Chapter 7
No matter how hard she tried not to look at it, Katherine’s eye went to the bed every time she turned around.
She imagined Siaspar lying on it naked, alone or sprawled next to one of his conquests, over her, inside her.
The secret place between her thighs started to heat in memory of his sensual thrusts.
Was it because he’d been her first—her only—lover that she was finding it impossible to forget him?
To add to her confusion, she suspected that what they had done, wonderful as it had been, had been a mere glimpse of what real lovemaking should be.
How would it feel to make love to him for real, while he knew who she was, when she could speak, moan without fear, when she could tell him what she wanted and ask what he wanted her to do?
When she, in turn, pleased him?
Shaking her head to chase the lewd images away, she started to light the fire.
That was why she was there, she reminded herself sternly, to do the work of a servant, not to reminisce about the lord of the castle’s caresses.
And being in the clean, airy room was a lot more pleasant than being in the chaotic, hot kitchen.
Her gestures efficient, she swept the old rushes to one side, then took them out.
After having laid out the fresh ones on the floor, she took a moment to look out of the bay window.
At her feet, a stunning carpet unfurled its winter greens and warm browns all the way to the sparkling sea.
Living in a village at the heart of England, Katherine had never been to the seaside.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, it called out to her.
The vast expanse, stretching up to the sky, seemed full of opportunities.
Anything felt possible while standing in such a place.
All her life, she had followed the path others had set for her.
Back at the village, even now, a boy was waiting for her, a sweet lad who had been her childhood companion.
She was not in love with him, but everyone had always assumed that the two of them would end up getting married and she might have gone along with the idea if she had not left for another country and been forced to reassess her situation.
But she had left and once again the decision had been taken from her.
Her father had been the one sending her to Wales, and though she would have preferred to stay at home, she had been unable to refuse.
Lastly, and most galling of all, Lady Malpas had made her surrender her maidenhead to a stranger.
But as she stared at the glittering sea stretching out in front of her, Katherine realized that her life was in her own hands. She might not have been in control up until now, but she would not let anyone dictate her decisions any longer.
She was about to leave, when she heard a voice barking out instructions in Welsh from the bottom of the staircase, a voice she recognized all too well. A voice belonging to a man who should not be here, who should not under any circumstances be allowed to find her in his room.
Katherine looked around in panic. Though she had done nothing wrong by coming here, Siaspar would no doubt disagree.
Considering their last encounter, when he had accused her of being in league with Lady Malpas, he would never believe that she had simply been preparing the room, and no wonder.
It was not her job to do so, she was only a scullion.
It would look suspicious.
What could she do? The only way out of the room would lead her straight to him. If he saw her coming down the stairs he would immediately guess where she had been. Not only did she not want questions to be asked about Mel’s illness, but she knew he would never believe what she told him.
Her only hope was that he would get distracted and not come up straight away.
There was a final curse in Welsh and then all she heard were footsteps. Footsteps that were coming up—straight to her.
There was no time to think. The only possible hiding place was the curtained bed. It was hardly ideal but it would have to do. She could not be found in the room, not now.
Katherine scrambled onto the bed. If Siaspar found her there she could always say that she had been sent by Lady Malpas as a gift. She shook her head in disbelief. Of course she could do no such thing! What was she thinking?
No sooner had she drawn the curtain on herself than the door opened on Siaspar.
He was alone and, judging from the way he cursed and slammed the door, in a foul mood.
Her heartbeat increased another notch. At the best of times, he wouldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt.
If he was already enraged, there was no telling what he would do.
She could not resist the temptation of placing her eye on the slit between the velvet curtains.
He was walking around the room whilst perusing a piece of paper.
His dust-covered clothes indicated that he had just arrived back at the castle.
He threw his cloak on the chest next to him and sat down on the chair by the hearth to finish reading his letter.
Once he had finished, he threw it in the fire and let out another series of curses, frightful for all that Katherine could not understand them.
Bad news, which accounted for his bad mood.
Please, Lord, let him leave without seeing me.
But instead of leaving, he leaned back in the chair and got lost in deep musings, the most perfect statue you could imagine.
At least, he didn’t suspect he was not alone in the room.
Katherine took in every detail of his face, from the finely arched eyebrows and sparkling eyes to the sensual mouth that had kissed her neck and breasts with maddening intent.
Without thinking, she found herself brushing the flesh above the swell of her breast. The mark he’d left on her had long since vanished, but she still on occasion feared it was visible.
She, at least, would never forget it.
It was not long before Katherine started to worry again. She had not been seen, but how long would she have to stay hidden in the room? Siaspar did not seem in any hurry to leave and if she did not go soon, her absence in the kitchen would be noticed.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Siaspar said something in Welsh, probably an invitation for the person to come in but nothing happened. Evidently whoever was behind the door did not understand Welsh anymore than she did.
“Come in,” he called in sharply in English, getting back up.
To Katherine—and no doubt, Siaspar’s—astonishment, Lady Malpas walked in, followed by a servant bearing a tray laden with wine and wafers. The man placed everything on the chest and retreated before anyone had pronounced a single word.
Lady Malpas was the one to break the silence.
“Husband. I think it is high time that we put our differences aside. We are, after all, married, and I think that with some measure of good will, we might be able to come to some sort of beneficial arrangement.”
Siaspar did not respond to this extraordinary declaration, but Katherine saw him stiffen. It was clear that he was on his guard and she couldn’t blame him. His wife’s reversal of attitude was too extreme to be trusted.
Then a terrible thought crossed her mind.
Had Lady Malpas come to Siaspar’s room with the intention of bedding him?
Had she finally warmed to him? Did she want to give this marriage a chance, as she’d said?
Perhaps while he was gone, she had given her situation a thought and had concluded that sharing his bed was inevitable—or perhaps she simply hoped for a child.
If that were the case, and Siaspar agreed, then they would go straight to the bed and fall on top of the little scullion they both hated.
Her hiding place had suddenly become the worst possible place to be.
Fortunately, when Siaspar turned to his wife, the glint in his eyes indicated that if she was in an amorous mood, he certainly was not. He would not tumble her into the bed, no matter what she did to try and entice him.
The tightening in Katherine’s chest eased marginally.
They were not about to pounce on each other in a mad attack of lust. Still, she did not understand what was behind Lady Malpas’ change of heart.
She was smiling, doing her best to engage her husband when she had never looked at him without a scowl on her face before.
Why?
Siaspar was utterly bewildered by his wife’s behavior. After weeks of hostility, she had come to him unbidden and brought what seemed to be a peace offering. What was going on? One thing was for sure, he was not taken in by her supposed mellowing toward him. It had to hide something.
“Are those wafers?” he asked, glancing at the tray. “Father Bernard will not be impressed, I’m afraid. I thought he’d encouraged you to be scrupulous in your observance of Lent?”
A smile curled his lips. He had not forgotten how she had used the excuse to refuse him access to her bed a few weeks ago.
“I am scrupulous. These are for you. I thought you would like them. I had cook prepare them especially, following a recipe from Allerby Castle.”
He did not comment on this obvious criticism of the castle’s usual fare. “To what do I owe this unprecedented honor?” he asked instead, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Let us not squabble, husband,” Lady Malpas replied, pouring them both a cup of wine. “You should know that I have come because I need your advice on an important matter.”
“Ah. I should have guessed that you had not come for the pleasure of my company.”
Absent-mindedly he took the cup she was handing him. What on earth could she possibly need him for?
There was a tinkle of a laugh. “Come, my lord, you will admit that you have given me little reason to enjoy your company so far.”