Chapter 6
The feasting was well under way that evening by the time Catherine received a call to the kitchens.
A waifish page had darted up to her at table, begging her aid to test the roasted duckling sauce she’d ordered specially prepared, according to her recipe.
The cook had fallen ill just the day before, unable to rise from his bed, and his assistant was a young lad, terrified to make a mistake lest he disappoint not only the master and mistress, but also His Royal Highness, the King of England.
Gray had given his consent, and she’d been glad to rise from the formality of the feasting table to attend the duty.
Never had she faced an occasion such as this.
Her very breath came shallow from the anxiety.
Yet Gray’s ride of the afternoon seemed to have done him some good, even if his stiff movements belied that he’d strained his injuries.
She’d insisted on checking his shoulder and rib dressings before the feasting began, and he’d reluctantly complied.
She’d been relieved to see that the stitching and bandages had held.
But with the physical examination had flooded back heated memories of how she’d tended to him right after the mélée and of how he’d encouraged her touch in a much more intimate way.
Her cheeks still burned with the thought.
Yet she knew that the strange warmth of her feelings for this man she’d married, the man she’d pledged to help destroy, were far too dangerous to indulge.
Now she sighed as she made her way back to the hall.
The sauce had needed nothing more than a few more sprinkles of ginger to make it perfect.
Catherine smiled as she remembered the look of gratitude that her praise had brought to the boy’s face.
He’d probably sweated full as much as the casks of chilled sweet wine she’d seen the brewers carry in from the cold cellar.
Ravenslock was truly a castle of wonders, she thought, with the most current amenities, including a cooling chamber.
She’d never imagined such luxury would exist in all of her life.
Catherine reached the empty, narrow hallway that would lead to the grand opening into the great hall, but a hissing sound drew her back.
Eduard stepped into the light of the anteroom, his ruddy, bruised face sharp with contempt.
He moved forward like an evil tide, forcing her back until the hard surface of wall stopped her retreat.
Then he stroked his finger down the curve of her cheekbone in silent mockery.
“My dear Catherine,” he muttered. “’Tis near impossible to find you alone these past hours.”
Catherine tried to stand tall, struggled not to cower before him as every inch of her flesh longed to do.
She’d faced Eduard’s abuse so often in the past months that it seemed second nature to tremble as she awaited the punishing blow that should come next.
But she reminded herself that she needn’t fear that kind of danger from him any longer…
only the greater threat of his harming her children if she failed to do his will.
“I believed you to be abed already,” she managed to say. “You’re usually full into your cups by this time of feasting.”
“I cannot drink overmuch this night, thanks to King Henry.”
“Why? Does he disapprove of foul-mouthed drunkards?”
Eduard’s face tightened, and his hand clenched to a fist. “Your tongue is getting rather sharp these days, Catherine. Would that I could quiet it into pleas of mercy as I have in the past.” He glared at her a moment more before adding, “Yet you’re still as ignorant as ever.
I cannot imbibe too heartily because I leave with the Royal Caravan at sunrise.
The king has commanded that I join him on his expedition to observe the ordeal by battle in London.
He hopes that separating his two best champions will cool the animosity between us. ”
“You’re leaving?” Catherine echoed quietly.
“Aye.” Eduard placed his palm on the wall beside her head, making her cringe.
He leaned his weight into it, pressing closer, his sheer size and sour stench intimidating her as it always had.
“’Tis an unforeseen event. I’ll not be here to guide you in the next weeks of your task with Camville.
The king may decide to keep me for a month or more, but I expect you to continue our course.
Work your way into your husband’s trust. Into the deepest chambers of his heart.
” A wolfish smile creased his cheeks. “Prepare him well for the kill, sweeting.”
She felt herself blanch, and he laughed, his breath riffling the hair at her temple.
Hot pricking jabbed behind her eyes. The bastard was devoid of feeling.
Of even the most basic human emotion. But as she stared at his chest, gazing at the immovable slab of muscle and bone that protected his heart of stone, she couldn’t stop herself from uttering what she’d vowed never to let him hear again.
