“More overheard talk from your brethren?” she asked breathlessly.
He rose over her. “They had much to say.”
Cat slid him a coy glance. “What else did they speak of?”
“Oh, many things.” Geordie laid on his side next to her and lazily dragged his forefinger over her hip, up her stomach and to the side of her breast.
Cat closed her eyes as he drew the pad of his digit around the curve of her bosom up to the nipple.
“Such as talk of a woman riding a man,” he murmured.
Cat blinked her eyes open. “Like a horse?”
Geordie shrugged, then bent and suckled her nipple. She caught the back of his head, holding him to her while he flicked his tongue over the tender little bud. Desire ached between her thighs, slick and hot with the need to be sated.
“Shall we try it?” Cat asked.
Geordie glanced at her from the side of his eye and his mouth curled into a smile. It was all the answer she needed.
26
If Geordie had felt pride the first time that he’d brought Cat to climax, that now paled in comparison to what he’d managed with his tongue. He could sense her enjoyment so much more acutely with being so close, his mouth on her sex, tasting her crises as much as feeling the clenching of her euphoria against him.
A fine sheen of sweat shimmered over her skin and turned her luminous in the firelight. Beyond beautiful.
This might be the last time he saw her. Kissed her. Loved her. The thought edged unbidden into his mind and left his heart knotting into a powerful ache.
He couldn’t think on that now.
Cat grinned down at him, her expression coy and sensual. The suggestion in her gaze was a welcome reprieve from the crushing fear that kept threatening to consume him.
Her cheeks flushed. “If you wish me to ride you, you’ll have to show me what to do.”
Geordie’s cock twitched in anticipation. He eased off her and lay on his back on the bed.
Cat sat up and tucked her knees under her. “I think I like this already.” Her fingers trailed over his body in exploration, running over his chest and down his stomach to where his arousal pulsed in time with his rapid heartbeat.
“You’ll need to straddle my hips.” He grinned. “When you’re done teasing me.”
Her fingertips danced up his shaft and circled the swollen head of his erection. “I might tease you all night.”
“Or we could try more things in that time.” He looked over her body with slow, savoring intent.
A wicked gleam showed in her eyes. “Why didn’t you say as much initially?” She got to her knees and parted them over his body, straddling his hips. Her teeth caught her lower lip. “I think I know how this might go.” She sat back, lowering her pelvis so her sex rested atop his shaft, pressing the heat of his arousal against his belly.
He held his breath in anticipation. She put a hand on his chest to balance herself and slowly moved forward and backward so her slick center rubbed over him. The action elicited a groan from deep within his chest and her lips eased in a half-smile.
Without a word, she raised herself off him, and took his cock with her bold hand, angling it between her thighs. Slowly, she lowered onto him and gave a soft, happy sigh as he disappeared inside the grip of her heat. She rocked her body and her core squeezed around his shaft. She wriggled and the little move sent prickles racing over his entire body.
“I don’t know what to do now.” She gave him a sheepish smile.
She was doing pretty well by his account. He held her hips as he flexed his own, learning as he went as much as she was. He moved her backward first, then forward. The subtle shift made her sex clutch him tighter. He repeated the action again. This time, her lashes fluttered.
The next time, she shifted, rolling her hips in time with the action, and they both began breathing harder. As she rocked over him, he pushed up into her, their joining deep and powerful.
She was glorious above him. Her hair fell wild around her shoulders, her skin glossy in the firelight; her breasts gave a firm bounce with her actions while her body moved in the age-old rhythm of love and sex. She watched him as she pleasured herself with his cock, riding him in earnest, her hands firmly planted on his chest. He gripped the coverlet beneath him to keep from losing control too quickly.
Her breathing came faster; the grip of her sheath tightened. Her pace intensified with a driving need he understood all too well. She threw her head back and gave a little scream at her crises. Her sheath spasmed around him, coaxing his own climax. He held her hips in place and thrust up into her one final, magnificent time and let the waves of pleasure crash over him and drag him under.
Cat’s body relaxed and she lay down upon his chest, their bodies still connected. “That was quite enjoyable,” she panted.
Geordie hummed his agreement and folded his arms over her, securing her against him.
“I think I’d like to try other things you’ve overheard.” She lifted her head and gave him a naughty look.
Geordie’s lust was nowhere near completely spent, not with this beautiful woman straddling him. His wife.
