Chapter 10
That afternoon Siaspar fell into deep musings.
What he had discovered about the woman he was married to had disturbed him greatly.
The extent of Lady Malpas’s vindictiveness and disregard for other people’s feelings was truly staggering.
The instinctive revulsion he had felt the day he had met her had been justified a hundredfold.
Could he remain married to a woman like her?
A marriage of convenience was one thing.
Being shackled to a cruel, manipulative, would-be murderer, quite another.
Who else would she hurt while she was mistress of Castell y Ddraig?
Oddly, the attempt on his life had not caused him to take immediate action.
Having realized how dangerous she was, he would be on his guard and he could look after himself.
But Katherine… Katherine had no one to turn to. She’d been abused badly—and he could not let that go unpunished.
Knowing he would not rest easy until he had addressed the matter, he climbed the stairs to Lady Malpas’ chamber two at a time. His arrival was greeted with all the wariness he had expected.
“My lady, I have reached a decision,” he told her without preamble, forgoing even the pleasure of letting her fear that he had come to bed her.
“You are now my wife and you live in Wales, yet you are still irremediably English. You speak like an Englishwoman, you eat like one, you dress like one. It is my wish that you stop doing so.”
As could have been predicted, this discourse was not well received. Lady Malpas rounded on him, proving he had been right that morning to tell Katherine the resemblance between them was only skin deep. Her blue irises shimmered with ice, rather than glowed with kindness.
No, Lady Malpas would never measure up to the little scullion, in any way.
“If you wished to have a Welsh wife then perhaps you should have married a Welsh woman,” she sneered.
“Indeed. But alas, I did not have that luxury.” He made a grimace.
If only he had been free to choose a woman from his own country, who did not despise everything he was…
“I needed an English wife, which is not to say I wanted one. I’m not sure I wanted a wife at all, if we are being brutally honest. But I have one now, for my sins. ”
In the background, Lady Helen dropped her needle. Siaspar was certain this was an attempt at distraction but he did not let it bother him. He had come here for a purpose and would not be denied.
“And so I will start by appointing a Welsh tutor for you,” he announced, walking over to the trestle table where the remains of the three women’s meal lay.
Once again, Lady Malpas had refused to join him in the hall.
Not that he had minded. The less he saw her, the better.
“It’s high time you learned the language of your new country. ”
“I will never speak that barbaric language which sounds no more pleasing to the ear than boar grunts.”
“Why, I had no idea you hunted, my lady!” he answered with a wide smile.
He knew that nothing unnerved her more than his refusal to be goaded into ire.
“What splendid news. I believe that a love for the sport is the first thing we have in common. We might be able to go hunting together in the winter.”
“You know very well that I did not mean—”
“You will also start using my real name when you mention me to people,” he interrupted, having no desire to hear more about her contempt for his language. “I’m called Siaspar, not Jasper.”
Not that he had ever heard her use his Christian name. He did not even remember what hers was. Mary? Yes, perhaps. Or Margaret.
“Furthermore, I will provide you with another confessor, a Welshman I know and trust. Your Father Bernard is far too scrupulous in the advice he gives you.” The allusion to the fact that she was not sharing his bed during Lent was obvious.
“And yet, for all his piety, he seems oddly remiss in others. I could, of course, simply send him home and not replace him, but I believe your soul is in dire need of salvation.”
She had the good grace to lower her eyes at that.
Indeed, a woman who had attempted to kill her husband would need to atone for her sins.
But, in reality, he had no complaints about Father Bernard.
The man had not been the one advising her to shun her husband.
Nor did he worry about the state of her soul.
She could go to hell for all he cared. He had only added the confessor to the tutor to make his last, crucial demand seem less extravagant.
He poured himself a cup of wine and raised it to his nose with exaggerated care, sniffing as he did. “I assume this wine is safe to drink since it is the one you had brought up for yourself?” he asked, raising the cup to her.
Lady Malpas swallowed, visibly shaken. “It is safe.”
“Mm. Blasus,” he commented, wiping his mouth in a manner that would not fail to rile her.
He never had any difficulty remembering to act as a savage in her presence.
