Tori Phillips (31 page)

Lifting his head, and cupping his hand around his mouth, Brandon shouted across the moat to Guy. “Is the sluice clear?”

“All clear,” his brother shouted back.

The servants stirred and sat up. His mother and sister-in-law got up from the haven of their shade tree and drew closer to watch. Out of the corner of his eye, Brandon saw Jess lift Francis and carry the boy down to the bank.

Behind his back, Brandon crossed his fingers. A childish thing to do perhaps, but he desperately prayed that the thing would work. There was no way of knowing, but to do it.

“Give the word, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice to Kat.

“Now?” She clasped her hand over his brooch. Her simple gesture swelled his heart.

“Aye, unless you want to wait for the king to do the honors.”

Kat wrinkled her nose. “Nay, ’tis my home, my office.” She took out her wrinkled handkerchief, and waved to Mark. “Let the river flow I ” she cried with a touch of drama.

Mark put one foot on the top of the wooden frame and planted the other firmly on the bank. Polly had to restrain Belle from rushing to help the muddy squire. Mark took hold of the top of the gate and pulled. At first nothing happened, save that Mark grew very red in the face. Then, with a loud sucking sound, the ooze on the bottom released the embedded timbers. As the gate slowly rose in its frame, the brown waters of the Rother gurgled through.

Brandon expelled the breath he had been holding. By the stars, the thing worked! At his side, Kat laughed and clapped her hands like a young girl.

“Saints be praised, Brandon! ’Tis a miracle!”

The in-rushing waters gathered more speed as they poured through the fully opened gate. The torrent sloshed against the banks as it rushed around the first corner of the castle. From the other side, Brandon heard Guy’s victory whoop. The people on that bank cheered and waved their hands.

Kat turned her lovely green eyes fully upon his face.
“You
are the miracle,” she whispered. A few tears streaked a clean path through the dirt on her cheeks.

He bent down and kissed her nose. “So are you, my lady.”

She blushed under the mud.

Jack joined them, shouting, “A race, Cavendish!” With that, he plunged into the cleanest water of the day.

Mark and Christopher grabbed Pip, Guy’s young squire, and tossed him into the moat. They followed with loud splashes and geysers of water.

Guy dashed around the corner. “By my troth, Jack just swam past me!” His eyes grew larger when he saw the squires splashing each other. A broad grin lit his face. Without checking his speed, he lunged for Brandon.

“Your pardon, Lady Katherine,” he shouted as he grabbed hold of his older brother.

Brandon put up his hands to protest, but Guy outweighed him. In the next instant, both Cavendishes were once again floundering in the moat, only this time looking a good deal cleaner.

Stable boys, potboys, serving men, guards and one or two of the hapless maids joined in the watery melee.

“Papa, Papa!” Belle’s shrill voice sang out over the general noise. “Papa, please! Catch me!” Belle tore away from Polly’s grasp. Lifting high her skirts, she flung herself at him.

Brandon caught her in the air, then ducked them both. They surfaced at the bank beside Kat.

“Can she swim?” Kat gasped.

“Like a blessed fish.” Francis, still in Jess’s arms, gave his sister a wry look. “She looks the very picture of a drowned rat.”

Brandon smiled up at his son and Kat beside him. What a beautiful sight they made! What a wonderful day this had been!

Wriggling in his arms, Belle stuck out her tongue at Francis. “Ha! You are just jealous because you have to stay quiet!” Then she squirmed and pointed at the wagons. “Oh, Papa! Stop them! They are taking my cow skull away! You promised I could keep it!”

“I’ll get it for you, poppet!” With that, Kat hoisted up her hems and raced across the grass toward the laden wagon.

Watching her run, Brandon expanded his chest with satisfaction. Standing chest deep in a castle moat with his dripping daughter in his arms, his son nearby, and watching the love of his life dash fleet as a deer, Brandon knew he had, at last, found his corner of paradise. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.

Montjoy picked his way over the wet bank to the edge of the moat. “My lords,” he intoned to the cavorting knights. “Your bathwater is ready in your chambers. I pray you take advantage of it before it turns cold. And, my young Lady Belle, Mistress Polly awaits you with a scrubbing brush. Supper will be served in an hour.”