His cock twitched at the idea of more. Cat’s eyes widened in surprise, no doubt feeling the movement within her. A smile bloomed on her lips.
“I’ve heard a great number of things,” Geordie warned.
Cat sat up and took his face in her hands. “We have all night, my love.” With that, she rolled her hips and yet another bout of play began.
They went on and on throughout the night. They memorized each other’s bodies and sampled the different ways to please until the gentle rays of dawn showed around the outline of the shutters in the dark room.
Then, they had lain together, much in the same way they had the night Geordie first came to Cat’s room. He was cradled between her thighs with his weight braced over her, their eyes locked as they made bittersweet love one final time. Most likely forever.
Their words were whispered endearments of love, promises they might never be able to keep, voices husky with emotion. When they were done, they held each other as though their lives depended on it.
Yet nothing could save Geordie if he was condemned to die.
Cat wept softly against his shoulder, and Geordie’s own eyes grew hot with the threat of tears. He stroked her long, silky hair and caressed the slight swell of her belly.
He’d gone from having a family, to losing everything, in a matter of days. From having Cat after a lifetime of working to earn the honor to wed her, only to lose her so quickly.
A knock came from the door. Too soon, and heartily unwelcome. They held one another tighter and Cat began to cry.
“Come now, my Cat,” Geordie said in a broken voice.
He had to be strong. For her. For the babe. For himself. If he gave in and allowed himself to crumble, he might never be strong enough to face what he must. He helped her from the bed and assisted in dressing her in the additional gown Freya had left for her.
Geordie dressed quickly, paying little attention to what he wore as he would have plenty of time before the trial to clean properly. A knock came again, along with a warning.
They had run out of time.
Cat turned to him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Geordie.”
He went to her, opening his arms to cradle her against him. “Be brave,” he said into her ear.
“I cannot leave you,” she said against his chest.
“You will.” He held her tight, wishing his words were not true. “You must.” He put his hand to her stomach, a silent reminder of why she must continue to go on. “I love you,” he said fiercely. “Both of you.”
“We love you,” Cat said between sobs, securing her hand over his.
“Then you must go,” Geordie said, his voice breaking. “Now before I lose the strength to let you leave.”
She looked up at him one final time, searching his eyes with her own tear-stained ones. Then she turned and dashed from the r
oom. Geordie staggered over to the chair before the fire and collapsed into it.
Would he ever see her again? At his trial, mayhap? At his hanging or beheading? Would she go?
His heart crumpled into his stomach.
A knock came at the door once more and he leapt to his feet. Had Cat come back?
Before he could walk toward the door where he anticipated a guard waiting to tell him of his visitor, a tall man with a scraggly gray beard entered the room. He was tall with a presence that seemed to consume much of the room. There was a sickly pallor to his skin, and his eyes glittered with a kind of malice Geordie had come to recognize in his four years on campaign with the king.
“Geordie.” The man’s voice scraped out of him, low and raw. “Stand up and show me the respect I deserve, boy. You recognize your own father, do you not?”
Geordie’s blood turned cold. After all this time, he would finally be facing Lord Strafford.
Cat walked without seeing where she went, her feet moving to follow Freya back to Ella’s apartments. There, Cat did not protest as the maid stripped her down, bathed her and prepared her to face the day.
Cat didn’t want to face the day. Not without Geordie. Exhaustion, paired with the aching reminder that she might never be held by him again, fractured her composure. Tears ran hot down her cheeks. Freya wiped them away with a cloth and spoke in gentle, encouraging words. No doubt saying whatever she thought might help get Cat through the upcoming trial. “I know ye dinna feel like breaking yer fast, my lady, but I think even a little will help ye.” She took Cat’s hand in hers. “For the bairn, aye?”
Cat nodded, unfeeling, as Freya dressed her and plaited her hair. She didn’t want to go to the great hall, to be the spectacle all those at court watched for their amusement. If she bothered to eat anything at all, she would prefer it in her room, and yet the act of speaking her wishes out loud seemed too great a burden.
A soft knock came at the door.
Cat snapped her head up. It couldn’t be Geordie. Of course, it couldn’t. But mayhap it could be news of him.
Freya was clearly of the same mind, for she raced to the door and drew it open. “My lady,” she said a moment later. “’Tis Lady Strafford. Will ye see her?”
Cat nodded again. Freya disappeared and Lady Strafford swept into the room, bringing with her a sweet lavender perfume. Cat breathed in the scent and was reminded of Marin, who always wore a similar fragrance. Her heart thudded hard in her chest, with loss and grief, leaving behind a devastating emptiness.
