My Cherished Enemy

MY CHERISHED ENEMY

Samantha James

Published by Sandra Kleinschmit at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 by Sandra Kleinschmit

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

are products of the author's imagination or are used

fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance

to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEVIL'S MISTRESS

Seeking protection from her vicious scheming uncle, spirited Kathryn of Ashbury is forced to turn to her despised enemy, Guy de Marche, the dashing Earl of Sedgewick, for aid. But the handsome arrogant knight demands more than she is willing to give—arousing within her a passion she has vowed to resist.

MASTER OF HER HEART

Guy returned from the Crusades to find all he loved destroyed. Craving vengeance against the blackhearted responsible, he claims his foe's beautiful niece as boots in his personal war of retribution. And though the fiery, headstrong Kathryn has sworn no man will conquer her, she is no match for the virile, battle-hardened knight. But Guy will not rest until he has won what is rightfully his—including the enchantress who has enslaved his heart and soul.

Dear Readers,

It is with very great joy that I present to you, in e-book format, one of my earliest historicals, My Cherished Enemy. It has a beautiful new cover, and I'm tremendously excited to share this story with you. I had a great time rediscovering my lead characters, Guy and Kathryn, with their indomitable spirit and pride. Guy and Kathryn have such fiery chemistry, and their love scenes are hot-hot-hot!

As a writer, my goal is to entertain you. To make you laugh and cry and feel every emotion that comes with the magic of falling in love. They came alive in my heart... as I hope they will in yours.

All my best,

Samantha J.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title

Synopsis

Copyright

Letter to My Readers

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

More from Samantha James

Prologue

Winter 1152

“I cannot do this, my lady! I—I fear they will find us and we will both be killed, the babe and I!"

The high thin voice belonged to a young girl of no more than sixteen summers. Her body was stout and tall for her age; she came from hearty peasant stock. She knelt in the rushes before the Lady Elaine, the woman she had served as long as she could remember.

"Gerda, you must!" Elaine spoke sharply, a tone Gerda had heard but rarely. "If my son is to be saved, it is you who must save him. You must flee this keep and take Peter back to Sedgewick." Her eyes briefly sought the sunken gaze of the woman who lay abed, Lady Claire Chandler, but it was Gerda to whom she spoke.

"We are marked, all of us here. You have seen with your own eyes the bloodlust of our attackers. They spare no one—not the farmer in the field, nor women or children. I prayed it would not come to this, but they know not yet of you or Peter."

Outside in the bailey, the skirmish raged anew. The ramparts were filled with the sounds of battle. Harsh guttural sounds tore from men's throats. Sword met sword, the clang of steel against steel ringing through the air. A terrified scream reached a shattering crescendo, then fell eerily silent.

The raiders were sly and cunning. Led by Richard of Ashbury, they had entered the keep as friends, not foes, seeking an alliance with Claire's husband Thomas, castellan of Ramsay Keep. They had barely passed through the gates than the unwarranted siege had begun.

For three days, Ramsay Keep's defenders had fought a valiant but losing battle. Claire's husband Thomas was left with only one choice. Yet Thomas’s offer of surrender had been met with treachery. He was struck down from behind and still the raiders stormed the walls; still they maimed and killed.

Elaine's tone grew beseeching. "Please, Gerda! I plead for the life of my son. These raiders take no prisoners. Their horses trample the dead and the dying. I would have Peter spared—and you as well!"

Gerda began to tremble. She had been with the her lady forever, it seemed to her young heart. Her mistress had laughed with her, scolded her, protected her from her father who was wont to wield the stick whenever he was in his cups. Indeed, it was her father's wrath which had caused the injury to her knee when she was but a babe. Others ridiculed her clumsy gait, her awkward progress whenever she tried to hurry. But her lady guided gently and praised her care of the little lord Peter. Who would guide her when her lady was gone?

Gerda was immediately ashamed of her selfishness. With eyes like the summer sky and hair as gold and glistening as a radiant halo, her lady was a vision from above, Gerda thought. And she was good and kind and sweet.

She began to weep. " 'Tis so unfair, my lady! If your lord were here, these wretched robber barons would not have dared attack Sir Thomas or any of his vassals!"

So be it, Elaine agreed silently. Her heart twisted. Gerda's words rang pure and true indeed. Sir Thomas held this keep for her husband, Guy de Marche, Earl of Sedgewick, who was a man of the times. Like all men of his rank, Guy had trained as a warrior throughout his life. His prowess as a knight was known from the mist-shrouded land of Scotland to the rugged coastline of nearby Cornwall. He was a fierce and lethal force in combat, deadly and precise and fearless. But Guy de Marche was also a man of great honor and he ruled his fiefs with a just and noble hand.

But Guy was half a world away. Both he and Sir Hugh Bainbridge, Claire's brother, were on crusade. They had been gone nearly a twelvemonth.

"Please, milady, will you not come?" Gerda begged her mistress. "You say this keep and all who dwell within are doomed. Come with me, I beg of you!"

At this, Claire stirred slightly. She groped for Elaine's hand. "The girl is right, Elaine." What might have passed for a smile crossed lips that were once rosy and full with the sweetness of youth. Russet-brown hair lay matted and drab against the pillow. Her skin was white and colorless, her breathing shallow and raspy. Elaine despised herself for the thought, but she prayed that this ague which had sapped the life breath from her friend these past weeks would soon send her to God's kingdom. Better that than death at the hands of the treacherous butchers who ravaged the village and even now pillaged the keep.

"Nay," Elaine said softly. "I cannot leave you, Claire. Your brother Sir Hugh has served my husband too long and too well for me to forsake those he holds dear. And you, his sister, are my dearest friend in all the land. As there is honor among the living, there is honor among the dead. I ask only that you save the life of my son." She touched the dry parchment-thin cheek of her friend. "I fear there is not much time. The fighting grows close. Quickly now, I bid you tell Gerda the way to the monastery. The monks there will see that they are sent to Sedgewick."

Claire closed her eyes in silent assent. In a voice grown weak from strain and sickness, she told the girl of the secret staircase behind the bedstead. The staircase twisted down to a tunnel that led outside the keep to a hut near the woods. It was but a short distance to the monastery. From there the girl could seek refuge and escort back to Sedgewick.

At last Claire slumped back against the pillows. Elaine lifted her sleeping child from the wooden cradle and gazed down at him. Tears glistened in her eyes.

She touched his cheek gently, marveling that God had given her such a wondrous gift. She buried her face against his unruly dark curls. Peter was the image of Guy, every bit his father's son. He had been conceived on her last night with Guy. This Elaine knew with all her heart. Her one regret was that her beloved husband had yet to see the fruit of their love.

God, how she loved them both! With tears blurring her vision, she drew back to trace the babe's features one by one: winged brows as black as night, tiny nubbin nose, the beautifully shaped mouth that even now held a touch of his father’s strength.

The tears spilled over. She would never see Peter grow sturdy and tall as the oak trees which grew near Sedgewick... as tall and proud as his warrior father. But even as she dried her tears, Elaine refused to think of death. She thought only of life... her son's life.

Very gently she wrapped him in swaddling cloth and gave him over to Gerda. The child slept on, snug against the young girl's breast. Elaine slipped open the hidden panel behind the bed and turned to Gerda.

She clasped her sturdy young shoulders and looked the girl straight in the eye. "I trust you in this, as I have never trusted anyone in my life, Gerda."

Gerda looked ready to cry. "I—I will not fail you, mistress."

Elaine squeezed her shoulders and smiled. "I know," she said simply.

Gerda clutched the babe in one arm, a tallow candle in the other. She stood in the threshold of the secret stairway, frightened for herself, frightened for her lady. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook with the force of her emotions. "I will pray for you, my lady," she sobbed. "I will pray that what you fear will not come to pass and you will once again grace the hall at Sedgewick."

And she would pray for naught. But Elaine withheld these words; instead she tipped the girl's chin up. "I know you do not understand, Gerda," she said softly. "But I do what I must."

"But you choose to die."

Elaine was already shaking her head, a sad, faintly wistful expression on her face. Her hand came out to rest for an instant on the cloth covering her child's head. "No," she said quietly, "I do not choose to die. I choose for him to live." She gave the girl a gentle shove toward the darkened stairway. "Now go, Gerda. Fly as if the devil himself were at your heels and do not stop until you are safely inside the monastery."

They shared one last hasty embrace. Elaine watched until Gerda disappeared from sight and the echo of her shuffling footsteps became faint and distant. At last she closed the heavy door and slid the secret panel back into place.

When she turned she found Claire's eyes upon her, clearer than they had been for days. She crossed to her quickly and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Claire feebly gripped her hand. "Had I known this would happen," she murmured, "I would never have bid you come to me." She tried to smile. "But I wanted to see you and Peter one last time," she whispered. "And I am afraid I am much like Gerda, for I fear I do not understand why this is happening. I do not understand why Thomas was killed. Why Richard of Ashbury covets this humble keep."

" 'Tis not your fault." Elaine soothed her with a tender touch upon her brow. "King Stephen's rule has been naught but a time of lawlessness and greed. 'Tis said that vassals battle one another throughout the land, while Stephen tries vainly to restore order, to tame the pattern of violence. As for why, I cannot say. To war," she said sadly, "is the nature of men. And Richard is an evil man. He seeks that which is not his, for that reason alone." She could not change the course of events and so she must accept them.

Elaine stayed by Claire's side throughout the long day, listening as the battle drew nearer. . . ever nearer. Dusk crept through the clouds hovering on the dismal horizon. The shadow of darkness—the veil of death—crept within the chamber. Elaine felt the strength wane from Claire's hand and knew that she slipped into sleep... sleep eternal.

Hers was a hurt too deep for tears. Elaine lovingly folded Claire's hands upon her breast, silently praying she would be granted a Christian burial. She was dimly aware that the crush of battle had extended into the great hall below.

She fleetingly thought of following Gerda and saving herself. But the notion had no sooner chased through her mind than fate decreed otherwise.

There was a heavy footfall of steps in the passage outside. The door was flung open.

A great hulk of a man filled the threshold of the chamber, dark and evil-looking. A vile lust gleamed in his eyes. Blood dripped from his sword onto the rushes.

But Elaine drew herself up proudly, quaking inside but determined to show no fear. She was the wife of Lord Guy de Marche, Earl of Sedgewick.

The man stepped forward.

Elaine began to pray. She prayed that Gerda's journey back to Sedgewick would be a safe one. She prayed that the Lord would watch over Guy and keep him safe from the heathens in the Holy Land. She prayed that Guy would soon return home to Sedgewick to love and protect the son he had never seen. . .

May her soul rest in peace.

Chapter 1

Spring 1155

"... may her soul rest in peace."

Guy de Marche, Earl of Sedgewick, knelt before the grave of his beloved wife. The words were the closest thing to a prayer he was able to summon, though his countenance was far from prayerlike. For even as he spoke the words, all the curses of hell sprang forth within him, fighting to be free. His mind was consumed by thoughts of but one man.

Richard of Ashbury.

High above, Ramsay Keep squatted on the hilltop. A melancholy veil of fog surrounded its crenellated towers and jagged outline, a reflection of Guy's dark and somber mood. For two long years Richard had laid claim to the keep, but no more. . . no more. Guy's battle to regain Ramsay Keep had been satisfying short, yet the taste of victory was like dust in his mouth.

He rose to his feet, a powerful figure garbed in the fiercesome trappings of war, his helm tucked under his arm. Behind him, atop the rise that guarded the gravesite, a body of mounted men watched somberly, awaiting his command. The silence was broken only by the occasional snort of a stallion and the gurgling rush of the stream, swollen by early-spring rainwater.

Another man walked slowly to his side. Guy stirred only when a rough callused hand clapped his shoulder. Neither man spoke, yet their very silence was rife with words unspoken.

Sir Hugh Bainbridge gazed solemnly at the other man's profile. His sister Claire was buried but a few paces distant from Elaine, and so he had more than an inkling of the pain Guy felt. He called Guy lord as well as friend. As a boy, Hugh had been page to Guy's squire and served at his side whenever the call to duty arose. Hugh had shared in all his lord's triumphs—both on the battlefield and off—just as he shared this loss as well.

It was Guy who broke the silence. "Why," he murmured in a voice thick with emotions held deep in his heart, "must the Lord see fit to give with one hand and take with the other?"

Hugh gleaned his meaning only too well. Guy's marriage to Elaine was truly nothing short of a miracle. Theirs had been an arranged marriage, and yet the two had fallen madly in love with one another. Hugh and his friends had chided Guy greatly about his adoration of his wife, for no one liked the ladies more than Guy. But lo and behold, Guy found marriage to the lovely Elaine no burden at all and it proved the end of his wenching.

In truth, Hugh had faintly envied Guy's happy contentment and his desire to settle into his estates and concentrate his efforts at building a family. Hugh was a knight bachelor and possessed no holdings of his own; he was certainly not yet sought after as a husband. Indeed, it was only of late that he'd even begun to think of gaining a wife.

"I should have been here." Guy's mouth twisted as he sucked in a harsh breath. "God damn it, I should have been here!"

His violence stunned his men-at-arms. They glanced uneasily at each other and wisely moved away, leaving the two knights alone.

Hugh was the only one who was not startled. "Do you think I have not said the same a thousand times since?" he replied unevenly. "We cannot alter the course of our live. We cannot change the past."

"And I," Guy ground out tightly, "cannot forget!"

"You had no choice but to honor the call to arms."

"The call to arms?" Guy's laugh was bitter. "My friend, you and I have been gone from this land for three harvests! Half of that time was spent in that bloody dungeon in Toulouse!"

And it was there that Guy discovered the existence of his son Peter. It was there he was also told of his wife's murder. Guy had been so shocked— he'd had no idea Elaine was even with child—and then wondrously elated at the news of his heir. From the heights of happiness. . . to the dregs of hell. . . in the blink of an eye.

"Had we not been there," Hugh reminded him, "we might never have run into Henry's forces when we were finally able to escape. And methinks it less than wise to be on the opposite side of our new king."

"True indeed," Guy agreed with a grim smile. "I had no choice but to pledge my sword to Henry."

Hugh's shaggy brownish-gold eyebrows shot up. "You regret it?" he asked in some surprise.

Guy shook his head. "Nay," he replied. "Henry strikes me as a man of many faces. But I think 'tis well that with Stephen's death Henry has reclaimed the throne of England. I suspect 'twill not be long before this land is on the road to recovery." He fell silent for a moment. "And I gained Henry's sanction to recoup that which was taken from me."

"Which you have done."

"Which I have done."

Guy's gaze flitted to the gates of the keep. His tone was harsh, even bitter. Hugh watched as a mask of hardness settled over his handsome features. Seeing it, Hugh suffered a prickly sense of unease. He knew Guy as well as anyone—better than anyone—yet in that moment he felt he knew him not at all.

Guy caught his friend's uncertain expression and gave a twist of his lips. His next words were not what Hugh expected.

"Your brother-in-law Thomas served me long and well in holding this keep, my friend. Now he is gone, and your sister as well. 'Tis time you were rewarded for your loyalty, Hugh. Therefore I offer Ramsay Keep to you—though not to hold this manor and lands for me and mine—but as your own, to do with as you will."

For just an instant Hugh was stunned. Ramsay Keep was a fine and wealthy manor—not nearly so grand as Sedgewick, but it was all he had ever dreamed of. And yet...

"May I speak plain, my lord? Not as your servant, but as your friend?"

"I would have it no other way, Hugh. You know that."

Hugh smiled slightly, but it was a smile that held no small amount of sadness. "Your generosity overwhelms me, Guy. Would that I could accept it. But mayhap 'tis just as you said. Claire died here, and 'twas here that Thomas and your lady Elaine were slain most cruelly." He hesitated. "I fear I could never forget the evil that was done here."

Guy was silent for a moment. "Then you are with me?" he said finally. "I need you now more than ever, Hugh. But only if you are willing."

There was no further need for talk. Guy turned and strode into the circle of stampeding horses and fully armed men. He paused only for one last glance at Ramsay Keep.

His eyes squeezed shut. Elaine, he thought desperately. So sweet. So gentle and tender... Elaine! He screamed her name in silent anguish. Pain ripped through him like a sword from throat to groin. He saw her as she had once been, golden and gloriously beautiful, her spun-gold hair spinning about her, laughing in that lilting musical voice of hers. He had always teased her that she had been crafted by the angels in heaven... and it was there she now dwelled.

It was terrible, my lord . .. horrible!

The words Gerda sobbed out upon his arrival back at Sedgewick took the form of vivid, horrible images in his mind's eye.

Richard and his men came in the name of peace. Then they raped and killed and butchered... They spared no one, not women, not children. They showed no mercy, my lord. No mercy at all!

The vision in his mind shifted and twisted, like a windswept fog... He saw Elaine as she must have died, lying bruised and violated in a crimson pool of blood.

He felt he'd been catapulted once again into the wild foray of battle, seized by a red mist of rage deeper than anything he could ever remember. His head, his blood pounded with the heat of his wrath.

His eyes opened. His wide unblinking gaze took in the final resting place of his wife and the many others who littered the grassy hillside.

"Your death will be avenged, my love," he murmured aloud. "This I promise. This I vow, by all the saints."

Hugh nudged his destrier beside him. "It does not end here, does it?" he said quietly.

Guy's silver eyes glittered like steel. His face had taken on an expression which would have frightened many a brave man. Guy de Marche was not a man given lightly to revenge; he fought when the need arose, to protect and defend, but he was not a cruel man. Yet Hugh did not pretend to misunderstand the bent of Guy's mind at this moment, the raging storm roiling within him, swirling and growing stronger by the second.

"Nay." Guy stared straight ahead. Never had a single word sounded so ominous and deadly. "It only begins."

He wheeled his mount to face his men-at-arms. "We ride for Ashbury!" he shouted. Sunlight glinted against the steel of his sword as he ripped it from his scabbard and held it high above his head. A raucous cheer went up from the men. With the thunder of hooves shaking the earth, they raced madly after the Earl of Sedgewick.

Thus began his quest for vengeance.

The great hall at Ashbury Keep boiled with life like stew in a kettle, but the ladies' bower was calm and peaceful. Several serving girls sat beneath the window, winding wool into long skeins. Another sat spooling thread onto bobbins. The rhythmic clack of the loom in the corner filled the air, a soothing backdrop to the talk and laughter exchanged between the servants. Another woman, daintily blond and beauteous, smiled and nodded and occasionally joined in the chatter.

From her place near the doorway, Kathryn of Ashbury fixed brilliant green eyes upon her sister, her expression disturbed. How, she wondered silently, would Elizabeth take the news? Would she cry? Pretend she understood and then run into her room and weep silently into her pillow? A feeling of guilt wound through Kathryn. Either way, she wasn't sure she could stand it.

Elizabeth was happy here, happy and content. The bower was a place of privacy, where Elizabeth was able to relax and be herself; she was neither timid nor fearful, or plagued by the memories of a past that seemed to never drift out of reach.

A pang swept through Kathryn. In the four years that had transpired since their parents' death, she had done her best to shield Elizabeth from further hurt. And now, all was well. All was quiet and serene and settled in Elizabeth's small world. But with what she was about to tell her...

She stepped into the bower. "Leave us, please," she said briefly to the three serving girls. Two scrambled to their feet immediately. But Helga, the eldest of the three, complied with far less haste.

Kathryn watched as Helga slowly pushed aside her distaff, praying for a patience she had never been blessed with. The girl then began neatly piling the skeins next to her. Kathryn pressed her lips together; she knew better than to believe the girl wished to make herself useful, for she was well acquainted with her laziness. More than likely, Helga's supposed tidiness was meant to irritate.

It was all Kathryn could do to hold her tongue. Helga's grandfather had been the smithy at Ashbury even before Kathryn's father Sir Damien had been lord of the manor. The old man had passed on several years ago, and Helga, whose parents were also dead, had been brought into the keep to serve as ladies' maid. But she had done precious little in the way of serving the two ladies of the household; Kathryn and Elizabeth saw to the upkeep of their clothing and chambers, and Kathryn had quickly learned she could not speak freely before Helga. She suspected her of carrying tales to her uncle Richard—as if her uncle were not already eager enough to see his niece take the bite of the lash or the cuff of his hand.

Yet Kathryn could not dismiss the girl either, though Richard had turned matters of the household over to her. To do so would be tantamount to admitting defeat. Her uncle would glory in knowing he had provoked and bested her; Kathryn refused to give him the satisfaction.

