Forbidden Legacy (11 page)

But against all reason, and despite the way she challenged him with senseless disregard, Katherine had changed everything.

Regardless of how she made him feel, his desire was a yearning simple enough to control.

Confident he had the matter well in hand, he tugged her with him as he headed toward the waiting fisherman.

* * *

With night having long since fallen, Katherine glanced around as she settled next to Stephan, thankful to be inside the fisherman's home. Besides the table and a bench seat on either side, a sprinkle of pots and pans, and two chests topped with folded blankets, hanging herbs completed the furnishings. A loft held the pallets for sleeping.

“Here you are,” Feradac's wife said as she placed a bowl of stew before each of them

“I thank you, Mary. This smells wonderful.” Katherine dipped her spoon into the simple fare, the fire blazing in the hearth along with the sincerity and warmth of Feradac and his family calming her nerves further. She hadna felt so relaxed since she'd escaped the English.

Images of her family flickered through her mind as she took a bite. Chest tightening, Katherine forced herself to swallow. Would there ever come a time when she could move past her grief?

“Another drink, my lady?” Feradac's wife offered.

Steadying herself, Katherine set her bowl aside. “I thank you, but I am nae as hungry as I believed.”

A frown deepened Mary's brow. Sadness touched the woman's gaze, and then understanding. With a nod, she turned and joined in with the men's conversation.

Aching inside, needing a moment alone to compose herself, Katherine pushed away from the table.

Stephan stood, his gaze shrewd. “Are you ill?”

“I need some fresh air,” she replied, forcing her voice to remain light.

“Though we have nay seen any sign of the English about,” Feradac said, “ 'tis nae safe for a lass to go about unaccompanied.”

“She willna be,” Stephan said. “I shall escort her.”

Frustrated, wanting to be by herself, she shook her head. “ 'Tis unnecessary.”

“It is too dangerous to be alone. Besides,” her husband continued, “I would like to stretch my legs as well.”

She hesitated, confused by the unresolved need he stirred within her. 'Twas unfair to weigh the feelings he inspired against the brigand who'd assaulted her, a man who didna deserve to breathe. Stephan was a good man, a leader she respected.

The gentle way he'd held her onboard the ship came to mind. In his arms she'd felt secure, wanted. Shame washed through her. Mayhap her husband's decision to escort her outside was for the reason he'd stated. The desire she had seen in his eyes earlier might have been only her imagination.

Mary have mercy, look at her mulling over being alone with a man she was attracted to. And a kiss, if that was what he wished, was far from wanting her in his bed.

Stephan opened the door, gestured for her go first.

“Take this wrap, my lady.” Mary hurried over to a length of wool hanging from a nearby peg. “ 'Twill keep away the chill.”

“'Tis kind of you,” she said as the woman helped her don the woven cloth. With a confidence she didna feel, Katherine stepped into the night.

Stephan followed, closing the door in their wake.

Alone.

On edge, she walked toward the water, the gurgle of waves surging ashore lending a softness to the night.

“The skies are clear,” her husband said, keeping a leisurely pace at her side.

A smile touched her lips as she gazed at the stars embracing the waxing moon. “Aye, preferable to the overcast skies of the storm.”

“'Tis.” Pebbles crunched beneath his boots as he walked. “The information Feradac and his clansmen shared will be of immense help in our planning for the attack.”

“Indeed.” Upon their arrival at the fishing village, while the men had talked, she'd sat beside Stephan and listened. With the insight the clansmen had shared about the currents, the way the water flowed and shifted with the tides, as well as the places to avoid when they neared Avalon's shore, they should reach the secret entrance with little risk.

Air rich with the scent of the sea filled each breath as she meandered along the time-worn rocks to the edge of the shore. At the rim of smoothed stone Katherine paused, noting the small islands on the horizon and, a touch farther, the distant shoreline.

