Knight of Desire (31 page)

“ ’Tis true, in your condition you need not worry about bringing another man’s babe home to your husband, but…” Marged’s will
to argue her point seemed to fade the longer she stared at Robert.

“Marged!” Catherine said sharply. “This man has not come to bed me! How could you think it?”

Catherine turned to Robert. “You must see we cannot wait. We have to tell her and Maredudd now.”

Robert said in a low voice, “Are you sure this is wise, Catherine?”

She took Marged’s arm. “Robert is a friend who has brought a message from my husband,” she explained as she walked Marged
to the door. “Go wake Maredudd and bring him here so we may talk in private while the servants sleep.”

Once Catherine finally convinced Marged to fetch her husband, she turned and found Robert leaning out the window.

“Unless you are certain this Tudor is willing to come to terms with your husband,” he said over his shoulder, “we should make
our escape now, before the lady wakes him.”

Though Maredudd’s easy manner might fool some into believing he was not a careful man, Catherine knew better. Robert may not
see the guards outside, but they were there.

“What I am certain of,” she said, “is that we would not make the gate.”

A
harsh wind blew the rain against William’s face in icy pellets. He’d been keeping watch on the ramparts of the outer curtain
wall of Beaumaris Castle since dawn, and he was chilled to the bone. He paced back and forth to keep warm. At each turn, he
stopped to squint through the driving rain toward the west.

He looked again. In the dull gray light of the dismal morning, he picked out a lone figure riding toward the castle.

The troubadour was back.

A quarter hour later, he and Robert were conferring in his room in one of the sixteen towers along the outer wall.

“She has been treated well,” Robert assured him again.

William narrowed his eyes at Robert. There was something he was not telling him.

“In sooth, she has grown quite fond of her captors,” Robert said. “She made it clear she wants none of them harmed.”

“She thinks it worth the risk, then, of approaching Maredudd Tudor?”

“I would say so, since she has already done it.”

“She what!” William sighed and shook his head. “She has not changed, I see. Catherine would step right into it, once she decided
that was the thing to do.”

“I was shaking in my boots for fear she misjudged the man,” Robert admitted with a grin.

“Since you returned alive, I take it this Tudor is willing to make a deal?”

“So he says, and your lady wife believes him,” Robert replied with a shrug. “He will meet you in a wood along the road between
here and Plas Penmynydd to give you his terms. He says he will come alone, and you must do the same. He wants to keep this
quiet so Glyndwr does not catch wind of it.”

Robert paused, then said, “You know this could be a trap.”

“Aye, but I have no choice,” William said. “When are we to meet?”

“On the morrow, an hour past dawn.”

It was still cold when William set out the next morning, but the rain had lessened to a light drizzle. As directed, he traveled
alone and put his fate in the hands of God. And Maredudd Tudor. He thought of Jamie and Stephen and prayed he could bring
Catherine home to them soon.

As he came to the copse beside the dip in the road that Robert described as the meeting place, a hooded rider crested the
hill before him.

“FitzAlan?” the rider called out.

William started. The voice was a woman’s. As she pulled her horse up, he saw that the voice belonged to a pretty dark-haired
woman.

“I am FitzAlan. Are you here for Maredudd Tudor?”

“I am his wife, Marged,” she said.

What sort of man was this Tudor to send his wife out alone on such an errand?

“Maredudd went with the men who are taking Catherine to Harlech.”

“What!” he exploded. “The devil’s spawn is taking her to Harlech?”

“There is little time, so listen,” she snapped. “A dozen men rode up to our gate this morning with orders from Glyndwr to
take Catherine.”

William told himself he had plenty of time to catch up to them. The ride to Harlech was long.

“What route did they travel? How far ahead are they?”

“They left not more than half an hour ago, but they are taking her by sea! Their ship is to the west, eight or nine miles
from here.”

Beaumaris was in the opposite direction. There was no time to ride back for his men. Even if he rode straight to the ship,
he might not catch them.

“Maredudd will try to stall them, but you’d best ride hard.” She quickly gave him directions.

“Are you safe riding back to Plas Penmynydd alone?”

She smiled. “Aye, these are Tudor lands.”

“God bless you, dear lady.”

He spurred his horse and rode like the wind. He had to get to the ship before it set sail. His heart seemed to beat in time
with the pounding of his horse’s hooves. Faster, faster, faster.

After what seemed like hours, he reached the coast. A half mile north, he found the manor house where Marged Tudor said Glyndwr’s
men had borrowed horses. He spotted the ship offshore, just visible in the morning fog.

He turned his horse off the road and pulled up in the low trees to count the figures on the beach. One man in the water, guiding
a rowboat to shore. Two in the rowboat. Eight on the shore. He narrowed his eyes, searching for Catherine.

Two more men emerged from the wood dragging a woman between them. She struggled against them as they hauled her toward the
rowboat.

Catherine. He’d found his wife.

The frustrating weeks of waiting were behind him. Patience, negotiation, money offers—none of it had brought her back. Now
he could do what he was born to do, what he’d been trained to do, what he did best.

Percy blood ran through his veins. He was son of Northumberland the King-maker, brother to the legendary fighter Hotspur.
None could touch him. It would not matter if there were ten men or twenty or sixty between him and Catherine. He would get
to her.