But it also appeared Helga was not above using her womanly attributes to advance her position. The girl openly returned the admiring gazes of her uncle's knights; she laughed when a male hand trespassed boldly beneath her skirts. And of late, Helga hinted that she had oft shared Richard's bed. Kathryn had long since ceased to be shocked. Richard's wife had died in childbed long ago. Since that time, countless serving wenches had warmed his bed. If Helga were the latest, Kathryn feared the girl's insolence would know no bounds.

Helga continued with the task. The bodice of her rough woolen gown gaped open but the girl paid no heed. Kathryn lost her temper at last. "Make haste, girl," she snapped. "There are no knights here to ogle your charms and I would speak with my sister."

The girl withdrew at last, but not without bestowing on her mistress a triumphant smile. Kathryn ignored it, closed the heavy wooden door, and prepared to face her sister.

Elizabeth had pushed aside the loom. Kathryn turned and beheld her sister gazing at her with a slight smile curling her lovely mouth. Her sheer veil only enhanced the shining glory of her hair. Like the finest beams of the sun, the shimmering strands sparkled like a pale golden waterfall down her back. Her face was small and heart-shaped, her eyes the color of the sky on a warm spring day.

Seeing her sister thus, Kathryn felt a painful squeeze of her heart. Elizabeth deserved so much more than what she had—spending her days cloistered in this bower for fear of the outside world, a world filled with men who knew nothing but war and lust. If only their parents had lived, her sister would have wanted for nothing! There would have been a husband, and children Elizabeth could love and cherish.

But dreams were for naught. Dreams were for children. . . and fools. It was a lesson Kathryn had learned well—within months of the time she and Elizabeth were given over to their uncle's care. Richard was their father's bastard half-brother; King Stephen was so busy trying to restore order to his lawless kingdom he had little time for other affairs. He had wasted no time in granting all of Sir Damien's lands and holdings to Richard. There was little two young maids of fourteen and fifteen could do. Now, both women were subject to the whim and will of a man whose moods grew fouler with each passing day.

Kathryn's shoulders slumped. She was being foolish, she told herself bleakly, foolish and fanciful. It was possible their lot in life would have been little better had their father lived. Had Sir Damien chosen to marry either of them off, it would have been for one reason only—to unite lands and holdings. Not for love, Kathryn thought bitterly, never for love.

As women, they had little say in the matter. But at least Ashbury Keep would have been theirs...

Kathryn did not aspire to happiness. She aspired to freedom, to at least some measure of it, however small. She yearned to live her life as she willed— to make her own choices and decisions—and not beneath the domineering fist of her uncle.

Perhaps she could not gain all that she sought, but she was not like Elizabeth, content to gaze out at the world and never really be a part of it. But there was a tiny kernel of hope inside her. It was blighted hope, perhaps. But it was all she had.

And it was this which brought her to this moment.

Kathryn crossed to where her sister still sat upon a low-backed chair. She knew of no easy way to break the news to Elizabeth and so she simply came out with it. "Roderick has asked me to marry him," she said quietly.

Elizabeth stared at her numbly. "Marriage?" she echoed. Her lovely forehead pleated with a frown. "Surely you jest. Why, Uncle seized our dower lands long ago. Even if he approved, what would you bring to the marriage?"

"I would bring naught but myself." The subject of their dower lands still rankled; Kathryn cut her sister off more sharply than she intended, but Elizabeth didn't notice. She still looked rather stunned. Well, better that than tears. "Roderick is willing to take me as I am," she added quietly.

Elizabeth rose from her chair, an odd expression on her face. "Forgive me, sister. But I cannot see you a meek and servile wife."

Meek and servile? The thought made Kathryn smile, a smile that was all too rare these days. “In this I fear you are right," she admitted.

A hint of puzzled hurt crept into Elizabeth's beautiful blue eyes. "I do not understand," she murmured. "I do not understand why you should wish to marry Roderick. You do not love him, surely!"

It was more an accusation than a question. A trickle of shame crept through Kathryn. For all that Elizabeth was younger by only a year, she was remarkably naive. Many times, she saw only the goodness in life, for her heart was filled with hope and kindness.

Perhaps it was for the best, for Elizabeth had seen... what no woman should ever see.

Kathryn went to her and pulled her down on the cushions before the window. "Nay," she said quietly, "I do not love Roderick. I love no man." Nor, she added silently, will I ever. Since the death of her mother and father, she had known little of tenderness, save Elizabeth's. The world was a harsh one. It was a man's world, controlled by men. Their needs, their wants, their desires were all that mattered, and women were there only to fulfill those needs. In her heart Kathryn knew she had little choice but to tolerate the unfair treatment of her sex.

Yet her rebellious mind refused such passive acceptance.

Elizabeth's lips began to tremble. 'Then why? What will happen to me if you marry Roderick? He has a small fief of his own. No doubt you—you will leave here! I—I do not understand, Kathryn! Have I displeased you? Made you angry that you wish to quit this keep and be rid of me?" Her spiraling voice reflected her fears. "If you leave with Roderick, what will I do? I love Ashbury as much as you, but I could not stand it here without you, Kathryn! And Uncle refuses to let me take the veil!"

Kathryn's laugh was tinged with bitterness, but she sought to ease her sister's mind. "I do not seek

to leave here, Elizabeth, for this is our home. It does not matter that our bastard uncle calls himself lord and master," she said fiercely. "When Father died, King Stephen granted his lands and our wardship to Uncle, but he has done naught but seek more, always more. 'Tis men whose laws say that we as women cannot pay homage. Therefore it does little good for a woman to inherit! But in my mind, Ashbury is ours—yours and mine. And I make you a sacred vow here and now, Elizabeth. Someday Ashbury will be ours once again!"

Elizabeth gasped in horror. "How can you make such a vow? Especially one you cannot hope to keep!"

Kathryn leaped to her feet, her eyes blazing. "I cannot go on like this any longer. If the past four years under Richard's thumb have taught me nothing else, I have learned that 'tis the way of men to take what they want. In Uncle's eyes, we are no more than servants. He makes us beg for what little we have—what belongs to us. And 'tis for this reason that I would ally myself with Roderick."

Elizabeth hesitated. She envied her sister, for Kathryn was quick and intelligent and witty—and not afraid of her own shadow as she was.

Kathryn's face softened when she saw her sister's confusion. "You still do not understand, do you?"

Elizabeth shook her head miserably.

"Uncle is driven by greed," Kathryn explained quietly. "He gave away our dower lands for one reason only—he seeks to keep us here with him forever. He fears a husband might challenge his claim on our father's lands."

Kathryn thought of Roderick, chief retainer of her uncle's knights. Many times in the last four years had Kathryn wished that she had been born a man so that she could challenge her uncle sword- to-sword for what was hers by right of birth. But being a woman, she must fight with what weapons were at hand.

And this was one time her womanhood might be a blessing and not a curse. Kathryn knew nothing of women's coquetry, but she was learning. She hadn't mistaken the flare of desire in Roderick's eyes. Only this morning he had declared his love for her. With a touch, a word, she hoped to be able to sway him to the bent of her mind. She had prayed long and hard for freedom from her uncle's tyranny and God had led her to this crossroads. She despised the method and the means, but fate left her no other choice.

"There are still those knights who are loyal to us here, despite Uncle's attempts to roust them and replace them with his own." Her voice rang with quiet determination. "I am counting on that loyalty as well as Roderick's position and leadership to help us assume our rightful place here. Roderick has knights of his own loyal to him. With Richard gone and Roderick as my husband and protector, Ashbury will be ours once more."

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide and fearful. "Rebellion? You would dare a revolt against Uncle in his own keep?"

For just an instant Kathryn's eyes flared. Then she glanced quickly around the chamber. "Keep your voice down," she cautioned. " 'Tis the only way. Richard is a harsh and brutal lord. There are many who would gladly see him replaced."

Elizabeth said nothing. After a moment, Kathryn shook her head sadly. “'Tis not the way I would have it happen. And it may take time, but I see no other way."

"I—I think I understand." Elizabeth drew a long, shaky breath. "But must you marry Roderick in order to carry out this plan?"

"It is the only way," Kathryn replied calmly.

"But he stares at you so, when he thinks no one is looking. Methinks he is nearly as greedy as Uncle." Elizabeth shivered, thinking of the tawny- haired Roderick. He was tall and broad-shouldered, broader even than her uncle. And while he was handsome and not ill-mannered as some of the other knights, there was something about him...

"I do not like him, Kathryn." Elizabeth shuddered. "How can you even think of marrying him?"

"You like no man," her sister pointed out. And Elizabeth feared every man, though she was better at hiding it than she'd once been.

Elizabeth regarded her sister. No two sisters could possibly be more different, either in looks or demeanor. Kathryn was as dark as Elizabeth was fair; Kathryn was firm and unwavering, afraid of nothing, while she cowered here in her bower. Yet never had Elizabeth wished she were more like Kathryn than at this moment!

She wrung her hands. "If only I were more like you. If only I were as brave and strong as you! I am capable of nothing but hiding in this chamber like a child who fears the dark!"

Kathryn felt a wrenching pain in her chest. Her sister had witnessed their mother's violent rape and murder; it had gouged a wound which had never healed. Uncle called Elizabeth's fear of men unreasonable. But Kathryn understood. Countless nights she had held Elizabeth's shuddering body, her mind tortured by dreams in which she lived through that horrible day once again. For Elizabeth, the nightmare had never truly ended.

Warm fingers pressed against Elizabeth's trembling lips. "Hush," Kathryn said softly. 'You are good and kind and sweet. I would have my sister no other way." They embraced tightly, but Elizabeth's delicate features were still etched with worry when she drew back.

"1 still do not like the thought of you marrying Roderick," she said quietly. "Besides, what makes you think Uncle will permit it? He wishes to keep us under his thumb."

"He believes he controls Roderick," Kathryn reminded her. "Through Roderick, 'tis my hope Uncle will feel he has twice the power over me. But if he balks at granting consent, I plan to tell him I am with child."

Elizabeth gasped. "With child!" Her gaze slid down her sister's slender form.

"I am not. I am as untouched as you." Kathryn laughed. Elizabeth was as shocked as she had expected. They both knew what went on between men and women, especially Elizabeth. As for Kathryn, some of her uncle's knights were crude and lewd. They spared no thought for her tender ears. Kathryn had no doubt that such an act was vile and disgusting. It was but one more way men sought to subjugate women and the thought hardened her heart.

The words she spoke were bitter. "Richard has Ashbury. He has usurped other lands as well." Her soft lips curled with disdain. "And he thinks he has gained honor to his name. But for once, that is well and good. The shame of his niece giving birth to a bastard is one he dare not take. He desires no further stain on his name."

Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap. "And so you think he will grant consent to your marriage to Roderick?"

"Aye."

Her sister regarded her somberly. "I fear men," she said softly, "while you scorn them. You swore that if we were ever free of Uncle, no man would conquer you. No man would claim you. Yet you would give yourself to Roderick." She shook her head. "This is not the time to be reckless and headstrong."

Kathryn lowered her eyes. Elizabeth had little interest in the outside world, but at times she showed unusual wisdom. Her sister's words pricked her deeply. Kathryn swallowed and went on bravely.

"I have prayed for deliverance, Elizabeth, and this is the course set out for me. Were I a man, I would challenge Uncle in battle for what is rightfully ours. Alas, I have the courage but not the strength. And no matter what the outcome, I will have the satisfaction of knowing the choice was mine. To Roderick, I am not just a mere vessel; I am an equal. It is the only way, Elizabeth, the only way. Marriage seems a small price to pay."

Elizabeth's gaze was troubled. "And when Uncle discovers you are not with child after all?"

"The deed will already be done. I will be wed to Roderick."

Elizabeth watched her sister depart from the bower, her narrow shoulders stiff with pride. Kathryn possessed the same proud and stubborn spirit as their father. Indeed, he had fought to the death rather than surrender Ashbury to a band of raiders. She flinched at the memory. He'd been badly wounded during the fray, yet still he claimed victory. Two weeks later he'd died from infection.

Elizabeth loved Ashbury as much as Kathryn and their father did; she hated her uncle's presence here. Within these lofty stone walls, she felt secure. But it was love of Ashbury which had robbed her of the lives of both parents, and the knowledge pierced her chest like a knife blade.

Her hand fluttered to her breast. Dread filled her mind and heart, spreading like slow poison. "Kathryn, I fear you are too much like Father," she whispered aloud. "You may well succeed and claim Ashbury as your own. But at what cost to yourself?"

Early that evening Kathryn slipped outside the castle walls. A misty drizzle fell from the sky, but she paid no heed. She merely gathered her thin woolen cloak more tightly about her and draped the concealing hood over the braided coronet atop her head.

She stopped only once, when a waning sliver of sunlight streaked through the cloud blanket. To her right, fat sheep slouched in the pasture. To the left, the pounding waves of the sea crashed against the cliffs. She loved Cornwall, its wildness and its mystery. She stood for a moment, a still figure crowning a lonely hilltop. Then she hurried on.

She stopped when she reached the secluded covert where she was to meet Roderick. A prickly unease crept up her spine. Just for an instant, she had the strangest sensation she was being watched.

A tall figure stepped out from behind a thicket of spindly trees.

"Roderick!" She pushed back her hood and held out her hands, suddenly ashamed of her fleeting apprehension and reassured by his presence. He grasped her hands and gazed down at her. She did not miss the flare of approval in his eyes.

Aye, she thought, she had chosen well. Roderick was strong and quick-thinking, and, above all, ambitious. She was counting on his ambition to help her regain Ashbury. It was but a boon that he was pleasing to look upon. With his tawny-brown hair, his imposing stature and blazing golden eyes, he reminded her of the majestic lion gracing the silk tapestry her father had brought back from the Holy Land.

"Well?" One thick golden brow hiked upwards. "I can wait no longer for your answer, lady. Do you or do you not seek to be my wife?"

Her eyes lowered demurely. "I do," she said with the tiniest of smiles. She glanced up in time to see an expression of triumph settle on his features. Roderick had, she realized, never doubted her answer.

Kathryn found the notion vaguely disturbing. At times Roderick's behavior bordered on arrogant. But wasn't it true that this, too, might be a blessing in disguise?

She let him lead her beneath the shelter of a tree. His smile contained a rare flash of humor as he grandly spread his cloak upon the mossy ground and pulled her down upon it. She was surprised at his set expression when he turned to her. "I have thought long and hard about what you said earlier—that your uncle may balk at letting us marry."

Kathryn bit her lip. "I, too," she confessed.

"I fail to see how he can say me nay when I take you unto me with no marriage portion."

Her eyes flashed fire. Her chin shot up and her mouth opened, but before she could say a word Roderick chuckled. "You are very proud, my love. I like that, just as I have always admired the way you stand up to your uncle. But there is no need to do battle with me, sweet." The laughter went out of his eyes. "I will not let Richard stand in our way. If I must, I will snatch you from this place and we can be married at the monastery near Boscastle. The abbot there is a distant cousin of my father's and will give us no trouble. Once the deed is done

and the marriage consummated, there is naught Richard can do."

His frankness made her flush with embarrassment, but she laid her hand on his arm. 'There may be another way." Her skin pinkened further. "I—I thought we might tell him I am with child."

Roderick laughed heartily. "You are a cunning one, aren't you? Well, perhaps you have reason. I've oft thought that Richard has not done right by you and your sister. Mayhap we will change that once we are married."

But Kathryn heard only one word .. . Cunning. She felt she'd been dealt a stunning blow to the head. Desperate, mayhap .. . but cunning? The word brought to mind deceit and deception. . . traits that belonged to her uncle.

She wasn't like him. She wasn't! She was doing what she had to. It was the only way she could hope to wrench Ashbury from her uncle's greedy hold. She would surely die if she and Elizabeth were forced to live out the rest of their lives with him!

As for Roderick, she reminded herself she had not lied to him. She had never professed to love him, nor had he asked that she love him. Who married for love anyway? Marriage was for expedience and gain.

She swallowed the pangs of guilt and forced a smile. Roderick ran a finger down the tapered line of her jaw. "Come here, love. I crave a sampling of the sweetness soon to be mine."

Kathryn tensed. His gaze had fastened on her mouth. "Roderick," she began, "I do not think that we—"

He reached for her. His words were smothered against the softness of her cheek. " 'Tis only a kiss, dearest, just a kiss... nothing to what we shall share a month from now."

She lifted her hands to push him away, only to find his arms wrapping tightly around her. She saw his eyes, the flame of desire high and bright. His head lowered slowly. Startled by the touch of a man's lips against hers, she felt herself go slack in surprise.

His touch was not what she expected. Handsome as Roderick was, in some distant corner of her mind she had thought to be repulsed by such intimacy. But for all his fierce gaze, his kiss was gentle and sweet. Gradually her fingers uncurled against his leather gambeson. Indeed, the kiss was scarcely unpleasant. Was it possible, she thought in amazement, that there was pleasure to be found in a man's touch?

Her lips parted softly in surprise, and then suddenly everything changed. She felt his hands in her hair, tugging at her braid, his fingers loosening the silky ebony strands. Deftly he unfastened her cloak and pushed it from her shoulders. She moaned, a tiny sound of protest and distress, but it was smothered against a mouth gone hard and demanding. In rising panic, she struggled against his hold. But he crushed her against him and bore her back against the ground, his body completely covering hers.

Somehow she managed to tear her mouth free. "Roderick," she gasped out. "Roderick, please!"

But it wasn't her voice that stopped him cold. It was the unmistakable sound of steel whispering sleekly against a scabbard...

Roderick twisted and bounded to his feet. Kathryn jolted upright. Her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. It spun through her mind that if she were wise, she would leap up and run as if the yawning pits of hell gaped at her feet.

For if the devil were flesh and blood, it was surely Satan who stood before them now.

Chapter 2

In truth, Guy had no patience with these two young lovers. Soon darkness would cloak the earth in its murky shroud. Ashbury Keep lay but a short distance away. The groundwork for his siege was already in place on the far side of the keep. He had only to move his remaining troops into place under cover of night and await the dawn.

And soon .. . soon Richard's soul would rot in hell.

For now, it was necessary to make sure these two did not raise the alarm. He signaled to one of the foot soldiers to disarm the man.

When his sword and dagger had been stripped from him, Guy sat upon his destrier and surveyed the pair coolly. The man was tall and strong-looking, his body well conditioned; Guy would have been proud to number this man among his own. There was the unmistakable look of a warrior about him, sharp and alert. He stood poised and ready for any sign of provocation, yet he wasn't foolish enough to endanger either himself or the girl. As for the girl, she had yet to move. Indeed, Guy thought with cynical amusement, she looked utterly terrified.

It was the man who spoke first. "This land belongs to Richard of Ashbury. Who are you? Why are you here?”

Guy's lips smiled. His eyes did not. "I might ask the same of you, sir knight. But 'tis plain you seek the pursuit of love here, not war." The smile dallied about his lips. "But I fear our arrival came too soon for you to fully pluck the fruits of this comely wench."

Wench! Kathryn's fear vanished. She saw the mounted knight through a fiery mist of rage. The scornful tone of his voice was too much to bear. She scrambled to her feet and marched forward.

"You go too far, sir!" she hissed. "I am no serving maid that you may insult at your leisure. And I demand that you honor our request and make known your intentions! You and your men come here armed and ready to do battle. Is that the role you seek—that of conquering invader?"

Amazed at the girl's audacity, a low murmur went up among the men. Guy stared at her in silent speculation. Her woolen dress was worn and thin, little better than a servant’s, which he had assumed she was. But now that she was up and on her feet, he saw that she possessed pride and grace. He was both irritated and intrigued by her boldness.

And it seemed he had misjudged her. She had the courage of a man, but the recklessness of youth. He could let neither pass by unnoticed. There was too much challenge in her voice, in her entire stance. Girl, he thought, 'tis time you learned just how much you dare.

"My purpose," he said in a voice that was all the more chilling for its very softness, "remains my own, but I tell you this. I'll not let you or anyone else sway me from my goal."

He nodded again to several of his men, who grabbed her companion and pulled him aside.

He tossed his reins to his squire and dismounted, deliberately taking his time. He walked toward her, never taking his eyes from her. Her gaze faltered only once, but the next instant she confronted him just as boldly. She was nervous, he decided, but determined not to show it.