The moon hung low in the sky, reflected across the water in a silvery wash. 'Twas as if all within its path was touched by magic. Over the years, she'd found solace in such a night, a time when the world grew still, a moment to believe in dreams. Now, with her family torn from her and her struggle to accept the loss, those peaceful times, like her innocence, were lost.

Pebbles crunched as Stephan paused at her side.

The rumble of waves filled the silence.

“Will having lost one ship cause problems for the attack?”

“Nay. Our initial assault will be by land. But we didna come to speak of war.”

At his serious tone, she glanced up. Secluded from prying eyes and within the cast of the moonlight, she met his all-too-seeing gaze.

“What upset you inside the hut?”

She remained silent.

“Did you think I wouldna notice?”

Foolishly, she had. Katherine scanned the water, finding a part of her wished to share the reason for her grief. It was reckless to consider such, but the night seemed to call for truth. “Listening to Feradac and Mary telling their tales of the past reminded me of times with my own family. 'Twas why I . . .” Against the grief, she forced herself to go on. “Why I needed to be alone.”

Far away, the howl of a wolf echoed into the night. Unsure of his reaction, she glanced over. Within the sheen of light, his eyes watched her with a mixture of sadness and grief.

“You are a woman of great bravery.”

At his praise, the flutters of need he ignited in her were foreign and terrifying. “When I was to wed a knight loyal to our king,” she said before she didna dare, “I was furious, believing you saw my father's title and castle as a prize to be won.”

“And now?”

“Though King Robert chose you for your skills of war and to be my protector, I believe his decision took into account your compassion as well.”

A frown tightened his mouth. “I live by my sword. Dinna paint me as a man with a tender heart; 'twill lead you to naught but disappointment.”

“Will it?” she asked, intrigued that he'd portray himself as a man of coldness when moments before he'd been naught but gentle. Or, to his warrior's mind, had his tenderness been a necessary choice in dealing with a difficult situation? And what of earlier this day, when she'd caught him looking at her with interest? Did he find her appealing, or was that thought nurtured only in her mind? A part of her hesitated to ask, but she needed to know. “Though I never would have considered it possible,” she said, “I believe my godfather understood what I needed more than I.”

“And what was that?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“A man strong enough to listen, one with a kind heart to care, and one who wouldna judge me by my past.”

“ 'Tis naught to judge. Though nae a warrior, you are trustworthy, of strong intellect, and know how to handle a sword.” He eyed her. “I couldna tolerate a weak-willed lass given to the vapors.”

She laughed, nae wanting to be charmed by his gruff laud. “I am too stubborn for such a weakness.”

“You are.”

“Which pleases you immensely?”

Beneath the moon's glow, his gaze locked on hers, and the wisp of humor faded.

The moment shifted, grew intense, the slide of light and shadows embracing them like a wish.

Face taut, Stephan's breathing grew unsteady as he watched her, and the need within her built.

On a soft hiss, his hand gently lifted the curve of her jaw, his eyes holding hers. “Know this: you are nae what I want.”

Heart pounding, she held his gaze, refusing to back down from this insanity. “I said my guardian was wise, nae that I wanted you,” she said. “With your overbearing, arrogant manner, I would rather kiss a boar.”

“I am confident, nae overbearing.”

She scoffed. “If confidence was stone, you could build a fortress.”

Despite his fierce frown, a smile flickered on his mouth. “You are naught but trouble.”

Blast it, she could have dealt with his anger, a curse, his raging like a madman at the moon, but his humor weakened her every defense. “I am, at that, one I doubt you will ever be able to handle.”

“A challenge?”

“The truth. Though with your bravado,” she pushed, enjoying throwing him off balance, doubtful many dared to try, “being a warrior who has overcome numerous challenges, faced death many times over, I canna see you shaken by anything, much less a mere woman whose strength lies in the running of a castle.”