“AAARRRRRRHHHHH!” He shouted his battle cry as he burst through the brush.

He rode to the edge of the sea where his horse could get better purchase and galloped along the shoreline. Brandishing his
broadsword, he rode straight at the men on the beach, striking fear into every heart.

An unearthly cry in the distance sent a shiver up Catherine’s spine. She turned toward the sound and heard hoofbeats pounding
up the shore. Everyone on the beach stopped in place to peer through the fog in the direction of the sound.

As they watched, a horse and rider emerged through the fog charging toward them at a full gallop. Horse and rider lifted and
then sailed over a log as if the horse had wings. The men scattered as the rider bore down on them, sword swinging and screaming
his battle cry.

William had come to save her.

She had heard stories of his feats in battle. She’d watched him practice countless times. None of it prepared her for seeing
him like this. He fought with a grace and power that was both terrible and utterly magnificent.

The first two men were dead before they could draw their swords. The sword of a third went flying through the air. The man
ran for the woods as William turned his horse to take another pass. At least two more fell. Then William dropped from his
horse onto one man and came up swinging his sword into another. He whirled to face the remaining men, broadswords in both
hands now.

“Your husband, I presume,” Maredudd said in her ear. “Let us get off the beach before one of these men thinks to grab you
and hold a knife to your throat.”

She and Maredudd watched the rest of the fight from behind the low bushes that grew back from the shore. It was over soon.
Two men were in the water, swimming toward the ship. Others had run from the beach and disappeared into the trees.

“Catherine! Catherine!” William’s voice echoed as he looked up and down the shore shouting her name.

William looked up and down the beach, frantic.

Then he saw her standing alone in the tall grass at the edge of the beach. Catherine. An angel come to earth.

He stood for a long moment, frozen in place, not breathing. Then he slid his sword into its scabbard and ran to her. His hands
shook as he cupped her beloved face. Never had she looked more beautiful. He kissed each cheek, pink with the cold.

“I praise God you are safe!” he said, closing his eyes and letting his forehead touch hers.

He had promised himself that this time he would give her the choice. This time, she would come to him willingly, or she would
not come.

“I failed in my duty to protect you. If you cannot forgive me, if you do not wish to live with me again,” he said, his heart
pounding in his chest, “I will make other arrangements for you.”

He waited for her to speak, to rail at him for failing her. But she was silent. She would hear him out.

“I hope with all my heart you will choose to live with me. If you will, I promise I shall do all I can to protect you and
be a good husband to you.”

Catherine rested her palms against his chest and looked up at him with vivid blue eyes that saw the truth in his heart.

“Thank you for coming for me.” She leaned her head against his chest. “Take me home, William. Take me home.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “How I have missed you!”

God be praised, she was his again.

“Greetings, FitzAlan.”

William pushed Catherine behind him and pulled his sword as the man who spoke stepped out from behind the bushes.

“ ’Tis all right,” Catherine said, grabbing his sword arm. “This is Maredudd Tudor. He has been very good to me.”

“Not good enough to send you home,” William said, staring hard into the man’s sharp hazel eyes.

“If not for Maredudd, I might still be at Harlech,” she said. “He did his best to protect me.”

Maredudd Tudor gave him a broad smile full of humor. William would not trust the man farther than he could throw him. Still,
he felt he owed some debt to him.

“What were you going to ask in exchange for my wife, before Glyndwr’s men changed your plan today?” William asked.

Maredudd Tudor went still. “I sought a promise for a later time.”

William nodded for him to continue.

“Under Glyndwr’s leadership, we have succeeded in taking control of all of Wales, save for a handful of castles. Still, I
fear we will not be able to maintain our hold.”

“You won’t,” William said. “You cannot prevail against us without the help of the French. The French will promise, but they’ll
not send their army again.”

Maredudd Tudor nodded. “Even without the French, we might outlast King Henry. His enemies are many and they divert him. But
Prince Harry is another matter. He will defeat us in the end.”

William sensed what this admission cost the proud rebel. He waited for the man to make his request.

“Before the rebellion, we Tudors held high offices in the service of English kings. When this is over, I want my son Owain
to be able to make his way in the English world. What I intended to ask was your pledge to assist him when the time comes.”

William respected the man for seeking a means to protect his son in an uncertain world. He gave his promise.

“When you call on me, I will help your son.”

“I am grateful,” Maredudd Tudor said with a stiff nod. Then he said, “This is yet Welsh rebel country, so you’d best be gone
before the men you chased off raise the alarm.”

William turned to Catherine. “He’s right. We must make haste.”

“Thank you,” Catherine said, throwing herself at Maredudd. “You were the best of wardens, Maredudd Tudor.”

Both of them were laughing as she stepped back.

“Give my love to Marged and Owain,” she said.

“We shall miss you, Catherine. Go with God.”

It began to drizzle again soon after they set off for Beaumaris. The last few miles, it turned into a cold rain.

When they reached Beaumaris, Robert was waiting for them at the gatehouse. William was anxious to get Catherine out of the
rain and hustled her through the side door Robert held open.