In truth, Kathryn was wholly unnerved. There was a bloodthirsty air to this entire group of knights—especially their leader. His pennon was altogether fitting—red silk emblazoned with a pair of combatant falcons. The knifelike edge in his voice must have made many a soul cringe in fear, and his features were just as frightening.

His eyes were pale and glittering. They burned with all the fires of hell as he approached. His hair was as black as her own, his skin as dark as a heathen's. Another might have thought him handsome, but Kathryn thought his sculpted features harsh and ruthless. His mouth was thin, almost cruel. His jaw was square and strong, his nose thin and straight and arrogant.

From his place next to Guy, Sir Hugh Bainbridge watched Guy's progress uneasily, unsure of his friend's next move. He has changed, Hugh thought. He was unpredictable—as now. He was as hard as steel, as unyielding as stone.

Guy stopped before her. His breadth totally eclipsed her view of his men-at-arms. Kathryn was stunned to see that his eyes were a pale translucent gray, in stark contrast to his swarthy skin. He towered over her, nearly two hands higher than she.

"Shall we settle the issue then?" His voice was soft, almost whimsical. To Kathryn, it was like steel tearing through silk. She shivered in spite of herself.

He placed his hands on his hips and walked round her. "You claim you are no servant," he

announced. "Mayhap that is true. But you have moss in your hair, lady." He plucked several fat tendrils from her hair and displayed them with a flourish.

Aware of her hair streaming wildly over her shoulders and down her back, Kathryn shot a fulminating look at Roderick. He looked ready to explode, the guard on each side of him the only thing holding him back. For an instant it was gratifying to see him thus bound.

"Or perhaps—" The dark knight’s voice dropped to a silken whisper meant for her ears alone. "—you are no lady at all."

Both his tone and his expression were ripe with taunting mockery. How Kathryn stopped herself from striking him, she didn't know. She sensed he was goading her, toying with her like a cat plays with a mouse before tearing the mouse apart. Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower!

A sudden breeze molded her gown to her body, outlining her form in explicit detail. The dark knight' s eyes slid boldly over her. Too late Kathryn remembered her cloak upon the ground behind her. His gaze lingered for long uninterrupted moments on the firm upthrust of her breast. Kathryn flushed painfully, hating the betraying color which rushed to her cheeks.

His lips curved in a challenging smile. "Indeed," he said softly, "methinks it highly unlikely that you are even a maid."

Kathryn couldn't help it. She struck out blindly. Unthinkingly. If she had had a weapon, she would surely have slain him.

But his fingers closed around her wrist, like iron manacles, thwarting her. Those ice-fire eyes never strayed from her form.

"Ah, that was not wise," he murmured. "What if I should be tempted to retaliate?"

"You offend me most cruelly! And I am not afraid of you!"

No, Guy thought slowly, she was not. Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. He gazed down at her, and slowly—reluctantly—became aware of something else. Oh, the burning in his veins was still there, but it was not from anger at the girl's insolence.

It was desire, stark and strong and almost painful in its intensity.

"Damn you!" shouted a voice. "Let her go! She is no servant to be handled so roughly—she is Lady Kathryn of Ashbury!"

Kathryn stared helplessly into the hard-featured face above hers. His eyes were piercing and relentless as they stabbed into hers.

The pressure on her wrist tightened ever so slightly. His lips barely moved as he spoke. "Surely you are not Richard's wife? His daughter mayhap?"

“ "Nay! His wife died long ago. I am his niece!"

He released her so suddenly she almost stumbled. "Leave us," he said to his men. He stared at her harshly. Kathryn was only vaguely aware of his men dispersing. She didn't understand the silent accusation which smoldered in his eyes.

She regarded him warily, absently. Who was he, she wondered, this dark and fearsome knight? And why was he here? He was not on a mission of mercy, that much was clear. She had seen the way his troop of men was armored and mailed; nor had he come in friendship.

Comprehension dawned with shattering clarity.

"You are here for Richard," she whispered.

"And if I am?" His face was a mask of stone. She could read nothing of his thoughts.

Kathryn hesitated. With the way she hated her uncle, Richard's enemy should have been her staunchest ally. If only it were so simple! But alas, she knew of these male creatures and their will to quarrel. They dealt in lies, giving with one hand and snatching back with the other.

"You will do as you wish," she said quietly. 'There is naught I can do to stop you."

Her calm seemed to infuriate him. His eyes blazed with the sizzling heat of a lightning bolt. "Aye," he said grimly. "And I'd best make certain that you don't."

A muscled arm shot out. Kathryn wasn't prepared when he seized her about the waist and lifted her clear off the ground. She gasped and began to twist and flail, struggling to free herself from his grip. His mail felt like hundreds of knife-edged teeth sinking into her back but she paid no heed.

"You stinking knave!" she cried out. "Get your filthy hands off me! Have you no respect for the fairer sex?"

"Not when she's likely as not just as treacherous as her uncle. I've no doubt you'd like to stick a dagger in my belly but I'll not give you the chance."

They hurtled to the ground. Kathryn lay stunned, the breath knocked from her lungs. She couldn't even cry out when he thrust an iron-thewed leg over hers and dragged her hands above her head, anchoring them to the mossy ground with one of his own.

His other hand skimmed lightly—boldly—over her. Arms. Breasts. Belly and hips, brutally thorough in its quest. That accursed hand even trespassed beneath her skirts, sliding up the naked length between her thighs. To Kathryn's horrified mind, he touched her everywhere. It scarcely registered that he was searching for a hidden weapon. She fought wildly against his dispassionate encroachment but he only pinned her more tightly to the ground. At last she closed her eyes against the cool detachment of his features, shocked and shamed by his intimacy. But inside she raged against the very helplessness thrust upon her by virtue of her womanhood. The only indignity spared her was that his search wasn't performed in front of his men. It didn't occur to her until much later that he might have done so on purpose.

The task completed to his satisfaction, he bounded lightly to his feet. God, how she hated his false and knowing smile! A saving anger flowed through her, washing away her humiliation. Kathryn slapped away the hand he offered, muttering every vile curse she could think of as she rose unassisted.

"By God," she said fervently, "you are a bloody bastard!"

'The question of my legitimacy does not arise," he parried smoothly. "I fear you cannot claim the same of your uncle, which reminds me... I find I am most eager to make his acquaintance. And I'm sure you'll be happy to know that you have just provided the means."

For the second time in just a few short minutes, he walked round her again, surveying her with the same critical judiciousness. "A pity," he said with a shake of his head when at last he stopped before her. "You have moss in your hair again, lady. I must admit—" His slow-growing smile mocked her. "—it suits you."

Kathryn was speechless with rage. Just then she didn't know who she hated more—her uncle or this nameless arrogant knight!

She was just as silent on the way back to the keep. Roderick was bound, his hands tied tightly behind his back. Kathryn walked beside him. There was little chance of escape, for they were guarded well by the dark knight’s men-at-arms. Kathryn's skin grew icy-cold as they passed row after row of men armed with lance and shield. She saw archers and crossbowmen. Catapults and battering rams.

The dark knight had not lied. He had come prepared for battle. He had come for war.

More, he had come to win.

Roderick edged closer. "You know who he is?" His voice was meant for her ears alone. With a jerk of his head, he indicated the dark knight mounted up before them. Not once had he looked back at them.

Kathryn shook her head.

"He is Guy de Marche, Earl of Sedgewick."

"The Earl of Sedgewick," she murmured. Her brow knitted in concentration. "The name is familiar, yet I can recall nothing of him."

Roderick bent his head closer. "Guy de Marche was one of the most powerful lords in Somerset." His gaze was sullen as he glanced at the seemingly endless formation of men and arms. "It seems 'tis still true."

Kathryn stepped over an exposed root, wishing she had her cloak. The damp air seeped through her thin gown clear to her skin. "I did not know he was an enemy of Richard's," she said very quietly. "This is the first I've heard of it."

Roderick hesitated. "I can think of only one reason," he said slowly. "The earl left on crusade more than three years ago. Not long after, Richard heard that he'd been captured in Toulouse. Richard was always careful to stay clear of him but when he heard the news, he captured one of the earl's fiefs just across the border in Somerset—Ramsay Keep."

"He attacked the holdings of an absent crusader!" Kathryn's lips pressed tightly together. This news only confirmed her opinion of her uncle—he was lower than a snake's belly. A simmering rage filled her veins. Her resentment burned deeper yet when her gaze fell upon the ramrod-straight back of the earl, he with his battering rams and troops.

The evening mists swirled all around. Night fell swiftly, like the smothering folds of a cloak being dropped upon the earth. Kathryn saw that they were almost upon the gates of Ashbury, just outside the wooden palisade. She wanted to cry out in despair as she spied only a handful of men clustered around the outer walls.

This was her home, she thought desperately. Hers and Elizabeth's! And the Earl of Sedgewick would see it razed to the ground! God, how she hated her uncle for leading them down this wretched path of destructiveness—and she hated Lord Guy de Marche just as much. He would not be satisfied until he saw her beloved home destroyed!

The earl had dismounted quietly. Kathryn could scarcely see his shadowed form but her eyes conveyed her hatred as he conversed earnestly with one of his men. The others retreated slightly, jerking Roderick along with them. The earl watched them a moment, then turned and beckoned to her. Kathryn briefly entertained the notion of pretending she hadn't seen his gesture. But in the end she complied, deciding it might not be wise to provoke his anger.

His tone brooked no argument. "I need a way into the keep other than through the gatehouse. We will wait until those within are asleep, and then you will show me."

Kathryn was first startled by his daring, then furious at his stealthiness. "What, milord, do you fear a little swordplay?"

Guy's jaw snapped shut. "By God, lady," he said through his teeth, "did your uncle never teach you any manners?"

"What he has taught me, sir, I fear you already know!"

Guy muttered under his breath. He'd never met the likes of a wench like her. She was sorely in need of a strong hand and a will of iron. If he but had the time, he'd have liked nothing more than to instill a little respect in her.

His legs planted wide apart, he eyed her critically. "You refuse to show me then?"

Her chin lifted haughtily. "You are a fool if you believe I will help you throw open our doors and storm within. Ashbury is my home, milord, the only home I have ever known. I'll not help to destroy it."

Her contemptuous calm was infuriating. Guy's reaction might have been entirely different if he hadn't glimpsed the frantic fear in her eyes. "I've no wish to storm these walls, demoiselle. I seek only your uncle."

His words gave her pause. Yet. . . could she trust him? Now there was a question. She stared at him as if to seek an answer. But in the murky gloom he appeared dark and featureless, evil and forbidding.

I can't, she thought in panic. She cared nothing for Richard, but what of the others? What of Elizabeth? What of Aislinn, the cook, and Sir Ralph, her father's chief retainer? There were others who had served her family long before Richard came. Everyone would be caught off guard. Indeed, no one would even miss her since she'd told Elizabeth she planned to retire for the night after meeting Roderick.

"I can wait no longer." The sound of steel hissed through the night. Moonlight glinted on the silver blade of a dagger. Kathryn paled when the earl stepped forward. A mocking smile curled his lips when she instinctively stepped backward. He beckoned quickly with the hand that held the dagger and Roderick was led forward once more.

He paused before Roderick. "What say you, Hugh?" he asked of another knight who had joined them. "Shall this brave knight be the first to shed his blood this night?"

Kathryn went white with dread. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the earl's long-fingered hands, absently sliding up and down the length of the dagger.

With a lightning movement he pressed the dagger to Roderick's throat.

The earl's eyes never left the other man's face as he said, " 'Tis up to you, milady, whether your lover lives or dies."

Kathryn's heart leaped to her throat. For the first time, she knew fear as Elizabeth must have known it, watching their mother slowly die.

She cried out sharply. "No! No, please do not!"

Roderick's face was a mask of stone. "Do not listen to him, Kathryn! Would you forfeit the lives of those within the keep?"

The earl's lips twisted. "Noble words for a man about to breathe his last." His eyes flickered to Kathryn. "I say again, lady, I have no more wish for bloodshed than you. I seek no war. I want only your uncle."

Kathryn's hands were shaking. How was she to choose? How could she live with the stain of another's blood upon her hands?

The moon slid out from behind a cloud. The knife pressed harder against Roderick's throat. Dear God! The tip of the blade was crimson with blood.

"It is your choice," the earl repeated.

She jerked when a hand touched her arm. Startled, she looked up at the knight the earl had called Hugh. She was stunned to discover compassion on his face.

"Milady," he said softly, "my lord is a man of his word. 'Tis not his way that others die needlessly."

Kathryn closed her eyes. She had faith in no man's honor. . . in no man. Yet she had no choice, no choice at all.

"Then let him give it," she whispered. "Let him give his sacred vow that there will be no murder at Ashbury."

"Kathryn, no! Do not trust him!"

She opened her eyes and gazed at Roderick. "My sister saw our mother die." She swallowed against the burning threat of tears. "I'll not stand by and watch her die—or you, Roderick."

The earl spoke. "I give my word then."

Her eyes blazed fiercely, yet her voice caught painfully. "Your vow, my lord. I would have your sacred vow!"

Guy's jaw tightened. No meek and biddable woman was this! She should have been born a man!

Kathryn sought his eyes. They were hard and completely unreadable. The silence was deathly.

It seemed an eternity passed before he spoke. "By all that is holy, there will be no murder here. As for your uncle, he will have a fighting chance." His voice was harsh. "I promise no more than that."

For an instant Kathryn went weak with relief. Elizabeth and Roderick would be spared. She watched Roderick being led away once more, then straightened her shoulders proudly. "Supplies are taken in through the postern on the far side of the keep. We can enter there."

Hours later, storm clouds gathered dark and forbidding in the night sky. Thunder raged across the earth. The wind was chill and biting, howling eerily as it lashed the ramparts. Deep inside the keep, those within lay deep in slumber.

Kathryn sagged against the damp stone wall, awaiting the earl's next move. There was a cold tight knot in the pit of her stomach. Weary and bitter, she decided that Lord Guy de Marche had the luck of the devil to whom she had unwittingly compared him. Only a moment ago he had received a signal, a signal that the guards on the parapet had been subdued. And now the storm would muffle any sound his troops would make inside the keep. He had already sent his friend Hugh to sneak through the bailey and open the gates for his men.

His eyes found hers through the inky darkness. She stiffened when his arm stretched out and brought her back against him. He bent his head low, so that his lips touched her ear. "Which way to your uncle's chamber?" he whispered.

Kathryn wanted nothing more than to whirl and claw his arrogant face. Oh, if only she dared! Despising her weakness, she nodded toward the stairway at the other end of the great hall. He nudged her forward.

Her slippers made no sound as she led the way, the earl's arm tight about her waist. A small group of men trailed behind them. They were well trained, she noted scathingly. Indeed, they might have been fairies of old, for they made no sound, weaving quietly and stealthily behind their leader.

At the top of the stairs, she paused. Her mind raced in tempo with her heart. What if she were to lead them to the floor above, where Richard's knights lay deep in sleep?

But alas, he had felt the sudden tension in her body. His hated breath fell upon her cheek. "Do not think to deceive me, milady. I could crush the breath from you in an instant." His arm tightened as if to make good his threat.

But he had come too far to risk making his presence known, and Kathryn knew it. She met his gaze fearlessly. Their eyes clashed wordlessly. Realizing the futility of her plan and the helplessness of her position, Kathryn tightened her lips and gave a jerky nod. "Uncle's chamber is at the far end of this floor."

She was taut as a bowstring by the time they arrived outside her uncle's door. The earl's presence beside her was unnerving. She hated the touch of his hand on her body; she suspected he knew it as well. He held her as if he feared she would bolt any moment, yet she was surrounded by his men. Where could she run that he could not find her?

"He is within?" Again he spoke for her ears alone.

Kathryn nodded. She tried to pull back but he wouldn't let her. His eyes gleamed. "Oh, no, lady. If you betray me now, I would know it." With that he flung open the door of the chamber and pushed her inside.

The knight he called Hugh stepped in as well, carrying a rushlight. The room was illuminated. Kathryn held her breath, unsure of what to expect.

"Damnation!" thundered a booming voice. "Who dares disturb me at this hour!" A meaty hand reached to thrust aside the bed curtains but another was too quick.

"You are Richard of Ashbury?"

Richard, red-faced with fury, fell back against the pillows. His eyes widened at the sight of the earl, towering threateningly above the bed. Beside him, another figure stirred. Helga sat up, rubbing her eyes and blinking sleepily.

The earl spoke but three words to her. "You, girl. Out." Helga took one look at the earl, grabbed her clothes, and fled. Another time, perhaps, and Kathryn might have been amused. She doubted Helga had even noticed her standing near the wall.

The door creaked shut behind her. The knight called Hugh walked over and slid the bolt. The air was suddenly pulsing with tension.

"I ask once more." Guy's voice was deceptively mild. 'You are Richard?"

Richard's mouth opened then closed. He hadn't missed the murderous rage in the other man's eyes. His nod was jerky.

Guy stared down at the man he'd sworn would be his. His smile was savage.

"Who are you?" Richard gasped. "I have done you no harm, sir knight. Yet you invade my home. My very chamber!"

Guy's handsome features froze. "I am Guy de Marche, Earl of Sedgewick."

Richard blanched. His gaze darted to the corner. His sword lay propped against the wall, along with his dagger and other trappings of war.

The earl's hand fell to his own sword, still in its scabbard at his side. He caressed the handle with deliberate intent. "You would do us both a favor to go for your weapon," he said softly. "I've a mind to end this quickly."

Kathryn pressed herself against the wall. The earl looked ready to tear Richard apart, limb by limb. God knew she wanted nothing more than to be rid of her uncle, but the menacing intensity of the earl's expression was terrifying. She inhaled sharply. "You can't," she reminded him quickly. "You promised there would be no bloodshed. You promised!"

Richard's eyes lit on her. His face contorted with rage. "You traitorous bitch! You are the one who brought him here! You have conspired with him to see me thrust from my own keep! Bedamned, girl! I'll see you and that spineless sister of yours thrown out on your ears—"

Guy stepped forward. “She is guilty of nothing save being caught outside the walls with her lover."

Richard's eyes bulged. "Her lover!"

Kathryn's small chin lifted. "I was with Roderick, Uncle. He and I wish to be married."

"Married!" He cursed lewdly. "By God, who do you think you are to—"

"Enough!" The thunder of the earl's voice shook the rafters. "You forget the matter at hand. You'd best think about your own dilemma instead of the misbegotten ways of your wayward niece."

Kathryn's spine went rigid. Misbegotten ways! Wayward niece! How dare he defend her one moment and slap her in the face the next! But all else was forgotten when the earl seized her uncle and dragged him from the bed.

"Dress yourself! I'll have you face me as a man and not cowering in your bed like a sickly old woman."

Richard scurried to comply. Kathryn averted her head but she heard the rustle of clothing and soon she heard him say, "I tell you again, my lord. I have no quarrel with you and yours."

"No?" The earl's tone was silky-smooth. It sent an eerie chill through Kathryn. "You should have thought of that before you attacked Ramsay Keep two winters ago, held for me by my vassal Sir Thomas."

There was a taut silence. Kathryn held her breath. The earl looked like a man possessed. The tension that gripped his features was frightening. There was more, she suspected, than Richard attacking the keep of one of his vassals.

Richard's voice, when it finally came, was scarcely audible. "I did not know, my lord, that Ramsay Keep was held by you, I swear—"

"Spare me your lies." The earl's voice matched the fury of the storm that raged outside. "You knew that land was held by me, just as you knew I was on crusade then. You knew and still you attacked!" He pointed at Sir Hugh. "Geoffrey was Sir Hugh's brother-in-law; he married Hugh's sister Claire. Geoffrey was murdered during your siege... as was my wife."

Richard went white. He gestured vaguely.

"Do not deny it!" the earl shouted. "It was only by the mercy of God that my wife's maid escaped, along with my infant son. 'Twas she told me of your treachery—how you pretended to come in friendship and then laid siege to the keep. You gave orders that no one was to be spared—not women, not children—no one!"

Kathryn's eyes squeezed shut and her stomach heaved. Her uncle's wickedness knew no bounds. To kill defenseless women and children but for the sake of killing...

Sweat popped out on Richard's brow. "What do you seek, milord? I yield Ramsay Keep back to you. I will repay you the rents I have taken—"

"A futile gesture," the earl said flatly, "since Ramsay Keep is once again under my protection. I recaptured the keep three days past. My men took the utmost care to make certain your messenger did not precede me here." His lips formed a twisted parody of a smile. "Even now this keep is being overrun by my troops. Indeed, victory is already mine. You cannot hope to escape and incite your men against me. If you do not believe me, ask your niece."

