Knight of Desire (24 page)

She caught sight of Edmund, talking with several of the men.

“Why is Edmund not in armor?” she asked William, tightening her grip on his arm.

“Edmund is staying here with a few of the men,” William said. “Glyndwr has his army moving fast, hoping to take Worcester
before the king can reach it. There is almost no danger of an attack on the castle; still, I cannot leave it completely undefended.”

“I have been left in charge of this castle many times,” Catherine said. “I neither need nor want Edmund Forrester here.”

William ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. “I am sure you managed well enough on your own, but Edmund has
years of fighting experience.”

She was unmoved by his argument and did not hide it.

“I warned Edmund that if he does anything to offend you, I’ll not keep him in my service.” He held her face in his hands and
kissed her forehead. “Please, Catherine, I do not want to argue with you as I leave. I need to know my best man is protecting
you if I’m to keep my mind on what is before me.”

She ceased to argue. It was dangerous for a man to be distracted when he fought. For this same reason, she was waiting to
tell him about her pregnancy until he returned.

Stephen appeared beside them with Jamie in tow.

“You were fighting Scots at my age,” Stephen said to William, his eyes bright with anger. “You treat me like a child!”

Catherine grabbed Stephen’s arm and hauled him a few feet away where William would not overhear her.

“With William gone, I need you here,” she told him in a low, fierce voice. “Do not abandon me.” She held his eyes until she
was sure he understood she meant it.

When she rejoined William, he whispered in her ear, “What did you do, promise to marry the lad if I do not return? He’s puffed
up like a peacock!” He squeezed her hand. “Whatever it was, I thank you.”

The men were mounting their horses, so William threw Jamie into the air one more time and ruffled the boy’s hair.

Next, he turned to say farewell to Stephen. With a nod toward Catherine and Jamie, he said, “Keep them safe, brother.”

Finally, he gathered Catherine in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth in front of everyone.

He mounted his horse. “You will be safe here,” he said, looking down at her. “I promise you.”

“Promise only that you will come back to us.”

“You need not worry for me,” he said, flashing her a wide smile. “I will always come back for you, Kate. Always.”

Those left behind at Ross Castle waited for news. They heard, first, that King Henry reached Worcester faster than anyone
thought possible—and not an hour too soon. Since his arrival, however, the two great armies had been in a standoff.

While the commanders decided what to do, individual knights met in single combat on the field between the armies. This served
no purpose, except to relieve the boredom. The stakes were too high to be decided by knightly challenges.

Catherine’s tension over the coming battle grew as the days of waiting continued. Having Edmund unclothe her with his eyes
every time she crossed his path did not help. He was, however, careful to speak politely and show her every other courtesy.

The memory of how he cornered her in the solar still rankled. While he would not dare harm her, neither did she want to be
caught alone with him again. With Stephen here, there was little chance of that.

Stephen took William’s admonition to keep her safe to heart. The first night, she found him sleeping in front of her chamber
door. Her promises to have her maid sleep with her and bar her door were not enough to dissuade him. Only when she showed
him the blade under her pillow did he finally agree to return to his own chamber.

“I would like to visit Abbess Talcott today,” she announced at the midday meal, pushing her food away.

“I will be your escort,” Stephen said.

Edmund shook his head. “I doubt that is what your brother had in mind when he told me to provide a proper escort for his lady
wife.” To Catherine, he said, “I will take you myself, since that is what William would wish. I have an errand in the village
today, but I’ll gladly take you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said, thinking William must have lectured Edmund to accommodate her.

“I’ll come, too,” Stephen said.

Edmund took one look at the stubborn set of Stephen’s jaw and shrugged. “I cannot spare another man to go with us, but there
isn’t much danger with the whole of the rebel army at Worcester. You are both fine riders, so we should be able to outrun
any other kind of trouble.”

Edmund took a piece of roasted pork with his eating knife. “All the same,” he said, pointing his knife at her as he chewed,
“I would not take your son along.”

Much as Catherine hated to admit it, Edmund was right. It was safer to leave Jamie at the castle. He would be fine with his
nursemaid for the day.

“Did you get your business done in the village yesterday?” Catherine asked Edmund. Now that they were on their way, she could
afford to be friendly.

“Aye.” Edmund’s reply was curt.

She had to admit Edmund took his responsibility to protect her seriously. Riding in front of her, he kept a sharp watch, constantly
moving his head from side to side. She turned in her saddle and found Stephen doing the same behind her. In the North, boys
learned to watch for raiders from a young age.

Catherine blinked as they rode into a copse of wood, and her eyes adjusted from bright sun to dappled light. The green canopy
overhead was lovely. She was leaning back to look for birds when she heard the sound of hoof-beats. In another moment, a half-dozen
men on horses burst into view around the bend ahead.

Edmund turned and shouted, “Ride hard back to the castle! I will hold them as long as I can.”

Catherine was unable to tear her eyes from the men galloping toward them. She watched Edmund spur his horse forward to meet
them, his broadsword ready in his hand.

“Now, Catherine!” Stephen shouted. He grabbed her horse’s bridle, turned her around, and slapped her horse’s hindquarters.
It took off with a jerk.

