Samantha James (47 page)

She raged inwardly, torn between helpless despair and a bittersweet hope. She loved him, but she knew not if he had believed her! Oh, if only she had told him days ago—weeks ago! What would happen when he returned to Sedgewick and discovered her gone? She trembled to think of it. What if he were convinced she had deserted him? What if he were convinced that she had gone willingly with Roderick? He would hate her—despise her as never before. Mayhap he would not even come after her.

Yet all that mattered was that he be spared. A silent litany poured through her, over and over, as she beseeched and pleaded with her maker. She would gladly forfeit her own life—if only Guy was alive, if only he could somehow escape Roderick's treachery.

Darkness fell while she nursed Brenna, and with it an air of impending doom. Roderick drank freely from a skin of ale. Kathryn watched uneasily, dreading the moment when Brenna slept again.

Suddenly he threw back his head and laughed. The guttural sound sent a jolt through her. She raised her chin and met his brazen stare. "You appear well satisfied with yourself," she observed tightly.

"Mayhap because I am, for soon I will have all I ever wanted and more," he boasted. "Sedgewick is grand indeed, don't you agree, love? Aye, and mayhap someday we'll even have Ashbury back. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Marrying me may gain you lands, but it will not gain you Sedgewick Hall. You forget Guy already has an heir!"

"Aye," he agreed mildly. "But for how long?"

He laughed again, a sound that sent eerie tingles along her skin. At first Kathryn could not fathom why. Then icy fingers of dread plied their way the length of her spine. Stricken, she stared at him numbly. Dear God, it wasn't enough that he had murdered Richard and sought to murder Guy. He intended to kill Peter, too! And for what? Her stomach heaved and churned. For land and power and wealth. He cared naught about her. She was but a tool to help him attain his goal. It sickened her to realize that, in her own way, she was nearly as guilty as he. All those months before her marriage, she had thought of nothing but reclaiming Ashbury for herself and Elizabeth—it mattered not that it was for love of home and family. Like Roderick, her motives had been selfish... but no more. No more.

Her heart pounded a rampant rhythm. She lowered her head so he would not glimpse her intent. She had to stop him, but how? Her beleaguered mind could form no clear-cut plan.

Roderick spoke, his tone cold. "Put her down, milady—" He nodded at Brenna, who had fallen asleep. "—for if you do not, I will. And in my haste to claim you, I cannot promise I will be gentle with her."

Just the thought of him touching her made her skin crawl. But she did as he demanded, laying Brenna on a small pile of furs between two trees.

She rose slowly, delaying the inevitable as long as possible. She knew he meant to bed her. Desire was plainly writ in the glitter of his eyes. Never had she decried her womanhood more than at this moment. She feared there was little she could do to stop him, for her strength was as nothing compared to his—and there was Brenna to think of. The thought of his possessing her disgusted her, but she dared to hope she could flee afterward in the dead of night, while he slept. If she were to escape, she could rally Guy's men—if there were any left after Roderick's butchery.

He strode to where she stood, yanking her hard against his chest. He bent his head to seek the sweetness of her mouth but she flung her head back, straining from him in a futile attempt to escape his hold.

"What is this?" he sneered. "You met my kisses eagerly enough once before, Kathryn."

"'That was before I had known the touch of my husband. You can take my body. I can do little to stop you. But know this, Roderick. My heart belongs to Guy! And only he can stir me, not you, never you!"

"He was never half the man I am!"

Kathryn taunted him with a soft laugh. "Surely you jest! Why, you are naught but a coward! You murdered Richard while he slept! And you feared facing Guy in battle. You left him to your men because you feared defeat."

His arms tightened so that she was half-afraid he would snap her spine in half. Anger transformed his features into an ugly mask. His voice deepened to a raging snarl. "By God, woman, you've the tongue of a shrew. I wonder that Guy has not cast you off long ago!" he jeered. "Mayhap I shall be the one to cast you off, eh? If you are wise, Kathryn, you'll try hard to please me, lest I decide you and your brat are not worth the trouble."