Richard's gaze slid to Kathryn. "It is true," she said woodenly. "Ashbury is surrounded. He has twice the forces you possess, Uncle."

Richard fell to his knees. "I will give you anything you wish. Silver. Jewels..."

Guy's mind screamed with outrage. You killed my wife, you filthy bastard! The only thing I want is to see you dead at my feet! Yet even that was denied him... because of a damned vow to a mere woman!

His gaze flickered to the girl. Her eyes were huge in her pale face; she was as white as bleached linen. If she had been anyone else, anyone but Richard's niece, he might have found some small scrap of compassion for her.

Damn, he thought savagely. Damn! He smote his fist upon his hand, feeling as if he would explode inside. He wanted Richard dead—to pay in kind for his coldhearted murder of Elaine! Only then could his tormented mind find a measure of peace. But he'd given the girl his word. He could not break it. . . at least not here at Ashbury.

"Believe me," he told Richard coldly, "nothing would please me more than to rob you as you have robbed me. To strip you of all that you hold dear—"

"I will do anything you ask, my lord! I beg of you, spare me! I have no wish to die. Please, milord..."

Guy was suddenly furious. There was no triumph in watching Richard grovel, trembling in fear for his life. Did he have no honor? No pride?

"Your lands are mine even now," he said flatly. 'You were granted these lands during King Stephen's rule. Now that Henry is on the throne you have been ordered to relinquish your title."

Richard looked stunned. Sir Hugh stepped forward with the king's document. Richard gazed at it numbly.

Guy smiled grimly. "Henry is aware that you dared to attack the vassal of an absent crusader. That is why he has seen fit to forfeit Ashbury and all your other possessions to me."

Kathryn's head began to spin. Ashbury... in the hands of this devil-knight. For an instant she thought she would faint. She made a choked sound deep in her throat, dimly aware that the earl spoke once more.

"As for your punishment. . ."

Richard staggered to his feet. "Henry has stripped me of my lands! Is that not enough?"

The earl's jaw tensed. His eyes were cutting. They shone like glittering steel. "Not," he said through clenched teeth, "for what you did. That is why the king has seen fit to leave your fate in my hands."

Richard's shoulders sagged defeatedly. "And what is my punishment to be?"

"I have not yet decided," the earl said coldly. "Until that time you will not leave this chamber. You may content yourself with the knowledge that I allow you to spend your last days in comfort— and not in the dungeon." He spun around and strode from the room. Hugh motioned to Kathryn. She stepped past her uncle without sparing him another glance.

She stopped short out in the hallway. The earl stood there, arms folded across his chest.

Kathryn did not wait for him to speak. "Is there to be a guard outside my door as well?" She couldn't hide her bitterness, nor did she wish to.

Something flickered across his face, something that made her think she wounded him. But it was gone in the blink of an eye. In its stead was the cold merciless knight she had seen thus far.

"Not unless you give me reason," he replied coolly. "But bear in mind, lady, that if you do, I'll not hesitate to throw you in the dungeon with your lover." He glanced at his friend. "Hugh, see the lady to her chamber. I'll take the others and meet you where we entered."

Kathryn wasn't sure which infuriated her more—his mocking smile or the fact that he considered her no threat. She marched off in the direction of her chamber, leaving Sir Hugh no choice but to follow behind.

Her temper had cooled by the time she reached her door. She paused and glanced across the passage where Elizabeth slept. "I must wake my sister and tell her what has happened." She spoke the words with difficulty.

Hugh touched her shoulder gently. This had been a blow to her, he suddenly realized. He had thought to hate her. After all, she was Richard's kin. Yet he could not. She had had no part in her uncle's treachery. And now she looked almost. . . beaten.

She looked up at his unexpected touch. "I see in your eyes," he said softly, "that you think the earl has been hard and cruel. Believe me when I say—"

" 'Tis not that," Kathryn said quickly, shaking her head.

"What then?"

"Have you . .. have you ever lost your home, Sir Hugh? Your lands?"

Hugh's smile was crooked. "Nay, for I have never possessed my own lands. My father had a small manor in Sussex, but I am naught but the third son. The manor went to my eldest brother upon his death." He gazed up at the arching stone walls. "Nor was it so grand as this."

She looked away, her expression pained. "I hated it when my father died," she said tonelessly. "Elizabeth and I were born here, as our father and father before him. Richard is my father's bastard brother, but he did not grow to manhood here. When Father died four years ago, Richard ran to King Stephen and pleaded for Ashbury, when it should have gone to me—and Elizabeth. He cared nothing for it! He sought only the rents it would bring. He was here but a fortnight when he sold our dower lands!"

She blinked to hold back the unexpected sting of tears. "When Richard came here, I felt he was an invader, because he did not belong... as Elizabeth and I did. I felt as if I had lost everything..." Her eyes squeezed shut. "Now Ashbury belongs to your lord. 'Tis not so much for myself that I fear the future, but for my sister."

Hugh patted her shoulder awkwardly. "You need not fear, my lady. My lord is a just man, I swear."

Her eyes opened suddenly, clear and brilliant but shadowed with sadness. "Mayhap," she said quietly, "it would be best if Elizabeth and I packed our chests."

'To go where?" Hugh said, aghast.

'There is a nunnery not far from here—"

"Milady, you presume too much! Guy’s quarrel is with your uncle, not you! Nay, I'll not hear another word. Guy is not a heartless beast, no matter what you think."

He was so unlike his lord, Kathryn thought a few moments later. Sir Hugh was gentle and kind and generous. With a weary sigh she closed the heavy oak door, peering through the gloom toward Elizabeth's bed.

But Elizabeth was already scurrying across the floor. "Kathryn! You are safe! I—I was so frightened... I checked your chamber and you were still gone... I could not sleep. And then I heard strange sounds!"

Kathryn gripped her sister's hands. There was so much confusion, so much turmoil and pain inside her that for a moment she was unable to speak. Her lungs burned from trying to hold back tears.

She led Elizabeth over to the bedside and haltingly told her of all that had happened tonight. Oddly, Elizabeth looked almost relieved when she had finished.

"Why do you look like that?" Kathryn asked quietly.

"Do you not see?" Elizabeth said simply. "Uncle is a wicked, wicked man. No doubt the Earl of Sedgewick will mete out a punishment that is swift and severe." She tipped her head to the side and smiled. "We are free of him, Kathryn. We have what you wanted. We are free of him!"

"But we do not have what we wanted!" It was a cry of outrage, of anguish. "We do not have Ashbury—and I helped him wrest it from our grasp!" True, they were no longer at the mercy of Richard, but now they were at the mercy of the Earl of Sedgewick. Kathryn's heart twisted in despair. Her life was still not her own. . .

It would never be her own.

If only she could be as accepting as Elizabeth, the loss would be so much easier to bear. If only...

To her horror, a tear slid down her cheek. Then another and another.

For once it was Kathryn who sought refuge in the arms of her sister, sobbing out her bitter heartache. She cried in fury; she cried in pain. She cried for all she had lost.

And all that would never be hers.

Noonday saw a curling fog creeping round the towers. The sky was a depthless gray. A thick layer of clouds smothered the presence of the sun.

Guy turned away from the narrow window, cursing and rubbing his knee. The weather was a melancholy reflection of his mood. Damn, but he hated the chill and misty climate of Cornwall! The damp sea air did naught but make all his old wounds ache.

He was tired, he realized. Tired of war. Weary of war within war. He was suddenly anxious to be back at Sedgewick, to see his son Peter and hold him close...

Hugh threw open the door of the counting room. "What! Are you still brooding? Never has victory come easier. Richard's knights are in the dungeon, but I've no doubt they'll swear their allegiance to you when they realize Richard will never command here again. And we lost not a single man!" His voice faded as he beheld his friend's countenance.

Hugh sighed. "It’s Richard, isn't it?" He needed no response. He had only to watch Guy's features harden into an implacable mask.

He walked over and laid a hand on Guy's shoulder. "You have Ashbury, Guy. I know you already have lands aplenty, but didn't you see Richard's face last night when you told him Henry had ceded Ashbury to you? You have broken and beaten him. Throw him in prison for the rest of his life and let it be over and done!"

Guy closed his eyes. Gerda's words echoed over and over in his brain, like a death knell. They showed no mercy .. .no mercy at all!

His hands clenched. "But he still lives, Hugh. Richard still lives while Elaine—" There was a rough thread of pain in his voice. "—Elaine is dead." He shook his head. His eyes opened, filled anguish. " 'Tis not so easy to let go, when the thought of Richard dead is all that has driven me for the last two years—that and the thought of seeing my son."

Hugh watched him for a long moment. "There is also Lady Kathryn to think of," he reminded him. "I understand there is a sister as well."

Guy snorted. "I'd be wise to throw the lady in prison along with her uncle."

Hugh smiled. "Were it not for her, you wouldn't have taken Ashbury so easily."

"I almost killed an innocent man because of her! And I crave nothing more than to put my fingers round Richard's throat, yet because of her I can't lay a hand on him!"

"At any rate, I assured her you were a just lord who wouldn't dream of casting her out of her home."

"You what! Egad, man, is she a witch who's cast you under her spell? What foolishness is this that you dance to her tune so readily?"

"She has no love for her uncle, Guy. Not because of the taint on his name but because of his treatment of her and her sister. Stephen granted Ashbury to Richard when her parents died, but she feels it would have been hers if Richard hadn't intervened. He also sold their dower lands."

"Is that what she said?"

"Yes."

"And you believed her?"

"Don't you?"

Guy rubbed his chin, pricked by sudden doubt. His first impulse was to cast aside all her claims as ridiculous. Yet knowing Richard's deceitful nature, it was possible she spoke the truth. Still, instinct told him that she must be watched, that she could be dangerous.

Hugh sighed. "You can't turn them out of their home, Guy. Why, she was ready last night to scurry off to a nunnery."

Guy gave a shout of laughter. "A nunnery! By God, man, that's rich! Have you forgotten how we found her?" He sobered abruptly and gave his friend a long hard look. "Indeed, she seems to have you well in hand. Mayhap she knows rather well how to bend a man to her every whim."

Hugh denied it, and they soon moved on to other things. But Guy's thoughts returned again and again to Richard, and Hugh's plea to let his vengeance end.

Nay, he thought grimly. A voice within him still cried out for revenge. He could not let go so easily. But he could not lay a hand on Richard—at least not yet. There had to be another way.

He would not pronounce his sentence just yet, he decided. Richard feared for his life, and the thought of Richard stewing—trembling in fear—appeased the storm in his soul.

For the moment.

Chapter 3

Richard did indeed fear for his life. But far from stewing, his evil mind was busy searching for a way to save his skin. He sat in the high-backed chair in his chamber and rubbed his hands with glee. When Helga brought his morning meal, he bade her send his niece Kathryn to him as soon as possible.

It was nearly time for the evening meal when the wretched girl got round to showing herself. Richard chafed at the delay but he was feeling immensely proud of himself—and inclined to be lenient with her. And just as he'd thought, the guard at the door thought nothing of the fact that his niece sought him out.

"You sent for me, Uncle?"

She stood before him, haughty and proud. No doubt she was glad to see him held prisoner in his own keep!

He tapped his pudgy fingers on the arm of the chair. "I have a task for you, girl."

Winged black brows shot up. "Indeed?" she said coolly.

Richard longed to slap the insolent smirk from her lips but thought better of it. "Aye." He beckoned her nearer. "Come here. I'll not have the guard at the door hear what I have to say."

Kathryn hesitated, then moved forward a step. "This task," she said slowly. "It concerns the Earl of Sedgewick?"

Richard's eyes gleamed. "Aye. That it does."

Her lovely mouth turned down at the corners. She and Elizabeth had spent most of the day in the bower, both hesitating to move about freely with so many of the earl's men milling about.

But she had watched the earl from the gallery off the great hall this morning while he informed wide- eyed servants that the keep was now under his protection. Later she'd glimpsed him in the bailey with the steward. He was every inch the master in command, she reflected bitterly. The servants went on about their tasks as if nothing was amiss. The smithy pounded horseshoes at the forge. Grooms swept out the stables and fed the horses. Indeed, today had been like any other day, except Richard's knights were locked up in the dungeon.

Her eyes flashed as she smoothed the folds of her wimple. "If it concerns the earl," she said shortly, "then I want no part of it."

"Hear me out, girl. I want you to kill him."

The world seemed to tilt alarmingly. Kathryn stared at her uncle uncomprehendingly, convinced she hadn't heard right. She resented the earl, yes. She hated the very thought of him possessing Ashbury .. . but she did not want him dead.

"You cannot be serious," she said faintly.

He leaped to his feet. "I've never been more serious in my life."

Kathryn whirled and bolted for the door. She'd almost reached it when a cruel hand forestalled her flight. Merciless fingers bit into the soft flesh of her arm and spun her around. Her uncle dragged her

back across the floor and thrust her into his chair.

She tried to jump up. "No!" Her eyes were dark and wild. "I—I won't do it, I tell you!"

He shoved her into the seat and clamped his hand over her mouth. "I say you will!" he hissed. "By God, girl, if it were not for you, I'd not be locked up here! Now listen and listen well. I know you still have the dagger that belonged to your mother. De Marche is a strong man. Likely as not, you'll have only one strike, so aim for the heart."

Kathryn shrank back in the chair. "I cannot!" she cried. The words were muffled, but he must have understood for his eyes blazed fiercely.

"You can!" he grated. "You're not a weak spineless idiot like that sister of yours."

Kathryn was too stunned to take notice of his taunt. Her eyes were enormous in her pale face.

"Make sure he is alone and there is no one around—unless you wish to be caught, of course." His eyes gleamed.

Kathryn was faint from lack of air when Richard lifted his hand from her mouth. "You have no influence over me now," she gasped. "You are the earl's prisoner."

"Only for the moment! You say I have no influence but you are wrong. Even now my knights seek a way for me to escape."

"Your knights are imprisoned in the dungeon!"

"Not for long. Indeed, it would only take a handful to help me escape. And make no mistake, girl, their freedom is easily gained—through a number of ways." His laugh was chilling. "I've no doubt if Helga gives her favors to the right guard, a lock or two might be accidentally left open. Or she might lay her hands on the key herself."

Kathryn felt as if a cold wind had blown across her heart. "You forget the king has granted Ashbury’s title elsewhere. You risk King Henry's wrath if you do this."

"Bah! Henry is no different than Stephen. He will be most eager to line his coffers with silver, which I shall do willingly when I am free. Guy de Marche is the only one who stands in my way. If he falls, his men will retreat."

She pressed her lips together bravely. "I'll not do it," she said again. "You cannot make me."

Menace raged across his blunt features. For an instant she thought he would strike her. She braced herself for his blow but all at once he grinned slyly. "You think not?" He placed his hands over the arms of the chair so that she was trapped.

Kathryn stared at him. Oh, God, she thought, feeling sick, what now? What evil treachery does he plot now?

"If you do not slay the earl, when I am free I will see that your sister is given to my knights. Not just one, mind you—" His lips drew back to reveal yellowed teeth, "—but all of them."

Kathryn's mind was racing. What if he should succeed? If he should gain his freedom, she didn't doubt that he would do exactly as he proposed. And poor Elizabeth was so frightened of men! She couldn't even bear the thought of a man touching her in gentleness .. . Kathryn began to tremble. Dear God, it would kill her. It would kill her as surely as a sword driven through her heart.

Her shoulders sagged. It took a tremendous effort to make her lips do her bidding. "The earl's knights swarm within the keep," she said tonelessly. "They are everywhere."

'They don't sleep with him, do they? And no one will suspect you, a mere woman."

Her eyes widened in shock. She folded her hands together to keep them from shaking. Her voice was unsteady when she spoke. "Surely you cannot be suggesting that I. . ." She turned her head away, unable to finish.

Cruel fingers wrenched her chin and forced her gaze to his. "That you bed the cur?" His voice was as unyielding as his hands. "If that's what it takes to see him slain, then so be it. Indeed—" His laugh was chilling. "—'twould be easy to slip a knife within his breast in the heat of passion."

Kathryn went hot inside, then icy-cold. Unbidden, the memory of the earl's search of her body rose high in her mind. She could feel once again the heated strength of his fingers sliding over her skin. That had been bad enough, she thought with a shiver, yet her untutored mind warned her that his scalding touch was nothing compared to the intimacies carried on between a man and a woman.

Something of her horror must have reflected on her face. Her uncle made a sound of disgust. "You'd have me believe you know nothing of the ways of men, yet you wish to wed Roderick? Your feigned innocence is wasted, girl. Roderick is not a man to be held off for long."

Kathryn flushed, remembering the impatient desire she'd sensed in his arms last eve.

Richard smirked. "Or mayhap you feel bound to be faithful to him, eh? Put the thought out of your mind, girl. One man's blade is the same as any other."

His crudeness made her burn with shame. Kathryn grew desperate. "The earl has no liking for me."

"Hah!" Her uncle's chuckle made her skin crawl. "All the more reason for him to take you to his bed. He need not like you to desire you, girl. Haven't you learned that yet?" His gaze raked over her. "You're a comely wench with that rich dark hair and ivory skin. A trifle thin for some men's taste, but no matter. And your coolness but makes a man burn for you all the more."

Kathryn jerked her head away. Her hands clenched in her lap. Oh, God. To lie with the earl. . . She'd seen the way he looked at her—as if he hated her! He would be like Richard; he would not be gentle. He would delight in hurting her. . .

Richard wrenched her from the chair and gave her a shove. "Begone now! It matters little to me if you play the slut for him. I care not how you go about it, as long as the deed is done."

She moved numbly toward the door.

"Kathryn!"

She half-turned.

"I would see him slain this night!" he warned. "If not, it will go all the worse for Elizabeth."

Kathryn fled, his guttural laughter ringing in her ears. She knew it pleased him mightily to see her cowed, but for once she could not summon the strength to fight him.

The sanctuary she sought was simply not to be. Kathryn had barely shut herself in her chamber than she heard a knock on the door. When she opened it, she found one of the earl's knights there.

"Yes?" Her voice was breathless. She wanted to moan her distress aloud. Was this a summons from the earl? What did he want of her? How could she face him?

"Milady? Sir Hugh most humbly requests your presence—and your sister's as well—in the great hall. To dine, if it pleases you."

Sir Hugh. The relief which flooded her veins was short-lived. If Sir Hugh was there, the earl would be there as well.

More than ever, she dreaded facing him again, yet she knew the time would come eventually. And Richard had said tonight. . . I would see him slain this night.

A curious sort of numbness befell her. "Please tell Sir Hugh that my sister and I will be down shortly."

But Elizabeth was reluctant. She preferred to take her meal in her chamber. Kathryn was just as reluctant to face Sir Hugh—and the earl—alone. She needed Elizabeth by her side. She argued and coaxed, and at last Elizabeth agreed. They quickly washed and changed their kirtles.

In the great hall, servants scurried to and fro, setting out platters of roasted meats and breads on three long trestle tables. The sound of laughing, boisterous male voices filled the air. Elizabeth's steps slowed; Kathryn had to tug her forward.

Sir Hugh stood before the huge arched fireplace. He saw them immediately when they reached the bottom of the stairs and came toward them. He wore no mail, but a rich brown velvet tunic. Kathryn felt a rare pang of embarrassment as she thought of the thin woolen kirtle she wore. It was one of her best, but she'd chosen it because she hoped the rich crimson color might lend her a bit of sorely needed courage. Still, there were places where the material had been mended several times over. She glanced quickly at Elizabeth; her sister looked just as dismayed. But Sir Hugh appeared not to notice as he drew nearer. His face was lit with pleasure.

"Lady Kathryn."

"Sir Hugh." She smiled slightly.

He bowed low over the hand she offered, then turned to Elizabeth. "This lovely lady is your sister?"

"Yes," Kathryn replied as Elizabeth, her eyes downcast, bobbed a tiny curtsy. 'This is my sister Elizabeth."

"I am Sir Hugh Bainbridge." He clasped Elizabeth's small cold hand warmly between his own. Elizabeth's eyes widened but she did not snatch back her hand, as Kathryn expected.

He glanced between the two of them and smiled. "I must confess, I would hate to say which of you is the younger—or the most beauteous."

