Samantha James (29 page)

Her heart was pounding heavily. Black specks began to dance before her eyes. Somehow Gerda's voice penetrated the dull buzzing in her ears.

"Milady, 'tis my guess that you're with child."

Kathryn slumped to the floor.

Chapter 13

Stalemate.

Hugh had long since decided he and Elizabeth were at a stalemate. They could go neither forward nor backward. Though she did not cower away, her reserve was like a wall of stone. Oh, they talked, they chatted, they laughed. But whether she knew it or not, she had set boundaries around her, boundaries he dared not cross for fear of shattering what little they had gained.

They did not speak of that night in her room when he had soothed and held her close. Indeed, it might never have happened, but it was that which stood between them like a towering wall of granite. Hugh sought to gently broach the subject once but she ran off in tears. If Elizabeth had her way, he suspected that they would go on as they were until the end of time.

Hugh could think of only one solution. He prayed it was the right one. Indeed, he thought bitterly, he had nothing to lose by putting it to the test. Whether she knew it or not, his heart was already hers.

He approached her one sunny afternoon when she sat in the solar with her sewing. "If it pleases you," he said pleasantly, "I thought we might walk outside the walls while it's still warm."

It was on the tip of Elizabeth's tongue to blurt that it did not please her. While a part of her longed for just such an opportunity to be with Hugh, another part feared what might happen if they were alone. For all that he was charming and remarkably easy to talk to, at times his eyes were so piercingly intent she felt he saw clear inside her.

She gestured at the cloth in her lap. "Mayhap another time—" she began.

His hands were on the cloth, lifting it aside. To her horror, in the next instant his hands folded around hers and he was lifting her to her feet as well. "You abuse me sorely, Elizabeth. Take pity on my poor soul and oblige me in this." As he spoke, he offered a ready smile. Elizabeth thought frantically that she was wrong—that Hugh was dangerous indeed. Yet her protest could find no voice as he led her outside.

Silence prevailed as they began to walk, leaving the keep behind. While it was not a particularly comfortable silence, neither was it uncomfortable. The sun beat warmly on Elizabeth's cheeks; the scent of tangy salt air teased her nostrils. She had just begun to relax when it struck her that the rocky, winding path they trod was vaguely familiar... She inhaled sharply, for there, just over the next rise, was the place where.. . Alarm skittered through her and she spun abruptly, determined to flee.

Hugh caught her by the waist and held her fast. "Let me pass!" she screamed. "Hugh, you must let me pass!" He glimpsed panic in her eyes and his resolve nearly waned. He hated himself as never before. When Elizabeth began to pound his chest he wrapped his arms around her and subdued her with gentle strength.

He gave a shake of his head, steeling himself and standing firm. "We are almost there, Elizabeth. We cannot stop now."

She railed wildly. "Why are you doing this? My mother died there. You know that, Hugh! Why would you take me back? How can you be so cruel?"

Hugh felt as though she had landed a blow at the center of his heart. "Believe me when I say this pains me as much as it pains you." The edge in his voice lent truth to the words. "Elizabeth, you are a warm, beautiful woman who deserves to be happy. But I fear this cannot be until you have purged yourself of this horrible memory. There is a place in your mind that only you can set free. Only then will you be free. May God strike me from this earth if I am wrong, but I can think of no other way to help you, save this."

Elizabeth began to shake uncontrollably.

He smoothed the flaxen hair from her cheek. "I'd not belittle what happened to your mother." He attempted to explain. "It was tragic, a terrible thing for a child to witness. But you must put it behind you now or it will forever haunt you. I will help you, Elizabeth, if only you'll let me."

"I will have nightmares again if you take me there," she cried piteously. "Hugh, I know I will!"

Nightmares? If she must dream, then let her dreams be of him . .. Even as the fervent prayer echoed through his brain, he bracketed her face with his hands. "Do you trust me, Elizabeth?"

She floundered helplessly. "I did... I—I mean I do, only. . . oh, Hugh, must we do this?"

"No harm will come to you, Elizabeth. If you will only come with me, I promise we won't stay long. We will leave whenever you like."

Elizabeth's mind was whirling. She could not summon the will to argue, not could she couldn't find the strength to fight him. When he took her by the hand and led her up the path once more, she clung to the soothing tenor of his voice and to him. She kept her eyes downcast, her heart pounding so she feared it would crash through her chest at any moment. At last she stumbled to a halt beside Hugh.

A hard lump of dread coiled in the pit of her stomach. She nearly cried out when he dropped her hand and walked away. It took every ounce of courage she possessed to raise her head and watch him. He stopped some twenty paces distant.

"Elizabeth," he said calmly, "look around you. Look well and listen. Then tell me—" He paused. "—if what you see is truly so frightening that you must forever shun this place."

She wrapped her arms about herself as if to ward off a chill, but she did as he asked. Her gaze moved slowly. High above, the sky was a deep, breathtaking blue. Clumps of bracken clustered around an outcropping of boulders near the edge of the bluff. Scraggly blades of grass lay close against the rocky ground, whipped there by the ever-present wind, which rose in a keening wail then fell eerily silent. A nearby shriek gave her a jolt, but it was only the screech of a sea gull. But for the brilliance of the sky, the landscape was stark and barren. And in the midst of it all was Hugh, the wind blowing thick russet-brown hair from his forehead, his shoulders so wide and strong they looked as if they could easily bear the weight of the world.

