skin was so pale that the blue veins showed through
it. He’d looked unbearably young lying on the bed.

“The fever should peak tonight, so it is the most dangerous time.” She gave him a tired smile. “Once the fever breaks, I will
rest, and gladly.”

“I’ll come with you,” William said, throwing the bedclothes back.

“You will only be in the way,” she said, putting her hand out to stop him. Although her tone was teasing, he knew she meant
it. She kissed him distractedly and left.

Hours later, he awoke to find her side of the bed still empty. He dressed quickly in the faint first light of dawn. The keep
was eerily quiet as he made his way up the stairs to Stephen’s chamber.

The door was slightly ajar. He eased it open.

A surge of relief swamped him when he saw Stephen. The lad lay on the bed, wan but awake, with a slight smile on his face.

Lying beside him, fully dressed on top of the bedclothes, was Catherine. She was fast asleep and holding Stephen’s hand.

William walked softly to the side of the bed and put his hand on Stephen’s forehead.

“I see your fever has broken,” he said in a hushed voice.

Stephen nodded.

With a wry smile, William said, “Then perhaps I can have my wife back.”

They were quiet for a few moments; then Stephen said, “I can tell you what I want now.”

William raised his eyebrows. What was the boy talking about?

“In a bride. If you arrange a betrothal for me.”

William nodded, recalling the conversation.

Stephen cast a sideways look at Catherine sleeping soundly next to him on the bed.

“I want one like her—like your lady wife.”

Stephen’s grin was sheepish, but the sparkle in his eyes was anything but. And the boy was only twelve! William drew in a
deep breath and shook his head. His wife was right. Stephen was the sort to get himself into trouble.

He made his decision.

“There is not another woman like Catherine, but I will do my best for you,” he promised. “I’ll send a message to your mother
telling her you shall remain here at Ross Castle.”

Stephen’s smile grew wide at the news. William did not return the smile. It was time for the lessons to begin.

“Let this be the last time,” he said, tapping his finger against Stephen’s chest, “I find you in bed with another man’s wife.”

S
tephen recovered his health quickly. He was a good-humored lad, and William enjoyed his company.

Truth be told, he felt more content with his new life with each passing day. He felt he had a family, with Catherine, Jamie,
and Stephen. He was not sure how it happened, but he’d come to trust his wife.

He had even told her about Hotspur’s death at the Battle of Shrewsbury and what happened after. King Henry had had the grace—or
perhaps the wisdom—not to ask William to fight against Hotspur that day. Instead, William was sent off to keep watch for the
approach of Glyndwr’s forces. He returned in time to see Hotspur fighting his way through the melee. Hotspur killed two decoys
dressed to look like the king and nearly reached the king himself before he was cut down.

Hotspur died a true warrior’s death.

William accepted that Hotspur should lose his life for taking up arms against the king. But he could not reconcile himself
to what the king did after.

When the people refused to believe the famous warrior was dead, the king had Hotspur’s body dug up and drawn and quartered.
On fast horses, the four parts were taken to be displayed in the four corners of the kingdom. The bloody head was delivered
to Hotspur’s poor wife.

William did not change his allegiance, but he lost a large measure of respect for his king that day.

Hotspur never once spoke to him with warmth, never once acknowledged their blood tie. Yet, William had been plagued by guilt
ever since Shrewsbury. Only after he spoke of the events with Catherine did those feelings ease. She seemed to understand
both why he sided with the king and what the choice had cost him.

Catherine paced the solar, debating with herself. Now that she had badgered William into telling her all, she felt guilty
for the one secret she kept from him. His fierce words to her at the abbey came back to her again and again.

I cannot abide deceit.

Though she had told him no lie, neither had she been fully honest with him. Was she wrong not to have faith in him? Not to
believe he would understand? She rubbed her temples. She had a blazing headache.

She did not like to admit it, but there was another reason to tell William. Although she dismissed it at first, Edmund’s threat
to discover her secrets nagged at her. What if someone had seen her that day? She did not think so, but it was possible one
of the servants had been there in the hall. None of them would speak against her. But Edmund had already shown he could wheedle
information out of them.

She jumped when the door opened.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

William’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “I like to visit my lady wife in the middle of the afternoon. I come often enough; I
did not think to give you such a start.”

Catherine let out her breath and attempted to return his smile. “I am sorry. I was lost in my thoughts.”

“Then I hope your thoughts were the same as mine.”

He pulled her into his arms. It felt so good that she was sorely tempted to put off telling him once again. Her conscience
got the better of her.

“William, I have something to tell you.”

His light mood was gone in an instant.

“All right,” he said, releasing her and stepping back.

She took his hand and led him to the window seat. Sensing his tension, she feared their new bond was too fragile for this
revelation. She took a moment to get her courage up.

“Come, Catherine, it cannot be as bad as that,” he said, and patted her hand. “Tell me what worries you.”

The anxiety in his dark honey eyes belied his soft tone. Keeping him waiting would only cause him to think of darker and darker
possibilities.

“You know Rayburn hurt me.” She fixed her eyes on William’s hand over hers as she began her tale; it still was not easy for
her to talk about how Rayburn mistreated her. “He wanted an heir, but he had difficulty… performing the task.” She cleared
her throat. “Sometimes he did manage it, but I did not conceive. He was becoming more and more violent.

“I was young and very frightened.” She gave William a furtive glance, hoping he understood how dire her situation was. “I
thought it would not be long before he killed me.”

She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “There was a young man,” she said, barely above a whisper. “He saved me.”

“Saved you?” William said, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice. “Just how did he save you?”

“He took care of me when I was injured.”