Kathryn smiled. "I am older than Elizabeth by a year." There was a small pause. "I trust we did not keep you waiting," she murmured.

"Not at all." Hugh led them toward the wooden dais at the far end of the hall. Unbidden, Kathryn's gaze swept the hall for any sign of a tall black-haired man. But the earl was nowhere in sight. Kathryn discovered herself torn between a deep-seated relief and a feeling of helpless frustration. Richard's decree could not be carried out if the earl was not here.

"Lord de Marche does not join us?" She posed the question as Sir Hugh seated her and Elizabeth.

He shook his head. "Nay. He rode out with the bailiff to speak with some of the tenants. He has not yet returned."

Kathryn was barely able to stop her lip from curling in disdain. The conquering hero had gone out to survey his domain and judge its worth. An acrid resentment simmered within her as the servants placed trenchers of bread before then.

There was fresh herring spiced with ginger, an array of breads laced with honey and nuts. Kathryn had little appetite though the evening was less of an ordeal than she expected. Sir Hugh was charming and witty. Elizabeth was nervous as always with so many men milling about. She was quiet and spoke little, yet she smiled several times at something Sir

Hugh said. Indeed, at any other time Kathryn might have relaxed and actually enjoyed herself. . . but thoughts of the night to come hung over her like a death shroud. At every lull in the conversation, Richard's voice spun through her mind.

Even now my knights seek a way for me to escape.

If only Richard were wrong. If only she could be sure he would not escape before the earl pronounced sentence upon him. Then this horrible charade need not be played out at all.

If Helga gives her favors to the right guard, a lock or two might be accidentally left open. Or she might lay her hands on the key herself.

She had to think of Elizabeth. She had to protect her sister, for there was no one else to do so.

The time passed more quickly than she wished. Before she knew it, it was time to retire. Sir Hugh rose and insisted on seeing them to their chambers. Halfway across the hall, another knight waylaid him. He promised he would be only a moment, so Kathryn and Elizabeth moved off to await him near the stairway.

A small group of men had just entered the hall. They had to skirt them in order to get by, and as they passed, one of them fixed greedy eyes on Elizabeth and Kathryn. "Now there's a way to warm a man's behind the night through," he said to his companions. "One on each side! What say you, lads? Shall we roll the dice? We've yet to see the spoils of victory."

Elizabeth went deathly pale. Kathryn whirled on the knave, a scathing denunciation ready to spring from her lips.

"There will be no plunder. There will no booty taken from this keep. Did I not make myself plain, gentlemen?"

Kathryn knew, even before her head whipped around, who stood behind her. That chillingly cold voice was one she'd not soon forget. She thought dimly that the Earl of Sedgewick possessed an uncanny power. He had no need to resort to violence; he could punish and whip with only the sound of his voice... the touch of his eyes.

One by one the men fell back beneath his blistering stare.

Something seemed to freeze inside Kathryn. How kind. How noble. Ashbury would not be looted or robbed. The earl was no better than their uncle. He would steal what was theirs, hers and Elizabeth's, and claim it all for himself. Yet such was the nature of life. Such were the ways of men, she thought angrily, hopelessly.

"My lord." Kathryn tipped her chin up and regarded Guy de Marche coolly. She neither curtsied nor offered him her hand. By God, she'd not humble herself before him.

His gaze had settled upon Elizabeth, who was still visibly shaken. She was also clearly anxious to escape the hall—or perhaps the earl's presence. Kathryn fancied it was the latter and slid a protective arm round her sister's shoulders. "You have not yet met my sister, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, Lord de Marche, Earl of Sedgewick."

"Lady Elizabeth. The pleasure is mine, I assure you." He bowed slightly and gave a smile that was almost warm.

Kathryn was suddenly overwhelmed with angry frustration. Why did he bother? Why had Sir Hugh bothered? They played at pretense, both of them, when in truth they were the triumphant heroes and she and Elizabeth naught but the vanquished. Yet a tiny inner voice whispered that their circumstances could have been dire indeed. He could have enslaved them. Worse, they could have been fair game for his men.

Not for the first time that day, Kathryn wondered what plans the earl had for them. Yet what did it matter, for he would soon be dead...

Guy watched her, silently weighing and measuring. He saw many things flit across her lovely features in that moment. Anger, though he knew not why. Defiance. Even the unexpected—a hint of defeat. But haughty pride quickly followed, an expression he was beginning to grow rather familiar with. He curbed his irritation and stripped off his gloves, tucking them under his arm.

It was then that Kathryn spied Roderick past his shoulder. Roderick and several more of her uncle's knights. Mother of Christ! Was it true then? Did her uncle's men even now hatch the plot that would set him free?

Too late she saw that Guy's gaze paralleled hers. She wet her lips, suddenly nervous. "Is it not dangerous to let Uncle's knights wander the halls?"

"Your lov—" There was a small pause where he glanced at Elizabeth. "Your betrothed and a few others," he finished, "have sworn fealty to me as their new lord."

Kathryn glared at him. She sensed his scorn, and his mocking half-smile told the tale only too well. If Elizabeth had not been present his words would have been far different.

"You are a trusting man," she told him stiffly, "to free them so quickly."

He fixed those strange crystalline eyes upon her face. "There can be no honor without trust," he murmured. "And Sir Roderick, as your uncle's chief retainer, has some influence over the other knights. You may rest assured these men are being watched, despite my show of good faith. But do not count on seeing the rest of your uncle's knights up and about so quickly. In time, they will be given the choice to accept me as their lord as these others have done."

"And if they do not?" Dimly Kathryn wondered what madness possessed her that she challenged him so.

He shrugged. "They will regret it," he said simply.

A smile that was almost lazy lurked about his lips, but Kathryn was not fooled. There was no mercy She could detect no hint of mercy in his carved features. Did the man have no heart? she raged silently. No compassion? Was he as merciless and cruel as their uncle?

He has spared Roderick, a voice in her mind reminded her. And he has spared both you and Elizabeth.

Beside her, Elizabeth edged closer. "Kathryn, I grow tired," she whispered. "Let us retire."

Sir Hugh chose that moment to finally join them. He clapped a hand on the earl's back. "Guy, you missed a most entertaining evening," he proclaimed.

Guy glanced between the two sisters. Kathryn was smiling, as if in total agreement with Hugh. But Elizabeth's face was downcast.

The two were nothing alike, he found himself musing. One was as dark as the other was fair; Kathryn was wind and fire, while her sister was soft summer rain.

"I was just about to escort these two ladies to their chambers," Hugh said. "Then I thought I'd return here for a spot of ale. Mayhap you will join me."

Guy shook his head, suddenly conscious of how bone-weary he was. "I think not. I intend to sup in my chamber and then retire for the night."

Hugh nodded. Guy turned to the two women and bowed slightly. "Ladies, I bid you good night."

Moments later, Hugh did the same, raising each of their hands to his Lips before murmuring his good night. Kathryn was startled to discover Elizabeth's eyes fixed upon him as his footsteps carried him down the long hall.

"He is not what I expected," she whispered.

"Who? The earl?" Kathryn's voice was almost sharp.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Sir Hugh." She seemed to hesitate. "He was kind and gentle and... very gallant."

Kathryn was sorely tempted to laugh in delight. Never in her life had she heard her sister use those words to describe a man. Her expression softened. "Aye," she said gently. "But he is also a knight, Elizabeth, one of the earl's knights. And—we cannot forget why he is here."

Elizabeth shivered. "Do not speak of the earl! Now there is a man who truly frightens me! He has the strangest eyes, almost like—like crystal. And when his gaze chanced to rest on me, it was as if he looked right through me, inside of me!" She shivered again.

The hair on the back of Kathryn's neck prickled. That he does, she agreed silently. She had no desire to face him again tonight, but Elizabeth had just unwittingly reminded her that she must. She leaned forward and kissed her sister's cheek. "You look tired, Elizabeth. Let me brush your hair and help you to bed."

So it was that Kathryn left her sister a short time later. She did not step across the passage to her own room, however, but started in the opposite direction.

The earl had taken a chamber overlooking the guardhouse. One of the servants had been tidying up when she visited her uncle earlier. Kathryn approached the earl's chamber with all the enthusiasm of a man going to the hangman's noose. Mercifully the halls were deserted; no one noticed her halt before his door. She marveled that her knock was so firm and sure, for inwardly she was quaking.

The door opened. The earl stood there, bold as a man can be... arrogant as only he could be.

Those eyes Elizabeth had called strange swept over her; it was almost as if he expected her. A flurry of panic set in. Surely he didn't know...

She spoke quickly, before she lost her nerve. "My lord, I crave a word with you."

Those devilishly arched eyebrows shot up in silent question, but he said nothing, merely opened the door wider.

She stepped inside. The room was brightly lit by an array of candles on a small table. A fire crackled and roared in the fireplace, casting out its warmth. Yet a chill raced up her spine when the heavy oak portal cracked shut behind her, closing the world out.

And sealing her in.

"You surprise me, Lady Kathryn. I had not thought that you would seek me out for any reason. Indeed, your sister avoided the touch of my eyes as if she feared I would cast a plague upon her. Do you not feel the same?"

Kathryn welcomed his sarcasm, for it swept away her fear and uncertainty. She watched him move to the table where the remains of a meal lay upon a small tray. He did not sit, but turned to await her response.

The bite in her tone was thinly disguised. "Elizabeth is uneasy with so many men about

wearing the trappings of war."

"I fear it cannot be helped." His tone, cool and distant, matched hers.

She folded her hands and gazed at him evenly. "She is also unsure of our position in the household, now that you are here. That, my lord, is the reason I am here. I would know your intentions regarding my sister and me."

I would know your intentions. Her choice of words was irksome. She did not ask. She did not plead or gently seek. She demanded, as if it were her due.

His eyes narrowed. "I had not given it much thought."

Her lashes lowered. The merest of smiles curved her sweet lips. "We are yours to command, my lord, yours to claim by right of ownership. I am prepared for anything, be it slave, servant, or scullery maid. I ask only that you take heart and rest easy on Elizabeth. She is much more delicate than I."

Guy was both angry and impressed. God, but she was a cool one, cool and enticing and defiant. He could sense it in her, though her pose suggested she was the humblest of women. The fighting spirit in her could simply not be ignored. It beckoned to him. It challenged and dared.

"There's no need for that." His tone was curt. "You and your sister may remain here. Your position is no different than it was before I came."

A taut silence descended. Kathryn couldn't bring herself to thank him. Her expression held a watchful caution as he half-turned and poured wine into a silver goblet. Watching him, Kathryn experienced a curious pang. He had removed his hauberk and wore only his boots and a light linen tunic. His dark hair was tousled, as if he'd run his fingers through it repeatedly. He looked tired. There were faint lines etched beside his mouth, a mouth that no longer looked quite so hard.

The reality of what she was about to do sank in like the talons of a hawk. She thought of the dagger strapped to her arm, hidden deep within the folds of her sleeves. She was to kill this man, who was so tall, so strong, so vitally alive. Soon his heart would be still and silent, his body cold and stiff.

Her mouth grew dry. Her palms felt sweaty and damp.

I cannot do it, she thought in sudden panic. I cannot. . .

"You must tell me about your visit to your uncle."

A little shock went through her. Her eyes jerked up to find him regarding her with a knowing expression on his face. Panic raced through her like flames blazing out of control. He couldn't know why she'd come here... He couldn't!

"I would not have gone if he had not summoned me." To her horror, there was a slight catch in her voice.

He paused, the goblet halfway to his lips, his fingers curled around the dull silver. They were long and bronzed like his hands, not fleshy like her uncle's, but lean and strong-looking...

Silently he approached her. "I have the feeling," he said very softly, "that you hide something from me, Kathryn. I ask again what has brought you to me."

She wet her lips nervously, unaware that Guy's eyes tracked the movement. "I have told you, milord. I came to discover your intentions for my sister and me—" She broke off, for he was shaking his head.

"I think not. You must forgive my suspicious nature but I'm much more inclined to believe your uncle sent you."

Kathryn gritted her teeth, neither confirming nor denying his words. She despised her own transparency.

He stopped before her. The self-satisfied curl of his lips was maddening. His eyes slid leisurely down the length of her body. Kathryn's face flamed. She felt stripped to the bone.

"He seeks to appease me, eh? You are to be the bartering chip, the sacrificial lamb. He would use you to sweeten my soul and thus go easy on him?"

"I think your soul is already black," she said daringly, "and cannot be sweetened."

He laughed as if she'd said something truly amusing. "And you, dutiful niece that you are, would do anything for him."

"Nay! If the truth be known, I would do anything to be rid of him. Why else do you think I sought to marry Roderick?"

"Why, indeed?" Guy quirked an eyebrow. "Pray go on. I would know all the petty little intrigue that goes on in your uncle's household."

"Uncle's household!" Kathryn's eyes blazed. "Elizabeth and I were here long before Uncle. He paid a king's ransom to steal Ashbury out from beneath us!"

"So I've heard," Guy murmured. "And you sought to wrest Ashbury from his grasp?"

"Aye!"

Guy frowned. "I do not understand. How, pray tell, could you hope to accomplish this by marrying Sir Roderick?"

Kathryn was too angry to think clearly. What did it matter if he knew? "You said it yourself in the hall. As chief retainer of uncle's knights, Roderick carries considerable influence. If he were to turn against Uncle, many of the knights would follow his lead."

Guy was stunned at her audacity. This chit would have used all her considerable charms to influence her husband and incite open rebellion. And she might well have succeeded!

But the next second, his jaw hardened. It was just as he'd suspected. Kathryn was trouble. He no longer doubted that she hated her uncle. Indeed, he was surprised she hadn't murdered him in his bed! Nor was there any doubt that her uncle's blood flowed swift and strong in her veins, for she was as shrewd and cunning as he.

He set aside his wine and walked slowly around her, hands on his hips.

"I am curious, Kathryn." The pitch of his voice was very low. It drifted over her like the whisper of silk. "You say you would do anything for Ashbury." He paused, directly behind her. "Just how far would you go?"

Kathryn froze, suddenly afraid to even breathe. Her heart lurched. She had the terrifying sensation that if she moved, he would snatch her to him and she would never be free.

She spoke unthinkingly, with the fervency of a prayer. "I would do anything to gain Ashbury, milord, anything. But I have nothing. I have naught to offer you—" Her voice caught breathlessly. "—save myself."

All at once his hand was upon her nape, shocking in its warmth, startling in the way his touch suddenly filled her with slow melting heat.

His fingers stroked her nape, sending fiery sensations coursing through her veins. "I would understand you, Kathryn. You seek to ease my lonely nights while I am here? You would give yourself to me—without question—if I relinquish my possession of this humble keep?"

Kathryn closed her eyes. "Yes," she whispered, and knew it for the truth. She would sacrifice the only thing left to her—her virtue—if only Ashbury could be hers once more, hers and Elizabeth's. It was the one true dream she had yet to shed—that they could live their lives as they chose, free from the tyranny of men.

Guy felt her tense and wondered idly at the cause. The air of innocence which clung to her puzzled him, for he already knew that she was as wild as the wind which blew from the sea. And it was no gentle lover's play he'd caught her in last night with her lover. Was this naught but a game to her?

Slowly he turned her around. His fingers fell away from her nape and slid to her shoulders. God, she was lovely! Her features were dainty and fine, her lips the color of crushed roses. Wide green eyes the color of spring leaves gazed back at him, framed by thick sooty lashes. Desire cut through him, a swift stab of fire.

There had been other women since he'd learned of Elaine's death. Nameless, faceless women who expected nothing of him. Yet he knew instinctively that if he were to take Kathryn, he would not soon forget her. Her exquisite face would be burned into his memory for a long time to come. Nay, there had been no one like this...

Not since Elaine.

Pain ripped through him, like fire in his soul. He did not understand this gut-twisting desire, for Kathryn was willful and proud where Elaine had been sweet and loving. Kathryn was aloof and stubborn where Elaine was warm and eager to please. And her hair was like the wings of a raven where Elaine had been as fair as a gossamer moonbeam...

Savagely he wrenched his mind from thoughts of his beloved wife. He was here to avenge her death. Yet here was this scheming temptress who sought to seduce him!

But that was not right. Kathryn was here, yes, but in truth she wanted no part of him. No, it was neither passion nor desire which brought her to him this night.

It was selfishness and greed, pure and simple. She would give of herself. . . thinking only of herself.

But she possessed a dark bewitching beauty, a beauty that lured and enticed him to her.

And he almost hated her for it.

Still he wanted her.

But he'd be damned if he'd dance to her tune. Yet he knew that he would have her, when the time was right, when the time was of his own choosing.

Kathryn was suddenly trembling. His eyes were like glittering torches of silver, burning through her, inside her. Shaken to the core, she tried to step back but the hand on her shoulder tightened just enough to remind her she wasn't free. Her lashes fell to shut away the sight but hard fingers captured her chin and brought her gaze to his once more.

His lips twisted. Did he smile? Or did he leer?

She stared at him with eyes both pleading and accusing. The air around them was suddenly seething with an unbearable tension.

He was so close. Far too close. She felt his size with all that she possessed. She could feel the heat of his body, the warm rush of his breath on her cheek. He frightened her, not as he had last eve, but in a way that was terrifying and alien to her.

His voice was strangely thick. "You say you would do anything for Ashbury. I find I am most anxious, Kathryn, to test the truth of your claim."

He caught her against him. His head swooped down. His mouth claimed hers with a suddenness that tore the breath from her. Snatching the gauzy wimple from her head he tossed it aside. Lean fingers plunged into the silk of her hair, bringing it tumbling down over his hands. His kiss was raw and hungry and greedy, filled with the thunder of emotions gone wild and rampant.

He pulled her full and tight against him, imprinting the feel of his body against the softness of hers. In some dark and distant corner of his mind, he registered the sweetness of her lips, the slender suppleness of her body.

But Guy was driven by the sudden fury that still claimed him. He wanted her to remember him, to know that he was not a man she could bend and twist to her whim and will. He touched her as if he owned her, acquainting himself with the ripeness of her breast, the slim fullness of her hips.

At last he pushed her away. She trembled still, her lips were damp and swollen. For just an instant, Guy thought he glimpsed a hint of hurt vulnerability in the wide depths of her eyes. . .

Yet he knew it could not be so, and the thought served to harden his heart. He turned his back on her and moved to the table, reaching once more for his goblet, willing away the pulse of desire which beat at him still.

"I fear I shall have to refuse your kind offer." He smiled tightly, picturing her anger. "You see, I crave no martyr in my bed, but a woman true, warm and willing. You, dear Kathryn, are naught but a cold heartless bitch with ice in her veins."

Kathryn stared at him. Heartless, was she! A reckless anger consumed her, as hot as the flames which blazed in the hearth. She snatched her dagger from its berth and struck out blindly.

Guy turned just in time. The light from the fire caught the glint of shiny metal. He flung up his arm instinctively, deflecting the blow which would have torn through his flesh. His goblet clattered to the floor; his hands closed in a merciless grip about her wrists, forcing her to drop the dagger. It spun and whirled across the chamber, coming to rest in the corner.

Still she fought him, trying desperately to pummel his chest. Guy dragged her close and stared into her outraged face. Her eyes were scorching, her hatred fired as deeply as his own. He had no doubt that she would have gladly robbed him of his life.

He had been right to begin with, he thought furiously. Kathryn was no angel spun in heaven. She carried the same blood as her uncle.

"So," he said coldly. 'The truth comes out. You came here to kill me."

"What does it matter?" she cried out in impotent fury. "You are alive and I have failed."

"And Ashbury is still mine, and will remain so." He took immense delight in reminding her. He thrust her back from him. "My patience wears thin. Begone before I throw you in the dungeon where you belong. But be warned, girl, I'll not turn my back on you again."

He watched as she backed from him slowly, then spun for the door. But before she could reach it, his voice rang out.

"Kathryn!"

She stopped, but did not turn to face him.

"I sent a message earlier today to King Henry, requesting guardianship of you and your sister." His voice was mild, his smile pleasant as she whirled, white-faced and stunned.

"I think your wedding to Sir Roderick shall not take place after all. But do not fear you are doomed to maidenhood. If you behave yourself, mayhap I'll marry you off to some wealthy merchant."

Kathryn yanked the door open and stumbled out. She didn't stop running until she'd reached the sanctuary of her chamber. Even there, she couldn't shut out the sound of his mocking voice.