His mouth came down on hers, searing and wet. His breath, sour and hot, nearly made her gag. With a twist of his body, he tumbled her hard to the ground. She fought wildly, arms and legs flailing, seeking to pummel him with her fists. He caught her wrists and clamped them above her head, his grip savage and merciless. His weight was like a pile of stone atop her chest so that she could scarcely breathe. She gasped for much-needed air and he pounced. The pressure of his mouth parted her lips cruelly. He violated the silken interior of her mouth with rapacious strokes of his tongue. Kathryn gave a choked little scream and bit down hard.

He jerked away, falling back upon his knees though he continued to straddle her. The blazing fury of his gaze fell full upon her as he touched a hand to his bloody lip.

"You vicious little bitch!" His lips flattened against his teeth in a feral snarl. His bloodied hand raised high, balling into a huge fist. Kathryn braced herself. Mayhap it was better this way, she thought dimly. If he beat her senseless, perchance she'd be lucky enough to remember little of his assault.

The blow never fell.

His weight was plucked from her, like a bird from its nest. Hauled to his feet, Roderick's jaw sagged in bewildered astonishment. Kathryn jolted upright with a cry of joy—Guy was here! He was not dead!

But in the instant between one breath and the next, her cry became one of horror. Roderick leaped across the fire and snatched up his sword, whirling to face Guy.

"You claim what is mine for the last time, Roderick. And I have no need of a weapon to kill you." Guy's words were a silken taunt. "You will meet your death with naught but my bare hands." He ripped his sword from its scabbard and tossed it aside.

But Roderick did not meet his challenge. He merely retained his grip on his sword and smiled, an evil, cunning smile.

Kathryn began to tremble; panic raced through her. Mother of Christ! Was Guy mad? Unarmed, with no weapon, how could he defend himself?

But she had forgotten. . . Guy was a warrior, all power and grace, his muscles splendidly atuned to his every need, his reflexes quick and instinctive. When Roderick barreled forward, blade upraised, Guy had only to step neatly aside. His laughter only enraged Roderick all the more.

"What, Roderick! Have you consumed too much ale this night?"

"You bastard!" Roderick bellowed. "Ale or no, I'll see you dead at my feet!"

Kathryn snatched up Brenna and ran to the edge of the clearing. Sheltering her babe in her arms, she looked on, her heart beating high in her throat. Roderick's rage made him reckless. His face contorted and ugly, he stomped and weaved back and forth, slashing and slicing while Guy continued to spin and elude him, taking him further from the firelight and into the shadowed woodland. Only then did she guess Guy's ploy—if Roderick could not see he could not strike out.

The moon slid out from behind a cloud, casting an eerie halo of light all around. Kathryn cried out sharply as Roderick rushed savagely forward.

Kathryn thought surely she would faint when Guy stood his ground, as though he welcomed the blow that would strike him dead. But at the last instant he leaped aside. His boot lashed up and out, knocking the sword from Roderick's grip. It flew high and away, end over end until it landed far distant.

A bloodcurdling howl erupted from Roderick's chest. Fingers curled and outstretched, like the claws of some hideous demon, he lunged for Guy's throat.

Guy's fist hit him in his gut and felled him to his knees. Guy half-turned, his chest heaving, searching frantically for Kathryn. He did not see Roderick lurch to his feet and reach inside his boot.

But Kathryn did. She gave a strangled scream. "Guy! Behind you!"

Guy whirled and flung up an arm to ward off the attack; the dagger sliced a bloody furrow in his shoulder. He lost his balance and fell backward. Roderick followed him down and she heard the thud of bodies upon the ground. Then suddenly they were both rolling and twisting in the dirt, grappling for control of the dagger. Kathryn had one terrifying glimpse of Roderick atop Guy, the dagger raised high, and then the veil of darkness was no longer friend but foe as the moon slipped behind a cloud once more.

Terror clogged her throat as she strained to see. There was a heaving grunt, followed by a horrible gurgling sound—

Then all was quiet.

Chapter 22

The silence was more terrifying than all that had gone before.