Laughter crinkled at the corners of his eyes, along with admiration. He skimmed his thumb across the curve of her jaw, his eyes darkening to an awareness that had her blood sizzling. “Had I a brain in my head, I would toss you in the sea, swear you drowned of your own foolishness, and be done with you.”

Unbidden, she laughed.

“Bedamned your making me want you!” His eyes scorching, he hauled her against him, covered her mouth with his own.

C
ool night air swirled around them as Katherine trembled from the intensity of Stephan's kiss.

With an oath, her husband released her, his breath coming fast, his eyes hot. “Bedamned!” He stepped back.

Stunned to find herself calm, she realized the truth. She'd wanted his kiss, driven him to the point of giving in to his need. Pleasure swept over her that she had such power, but a kiss wasna making love.

More important, if he asked,
could
she give him intimacy? Had she opened a door she didna wish to enter?

The spill of waves echoed in the potent silence.

She started to step toward him.

“Stay, do you hear me?”

“What?”

“Dinna move.” Stephan stalked down the shoreline, kicked a rock, whirled, stared at her for a long moment, and then trudged back. “Do you know what you have done?”

Mary have mercy, her husband was angry because he wanted her. A smile threatened to surface; she suppressed the urge. Of all the reactions possible, his outrage at his own desire for her wasna one she'd considered. And should have. He was a knight, believed his life given to war, and able to conform his emotions as every part of his life to his own needs.

Except with her.

Giddy at the thought, she angled her chin. “I did naught; 'twas you that kissed me.”

His eye narrowed in silent warning.

Far from intimidated, Katherine stepped closer, thrilled when his entire body tensed. “And a fine kiss it was.”

“ 'Twas harsh, unforgivable,” he rasped, “despicable treatment of a man's wife.”

“Are you saying you would like to make amends?” she asked innocently.

“I . . .”

Emboldened, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “I think you should try again.”

Frustration, anger, and need racing through his eyes, he pulled her against him, his mouth a breath above hers. “God help me.” With infinite tenderness, he brushed his mouth over hers, skimmed his lips along her jaw, the soft curve of her neck.

With his every touch, taste, a slow ache grew within her.
Need.
A feeling she had never believed she could experience, until Stephan. Humbled that he would be the man who could move her beyond her fears, Katherine laced her fingers behind his neck, his tongue moving across her flesh in a wondrous slide.

“Kiss me, Stephan,” she whispered. “I canna wait any longer.”

Shimmers of moonlight whispered over his face as his eyes locked on hers. His nostrils flared. “Say you want me.”

Pulse racing, the anticipation driving her mad, she lifted her face closer. “I want you.”

On a groan, his mouth took hers, gentle but demanding.

Captured by the whip of passion, trembling as his lips roamed hers, she sank into the kiss. At his taste, the heat of man and need, desire swirled within her at a restless pace until all thought blurred.

On a growl, he angled her head, took the kiss deeper.

Lost to sensation, needing more, she pressed her body flush against his, met his every kiss and demanded more.

“I want you,” Stephan rasped as he backed her against a nearby boulder while his lips continued to destroy her will. His body trembling, he pressed intimately against her.

Memories of the attack screamed in her mind. The crude laughter. The tearing of cloth as the assailant had ripped her dress. Panicking, Katherine shoved. “Stop! Let me go!”

Eyes wide with confusion, he released her. “Wh-what is wrong?”

Shame filled Katherine as she gasped for air. Wanting Stephan's kiss, she'd believed herself strong enough to move past her fears. “I am sorry.”

“I shouldna have touched you.”

Mary have mercy, he'd done naught except what she'd asked, had yearned for. “I . . .”

“ 'Tis late and we must rest,” he said, his voice remote. “There is much to do on the morrow.”

'Twas their first kiss, a moment to remember. But she'd panicked and transformed what should have been special into a disaster. None of this was his fault.

Emotion swamping her, Katherine struggled for calm, fighting the urge to flee, the hurt tormenting her mind. He was confused; how could he nae be? He needed to understand. “ 'Tis nae you.”