She pressed cool hands upon her burning cheeks, willing her hands not to shake. God, but she hated him! He had humiliated her, shamed and degraded her. She would never forget the ruthless skill with which he had touched her—the blatant intimacy of his tongue in her mouth, the shocking feel of his hand plundering her breast. She drew a deep shuddering breath. Even now, she could still feel the ridged hardness of battle-toughened thighs forged against hers.

And it was all for naught.. . all for naught.

With a little cry she flung herself upon the bed. If the earl had his way, he would send her from here. She would never see Elizabeth again. Never see Ashbury again.

Ashbury was lost to her. She knew it as surely as night followed day.

Bitterness choked her. Her heart was empty and cold and hollow. She would never learn, it seemed. She must ever bow to a will greater than her own, for this was the chessboard of England.

And as always, as always, she was naught but a pawn.

Chapter 4

Kathryn woke slowly the next morning, feeling peculiarly lethargic. Curled on her side beneath her furs, she closed her eyes, oddly content to keep the fringes of her tardy mind from struggling to awareness, sensing that to wake fully was to remember something awful, something she would rather forget.

It was early. Through the wooden shutters, the first faint fingers of dawn began to creep into the room. Belowstairs, the household was rumbling to life. She heard the faint sounds as if from a great distance away.

Down the hall came was a scream so shrill it could wake the dead.

Kathryn bolted upright. Mother of God! What on earth? The piercing scream came again, just as she pushed her legs from beneath the furs. Her heart pounding, she threw on her clothes and thrust her feet into her slippers.

She raced down the passage, her heart pounding apace with her feet. The door to her uncle's room had been thrown open. She started to rush inside, only to stop short with a gasp.

Helga sat in the corner, openly weeping. Richard's bed was surrounded by a crush of men, among them Sir Hugh. Kathryn jumped when someone brushed her elbow.

It was Elizabeth. Her skin was ashen, her eyes huge in her pale face. "What is it?" she cried. "What is happening?"

Just then one of the men stepped aside. Kathryn had an unobstructed view of her uncle's bed. His body lay open to her gaze; a sticky pool of crimson flowed across his pillow.

His throat had been slit.

An icy jolt of shock ripped through her; her head swam giddily. For an instant Kathryn feared she would be sick.

"My God," she said faintly. "He's been murdered... Uncle's been murdered!"

Kathryn saw nothing of the earl that morning. She was informed by one of the servants that he'd left the keep shortly after dawn.

Pray God that he never returned.

But alas, he did, just after the noonday meal. She saw him with Sir Hugh in the bailey, deep in conversation. Kathryn stood in the window of her chamber and watched them. She saw Sir Hugh spread his hands wide and shake his head; no doubt they were discussing Richard's murder. But Kathryn was under no illusions. No doubt the earl knew all there was to know about that foul deed.

Richard was buried that afternoon. The day was a fitting one for a funeral. Storm clouds hung perilously low and ominous. Though the hour was still early, a misty fog had begun to roll in from the sea. Father Bernard from the village church presided over the gravesite. Richard had refused to have a priest in residence at the keep. Beside her,

softhearted Elizabeth dabbed at an occasional tear, while Kathryn stood still as stone. It was odd, she thought vaguely. She felt nothing, not relief that Richard was dead and could no longer interfere in their lives, nor even hate that he once had.

It was a solemn procession that wound its way back inside the walls of the keep.

Inside the bower, Kathryn tore off her cloak and dropped it on a stool. Elizabeth stood in the center of the room, hugging herself as if for warmth.

" 'Tis hard to believe that Uncle is dead." She shivered. "Who do you think killed him, Kathryn?"

Kathryn's mind sped straight to one man. The earl had come to Ashbury to seek revenge for his wife's death. He had come to kill Richard—

And he had.

Her laugh was without mirth. "Who do you think? The earl came here for one purpose only. And today he has seen the deed done!"

Elizabeth said nothing, merely hugged herself more tightly.

Kathryn would have said more but some slight sound behind her alerted her. She whirled around.

The earl stood there. Tall. Dark. His presence as commanding as ever.

His gaze flickered to Elizabeth. "Lady Elizabeth—" His voice was pleasant. "—would you mind leaving us alone for a moment?"

Elizabeth bobbed a curtsy and fled.

Kathryn stood her ground boldly. When they were alone, those devilishly slanted brows rose slightly. "Mayhap," he murmured with a strange half-smile, "you'd like to accuse me to my face of murdering your uncle."

"You think I will not?" Kathryn drew herself up proudly. Her tone was as fierce as the blaze in her eyes. "You swore by all that is holy that there would be no murder done at Ashbury. But you lied, O mighty lord. You murdered Richard and for that you will rot in hell."

His smile vanished. In its stead was a cold, merciless mask. It was with a great deal of restraint that Guy held fast to his temper. There were few who would have dared to call him a liar without fear of grievous punishment indeed. He would allow Kathryn this transgression.

But this one time only.

He rubbed his chin, the gesture curiously offhand considering the pulsating tension in the room. Those strange silver eyes fixed upon her. "Why," he queried softly, "are you so incensed? I would have thought that you, of all people, would be happy that Richard is gone."

Kathryn inhaled sharply. "I hated him, yes," she said evenly. "But you, milord, you are the one who is glad he is dead!"

She never dreamed that he would turn her words around on her. He merely raised his brows once more and inquired mildly, "And you, dear Kathryn? Can you not say the same?"

Kathryn said nothing. She had oft wished that Richard was gone from their lives—that he had never been born! But she had never wished him dead. And yet, may God take her soul, she could not feel true remorse that Richard was gone.

The earl's laughter grated. "You see? I am right. Furthermore, I do believe I underestimated you, Kathryn. When you told me last eve that you would do anything to be rid of your uncle, I never dreamed you'd be so quick about it. And he was killed with a knife... could it be you were frustrated at being foiled by me and decided your uncle should be the one to taste your handiwork instead?"

Kathryn was at first puzzled; then a flare of white-hot rage spiraled within her. Did the man think she was daft? Oh, she knew his ploy. He sought to transfer the blame from himself to her. And this was what men called honor?

It appeared she was the one who had underestimated him. Sir Hugh had said his lord was fair and just, but the earl was conniving and deceitful, like all men.

"You bastard," she said feelingly. "By God, I'll not listen to this." She spun around and stalked toward the door, determined that he would bait her no more.

But Guy was right behind her. She hadn't gone more than two steps before he grabbed her and pinned her shoulders to the wall.

"Let me pass," she cried bitterly. "I had naught to gain from murdering my uncle."

"Naught but revenge."

'The same could be said of you! All I wanted was my home back—but now Ashbury is yours!"

"And will remain mine." His smile was frigid.

She hated him for reminding her. "How can you be so cold?" she cried in despair. "Have you no shame? No heart? You're no better than Uncle," she accused. "A man who kills but for the sake of killing. Nay, I've no doubt you killed him. You had every reason to want him dead!"

That he did, Guy silently admitted. But he didn't deny her accusation. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to lower her confidence a bit.

Kathryn shoved at his shoulders, but he held her firm. Curiously, no smirk of satisfaction curled those thin lips. His countenance betrayed little evidence of his triumph. Yet his very lack of expression sent a prickle of unease trickling down her spine.

And then he laughed, a sound that sent chills rippling over her skin. "If that's what you believe, milady, perhaps you'd be wise to watch your back as well."

He let her go, making no attempt to veil his contempt. Stunned, Kathryn slumped against the wall and watched him leave, her face stripped of all color. Mother of Christ, she thought numbly. Was she mistaken or—or had he just threatened to kill her?

Guy was furious that someone had managed to get to Richard before he did. In his mind, whoever killed Richard had robbed him of his greatest wish, that Richard die at his hands.

Hugh was just as troubled as he watched his friend seek solace in drink, consuming far more wine than he was normally wont to do. The two of them remained in the hall long after the other knights had sought their pallets.

The night was damp and chill. The heat of the fire had cooled to the faint glow of embers. Hugh tossed another log onto the fire. Hooking his fingers into the tie at his waist, he glanced at his friend. Now, he decided, was the time to pose the question that had been on his mind all day.

"Guy, now that Richard is dead, what comes next, my friend?"

Bleary gray eyes lifted slowly. Hugh moved to sit at the bench across from Guy.

Guy's eyelids felt as if they'd been weighted with stone. He stared into the flickering flames of the fire. "I'm weary of fighting," he said slowly. "If you must know, Hugh, my only wish now is to see Peter again. He is my son and I—I hardly know the boy." A fleeting yearning passed over his granite features.

"So you will return to Sedgewick and settle back into your estates?"

"Aye," Guy replied. "That I will."

Hugh frowned. "And what of Ashbury?"

It was a moment before Guy spoke. "I'm not about to hand over the spoils of victory," he said slowly. "But I need someone here whom I can trust." He raised his head to gaze at his friend directly. "I've a boon to ask, Hugh. I understand why you refused Ramsay, but what if you were to remain here at Ashbury as castellan? I plan to leave some of my troops in place here, and it would please me greatly if you accept."

Hugh's mind veered straight to Elizabeth. He envisioned the golden glory of her hair, the shining depths of the bluest eyes in the kingdom. He loved her sweet, gentle nature, the air of purity and goodness that surrounded her. He had yet to hear her laughter, but in time, he promised himself, he would... and it would be like the tinkling of a waterfall, light and lilting and music to his soul.

Nay, he thought, 'twould be no hardship at all to stay here with Elizabeth. The trace of a smile curved his lips.

"How could I refuse such an offer?"

"Aha! I've seen that expression a time or two before! You're smitten, my friend." Guy chuckled. He propped his elbows on the rough wooden table and leaned forward. "So tell me, which do you favor? The raven or the dove?"

Hugh gave a hearty burst of laughter. "I much prefer the gentle cooing of a dove to the strident cry of a raven. Alas, I've a feeling 'twould take a falcon to be a match for the likes of the Lady Kathryn," he joked.

Guy said nothing.

"Indeed," Hugh went on, "a man like you, I'd say."

But Guy wasn't laughing. His smile was gone. He rose to stare broodingly out the window. Something in his features made Hugh eye him more closely.

"You've told me your plans for Ashbury," he murmured. "But what of the Lady Kathryn?"

Guy's jaw tightened. "If she thinks Ashbury is within her grasp, she's sadly mistaken," he said harshly. "She's selfish and stubborn—all she wants is Ashbury. And she's as cunning, calculating, and treacherous as her uncle."

Hugh cast a doubtful glance at his lord. "Oh, come now, Guy. She's but a woman—"

"A woman who tried her damnedest to see an end to me!" His voice grim, Guy told his friend how Kathryn had revealed her plans to marry Roderick and then wrest Ashbury from her uncle's grasp, how she'd then tried to barter her body with him—and how, at his flat refusal, she had sought to turn her knife on him!

"She also said she'd do anything to be rid of her uncle," Guy finished. "And she may have done exactly that!"

Hugh was startled. "You can't believe she murdered Richard," he protested. "Surely, if that had been her intent she'd have seen him dead long ago!"

"That's the only thing that stops me from being certain she did it," Guy admitted. "But I still don't trust her, Hugh. If I let her stay at Ashbury, she and her lover Roderick may well succeed in gaining Ashbury for themselves after all."

By now Hugh was growing alarmed. He recognized the unyielding intent reflected in Guy's features. He suspected that Guy did Kathryn a grave injustice in judging her so harshly. Yet he wasn't totally convinced Guy was wrong, either. But she was a woman, after all, and so he was inclined to leniency.

"You can't throw her in the dungeon, man. Despite everything, she's gently born—"

"Not gently bred, take my word for it!" Guy's laugh was brittle.

Hugh surveyed Guy uneasily. "So what will you do with her then?"

Guy's smile crept back, but it was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Hugh was suddenly very sure that smile did not bode well for the lady in question...

"When I leave," he said flatly, "the lady goes with me."

The keep was ahum with activity the following morning. Yesterday's fog had given way to blue skies and sunshine. From her chamber window Kathryn watched a half-dozen grooms scurrying to and from the stables. The earl's soldiers were everywhere.

Alice, one of the household maids, was hurrying down the corridor when Kathryn stepped from her chamber. "Alice," she said, "the bailey is filled with the earl's soldiers. Do you know what's happening?"

"Aye, milady." Alice bobbed a small curtsy. " 'Tis the new lord. He leaves Ashbury this very morn for his home in Somerset." Alice dropped another curtsy and hastened on.

Kathryn longed to clap her hands with glee. Her first thought on seeing all the activity was that the earl was leaving, but she hadn't dared to hope it was true.

Near the stairs she passed Helga. The girl said nothing, merely cast a rather smug sidelong glance at her mistress. Even that wasn't enough to dim Kathryn's soaring spirits. She smiled all the way down to the great hall.

Hearing footsteps behind her, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. Elizabeth was only a dozen steps behind her. "Good morning, sister!" Kathryn sang out. " 'Tis a grand day indeed, is it not?"

Her fine golden brows lifting, Elizabeth joined her on the step. " 'Tis a fine mood you're in, to be sure," she said, peering at her closely. 'Though I fail to understand why today is any different from yesterday."

Kathryn merely laughed. She snagged Elizabeth's arm and led her outside.

In the bailey, her eyes immediately fell upon the earl and Hugh. They both stood near the center well. The devil and his disciple, she decided scathingly.

It was Hugh who spotted them first. He raised a hand in greeting and began to approach, his features alight with pleasure.

"Lady Kathryn. Lady Elizabeth." He took both their hands in turn, bowing low over each.

The earl, slower to join them, displayed no such courtesy. He acknowledged their presence with an upward hike of one black brow.

"Ladies," he murmured. "You are just in time."

Kathryn swept him her best curtsy. "Good morning, my lord," she said sweetly. "As you can see, we've come to bid you a safe journey back to your home."

His gaze, cool and assessing, took in her agreeable demeanor. Aha, Guy thought. Now that she thinks she's well rid of me, she's prepared to be gracious.

It gave him immense pleasure to know that she was wrong.

Kathryn watched his slow-growing smile with mounting trepidation. It betrayed vast amusement, though for the life of her, she didn't understand what he found so entertaining.

A few of his troops had departed yesterday. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that another thirty or so appeared to be ready and waiting.

She stepped back. "Well," she said crisply, "the hour grows late. I'm sure you're anxious to take your leave. Why, Somerset must be several days' ride from here."

"Four," he corrected. "Which reminds me, Lady Kathryn, I think you should know that I'm leaving Sir Hugh in charge here, as well as a number of my knights."

Kathryn held fast to her temper. Meanwhile, the earl's disturbing smile widened further.

Beside her, Elizabeth grew increasingly uneasy.

His manner was wreaking havoc with Kathryn's nerves. Damn him anyway, why didn't he just leave! She was about to say something—anything!—to speed him on his way. But she'd barely opened her mouth when she spied her small palfrey being led from the stable.

Guy's gaze followed hers. "Your mount," he said politely.

Her heart began to hammer. What was going on here? she wondered frantically. Whatever it was, she'd not be a part of it!

She turned to the groom. 'You must be mistaken, Donovan," she said with a shake of her head. "I didn't ask that Esmerelda be saddled—"

"But I did," interjected the earl from behind her.

Kathryn whirled, noting with satisfaction that he only narrowly escaped a jab in the stomach by her elbow. 'Tor what purpose?" she demanded.

"I should think that would be obvious. You, Lady Kathryn, are coming with me."

'To Somerset?" Disdain mingled with incredulity.

"Aye. To Somerset—and Sedgewick." He leisurely crossed his arms over his chest and awaited her reaction.

As he'd expected, it wasn't long in coming. Her eyes narrowed. Her jaw snapped shut, only to open a scant instant later. "I have no intention of going with you to Somerset."

"And I have no intention of leaving you here at Ashbury. You and your Roderick could form an alliance that would be dangerous to my health, my lady fair, which is why you go where I go."

His utter calm was infuriating; his audacity knew no bounds. Kathryn's gaze swept around the bailey, seeking and coming to rest on Roderick, who stood near the entrance to the hall. She had no doubt that he'd heard every word she and the earl exchanged. He looked angry but he said nothing. Kathryn rebelled at the reluctant helplessness she sensed in him. A part of her raged at his acquiescence, yet another part of her understood that to challenge his new lord was to forfeit his life.

Her gaze swung back to the earl. "You do this only because I have no knightly protector!" she cried.

Guy hadn't missed the look exchanged between the two. So, he noted angrily, she sought salvation from her lover.

His gaze flickered briefly toward Roderick. "Indeed you do not," he taunted softly.

His mockery cut deep. Kathryn dimly noted Roderick retreat into the hall; never had she hated the earl more.

She lashed out unthinkingly. "I'll not play nursemaid to your brat, do you hear?"

"I've not asked you to.” Scorn lay beneath his tone. "You've Richard's blood in your veins, girl. I'm not sure I want you anywhere near my son!"

Shattered inside but determined not to show it, she met and matched the fiery hold of his eyes. If it had been anyone but the earl, she might have cried and pleaded for indulgence.

But she hadn't counted on Elizabeth. Wrapped in a red haze of fury, she was scarcely aware that Elizabeth had stepped forward.

"My lord!" Elizabeth clasped her hands together as if in prayer. "Surely you will not take my sister from our home!"

Guy's harsh manner softened ever so slightly. Elizabeth's blue eyes were huge, her expression utterly stricken.

His tone was gentleness itself. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. But I fear I must, at least for now."

She cried out sharply, "But you cannot. Oh, please, you cannot take her from here. You cannot!"

Those devilishly arched brows rose high in silent question.

Elizabeth swallowed hard. The devious plan Kathryn had once thought to use against Richard leapt into her mind. Oh, Mother Mary, did she dare? Would she burn and rot in hell for bringing about such a lie? Yet she could not bear to be without Kathryn. Never in their lives had they been separated. Never!

Dimly she heard his voice. "Elizabeth," he inquired, "why do you insist Kathryn remain here?"

"Because—because she is with child!"

Kathryn gasped. Guy sucked in a harsh breath; his eyes immediately cut back to Kathryn. Her gaze swiveled to lock on her sister. So shocked was she that she failed to notice the grim mask that descended over Guy's features.

"Kathryn!"

She actually jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I asked if the child has made you ill!"

Too stunned to be thinking clearly, Kathryn shook her head.

'Then my decision stands," the earl stated flatly. "Since obviously the child will not be here for many months, you come with me to Sedgewick.”

Though she was shaken and distraught, Kathryn quickly recognized his determination was as relentless as hers.

"I—I need a cloak," she said desperately. "I'll not keep you waiting long, I promise." A moment alone was all she sought, for she knew the keep better than the earl or any of his men. She could flee and hide and they would soon tire of searching for her and be off. . .

But alas, it seemed he had anticipated everything! Before she could spin around, Helga appeared, her cloak thrown over one arm. Another servant followed in her wake, balancing a small chest on his shoulder. Kathryn's heart sank as she recognized it as her own.

Guy's patience was nearing an end. 'Take your leave of your sister," he advised curtly.

A painful ache tightened Kathryn's throat as she turned to her sister. By now Elizabeth was openly sobbing. Kathryn wrapped her arms around her. "Shhh," she attempted to soothe her. "Be strong, Elizabeth... no, do not say me nay. You are strong, sister, stronger than you know. 'Twill not be so bad, you'll see. And I'll be back soon, I promise."

Elizabeth clung to her even more tightly.

Witnessing their painful good-bye, there was a slight easing of the hard line of Guy's mouth. He found himself stung by a prick of conscience. It wasn't because of Kathryn, he assured himself, but Elizabeth.

Kathryn forced back the burning threat of tears. She drew back, caught Elizabeth's hand, and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Wish me well, now, sister," she whispered. "And may God be with you."

"Kathryn—" She choked. Kathryn squeezed her fingers, unable to manage any more. Then with a strangled cry, Elizabeth reeled and fled.

It was a moment before Kathryn was able to turn to Hugh, who still hovered nearby. Overwhelmingly conscious of the earl's all-seeing presence, she began to speak, her voice husky and low.

"I do not know you, Sir Hugh, and yet I sense that you are a kind man. I hope that you are, for I have no one else to turn to."

She paused to draw breath. "I've not yet told you how sorry I am about your sister." Her smile was a trifle watery. "And now, it seems, I must ask you to take care of mine." She gazed beseechingly into his eyes. "Will you do this for me, Sir Hugh? Will you watch over Elizabeth?"