There was something about her that called to the worst part of him.
“Much better than the one you offered me the other day, I have to say.”
She made a strangled noise and he emptied the rest of the drink in one gulp. The wine was indeed delicious. It would be the one she had purchased shortly after her arrival at Castell y Ddraig. At least, she had good taste where wine was concerned.
“And finally,” he declared, slamming the cup on the table with more force than necessary, “it is my wish that you dress more in accordance to my tastes. Your gowns are far too elaborate for me. I will, in my generosity, provide you with a whole new wardrobe.”
“I cannot stand for hours on end waiting for tailors to create dozens of dresses to please you when my own are perfectly acceptable,” Lady Malpas objected, just as he had hoped.
How comforting to know he could rely on her being her usual contrary, obnoxious self.
Really she was making this all too easy for him.
“No, I understand that it would be tedious in the extreme. I could not in all conscience ask this of you, considering how busy you are.”
A look around the room indicated what he really thought. She seemed to spend her days in idle, meaningless pursuits. Not once had she taken an interest in the administering of the domain, or asked to visit the tenants.
“Indeed,” she said nonetheless.
Siaspar pretended to think for a moment. “What we need is a woman to take your place. A woman who shares your bodily proportions.”
When her breathing went faster, he knew that she was thinking of Katherine, possibly even wondering if he had guessed the deception the two of them had played on him. She would be wondering if he was working up a way to tell her that he knew what she had done.
Good.
Let her worry a little while longer.
“I know of no such woman,” she finally said. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I am rather tall for a woman. It will not be easy to find someone to replace me.”
“Very true, but I believe it can be achieved. We will scour the country if we have to and it would be extraordinary if we did not find a single woman who could pass off as you and discharge you of your most unpleasant duties.”
She paled further at his choice of words. “Unpleasant duties?”
“Standing in your stead for hours on end whilst tailors create your new wardrobe, I mean. I cannot think of any other duties anyone else could perform for you, can you?”
“No. Indeed.” Lady Malpas had difficulty breathing—and talking.
Deciding he had tortured her enough for one day, Siaspar made his way to the door. As enjoyable as it was to make her squirm, he preferred to keep his interactions with her to a minimum. He had done what he’d come here to do.
“Let the search begin. In the meantime, you will start with your Welsh lessons. I’m afraid that no one will be allowed to replace you in that particular chore.”
“Katherine.”
The voice poured over her like warm honey, but Katherine could not help but be on her guard. Why had Siaspar come to find her at the back of the kitchen? With his velvet cloak lined with marten fur and his bejeweled scabbard, he did not belong in this part of the castle.
“My lord.”
She curtsied quickly. When she looked at him again, there was a grimace on his face.
“Please don’t do this,” he said in a low voice.
“Do what?” What had she done wrong?
“Curtsy. It’s…unsettling to have someone I bedded, someone whose maidenhead I’ve taken, curtsy to me, and not at all pleasant.”
Katherine could not help a smile at this very candid admission, because she could understand his reaction.
Out of nowhere, the urge to tease him seized her.
Dare she? Yes, perhaps. Something had changed between them since he had read her father’s letter to her and she had told him what had happened with Lady Malpas.
“Come to that, I never thought I would curtsy to the man who took my maidenhead, and call him my lord.”
“No. I suppose you did not.” Siaspar gave a reluctant smile, as if her teasing had taken him by surprise, but still delighted him. Then his brow furrowed. “Wait. I never asked. You do not have a beloved back home, a man who…”
He faltered. Katherine guessed that this would not happen often. Siaspar ap Morgan was not a man prone to hesitation. This unusual proof of vulnerability made her rush to his aid. Powerful as he was, in that moment, he needed reassurance.
“You mean, is there a man who would take issue with the fact that I am no longer a maid and demand an explanation?”
“Yes.”
“No. Worry not, no one is going to come and fight you for dishonoring his sweetheart.” The thought of Walter waiting for her in the village caused her a pang of unease. What would he feel if he heard her dismiss him so thoroughly? Because perhaps he would fight for her if he knew what had happened.
“That’s a relief,” Siaspar said, looking like himself once more.