“I beg of you, Eduard, by all that’s holy, release me from this nightmare. I will give you whatever I have, I will humiliate myself in any way that you wish, but please don’t ask me to help you kill this man. ’Tis cold-blooded murder. An abomination to God and mankind and…”
Her words faded to silence as he touched her again, sliding his finger along her bodice to stroke a path up her neck, so gently that it seemed a profane reminder of the pain he’d so often inflicted on her.
His finger ceased its journey below her chin, digging into the tender flesh there.
He jerked hard to make her meet his gaze.
“Did I neglect to mention that I’ve had your children brought home from fostering at Denton?”
Catherine arched back, feeling as if he’d buried a dagger in her belly. “Oh God, why? You promised not to harm them!”
He grinned wider, the look mocking the Arch-fiend himself. “They were none too pleased, I’m afraid, to see their dear Uncle Eduard. Little Isabel even wept a bit.” The corner of his lip curled. “Rather reminded me of you.”
Tears flooded her eyes and she began to struggle against him. “You bastard! What have you done to them?”
“Calm yourself, Catherine.” He looked down at her, gripping her wrists to prevent her from striking him.
“The twins are safe enough in their old chambers at Faegerliegh Keep for now. But ’tis right that you remember what will happen to them if you thwart me in any way.
Several of my people lie in wait here for the sole purpose of watching you in my absence.
I’ll be kept informed if you’re stupid enough to try anything. ”
She gazed at him uncomprehending for a moment.
When realization began to dawn, Eduard smiled and nodded.
“Aye, Catherine, sweet. Spies. Neither you nor anyone at Ravenslock knows who they are. It might be the baker’s apprentice, or the lady’s maid who draws your bath.
Mayhap even the squire that serves you at table.
This is a huge and prosperous estate. My spies are many, and they are everywhere.
Falter in any way, Catherine, attempt to tell Camville of our plans, and I’ll learn about it swiftly.
And then, my dear, your children will suffer the consequences.
” He stopped talking and drew his finger quickly across his throat with a slicing sound.
Suffocation squeezed her and welling tears spilled hot onto her cheeks. “How can you do this? You’re their uncle, for God’s sake. Their blood…”
Eduard’s expression hardened, and he leaned closer. “No one is sacred, Catherine, remember that. It doesn’t take much to snuff the life from children. Their necks are delicate, like baby birds fallen from their mother’s nest. All it takes is a flick of the wrist—”
Gasping, she shoved against his chest with all of her strength.
He barely budged. Instead he chuckled softly at her renewed struggles, the sound magnified in her ears like the howling of the damned.
She pushed against his powerful weight in earnest, trying to raise her fists to beat against him.
It had no effect except to make him laugh harder.
A split second later, however, he went utterly still against her, and his smile faded.
“Get your hands off of her Montford, or I swear you won’t live to regret it.”
Slowly, Eduard turned to face the owner of that inexorable voice—and the deadly tip of his sword.
Catherine had thought Gray looked menacing on the field earlier, but it was nothing compared to the expression in his eyes now.
His gaze had sharpened to cold, green ice.
Eduard backed up, Gray’s blade pointed at his chest, until he was pressed against the wall.
“A wise choice,” Gray said. Catherine stood a few paces away.
She dashed the tears from her cheeks as she gazed back and forth between the two men, feeling the almost tangible hatred rippling tense and hot around them.
Eduard looked coiled and ready to spring at Gray, who seemed in turn to be waiting for even the slightest reason to rip Eduard open, belly to chaps.
She clenched her fingers tight to still their trembling.
Though Gray stood a little taller, the men were dangerously similar in build and strength.
Seeing them in this adversarial pose, wounded as both were, made it easy to understand how they’d risen to the status of the king’s champions.
They looked like gods of war, their bodies hardened and trained into weapons of destruction.
She shuddered anew, thinking how fortunate it was that they’d not managed to kill each other on the field. Surely ’twas only an act of the Almighty that had prevented what would have in turn brought death to her children.
“Care to explain what you were doing to my wife?” Gray’s voice sounded deceptively quiet. Unmistakably lethal.