A faint smile creased his lips. "I will, but I think it only fair to warn you, my motives are not entirely without selfishness."

His meaning was not lost on her. Kathryn was keenly aware of his flare of interest in her sister. She hesitated, a shadow flitting across her delicate features.

"Then there is something you must know," she said slowly. "Sir Hugh, it may not be possible to woo and win my sister, for Elizabeth is not comfortable with a man's attention. Indeed, she is afraid of all men." She went on to hurriedly confide how Elizabeth had witnessed their mother's rape years earlier. "I fear," Kathryn ended, "that the memory has never truly left her."

Hugh listened, somberly intent. Guy is wrong about her, he thought suddenly. His vengeance has blinded him to Kathryn's goodness. She could never willfully hurt anyone.

"I'll not disappoint you, Lady Kathryn." His gaze met Kathryn's, unerringly direct, In that instant, a silent current of understanding passed between them.

She touched his cheek. "I'll keep both you and my sister in my prayers, Sir Hugh."

She stepped back. At a signal from the earl, her palfrey was led over. Kathryn laid a hand on the horse's mane. All at once the earl was there to assist her in mounting. At the touch of his hands on her waist, she twisted away. After what he had done this day, his effort at gallantry merely made her angrier. She mounted unassisted, unaware of the tightening of his jaw as his hands fell to his sides.

A moment later they were passing through the gates. Inwardly devastated, Kathryn didn't dare look back for fear she would burst into tears. Her gaze stabbed into his back where he rode at the head of his troops. It was easier, so much easier to focus instead on her hatred of him. He was wrenching her away from Ashbury, from all that she loved. Yet even as her heart yawned empty and cold, her soul burned with a rage more potent than any she had ever known. She had lost this battle of wills, she conceded bitterly.

She'd not lose the next.

Chapter 5

So Kathryn was pregnant. . . she was with child.

Guy felt a flash of anger every time he thought about it, for it only proved she was the slut he'd known her to be. Oh, he could easily see how her predicament had come about—how her lover Roderick had been unable to resist her wiles. It struck him then that he assumed her Roderick was the babe's father. But what if he was not? Hadn't she offered herself to him just last eve, knowing she carried another man's child? Mayhap she had no idea who the father was! Indeed, she was a temptation few men could resist, he acknowledged silently. Even he himself was not immune to her beauty.

And that was the hell of it.

She refused to look at him the entire day, but Guy had no such qualms. Time and again he found his eyes drawn to her, as if he'd been caught in a web from which there was no escape. Slim and straight, she rode her mount as if she were a queen, her carriage proud and erect.

Guy despised himself for his weakness, but he had only to glance at her to visualize those eyes that flashed like emeralds in the sun, to remember the fascinating heat of that sweetly curved mouth trapped beneath his, the delectable roundness of her breast beneath his palm.

His mood grew ever more vile.

Twilight hovered on the horizon before he called a halt to the day's journey. They stopped on the outskirts of the forest. Nearby was a clear, babbling stream.

Kathryn heaved a silent prayer of thanks. If the earl had chosen to go any further, she didn't think she could stand it. She wasn't used to riding more than a few hours at most; her thighs and backside ached unbearably.

The earl was busy giving orders to his men. Kathryn reined Esmerelda to a stop and prepared to slide to the ground. One of the earl's soldiers appeared. Hands spanning her waist, he lifted her easily to the ground. Kathryn smiled her thanks— his hands displayed a tendency to linger. A single dark look from the earl and the knight hastily backed away.

Kathryn's muscles protested mightily at holding her weight after so many hours on horseback. But once on her feet she became aware of a rather urgent need.

Most of the earl's soldiers swarmed in the clearing beneath the trees. Kathryn started off in the opposite direction.

The earl's voice stopped her cold. "Hold!" he shouted. Four long strides brought him to her side. He grasped her arm. "What is this?" he demanded.

Of all the arrogance! Kathryn took a deep breath and struggled to control her rising temper. "I crave a moment alone." She couldn't look at him as she spoke. She could think of no way to convey her need to him.

His laughter grated. "What manner of fool do you take me for, mistress? A moment alone, so that you may flee?" He laughed again. "I think not!"

Kathryn twitched at her skirt. Vivid color stained her cheeks as she implored desperately, "For nature's call, milord."

"And I tell you again, lady, not alone."

His sharpness shattered her. He trampled on her dignity the way his soldiers trampled the fields. The knowledge that he would not allow her this privacy wounded her as nothing else had. At last she looked at him, dismayed and miserably embarrassed.

"I'll not flee, milord. This I swear."

His grip on her arm tightened. It was on the tip of his tongue to retort that, as Richard's niece, her vow meant nothing to him.

"Please," she whispered.

He saw her convulsive swallow. He saw the way her throat worked and swore violently to himself. Damn, but the wench knew exactly how to probe his every weakness. Yet he sensed the word cost her no small amount of pride.

"Begone, then," he said curtly. "But be quick about it," he warned. "And do not think to escape me—" A devilish smile dallied about his lips. "— lest you come upon some wild, ferocious beast with a fancy for your lovely flesh." He turned his back and retraced his steps toward his knights.

Kathryn picked up her skirts. Bah, she decided as she marched toward a clump of bushes, it was altogether likely the only beast in these woods was the Earl of Sedgewick!

She returned to the clearing several minutes later. A group of soldiers were busily erecting a tent. A roaring fire blazed nearby. A spit had been fashioned above it, from which some delicious odor wafted her way. But Kathryn was too tired to take much notice. Fatigue weighted her body like a stone. She made her way toward a stately oak tree and lowered herself to the mossy ground. Her shoulder propped against the tree trunk, she closed her eyes. She would rest for just a moment or two.

Sometime later a shadow fell over her form. She was asleep, Guy noticed, a sight that gave him pause. Her head was tilted against the tree trunk in what appeared a most uncomfortable angle. Arms crossed over her breasts, she huddled beneath the threadbare wool of that damnable excuse for a cloak. Perhaps it was the childlike pose, but she seemed very vulnerable and very young just then, and he experienced a sliver of remorse. He'd set a breakneck pace that day, stopping only to water the horses. Weariness was plainly etched on his men's faces, yet Kathryn had uttered not a single word of protest or complaint. Another time, perhaps, and he might have admitted to a twinge of admiration.

She was clearly exhausted. He debated whether or not to let her sleep, but decided she needed nourishment, if not for herself, then for the sake of her babe.

He clamped a hand to her shoulder and shook her. Her lashes fluttered open slowly. Eyes as green as fresh spring leaves, she stared up at him in obvious confusion.

It hit him like a blow to the stomach just how lovely she was, beauteous enough to turn a king's eye. Her lips were parted. Guy fancied he could see the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. Her cheeks were sleep-flushed and pink. But her beauty, he reminded himself scathingly, was only on the surface, for hadn't she proved once already how treacherous a creature she really was?

He had no doubt she would prove it yet again.

"Here. 'Tis time to eat." He thrust a trencher of wild fowl and crusty bread into her hands. A moment later, his own meal in hand, he sat cross- legged on the ground beside her.

At least, Kathryn thought, he didn't propose to starve her. Nearer the fire, the knights' talk and laughter grew boisterous. She risked a peek at the earl from beneath her lashes. The rigid cast of his profile discouraged conversation. Not that she was so inclined, she thought with a sniff. Only she'd had no one to talk to the entire day. . . But she'd keep her silence for a twelvemonth before she'd deign to converse with this arrogant devil! On that thought, she confined her attention to her food.

Once the meal was done, his men began to disperse. When she saw them preparing to retire for the night, her gaze traveled uneasily to the earl. He had retreated to stand several paces behind her near the tent.

Kathryn pushed herself to her feet. She wet her lips nervously. "Where am I to sleep?"

In answer he swept open the flap of the tent. "A trifle humble for her ladyship's taste, I'm sure," he drawled, "but since I've always found it comfortable enough, I'm sure you shall, too."

Kathryn's eyes narrowed. She wasn't quite certain she liked the sound of that. "And you, milord?" she inquired stiffly. "Do you sleep within the tent?"

He bestowed on her a look so withering it would have made many a man cringe and creep away. His mood was as black as his soul, she thought.

"I do," was all he said. Crossing his arms across the breadth of his chest, he merely raised his brows and waited for her to precede him into the tent.

She squared her shoulders. "Then I sleep without," she announced. Her nose in the air, she spun about and began to resume her place beneath the oak tree.

He never gave her the chance. She found herself shackled about the wrist and dragged to the tent before she could draw breath.

"I thought we settled this the other night," he said through his teeth. "I'd sooner cut off my hand than lay a finger on you, Kathryn. Do you think me so enslaved by your beauty that I forget who you are? You stir nothing in me save my temper... most certainly not my passions! In a word, you leave me cold, mistress."

Cold, is it? jeered a voice inside him. He decried her. . . even as he desired her. Why, the very thought of bedding her sent a scalding rush of heat to his loins. Indeed, he half-feared the Lord would strike him down for daring to speak such a falsehood!

She remained where she was, as cool and haughty as ever. His words seemingly touched no part of her.

"I suppose 'tis only right that I warn you, Kathryn... out here in the open you render yourself fair game for any of my men-at-arms." His tone carried a note of bored impatience. "While I am quite discriminating about the lady who shares my bed, my knights are not always so... discriminating. My guess is that it's been a while since they partook of the pleasures of the flesh—so likely as not, most any woman will do."

Even you. There was no need for him to speak the words aloud. His derisive half-smile reeked of smugness. And all at once Kathryn was remembering the lewdness of his men that night at Ashbury, when she had sought to leave the great hall with Elizabeth.

But the earl's scorn made her long to slap the arrogant leer from his visage—oh, if only she dared!

"You are as crude as I expected." She swept past him with an icy disdain, bent low, and entered the tent. She contented herself with the certainty that her choice was the lesser of two evils.

The earl did not follow. Inside, the tent was large and surprisingly spacious. There was a small pile of furs near the entrance. Kathryn selected one for herself and moved to the far corner. Despite the earl's assurances that he'd not lay a finger on her— as if she would even allow him!—she had no intention of disrobing. She lay down, cloak and all, and pulled the fur over her shoulders.

It wasn't long before the earl entered. Kathryn lay on her back, determined to ignore him. The flames from the fire outside cast a faint glow inside the tent, just enough for her to make out the outline of his form.

Every muscle in her body tightened when he moved past her. She heard his scabbard drop to the ground. The next thing she knew he was pulling his tunic up and over his head—it slipped to the ground with a rustle. Now his hands were on his chausses. Kathryn felt her jaw go slack. Surely he didn't mean to sleep naked, with her not three feet away.

Outside someone threw another chunk of wood onto the fire. The blaze burned brighter still.

For the space of a heartbeat, his form was outlined in far more detail than she cared to see. Long legs. Wide chest. Powerful shoulders. A most brazen masculinity...

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned to her side. Her heart was thudding so that she feared it would crash through her chest at any moment.

She had thought not to sleep a wink that night with the earl so close at hand. But it wasn't long before exhaustion wooed her into slumber.

Such was not the case two nights hence. Kathryn curled herself into a tight little ball to keep from tossing and turning—and waking the earl.

For if he woke now, all would be lost.

If Kathryn was feeling a trifle proud of herself, she had reason to. She had used these past two days well. It was a time to lull the earl into a false complacency. He appeared to have relaxed his guard a bit. He no longer warned her sharply whenever she sought refuge for her private needs. His gaze no longer shadowed her slightest move around the camp at night.

But Kathryn did not seek to play the meek and humble maiden. Oh, no, she suspected he was too wise to accept such a drastic change in her. She was no match for him in physical strength and so she continued to battle him with what weapons were at hand.

With words and wit.

The time had passed agonizingly slowly that night. It didn't take long before the earl's breathing grew deep and even, but Kathryn waited hours to make certain he was plunged deep into the netherworld of dreams.

It was now or never.

Scarcely daring to breathe, she slipped from her furs. Not once had the earl mentioned her penchant for sleeping in her clothes. This was a boon she hadn't considered that first night.

She crouched low and began to move stealthily toward the entrance. Behind her, the earl flung himself over on his back. Kathryn froze, her breath tumbling to a standstill. She waited—forever, it seemed!—before daring to creep forward again.

Outside the tent, moonlight spilled down from the sky in shining splendor; the clearing was nearly as light as day. The horses were tethered on the far side of the encampment, some distance away from the knights. It was there that Kathryn directed her silent footsteps. Her fingers were shaking as she found Esmerelda among the horses and released her. Moments later they vanished into the shadows with ghostly ease.

Only the moon bore witness as Kathryn tossed back her head and let a bubbly laugh escape. She was free... free!

And as she rode onward into the night, her single thought was that escape had proved not nearly as difficult as she had expected.

Not once did she consider it might have been too easy.

Guy woke shortly after dawn the next morning. For a moment he lay perfectly still, his half-closed eyes absorbing the purplish ribbon of light visible through the flap. Then, with a yawn and a mighty stretch, he rose and began to dress.

Not once did he glance at the empty pile of furs beside him.

Outside, the camp was stirring to life. Guy called for his squire Tom to bring food to break the morning fast. The boy started to scurry away, then paused to glance back at his master.

His gaze flitted toward the tent. "For the lady, too, milord?"

He shook his head. "The lady is not here, Tom."

The boy gaped.

A smile curled Guy's handsome mouth. "It seems the lady has decided to take a slight detour on her way to Sedgewick, Tom."

"Milord?"

Guy was sorely tempted to throw up his hands.

The boy showed promise with the sword and lance, but he had much to learn about the ways of his enemies.

"She fled during the wee hours of the night, Tom. She thinks to return to Ashbury."

The boy let out a wheezing laugh. "Why, she ought to know she can't escape from you." He laughed again, as if he thought the idea of a mere woman besting his lord highly amusing indeed.

Guy was not so amused a short time later as he ordered Sir Jerome to lead the rest of the party back to Sedgewick. They parted company in a flurry of dust, Sir Jerome and his men-at-arms speeding to the north, Guy to the south.

Aye, he affirmed grimly, urging his destrier still faster, he would bring the Lady Kathryn to heel. And while he was about it, mayhap he would put the fear of God into her soul.

With luck, Kathryn decided, the earl wouldn't discover her absence till morning tide. She had gleaned from his speech with his men-at-arms that they would reach Sedgewick by noon the next day. It was her most fervent prayer that, upon discovering she had fled, he would make only a token search for her. After all, he'd made his opinion of her abundantly clear. Since he was so near his home, she hoped he would decide she wasn't worth the trouble of recapture, abandon pursuit, and forget her existence.

As she planned to forget his.

The day dawned bright and gloriously warm. Kathryn kept the rutted roadway in sight, but rode amidst the woods guarding the side of the road, for no decent woman would ride about unescorted. Her nerves were tightly wound. Several times she detected the dull clopping of hooves and was forced to wheel Esmerelda and take cover where she might find it.

By late afternoon, the sun beat warmly upon her head. Anxious to seek respite from the nagging worry that the earl lurked but a footstep behind her, Kathryn decided to seek shelter for the night while it was still light. She found a secluded glade that would serve quite well. Gnarled oaks arched high above. Hazy spears of waning sunlight cast the clearing in a golden glow.

A gently rushing stream flowed nearby. She led Esmerelda to the cool gushing waters and allowed her to drink her fill. The palfrey slurped gustily, wringing a laugh from Kathryn. When Esmerelda had finished, Kathryn secured her near a patch of grass. While the horse grazed, she dropped her pouch on the ground and began gathering wood for a fire. The task completed to her satisfaction, she gazed longingly toward the stream.

Wildflowers grew in sweet profusion along the bank, pushing up amidst leafy moss and tufts of luxuriant green grass. The air was sweetly scented. Above the treetops, the twilight sky darkened to pink and gold. Here in this beautiful lush setting, Kathryn felt the strain of the day begin to seep from her weary bones.

She fancied the dust from her days of travel lay thick and heavy on her skin. Succumbing to temptation, she stripped to her chemise and bent to the stream. Cupping the cool, clear liquid in her hands, she rinsed her face. Again and again she scooped the water from the stream. Tiny rivulets streamed down her arms and the calves of her legs. She ended by splashing her chest—once, twice, again, gasping a little at the chill. And though she felt cleaner, she didn't feel as refreshed as she'd hoped to.

She darted a hasty glance around the glade. High above, a few birds still chattered and flitted to and fro. Impulsively, Kathryn quickly shed her chemise and dropped it on a rock. She was safe here. There were no prying eyes to invade her privacy.

That was hardly the case.

From behind the concealing breadth of a black oak, bold gray eyes consumed her every move. The thin linen of her chemise hid little of her sweetly feminine form. His mind besieged by lustful imaginings, Guy sucked in a harsh breath when she cast the hem of her chemise up and over her head. His gaze roamed hotly over the visual feast she provided his eyes.

She had twisted her hair into a long rope and drawn it over her-shoulder. Her ivory skin glistened like a lustrous pearl. She was slender almost to the point of thinness, and yet her hips flared out from a waist that was incredibly narrow. Her breasts were full and perfectly formed, round and alluring and tipped with nipples the color of a creamy pink rose. She was as breathtakingly flawless as he had imagined—and there was the rub, he thought with a twist of his lips. He despised her, and yet he had dreamed of seeing her like this. Naked and open to him. Bare as a babe.

In the instant before she waded into the stream, his gaze swooped to the naked flesh below her waist. His lips thinned to a stern line. There was no sign of a babe swelling ripe and round in her belly—none at all! Between the span of her hips, her belly was concave and hollow. Doubt gnawed deep inside him. He wasn't entirely ignorant where childbirth was concerned. He reminded himself that it might be weeks before she grew heavy with her burden.

Slipping from the stream, Kathryn wrung the water from her hair. Shivering a little, she hurriedly donned her garments. Hunger gnawed at her stomach as she built a small fire. She hadn't much food, only what she'd managed to slip into the small pouch tied to her kirtle, but it would be enough to get her back to Ashbury. She gnawed on a hard crust of bread, making it last until darkness settled over the earth.

The moon climbed slowly aloft. The night was dark and crystal-clear. Flung against the ebony sky, the stars glittered with bejeweled brilliance. But although the day had proved warm and pleasant, with the setting of the sun the night's chill soon pulled her within its grasp. Huddled beneath the scant protection of her cloak, Kathryn edged closer to the fire, drawing her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees for warmth.

A low mist began to gather, hovering just above the ground. The howl of a wolf pierced the air. A wolf. An eerie feeling prickled along her spine. She had thought the glade to be safe, but was it? These woods were filled with all manner of beast— including two-legged ones, as she well knew! And all at once every tale of cutthroats, murderers, and renegades she'd ever heard rampaged through her mind.

She was suddenly on guard, her nerves sharpened to a screaming pitch of awareness. A slight sound from across the glade brought her upright. She lurched to her feet, her eyes frantically searching the night-shrouded stillness. But she spied naught but trailing fingers of frothy mist swirling through the trees.

It was into that gossamer mist that a masculine form took shape, tall and powerful. Kathryn stood as if paralyzed. She wanted desperately to run, but her legs refused to do her bidding. Against the midnight gloom, the man appeared dark and featureless.

And then he stepped forward, close enough that the flickering firelight cast granite-hewn features into stark relief.

Kathryn stared, stunned and disbelieving. The beat of her heart grew still and silent, then leaped wildly to her throat as horror clutched at her insides.

"No," she whispered. A low sob tore from deep inside her, a cry of desolate despair. "No!"

Panic raced through her. She rushed blindly into the encroaching forest. Branches whipped across her cheeks, stinging her eyes. A cry escaped her as she stumbled. She quickly pushed herself from the damp ground. Did she only imagine the pounding footsteps behind her. . . or was it merely the rampant thunder of her heart? Her mind beset by frenzy, she had but one coherent thought—she would not yield herself over to him so easily. She had to keep running. .. She had to escape!

But alas, there was no hope for it—no hope at all.

He was upon her, his arm about her waist like an iron band. She found herself lifted and tossed over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Kathryn screamed and struggled and squirmed, clawing and pounding his back with fists and nails. But his jarring steps never faltered. In desperation she sank her teeth into the flesh of his back.

"Bitch!" Guy muttered. He gritted his teeth and flung back her skirts. Gritting his teeth, he resisted the impulse to fling back her skirts and bring his palm down on her shapely rump.

