Samantha James (37 page)

It was little wonder that when Kathryn fell asleep, as she had her first night back at Sedgewick, she dreamed she was running through the fog, lost and alone. The looming shadow once again raced at her heels. Her heart pounded with terror, for the thing was evil itself. On and on she ran blindly, damp and perspiring, her lungs heaving as she struggled for breath.

But alas, suddenly her way was blocked by a solid wall of stone. Behind her, eerie laughter raised the hair on her neck. With a gasp she spun to face her uncle. Blood poured from the jagged slash on his throat.

"You thought you were so clever, didn't you, girl?" Wet lips pulled into a sneer. "You thought you could be rid of me. You thought you could have Ashbury! You are much like me, girl, more than you know. Like me, 'tis your wont to covet what can never be yours. But now you will have nothing— nothing!—for I will take you with me to the fiery pits of hell!" And he threw back his bloodied head and began to laugh, and laugh... and suddenly the shadow fell over her. She was immersed in smothering folds of blackness. Hands snatched at her, clawing her, touching her everywhere, clammy and cold, and all at once she knew—

The shadow was death. It was death that stalked her, death that sought to seize her in its grasp and squeeze the life from her.

"Nay! I am not like you, Uncle... I am not!" She sobbed wildly, twisting and thrashing, desperate to evade the chilling hands of death. "Oh, please, Guy, you must help me," she screamed. "Guy... Guy!" But there was nowhere to go, no one to help her, of a certainty not Guy, for he had never wanted her. No doubt he would be heartily glad to find himself rid of her.

"Kathryn!" Hard hands curled around her shoulders. She fought wildly. It took a moment before her frantic senses were able to register another presence. Her eyes opened. Her scream turned to a garbled half-sob as she saw Guy hovering above her, and he was not cold and icy, but warm and solid and strong.

"Hush, sweet. 'Tis just a dream, that's all."

She clung to him, shaking, her body damp and perspiring. "I am not like him," she cried desperately. "You must believe me, Guy. I am not like him!"

His arms engulfed her. He tucked her head beneath his chin, his harsh features etched with concern. "Who?" he murmured. "Who do you mean?"

"Richard." Her fingers clenched and unclenched in the front of his tunic. "I am not evil and cunning like him, Guy, I am not!"

She lifted her face to his. He could feel her shaking against him. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her mouth tremulous and vulnerable. The pleading in those misty green eyes speared his heart. "Nay, love. You are not like Richard," he whispered, and knew it for the truth. He gently pushed damp tumbled strands of ebony from her brow. "Were you dreaming of him?"

Resting her cheek against his chest, she nodded slowly, loving the steady throb of his heart beneath her ear, the sheltering protection of his embrace. She gave a breathy little sigh, wishing they could stay like this forever, but Guy was waiting. Her voice halting, she told him of her dream, ending with a shudder. "Guy, I do not want to die. I— I do not even like to think about it."

His arms tightened. "It must be the babe," he mused. "Are you afraid of the birth?"

"A little," she admitted, then shivered suddenly. "Richard's wife died in childbed."

With his fingertips he massaged the tightness between her shoulder blades. "There is no reason to think the birth will be anything but normal, Kathryn. If the babe were overly large, you might have a difficult time. But judging from the size of you, the babe is a small one."

"Small! Too small, do you think? Oh, Guy, what if—"

"Kathryn—" He sighed, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "—I fear I am alarming you when I only thought to reassure you. Do not worry overmuch, for I would guess you'll have an easy time of it."

"Easy!" Her lips parted indignantly. " 'Tis well and good for you to say it will be easy," she muttered crossly. "You are not the one who must endure it."

He smiled at her sputtering, sliding his fingers through the silken length of her hair. Kathryn rubbed her cheek against the soft wool covering his shoulder. For a moment each of them were immersed in their own thoughts. Then finally, her troubled gaze sought his.

"Guy," she said quietly, "who murdered Richard?"

She had startled him. She felt it in the sudden tension that gripped his body. Then, just as suddenly, she felt the tension seep from his limbs. He arched a roguish brow. "I thought you were convinced it was I."

A spurt of guilt shot through her. "Nay," she confided with a shake of her head. "Not for a long time now." A tiny frown appeared between slender dark brows. "You accused me of murdering him," she recalled suddenly. "But it was not I, Guy!"

He smiled crookedly and pressed a fingertip against the indignant pout of her lips. "I'm not sure I ever truly believed you guilty, Kathryn." His smile ebbed. "Likely as not, the secret of Richard's murderer went with him to his grave."

His hands swept down to encircle her waist. He encountered the sticky dampness of the chemise she'd worn to bed. He pulled back with an impatient exclamation. "You're soaked, woman. Come, we'd better get this off you." Even as he spoke, he'd already begun the task. He pulled the linen cloth up and over her head, the tips of his fingers warm and pleasantly rough as they skimmed her thighs and ribs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He disposed of his own clothing just as quickly and slid in beside her.,

When he cradled her against his length, she pressed against him with a breathy sigh. Her terror had subsided, but not her desperate need to be held. Her fingers crept up to tangle in the furry darkness on his chest. She burrowed her face into the musky hollow of his shoulder, needing the reassurance only his nearness could give.

His thumb slipped beneath the fall of her hair, caressing the tender skin of her nape and sending tiny pulses of pleasure winging through her. "It occurs to me," she heard him say, "that I've yet to give you a wedding gift."