Without waiting for a reply, Montjoy bowed and retired with his dignity intact.

Belle shook the water out of her eyes. “Great Jove!” she fumed. “Just who does he think he is?”

Brandon kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t tell anyone, Belle, but Montjoy is the
true
ruler of Bodiam Castle.”

Tod’s fingers dug into the leaves and rotten wood. He gripped them tightly as he lay facedown. breathing in the mold and dirt. No perfume of Arabia could have smelled as sweet. He still lived!

Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself into a sitting position. The spent arrow fell beside him. His left shoulder felt numb, though he knew it was only a matter of time before the pain would set in.

He closed his eyes and murmured a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving for his life. Then he looked up.

The sun still lit the sky, though Tod saw by its angle that it was late in the afternoon. Using the side of the trunk to steady himself, he inched his way to a standing position. The opening yawned a few inches above him.

Shaking his head to clear the ringing noise in his ears, Tod reached up to grab the rim of the cavity with his right hand. A wash of fiery pain rolled over him. He leaned against the side for support until the pain subsided.

If I stay in this trap until darkness, I will never see another dawn.

Gritting his teeth, Tod sprang up, grabbed the rim and hauled himself out, of his intended grave. He inched along a thick limb, where he rested. The ground shifted and swirled under him. ’Twas a long way down. Tod closed his eyes again.

God in heaven, I hate heights!

“You there!” an imperious voice shouted directly under him. “What the devil do you think you are doing up there?”

Tod gripped the branch, then opened his eyes again.

A horseman shielded his eyes as he looked up at Tod. His steel gray mustache fairly bristled. In one hand, the man held a bow with an arrow notched against the string.

“Did you think you were going to attack me, eh?” The rider took aim.

Tod gulped. “Nay, sir! I pray you, do not shoot!” He raised his good hand, lost his grip and fell out of the tree.

Tod hit the forest floor with a stunning thud. Pain engulfed him. He saw colored stars dancing before his eyes, and a rushing wind filled his ears.

“The devil take it!” The rider bellowed somewhere in the distance. “You’ve been shot already!”

“Aye,” Tod murmured.

Then a sweet, blessed blackness claimed him.

Chapter Twenty-One

“M
mm.” Brandon sighed with pleasure as Kat washed the clotted muck out of his hair. Lying back against the side of the wooden tub, he closed his eyes while she massaged his scalp. “By my troth, sweetheart, if I had known how good this felt, I would have rolled in the mud long before this.”

Behind him, Kat smiled. The back of his neck lay bare, tempting her to kiss it. Later, she told herself. There was little time for a dalliance. Montjoy would be announcing supper any moment.

“I am glad you are so pleased with the bath, my lord. I wish the same could be said for Belle. It took both Polly and me to get her—and that wretched cow skull—presentable. I am not sure what we would have done if Celeste hadn’t intervened.” She picked up a nearby pitcher filled with clean hot water. “Bend far over, so I may rinse you.”

After the dousing, Brandon squeezed the water out of his hair. “My lady mother assures me ‘tis merely a stage. By the time Belle takes to bathing in a civilized manner, she will give me something else to worry about ’Tis the problems of child-rearing.”

Kat wrung out the cloth she had used to clean his back. “I do not know the first thing about children, Brandon,” she said softly, looking down at her fingers. “I have never been around them, except for Fenton. He never seemed to be young.”

Brandon shifted in the tub so that he could look at her. Cupping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted her face to his. “You will make a most excellent mother.” He kissed her tenderly on the lips.

Kat tried to stifle her sob, but he heard it. Drawing back, he searched her face. She kept her eyes downcast. She couldn’t bear to see his disappointment when she told him the truth. ’Twas time he knew. Tomorrow was the wedding day—or maybe not.

“How now, sweet? What ails you?” he cajoled. Taking her hand, he kissed it. “Do not tell me you are a nervous bride.”

Kat gazed fondly at his hand holding hers in such a natural way. How large and strong it was, yet how gentle! She had to tell him. Time had run out.

“I...I must confess something to you, Brandon, and I pray you will not think ill of me.”

He nuzzled her cheek. “What could I possibly think, but good of you? Mmm, sweet,” he whispered in her hair.