By no means had he quelled her intent. He deposited her rudely on her back near the fire. Kathryn tried to roll away, but he was there above her, pinning her beneath outspread legs. Though she was gasping and winded, sprawled beneath him like a hare on a spit, she wasted no time venting the full force of her fury on him.

"I loathe you, my lord earl! You are the spawn of the devil, the son of a warted toad! May your soul rot in Hades for all eternity—"

"Should my soul end up in hell," he interrupted smoothly, "rest assured yours will dwell alongside mine."

His gaze, cool and relentless, touched the fire in hers.

Kathryn struggled upright. He stepped back a pace but made no move to help her. Once on her feet, she choked back a cry of bitterness. "Damn you! Why couldn't you simply let me go? Why did you have to hunt me down like an animal!"

"Nay, not like an animal. Were that the case, I'd have homed in for the kill hours ago." He smiled at the confusion he read in her expression. 'You did not realize that I followed close behind, eh? You could have been back within my grasp well before the sun reached its zenith—indeed, before you left my tent last night."

She regarded him numbly. "What are you saying? That you let me escape? That you were but a step behind me the entire day?"

His smile widened in silent assent.

Kathryn's eyes rounded. God in heaven... ! Had he been at the stream while she stripped and bathed? At the realization that he had seen her almost naked, her face began to flame.

'You tricked me!" she accused. "Why? Why would you do such a thing?"

"Why?" He arched a heavy black brow. "I should think the answer is obvious. You acted like a child who would test the limits of discipline, and so I thought to teach you a lesson, a lesson that you go nowhere lest I say so. 'Tis my will which will triumph over yours, Kathryn."

"Never," she vowed.

"Always."

He moved before she realized his intention. His hand locked around her wrist. He brought her against him with a force that ripped the breath from her lungs.

"You escaped me once, milady. Do not think to do so again, for I vow I'll not be so lenient the next time."

She shrank back instinctively, unable to stop herself. Until that moment she did not realize how truly angry he was. Now, his eyes seemed to burn with all the fires of hell.

His laughter was a terrible sound. "Afraid, Kathryn? Ah, lass, you should be, for you try my patience as no other before you. You have put me to much trouble—much trouble indeed. And I begin to wonder that you are worth it."

Somehow she managed to raise her chin and match his stare bravely, but her knees were shaking. Never had a man been more threatening by simple virtue of his sex. He towered over her, tall and powerful. His jaw was set tight. His silver eyes pierced through her like a lance. She read in his eyes the desire to punish her. She resented him for his power over her, even as she despaired her own weakness.

Courage come to her then—a reckless semblance of it, at least.

"Go ahead!" She taunted him unthinkingly. Let them meet as the enemies they were. "It won't be the first time I've felt the bite of the lash or the cuff of a man's hand. Or mayhap now that you've killed Richard, you've a mind to murder me as well!"

"I will only say this once," he growled. "I did not murder your uncle, though nothing would have given me greater pleasure. Yes, I sought vengeance! But someone cheated me of my revenge."

"And I am to believe you? This from a man whose code of honor includes trickery?" Her lip curled in disdain. She tried to wrench from his hold. He wouldn't let her.

His arms came around her, tight and unyielding, trapping her hands between them. His mouth enveloped hers, merciless and untamed, the pressure of his lips against hers so demanding she felt the gnashing of his teeth against her own. His tongue dove deep within her mouth, deep and plundering. Unaware that she did so, she gave a tiny whimper of distress, and suddenly, the tenor of his kiss began to change.

The world about her seemed to spin and swirl. The fusion of his mouth on hers was no longer hard and brutal, but hungry and seeking. She fought against an insidious pleasure. In some far distant corner of her mind, she was appalled that she could feel such a thing with this man. Yet she was helpless to prevent her fingers from slowly uncurling against the breadth of his chest.

Guy nearly groaned aloud. She was so slight, his outspread hand at her back nearly spanned the width of her waist. Her bones were fine and fragile. She felt as if she would break in half, yet there was a lithe firmness about her that drove him to the brink of madness.

He'd only meant to remind her that her will was subject to his, or so he'd told himself. But now his blood pounded thick and heavy along his veins. His hands strayed below her waist, discovering the lushness of her buttocks. With a guttural moan, he lifted her into the cradle of his thighs, fitting into the vastly male triangle of his thighs, molding her full and tight against him.

Kathryn stiffened in shock. Something strange and alien stirred against the softness of her belly. Hardening. Growing...

A growl erupted deep in his throat. He wrenched his mouth from hers. "Damn you." He nearly flung her from him. "Damn you for tempting me!"

"Me!" Her cry was one of outraged indignation. "Why, 'twas you who kissed me! Why do you blame me instead of yourself?"

The tension spun out endlessly. He hated this unreasoning desire he harbored for her. He longed to banish the taste of her from his lips, while another part of him longed to snatch her back and let things lead where they would, consequences be damned.

His gaze fairly stabbed into hers. "You, my lovely Kathryn, are a whore. No lady of virtue would do what you have done!"

"And what, pray, have I done that you find so despicable?"

His voice was as cutting as his eyes. "You sought the pleasures of the flesh with Roderick without benefit of marriage—and now you pay the price!" Kathryn flushed as his gaze raked down to her belly and back again. "And need I remind you that only four nights past, you offered those very same pleasures to me. You played the whore for Roderick, but by God, you'll not do the same with me!"

Stung, Kathryn shrank back as if she'd been struck. A fervent denial trembled on her lips. Why, her embrace with Roderick wasn't at all what it seemed! And that night at Ashbury, she offered herself to him out of desperation, nothing more. But the distaste on his countenance shocked and shamed her. How could she tell him that she couldn't possibly be with child? He would brand her liar as well as slut.

But it seemed there was no need for explanations after all. He stalked to his destrier and grabbed something from behind his saddle. A moment later he flung a blanket at her feet.

"Go to sleep," he said harshly. "We leave at dawn."

Sir Hugh raised a hand and rapped on the oaken portal that guarded Elizabeth's chamber. There was no ensuing response, so he knocked again, this time more firmly. At last he heard a faint stirring from within. "Who is it?" called a faint voice.

" 'Tis I—Sir Hugh. I must speak with you, Lady Elizabeth."

All was silent for so long he was certain she intended to refuse. Then at last the door slid open. "Sir Hugh," she murmured. "You wished to speak with me?" Her eyes were lowered. She stood there, hands folded before her, her manner subdued and submissive.

"Aye, that I did." He stepped forward. "I was worried about you, Elizabeth. I thought to check on you and make certain you were not sick."

Her gaze avoided his. "I—I am well," she whispered, and turned her head.

Hugh caught his breath. Her skin was pale and colorless, her lashes spiked and damp. The fragile skin below her eyes looked almost bruised. "You've been crying," he said quietly. "Why, Elizabeth? Tell me why."

The deep shuddering breath she took made his heart wrench. Placing finger beneath her chin, he raised her face to his. She flinched at his touch, but didn't withdraw as he half-expected her to. He longed to pull her tight to his heart, but didn't think he dared. Instead he wrapped both her hands in his, and drew her across the chamber to the bench below the window.

'Tell me what troubles you," he implored. "I will seek to right it, I promise you."

Elizabeth bemoaned her foolish, foolish heart. No doubt Sir Hugh would think her weak and spineless, as Uncle had. "If only you could,” she said dully.

Her sweet gentleness held him captivated. Hugh longed for nothing more than the privilege of protecting her from any and everything that might do her harm. But he hated the air of sadness which clung to her.

"Aha," he said lightly. "Methinks I know what’s wrong. 'Tis Kathryn, isn't it?"

At the mention of Kathryn's name, her lips began to quiver. There was no need for her to answer.

"Do you miss her so?" His voice was very soft.

Elizabeth nodded. Her eyes clung to his. "I know that I'm a woman grown," she whispered. "But it seems so lonely without Kathryn. I—I have no one to talk to."

"You wound me grievously, milady." Hugh feigned a great affront. "Why, I am at your beck and call, should you feel the need to talk, to rant and rave.” If ever you need anything, he avowed silently.

Her fleeting smile made his breath catch, but it faded all too quickly. "You are very kind, Sir Hugh," she said slowly. Her eyes lowered abruptly, falling on their joined hands. "I do not deserve your comfort," she confided, her voice very low, "for I have sinned greatly."

"You?" he scoffed. " 'Tis not possible."

Trembling with shame, she tried to pull away. He would not let her. Her eyes lifted to his. "But I have," she blurted. "I lied to your lord."

Hugh studied her quietly. "If you did, I am certain you did so with good reason."

"There can be no good reason for such a sin," she cried in a voice thick with self-reproach. "I am guilty of selfishness and greed, Sir Hugh, more than you can ever know!"

A slight crease appeared between his brows. "How so?"

"Kathryn is not with child, Sir Hugh. I said that only so your lord would not take her from Ashbury. And now he has and I fear that Kathryn will now pay the price for my deceit!" Two scalding tears slipped down her cheeks.

Hugh was sorely tempted to slap his knees and laugh loud and gustily. But Elizabeth was so distressed he was compelled to offer what assurances he could. He wiped the tears away with the pads of his thumbs, resisting the impulse to let them linger.

"Do not fret so," he soothed. "I know both you and your sister do not yet have cause to believe it, but Guy is not without heart."

Her expression remained deeply troubled. "You do not know Kathryn. I fear your lord will be blind to the good in her, for she is ever willful and quick-tempered and sometimes far too outspoken for her own good."

She might have been speaking of Guy. Hugh suspected they had too much pride as well, both of them. He also suspected both he and Elizabeth saw the best of Guy and Kathryn, and the worst as well.

" 'Tis beyond our means now," he said with a faint smile. "Do not worry so, for 'tis not so bad as you would believe. And—" A light began to dance in his eyes. "—lock yourself away in your chamber no more, fair lady. It would please me greatly if you would come with me for a walk down to the sea tomorrow."

Her gaze flitted away. He sensed she was on the verge of refusing. Placing his knuckles beneath her chin, he guided her eyes to his once more. "Please, Elizabeth." The smile had left his voice—now his voice betrayed only the gravity of his plea. "You wound me deeply should you refuse."

Elizabeth's heart seemed to beat with the flutter of tiny wings. She gazed deeply into his eyes and saw strength tempered by compassion and gentleness... or did she see only what she wanted to see? She was afraid to trust in her judgment—and just as afraid not to.

Her lips parted. "I'll not refuse you, Sir Hugh," she said on a feathery breath of air.

Hugh's heart rejoiced, even as he heaved a soundless sigh. He longed to trap those quivering rosebud Ups beneath his own, but he didn't dare.

Soon, he promised himself. Very soon...

Chapter 6

Kathryn's first glimpse of Sedgewick came late the next day.

She lagged slightly behind the earl as their horses picked their way up a gentle slope. Cresting the rise, he reined his destrier to a halt. He swung down from the mighty steed, then stared out at the small valley before them.

The sky was clear and cloudless, but twilight cast its rosy glow on the far horizon. Kathryn brought her palfrey to a halt but didn't dismount. Instead she pressed a hand to the small of her back and massaged her aching muscles as she followed his gaze. In the distance, endless patchwork fields of brilliant green and gold stretched to the north and east. A short distance away, dozens of stocky cottages were tucked into the fold of a hillside.

But it was the huge fortress atop the bluff that dominated her attention. In stark silhouette against the clear sky, its towering limestone walls glittered white in the early-evening sun. Four round towers stood at the corners. A wide moat surrounded the thick walls. Seeing it, Kathryn felt a little stab of awe. It was easily thrice the size of Ashbury.

His voice came to her then. "You see before you Sedgewick."

She thought to detect arrogance in his tone— instead there was only that which bespoke strongly of pride. A heavy weight seemed to settle on her chest. Her unblinking gaze remained fixed on the fortress and surrounding landscape. Sedgewick truly was a breathtaking sight, she thought vaguely. Some might think it a wondrous haven.

For her it was but a prison.

Guy swung back on his destrier. "Let’s be off," he said. "I'm anxious to be home."

That he was, Kathryn decided irritably. He dug his heels into his destrier's sides; the pair leaped forward as one, down the slope and out across the valley. She found it more irksome still when Esmerelda took off in fevered pursuit, at no urging from her mistress! He slowed only when they approached the castle. Kathryn brought Esmerelda up beside his mount. Together they clattered across the drawbridge and entered the dark tunnel beneath the gatehouse.

With every step forward, her muscles began to tighten. Her body gave an involuntary jerk when the gaping iron teeth of the portcullis clanged shut behind her, closing out the world as she had known it. . . and sealing her in.

A squawking hen weaved across a dusty courtyard, a long-legged hound at her tail feathers. The sounds that reached her ears were familiar ones— the shrill squeal of animals in their pens, the echo of the smithy's hammer, the scream of falcons in the mews. But unfamiliar were the open stares directed her way. A wide-eyed groom spotted them and ran over to grab the destrier's halter.

"My lord." He looked up at his master with shining eyes. " 'Tis good that you are back."

The earl addressed the boy by name. "Jon," he said easily. " 'Tis good to be home again." He dismounted and tossed his reins to the boy, then turned to Kathryn and extended a hand.

The weight of that cool gray stare made her spine go rigid. She stared at his steel-gloved hand, wanting nothing more than to slap it away. His eyes chilled, a silent promise of swift retribution if she dared .. . Kathryn swung her leg over the saddle. Her fingertips resting lightly on his shoulders, she suffered his hands at her waist and let him swing her to the ground.

He released her immediately—and she him— as if neither could stand the touch of the other. But to her dismay, his fingers curled around her elbow. He led her up the stairs and into the great hall.

The hall was ahum with activity. At their entrance, several knights rushed over to greet their lord. One of them, a huge hulking man with a reddish-gold beard, laughed and clapped him heavily on the shoulder. "God's blood, man, but you took your sweet time finding your way home! We thought you were lost!" The knight laughed heartily.

Guy's smile was rather tight.

The knight swept an appreciative gaze toward Kathryn. "And who might this lovely lady be?"

A trace of panic raced through her. What would he say? she wondered wildly. Would he brand her friend or foe? She tried to jerk her elbow away but his fingers dug into her flesh in warning. She could feel his eyes upon her, cold and totally without mercy.

"Sir Edward, may I present Richard of Ashbury's niece, Lady Kathryn. As I anticipate being granted wardship of her from King Henry, she will be staying here at Sedgewick for a time."

He spoke loud enough that everyone might hear—he intended it that way, Kathryn thought half in anger, half in despair. He sought only to hurt and humiliate her.

With his pronouncement, there was a shocked silence. In the blink of an eye, their expressions changed from curious to condemning, knights and servants alike.

It was because of Richard. Because she was his niece. It spun through her mind that even from the grave, her uncle possessed the power to hurt her. . . Her only sin was in sharing the blood of her hated uncle, yet Kathryn felt scorching shame as never before.

Her lashes lowered. She could look nowhere but at the rush-covered floor. She was scarcely aware when he called a servant.

"Show the Lady Kathryn to her chamber," he directed.

Kathryn climbed the stairs behind the woman. She spent the rest of the evening in her room.

Sleep did not come easily that night. She lay huddled in her bed, trying desperately to make sense of all that had happened. Had the earl killed Richard? If not, then who? And why had he insisted she accompany him to Sedgewick?

His ruthless features filled her vision. He despises me and mine, she thought with a shiver. Now Richard was dead. Murdered. The earl claimed he'd been cheated of his revenge on Richard. A horrible assumption formed in her mind. She went cold to the tips of her fingers. Was this to be a reckoning of accounts? Perhaps through her—through her—he sought to gain his revenge on Richard.

Those words she had flung so recklessly came back to haunt her. Mayhap now that you've killed Richard, you've a mind to murder me as well. . . She envisioned his hands, dark and lean and strong.

It would be so easy for him. He had only to wrap his fingers around her throat—or fell her with a single blow.

He could kill her and there was naught she could do to stop him.

A tight band seemed to wrap across her chest, stealing her breath. She made a choked sound deep in her throat. How could she endure it here? She couldn't stand it. . . she could not! Yet escape provided no alternative either—the earl had hunted her down once. She had no doubt he would do so again. So what was she to do? She was trapped, like an animal in a cage. There was nowhere to go, she realized bleakly, that the earl would not find her. No one to care.

She thought of Ashbury... and Elizabeth... dear, sweet Elizabeth... Would she would ever see either of them again?

Never had she felt so alone! She wished desperately that she could cry, but all her pain remained locked tightly inside her.

Kathryn surfaced slowly from beneath filmy layers of sleep. A sense of befuddled confusion nudged the fringes of her consciousness. Something was different, she thought hazily, for every morning of her life she woke to the whistle of the wind whipping round the tower. Still half-asleep, her ears strained to hear the restless wash of the surf scouring the shoreline.

Her eyes flew open as remembrance flooded her mind. She did not snuggle in the warm comfort of her bed at Ashbury—she was at Sedgewick. With a heavy sigh, she heaved onto her side beneath the covers, only to stare straight into a pair of eyes as blue and brilliant as the morning sky.

Her startled gaze beheld a small cherub face and plump, pink cheeks, a small nubbin nose and chin that even now proclaimed a hint of arrogance. Fine, black curls as dark as her own. Her heart lurched as recognition tore through her like a shock wave.

There was no doubt as to this child's identity— he was clearly the earl's son.

Kathryn pushed her heavy hair from her face and sat up, keeping the fur tucked around her night robe. The little boy displayed no fear. His eyes were round with curiosity. "Good morning," she said with a smile. She patted the rumpled covers beside her. "Come and sit," she invited.

He clambered atop the mattress, curled up his legs beneath him, and gazed at her.

She tipped her head to the side. "My name is Kathryn," she told him. "What is yours?"

A hint of shyness crossed his features. He said nothing, merely bit his lip.

"Well, then," she went on lightly, "I suppose I shall have to guess. Is your name Eugene?"

He shook his head.

"William? Duncan?"

Again he shook his head. His eyes had begun to dance.

"I know. 'Tis Wickham!"

A broad grin crossed his face. The sight made her wounded heart lift and soar. Kathryn rattled off another name, still another and another, each more ridiculous than the last, until he was giggling outright.

It was in the midst of this scene that a knock sounded on her chamber door. Neither Kathryn nor the boy heard. The door swung open a second later.

"Peter! There you are, you little scamp!"

The boy was snatched from the bed by a young serving girl of perhaps her own age, with chestnut hair and wide dark eyes. For an instant, Kathryn went utterly still. For the life of her she didn't understand why, but she had the feeling she'd just done something very, very wrong.

"Please forgive Peter's intrusion, milady," the girl said quickly, "and my own lax behavior in letting him stray so far from me."

Kathryn smiled at her. "I did not mind," she said softly. "Indeed, he and I were having great fun."

But no answering smile broke the straight line of the girl's generous mouth. Kathryn watched her, faintly puzzled. Was it her imagination, or did the girl clutch the boy even closer, as if she sought to protect him?

She tried once more. "As I just told the little lord, I am Kathryn." She winked at the little boy. "And I am heartily glad that I've finally learned his name is Peter."

The girl bobbed a curtsy. "I am Gerda, milady."

Kathryn suddenly felt very exposed in the big wide bed. "I see." She feigned a lightness she was suddenly far from feeling. "And do you tend to Peter, Gerda?"

"Aye, milady." Peter was struggling in her arms. "And milord has instructed that I attend you as well. Will you be needing a bath this morning, milady?"

Kathryn's smile froze. Although Gerda's tone and manner were far from lacking in respect, she was stunned at the coldness she sensed in the girl. "If it’s not too much trouble," she murmured.

"I'll see to it then, milady." Gerda backed away, still holding the wiggly little boy in her arms. Kathryn inhaled sharply. It was impossible not to note the girl's clumsy, awkward gait as she withdrew from the chamber.

Alone once more, Kathryn pushed back the covers and rose. She'd been too weary to look about last night, but she did so now, and was unable to suppress a feeling of awe.

The chamber was easily twice the size of her chamber at Ashbury, and far more richly furnished than any she'd been exposed to. The bed was wide and long, curtained with crimson hangings. Her chest had been brought in, pushed against the far wall next to a bench. A beautiful woven rug lay upon the floor, finer than anything she'd ever seen. Wooden shutters framed the window to shut out the chill of winter; it was there that Kathryn directed her steps. She pushed the shutters aside and let the sun's warming rays shower down upon her, noting that her chamber looked upon the inner courtyard.