Over her shoulder, she saw Edmund fighting off two of the men. As she watched, four other riders rode past the swinging swords
without breaking their speed. The four charged toward her and Stephen.

Too late, she spurred her horse. As she left the copse for the open field, two horses came thundering beside her, pinning
her between them. One of the riders leaned down and snatched up her reins.

As the man pulled her horse to a jarring halt, she tried to keep her eyes on Stephen. He was sweeping across the field ahead
of his two pursuers. Praise God, he was going to outrun them. But then Stephen looked back and saw her.

“No, Stephen, no!” she shouted as he turned his horse in a wide arc to evade the two men and head back toward her. To her
horror, he was brandishing his sword as if he meant to take them all on to rescue her.

She turned to the dark, fierce-looking man holding her horse’s reins. “Please, sir, do not hurt him!”

The man squinted against the sun and watched Stephen’s progress without giving any sign he heard her.

Frantic, she turned to the man on her other side. “Please, he is only a boy!”

The man flashed her a smile. “If you can convince the lad to put down his sword, I can promise his safety.”

Stephen came thundering down on them, and the man who had just spoken was forced to fend off his attack. Though Stephen was
skilled with a sword for his age, the man easily parried his thrusts. The silent man who held her horse watched them, looking
unconcerned.

“M’lady?” the man fighting Stephen called out. “I need your help.”

“Stephen, put down your sword!”

Her shout caused Stephen to glance toward her. The man took advantage of Stephen’s momentary distraction to take his sword.

“Listen to the lady,” he said, “and you shall not be harmed.”

Stephen reached for the dagger at his belt, but the man anticipated the move. Holding Stephen’s forearm, he reached across
Stephen’s body and took the dagger.

Without taking his hands off Stephen, he said to the other man, “Rhys, do you think that is all?”

The man called Rhys flicked his eyes to Stephen’s foot. At this silent signal, the first man checked both of Stephen’s boots.
When he had removed the hidden blade, he glanced again at Rhys. Rhys nodded, apparently satisfied Stephen was disarmed.

Ignoring the men, Stephen said to Catherine, “I am sorry I failed you.”

“You could not have done more.” Even in the midst of their danger, it hurt her to see Stephen look so defeated. “I do not
believe these men mean to harm me,” she added, and regretted the note of uncertainty that crept into her voice.

“Most assuredly we do not, dear lady,” the handsome man who disarmed Stephen spoke up.

The two riders who chased Stephen had joined them by now. Catherine examined their four captors closely. They looked as though
they had been traveling rough, but their clothes were finely made. She guessed they were Welsh noblemen. If she was right,
their intent was likely ransom, not rape and murder.

“You are Welsh rebels?” she asked.

“Aye, that we are, Lady FitzAlan,” the handsome one answered.

They knew her name. That meant they did not just happen upon her, notice her fine clothes and horse, and take advantage of
a chance opportunity.

“My name is Maredudd ap Tudor,” the man said, bowing his head. “These two”—he pointed to the two young men who had chased
Stephen—“are my brothers, Owen and Maddog.”

Both young men nodded politely. She could see the family resemblance, though neither was quite as good-looking as their dashing
older brother.

Tudors?
She had heard the name. She knew she had. Were they not close kinsmen of Owain Glyndwr, the rebel leader?

And then it came to her.

“Are you the same Tudors who violated holy Good Friday to take Conwy Castle?”

“That would be our elder brothers,” Maredudd said, and all three Tudor men grinned.

God have mercy, she was a captive of the wily Tudors!

“The church decree to shed no blood on the holy day was not violated,” one of the younger Tudors put in. With a wink, he added,
“The castle guards were strangled.”

The story of the unexpected attack was told up and down England. The rebels took the castle easily, since the entire garrison
was at Mass in the nearby village.

“And the man holding your horse,” Maredudd ap Tudor continued, “is Rhys Gethin.”

Upon hearing the name, Catherine gasped aloud and brought a hand to her chest.

“I see you have heard of him,” Maredudd said with an amused smile. “Then you will know why we call him ‘Gethin.’ It means
‘the Fierce’ in Welsh.”

Rhys Gethin had led the Welsh forces in their great bloody victory at Bryn Glas three years before. Against overwhelming odds,
the Welsh killed nearly eleven hundred Englishmen. It was said that at the end of the battle, the field was knee-deep in English
blood.

“I am surprised men of such importance have come on such a lowly errand,” she said, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice.
She risked a glance at Stephen, hoping he would not contradict her. “You go to much trouble for little, I fear. It is unlikely
my husband will pay much for my ransom.”

Maredudd Tudor threw his head back and laughed. “Faith, m’lady, a man would pay a good deal for the return of so fair a woman.
The rumors of your beauty hardly—”

“Enough!” Rhys Gethin’s deep voice cut Maredudd off. “We delay too long. Glyndwr needs us at Worcester.”

With that, he tossed her horse’s reins to Maredudd and spurred his own horse forward. Maredudd tied her horse to his and fell
into line behind him. The two younger Tudors followed with Stephen between them.

Catherine looked over her shoulder at the copse of wood, hoping Edmund got away.