All at once Kathryn felt she'd been plunged into a vat of frigid cold. "There is no need," she faltered. "Indeed, I would not feel right in accepting such a gift."

"And why not?"

"Because you gained no marriage portion. Need I remind you that my uncle sold my dower lands?" She swallowed miserably. "I've brought nothing to this marriage."

His eyes darkened as he glimpsed her distress. "Ah, but you are wrong," he said huskily. Deliberately he splayed his hand on the hard curve of her belly. "You bring the gift of life, a gift beyond price—mayhap the greatest gift of all."

His tenderness wrenched at her chest. Her throat clogged with some powerful, unnamed emotion, she wound her arms around his neck and blindly sought his mouth. Guy took full advantage and leisurely sampled the honeyed sweetness of those tempting lips. When at last he released her mouth, he trailed a fingertip down her nose. "Now tell me, wench. Give me some hint of the gift you would have, not something you have need of, but something you desire very dearly."

Unbidden—unwanted—a maelstrom of longing rose within her. Mayhap it was this strange mood that had sprung up between them—his gentleness was wholly disarming. But in that moment, all she yearned for was that he truly care for her—nay, not out of duty or obligation, but straight from the heart. Perchance even to love her...

She quickly relinquished the thought, just a little appalled at the direction her mind had taken. Someday mayhap, Guy might come to hold her in some affection, if only because of the child they would share. But he would never, ever love her.

"Well?" His crooked smile made her heart catch.

She bit her lip, her manner hesitant. "I could have anything I wanted?"

"Aye, anything within my power to give."

"Then I would have you grant Gerda her freedom."

"Gerda! Kathryn, this is the gift you would seek?"

She laid her fingers against his jaw. "It is the only thing I wish," she whispered.

His hand lifted to cover hers. His eyes snared hers as he pressed a kiss to her fingers. " 'Tis good as done, milady."

That rare, sweet smile just before she ducked her head and snuggled against him told him she was well pleased with herself. But inside Guy was still stunned that she asked nothing for herself—a new gown or some bauble perhaps. At times he was certain he knew her mind as well as his own... at times like this he felt he knew her not at all.

She fell asleep quickly, but Guy made no move to put her from him. Instead he held her, unmindful of the way her hair tickled his chin. He enjoyed feeling the rise and fall of her breasts against his side, the warm womanly softness of her. A rueful smile tugged at his lips as he thought of all their tempestuous encounters. It seemed nothing less than a miracle that she lay so trusting and pliant in his arms.

But she had come to him willingly—nay, eagerly!—every night since their marriage. And every night he had held her thus, his body physically satiated beyond anything he'd ever known before. It should have been enough. If only it were! Yet he felt oddly out of step, as if something vitally important—and damnably elusive—were missing.

Kathryn belonged to him. She was now his wife. She would share his home, his life, bear his children. Even as he knew the greatest of pride, a bitter ache swelled his chest. What mystery, what madness was this, that this one small slip of a woman was able to rouse such hunger, such longing in him? But he had long since acknowledged he could not break this web of need and desire she spun so easily about him.

He thought of Elaine. His life. His love. He braced himself inwardly, waiting for the familiar, stabbing pain to strike his soul.

It did not come.

Shame pricked him deeply, for he had held fast to her memory for so long now. He'd thought his heart taken for all eternity. But that was before a dark-haired enchantress had swept into his life.

Kathryn . .. He dared to breathe her name... And then he dared even more .. . Did he love her?

Elaine's image spun through his mind: eyes like a summer sky, flaxen hair floating about her like a halo of gold, so delicate and sweet. With Elaine, love had been a gentle wind to ease the spirit, a soothing balm to heal and comfort.

And then there was Kathryn. With her he felt passion and fire, a blaze that flamed his senses to white-hot coals and scorched his soul. Even now, it took but a fleeting glance down the length of her and the dormant flames of desire flared hot and bright within him.

Her hair tumbled over his bare chest, as black and shiny as a raven's wing. She was strong, he acknowledged, fierce and defiant, with a temper to match his own. Though she possessed no sword or shield, she had fought Richard. She had fought for Ashbury. And she had fought him... Yet now she lay curled against him, as trustingly as a child, and he was filled with an aching tenderness.

Did he love her? He knew only that Kathryn made him feel things he'd never thought he could feel for any woman again. But he could not deny that his love for Elaine was vastly different than whatever it was that he felt for Kathryn.

Yet she had only to ask, and he would gladly move heaven and earth itself.

A weary bleakness slipped over him. It was said that he was a great warrior, for he'd fought and won many battles in his day. But he'd never fought one quite so fierce as the one before him now. It was then that he realized... the greatest battle was fought alone.

The greatest battle of all was with the heart.

The next afternoon Gerda burst into Kathryn's chamber. "Lady Kathryn," she cried. "You will not believe this but I am free! Sir Guy no longer holds me bound to my father's oath."

Kathryn set aside her sewing. "Aha," she teased. "And how did Sir Michael take this news?"

The girl blushed and clapped her hands together. "He returned only this morning from a visit with his father—and—oh, milady, this is almost like a dream come true! His father has granted Michael a small manor in Dorset. Michael says the manor house is in poor condition and will take many months to repair. But he said this time he will not take no for an answer. We are to be married as soon as the manor house is finished, mayhap as soon as late spring!" Kathryn laughed, for Gerda's elation was something to behold. Her liquid brown eyes shone as brightly as a summer morn.

The next moment, though, she tipped her head to the side. "Milady," she said softly, "why do I sense that you are not surprised?"