Ignoring the tingling ripples of delight coursing up and down her spine, Kat girded herself with resolve. Now or never. She could not pronounce her wedding vows with a lie in her heart.

“I am glad you have Belle and Francis, because I...I do not think I will be able to bear you a child.”

Stopping his love play, he regarded her seriously.

God shield me! I was afraid of this! Never mind, say the rest, and be done with it
. “In all the years of my marriage to Fitzhugh, I could never conceive, though he came often enough to my bed. I fear I may be barren.” She chewed her lower lip.

Brandon’s eyes turned a darker hue, though he said nothing. At least, he still held her hand.

Kat plunged ahead with a rush of words. “I overheard your father say that you wanted an heir, and I—”

Grasping the back of her head, Brandon pulled her toward him. He smothered the rest of her words with his lips over her mouth. She caught her breath at the flaming passion of his kiss. When he looked at her again, she saw a blue fire dance in his eyes.

“’Tis my father who craves an heir. Though he loves both his grandchildren by me, they are bastards.” Brandon spat out the word, as if it burned him to hold it in his mouth. “My father desires a Cavendish male to carry on the family name and titles. Two nine-year-olds are more than a match for me.” Reaching across to her, he traced his finger down Kat’s cheek. “Forget whatever my father has said.”

Kat’s lips trembled.
I cannot weep now. I cannot show him how much I fear Sir Thomas’s threat to stop the marriage
. “But the king comes tomorrow, and your lord father means to—”

Brandon placed his finger over her lips. “Shush! Let us not speak of the getting of children now, sweetheart. I much prefer the
making
of them.”

He rose out of the tub, water cascading down his magnificent physique. His manhood stood boldly erect. Before Kat had a chance to say anything else, he swept her into his wet embrace. Her knees weakened as his mouth descended. He took her lips with a savage intensity. Her consciousness seemed to ebb and then flame more distinctly than before. Let supper wait! Let tomorrow wait!

Still kissing her, he carried her across the chamber to the bed, the same bed where they had first made love. His lips blazed a trail of hot kisses down her neck. The caress of his mouth across the tops of her breasts set her on fire. His hands slipped down into the gown’s neckline, searching for her pleasure points. Kat whimpered and arched her back to meet him. His other hand moved under her skirts and explored her thighs. His fingers inched up, with deliberate slowness, to her center. His teasing touch sent currents of desire bolting through her. Her bodice grew too tight.

“Undo my laces,” she panted as she cast her head back on the pillow. “I cannot breathe.”

He continued his sweet, torturous stroking. “Is this gown a valued one?” he asked, nibbling her earlobe.

“Nay!” she gasped. She knew she would burst at any moment.

“Good,” he murmured. Grasping a firm hold of the green lawn material, he ripped her dress down the middle. He untied the ribbons of her shift, then he pulled the neckline out to its widest extent, baring her breasts to him.

Lowering his head, his tongue tantalized the dusky pink buds of her nipples, which had swollen to their fullest. Under his stroking fingers and his tongue, her body ignited with liquid fire. A fury of passion and desire shook her. She abandoned herself to the sweeping whirl of unutterable sensations. A moan of ecstasy slipped through her lips.

“Now! Please!” she gasped, pulling him to her.

He moved over her, than lowered himself. She welcomed him joyously into her body. They seemed to melt together. Her world was filled with Brandon—only him. They moved together with exquisite harmony, soaring higher until they reached the peak of ultimate delight. She shattered into a million glowing stars. Groaning her name, Brandon found his release. His love flowed into her like warm honey. Holding to each other tightly, a cloak of contentment and peace enfolded them. Kat sighed with pleasant exhaustion.

Brandon caressed a lock of her hair, which tumbled over his arm in a copper cascade. “You are a wonder,” he murmured.

Kat smiled, waiting for him to say the words she had so longed to hear.
Say it now! Tell me that you love me.

“Kat, I—”

The door shook with a tremendous pounding. “My lord!” Mark called from the hall. “You must come quickly!”

Brandon dropped his head to her shoulder; his clean golden hair brushed against her cheek. “I will skin the knave alive, I vow it!” he growled softly in her ear. Then he sat up and shouted, “What the devil do you want?”

“Your lord father, with Sir Guy, and Sir John, request your presence most urgently, my lord.”