Shadows and moonlight shimmered across Katherine's face as she stared at him, but Stephan caught the distress in her eyes, an anguish that tore him apart. All because he'd bloody kissed her.

Kissed her?

A pale term for how he'd touched her. He'd meant for the kiss to be uncomplicated. Confident one taste of her would extinguish his feelings for her—feelings that grew stronger with each passing day—he'd given in to need.

But as the softness of her lips pressed against his, the straightforward task had crumbled beneath need, and he'd taken with mindless disregard.

Blast it! If Katherine despised him for treating her with such boldness, 'twas her right. He was a Knight Templar, nae a man who could sate his desires with a woman, regardless if she was his wife. Though the Brotherhood had been dissolved, he and his men remained loyal to their sworn oath.

Foolish, even for a moment, to think otherwise, more so to allow himself to weaken around her. However well intended, steps toward darkness didna offer a path back.

He scowled at the moon's silvery rays, the shimmers in league with the quiet rush of waves to craft a seductive setting. With his desire for his wife building, he'd allowed himself to be tempted.

“Stephan,” Katherine whispered, anxiety sliding through her voice.

He smothered his yearnings beneath duty. “We must return. As Feradac said, 'tis dangerous to linger.” Neither would he remain when he still wanted her.

She stepped before him. “I wanted your kiss.”

“As your husband, I am your protector,” he stated, furious that regardless of what he willed, his body ached for her. Too easily he could envision laying her upon the water-slicked sand, her body naked against his own.

“Aye,” she replied, her words firm, “but a marriage is more than defending one's family.”

In her world perhaps. He lived by a rigid set of rules.

Eyes wide with worry and frustration watched him, but torn by his own emotions and wanting her too much, he refused to linger on the reason. “I should nae have kissed you. Nor will we speak of this further.”

“You are nae to blame,” she rushed out. “ 'Tis I. I am nae a woman who can come to your bed. Please dinna despise me.”

Confused by her words, he frowned. “I could never despise you.”

Relief swept her face but worry remained. “I am a difficult woman to live with.”

“An understatement,” he replied, his words rough.

Embraced by the soft whispers of wind, her eyes softened. “Mayhap, but I dinna think you would find interest in a lass with a milder nature. Nor do I swoon.”

Damning her ability to break down his shields, he glared at her, irritated at how the shimmers of moonlight caressed her face, lingered on her mouth. On a muttered curse, he caught her hand, led her up the rocky incline.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the hut,” he said between clenched teeth, where they should have blasted remained. A valuable lesson. Though he must produce a son to bear the title of the Earl of Dunsmore, it wouldna be this night. In a year, two, with several battles behind him, mayhap the way they looked upon the other would change.

Unless she learned her father had murdered his family. The upheaval of this night would be a pittance to what the truth would do.

* * *

Several days later, flickers of torchlight scraped the damp walls as Stephan followed Katherine through the catacombs, the air rich with the tang of the sea. Since their return from the fisherman's village and having boarded another ship, shaken by all she had made him feel, he'd keep his distance.

Once he'd regained control of his unwanted desire for her, however much he hesitated to allow himself and Katherine to grow closer, Thomas was right: 'Twas wise to nurture their friendship. When he sailed to battle, he would leave the castle in the hands of a capable woman he could trust.

The demands of discussing the currents and tides surrounding Avalon with his men along with preparing for the attack had usurped most of his time.

When he'd found her at the bow the night before, staring at the sky and looking so lost and forlorn, he'd gone to her, an act of duty, nay more. A poor husband he would be to abandon her when she struggled against the loss of her family.

Nae that she'd wanted him near. His wife's icy request to leave when he came near ran though his mind. God's blade, how had a simple kiss caused such disarray?

Simple?

He grimaced. There was naught simple about the kiss or the lass. The way she looked at him—part waif, part siren—twisted him in two. How was a man to be logical when with each passing moment he wanted her more?