The terror began to seep from her limbs. She started to smile. Then her gaze chanced to rest on the jutting rock to his left. A shudder racked her body. "It happened there," she whispered brokenly. "It was there. . . Oh, God, Hugh, it was awful. . . those men! They hit my mother over and over again. And then they. . ." She broke off, swallowing the bile that burned her throat.

Hugh was at her side in an instant, clasping her icy-cold hand in his. "Bloodlust," he said grimly. "I make no excuse. Those men deserve to rot in hell for what they did! What you saw was an act of brutality. But not all men are like those bastards—I swear to you by all that is holy. And I swear to you that what happens between a man and a woman is not always ugly. Elizabeth, when a man comes to care about a woman—" He nearly said when a man loves a woman. "—there is tenderness and affection. He longs to cherish and protect her. Never—never!— would he hurt or dishonor her."

He paused, his eyes sweeping around them as hers had done. "Evil was done here, aye. But is this place still so evil? I do not ask you to forget what happened here, but mayhap 'tis time to replace that memory with another."

Elizabeth trembled. She longed to believe him. She longed for it with every fiber of her being! "How?" she whispered.

His eyes darkened. "Let me show you," he said softly. He moved close, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath strike her cheek. Oh, she knew what he was about. Mayhap she had known all along. But now that the moment was upon her, she was plagued with uncertainty. Her hands came up against his chest, not resisting, but not welcoming either. She ducked her head and closed her eyes in mortal shame.

A strangled cry broke from her lips. "Hugh, I— I'm afraid."

His knuckles slipped beneath her chin. "Nay," he whispered. "Not of me, you're not. And I only mean to kiss you, Elizabeth, the merest touch of your lips against mine."

And before she could draw breath, he was there, his mouth on hers, gentle and wooing and far softer than it looked. Elizabeth's eyes flew open in stunned surprise only to drift shut just as quickly.

Her head began to swim. This was more than just the touching of lips, she thought fuzzily. Her pulse clamored wildly. A bone-deep warmth and sweetness swept through her—it seemed to seep from his body into hers—or was it the other way around? Her hands slowly uncurled against the soft wool covering his chest but she made no effort to break off the kiss. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the steady throb of his heart. The pressure of his mouth deepened ever so slightly, and then time ceased to exist.

Long moments later, Hugh released her lips reluctantly. The feel of her body soft and plaint against his unraveled a storm of emotion. Her eyes opened slowly, bemused and smoky and dazed. He wanted to shout with triumph but suspected he did not dare.

He nuzzled the velvet skin at her temple. "We should get back to the keep," he murmured.

It pleased him mightily when the slender arms looped around his neck tightened ever so slightly. "Aye," she agreed, her voice very small. She risked a peek at him from beneath her lashes. "But do you think you might kiss me... just once more?"

His laugh was shaky. Already his head had begun yet another descent. " 'Twould be no hardship, no hardship at all."

And indeed it was not.

Kathryn tried desperately not to dwell on her pregnancy.

Considering how coldly enraged Guy had been when he discovered she was not with child, there was a twinge of dark irony in suddenly finding that she was.

Kathryn was not, however, inclined to laugh about it. Indeed, it was something she tried desperately not to dwell on. She wanted to deny what had happened. She wanted to cry and rage that it was not so. Alas, once again, her body betrayed her. Her breasts grew full and heavy. Her waist thickened, her belly began to round and swell. It would not be long before her condition was blatantly obvious.

The days began to blur, one into another. For the first time in her life, Kathryn found herself floundering, terrified of the future. Guy had warned her not to try to return to Ashbury—the thought of his retribution if she did so made her shiver. Yet he had no feelings for her other than desire. No doubt that would change once he discovered she was with child!

Even Gerda seemed to share her melancholy mood. From her window one day, Kathryn saw Gerda and Sir Michael in the outer bailey—they spoke in low-voiced whispers. Sir Michael laid a hand on her shoulder, while Gerda shook her head over and over, then suddenly broke away. She hurried away as quickly as her hitched gait allowed. Kathryn could not clearly make out Sir Michael's expression but she sensed he was angry.

It was concern for the girl that made Kathryn tentatively broach the subject a short time later. To her surprise, the mere mention of Sir Michael's name was all it took for Gerda to burst into tears.

Kathryn hurried to her side and slipped her arm around Gerda's shoulders. She gave not a thought to the difference in their stations. This was merely one woman reaching out to comfort another.

"Gerda, tell me what’s wrong," she urged. "Has Sir Michael wronged you somehow? Spoken to you harshly perchance?" Secretly Kathryn thought it difficult to picture Sir Michael hurting anyone. For all that he was a knight well versed in the arts of war, Kathryn had come to know him as amicable and seldom without a winsome smile.

Gerda made a choked sound and cried the harder.

Kathryn's mind searched fleetingly backward. She thought of all the days the three of them—and Peter as well—had spent at the stream, and pictured Gerda handing Sir Michael a slice of cheese, a hunk of bread. Sometimes their hands had brushed—or they had shared a fledgling smile. A numbing realization washed over her. How could she have been so blind?

"You're in love with him," she whispered incredulously. "Gerda, you love him!"

"Aye, milady." Gerda sat up with a sniff, wiping away her tears with her fingertips.

Kathryn pressed a dainty lace handkerchief into her hands. "Does Sir Michael know?" she asked quietly. Gerda nodded. Kathryn bit her hp. "And how does he feel about it?"

"He—he says he loves me, too." The girl stared at the handkerchief crushed in her hand. "My lady," she whispered, "he—he says he would marry me."