Through the darkness, the shadowed outline of a man staggered upright. The body of the other lay sprawled on the ground. Kathryn's heart seemed to stop beating. Her worst fear took hold and blotted out all else. She imagined she could see the stain on Guy's breast spreading like a crimson river.

"Guy!" It was a cry of anguish, a scream of pain. Brenna awoke and began to wail piteously. Kathryn's eyes closed as she clutched the babe tighter to her breast. Jagged sobs tore from deep inside her.

Strong hands closed about her shoulders. Exhausted, his breathing heavy and belabored, Guy dragged her against him, burying his face in the fragrant cloud of her hair. A low, tortured whisper rushed past her ear.

"Hush, sweet. Do not cry so. 'Tis over and done."

He was alive—Guy was alive!

She began to tremble. "I thought you were dead," she choked out, over and over. "Oh, Guy, I thought you were dead!"

His heart twisted. She was shaking, he realized, and suddenly so was he. "I assure you, love, I am alive and well—and heartily glad to be so."

"He murdered Richard. Guy, it was Roderick who murdered Richard. And you were right all along! He sought to have you killed that day in the forest. And the messenger from Ramsay was one of his own men. There were no raiders! It was a trap to lure you from Sedgewick—he had a party of men lying in wait to kill you!"

"I suspected as much," Guy said grimly. "That's why I returned to Sedgewick."

Her breath caught at the tension that gripped his rugged features. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she raised her face to his. "He forced me to leave with him," she cried. "He said he would kill Brenna if I did not. Guy, I did not aid him in this treachery, I swear!" She wept brokenly. "I did not betray you—I would not! Oh, Guy, I beg of you, you must believe me. I would never leave you... never... I love you far too much..."

Her desperation gouged at him, even as a rush of emotion crowded his chest. He could feel her against him, quivering as if she were weak and frail. But weak and frail she was not, he thought achingly. She was strong and so very, very proud. Yet here she was, casting heart and soul before him.

With his muscular arms, he tugged her closer still, smiling a little at Brenna's indignant mewl. But he was not satisfied until Kathryn's heart beat hard against his... and his against hers. With his mouth he stifled her halting entreaty.

"Nay, wench," he said against lips gone slack in surprise and wonder, "you'll not leave me again... for you are right where you belong."

Kathryn was not sure she dared speculate on his meaning. But throughout the long ride home, hope beat in Kathryn's heart like the fluttering wings of a butterfly. They spoke but little, both anxious to be safely within the walls of Sedgewick once again.

They had scarcely passed through the gates than Sir Michael and the rest of Guy's men returned as well. It seemed that shortly after Guy had departed for Sedgewick, they had ridden straight into an ambush. Luckily, they were on guard and prepared for such an attack. Only two of Guy's men had been wounded, neither mortally.

Kathryn shuddered to think how close Guy had come to death—not once this night, but twice. Thankfully the gash on his shoulder was only a flesh wound.

While Guy heard further news of the battle in the great hall, Kathryn nursed Brenna back to sleep upstairs. Easing the infant into her cradle, she moved silently down the passage to check on Peter. The boy was asleep, one small hand tucked under his chin. Her expression soft, she bent low and pressed a kiss on his cheek. As she returned to her chamber and settled down to await Guy, her thoughts strayed inevitably to the woman who had been Peter's mother.

Elaine. Her heart filled with sad yearning. She could feel no envy, if indeed she ever had, for poor Elaine would never again stand at her husband's side; she would not see her son grow sturdy and tall as the oak trees which grew by the stream... The door swung open.

It was Guy. Hazy firelight flickered over the striking symmetry of face and form. For the span of a heartbeat, he was bathed in golden silhouette, a presence so commanding and handsome he robbed her of breath.

He paused several paces distant. "You look so troubled," he murmured. "The danger is over, Kathryn. You need not worry any longer."

Her courage was elusive at best. Quickly she spoke before she lost what little she had. "I was thinking about Elaine." She swallowed bravely and went on, her voice scarcely audible. "You loved her very much, didn't you?"