However much he wished otherwise, he yearned for her, in his arms, in his bed, in his life. Stephan swallowed hard as he accepted a fate he'd rather deny.

He wanted his wife.

An acknowledgment that changed naught. Too much lay between them for a real marriage to exist.

King Robert had given him the choice to tell Katherine of her father's horrendous act. If he told her, the fragile bond between them would be destroyed. With her caring nature, how could he nae believe she wouldna be horrified by the truth, believe that he could never accept her in his life, much less fall in love with her?

Love
?

With a curse, Stephan discarded the thought. At most their union would grow into a strong friendship. And even if the possibility existed, he refused to allow their relationship to become more.

Memories assailed him of Katherine's father's attack on Avalon. Of how at seven summers, terrified as troops stormed the castle, Stephan had hidden, nae lifted a blade to try to save his family. Instead, with the blood of those he loved staining the ground, he'd waited until late in the night and slipped away.

A coward.

A man undeserving of love.

A shameful act, one, if King Robert had known of it, would have severed any chance of Stephan regaining his legacy.

Neither would seizing Avalon erase his wife's distress. However much Katherine wished it, never could she reclaim her former life or find in him a husband who could give her the comfort she desired.

Torchlight flickered on the walls of the tunnel. “How much farther?” Stephan asked, the soft pad of his men's steps echoing behind him.

“'Tis but a short way,” Katherine replied.

Ahead, the waver of torchlight outlined a large boulder, ending the tunnel.

She halted. “We are here.”

With a frown, Stephan scoured the indentations where the massive rock pressed against others. “I dinna see an entry.”

Pride gleaming in her eyes, she nodded toward the boulder. “ 'Tis but a shell. The inside has been carved away to allow the stone to move with ease. In the event anyone ever discovered the secret entrance to the tunnel, my father had it crafted to provide another layer of protection.”

Disquiet trickled through him. The hewn rock was a façade the Templars used. More disturbing, the talent necessary to carve rock with such precision prohibited the practice by most stonemasons. “Wise.”

“My father was that and so much more. A man respected by many.” She crossed to several smaller stones on the right. At the rough depression, she slid her fingers until they caught, then removed the flat rock and set it on the ground.

An iron ring lay beneath.

Wrapping her fingers around the crafted metal, Katherine pulled.

Steel grated against stone.

With ease, she withdrew the loop connected to a long rod.

Dull clacks like small stones echoed from within, a thud as each rock settled. The faint gurgle of water. With a soft scrape, the large stone swung inward.

Stunned by the complexity of the entry, the ramifications of what this intricate design meant, Stephan glanced toward Thomas.

His friend's brow furrowed. “'Tis clever,” he said, his voice dry.

“Aye,” Stephan agreed. 'Twas more than clever, but a complex device only a limited number of stonemasons could create—all of them Knights Templar.

And what of the catacombs woven within the surrounding rock? He'd owed their existence to keeping food stores and other goods for the castle, supplies that would defray the need to travel to restock essential goods often. Now, he suspected otherwise.

Was it chance Robert Bruce, a Templar knight, had sent him and his men to Avalon Castle? Or had this stronghold been created as a precaution in case a dire situation ever prompted an evacuation of the Templars from France? If the Brotherhood had dug these tunnels, it explained why King Robert would have sent the Templar ships here.

A slow pounding began in his head. It couldna be. If Avalon was a Templar refuge, then Katherine's father had been a supporter of the Brotherhood. However much Stephan wished otherwise, many nobles, for their own reasons, backed the Order.

Appalled to consider that the man he loathed with his every breath might well be a savior of their cause, Stephan's thoughts shifted to the Grand Master. Nay doubt Jacques de Molay had known of the catacomb's existence. Regardless of how much Stephan didna like Katherine's father's involvement, the rationale made sense, supporting the reason why the Grand Master had sent him and his men to Scotland and, more specifically, to King Robert.