“Lady Catriona, my daughter-in-law,” Geordie’s mother said tenderly, which only served to make the ache within Cat’s breast burn greater.
Cat looked up at the baroness, noting her fine brocade kirtle of dazzling blue and the bands of yellow at the sleeves and hem. Gold and gems glittered in the mesh caul holding her coiled braids in place and she wore a necklace studded with jewels. It was all too bright, too cheerful.
Cat turned away, but Lady Strafford gently caught her chin. “I wanted to wear black, but I refuse to mourn another child,” she said. “If the court thinks I am optimistic about my son’s outcome, mayhap it might sway one’s vote. It is why I instructed Freya to dress you as she did. We must do this together. For Geordie.”
Cat glanced down at her own kirtle then, noticing for the first time what she wore. It was a delicate pink kirtle with gilt thread sewn through it in a pattern of flowers and leaves. Also too bright and cheerful.
Lady Strafford leveled her gaze at Cat. “This is difficult, I know. The trial will be as well. But we must do this. We must give him our support and let everyone see it, even if we are not confident.”
“Have you found anything to implicate Robert in Sir Gawain’s death?” Cat asked.
Lady Strafford’s shining eyes dulled somewhat, and Cat knew the answer before she spoke. “I know only that there is no one to vouch for his whereabouts that evening, save his servant who would lie to protect Robert. But there is nothing we can use to implicate him. Many people in court slept alone that night with servants to vouch for them. We cannot expect the king to question them all.”
“And the guards who were attacked remember nothing?” Cat pressed.
“Nay.”
It was a disappointing blow. Cat had been certain they would uncover something they could use to free Geordie by this point. Yet despite her efforts, as well as those of Lady Strafford and Tristan, and even Eldon, Freya and Durham, they had been unsuccessful.
“Shall we break our fast in the great hall?” Lady Strafford asked. “Let them see us, daughter-in-law. Let them know we are strong and that we believe in Geordie’s innocence.”
“Aye,” Cat said with more resolve than she felt. For inside she was broken.
Once, when she’d been a small girl, she’d dropped a vase she meant to fill with flowers. It had smashed to the floor so completely that there were only a few recognizable pieces, with the rest little more than splinters and dust. That was what her heart felt like at that moment: splinters and dust. Irreparable.
But Lady Strafford was correct. Cat needed to appear strong, and so she allowed Lady Strafford to walk her down to the great hall, where they found Tristan waiting for them. He offered a smile upon seeing them, but it did not touch his eyes.
“You look at though you have not slept,” he commented as he helped Cat into a chair.
Her cheeks burned.
“Now you’re just making me jealous.” He winked and settled in the chair beside her.
“Have you found anything we might use?” Cat tried to keep her hand from shaking as she reached for a bit of bread.
“Nay,” Tristan replied in a lackluster tone. “And it isn’t due to lack of trying. The guards mentioned only a shadow looming over them. I’ve seen the guards. They’re tall, but so is Geordie, so that won’t help.”
Cat’s shoulders sagged. It was as she had expected, but not as she had hoped. A servant arrived at her side, the brunette who now knew Cat’s affinity for a watered-down ale in the morning, and deposited a cup in front of her. Cat nodded her appreciation and settled her hand on the cool metal goblet.
“There has to be something more,” Cat murmured.
“And before the trial begins,” Lady Strafford added.
Cat pulled in a long, deep breath to sigh and caught the scent of mint in the air. Absently, her gaze scanned the table to see what might cause such a strong smell. There was naught but a platter of bread, another of crisped slices of salted ham and bowls of butter and salt.
“How much longer do we have before the trial begins?” she asked.
Tristan frowned slightly. “Only an hour.”
Helpless frustration threatened to crumble Cat’s stoicism. She brought her ale to her lips to drink and paused. The minty scent was noticeably stronger. Recognition tapped at the back of her mind, through the fog of her sorrow and hurt.
Pennyroyal.
She gasped and set the cup to the table.
“What is it?” Lady Strafford asked. “Have you thought of something?”
“Someone has tried to poison me with pennyroyal.” Cat scanned the crowd of faces, seeking out the young servant who brought out her ale every morning.
Tristan lifted the cup and smelled it before wrinkling his nose at the offense. “Is that not what ladies use to empty their wombs?”
“It is,” Cat agreed.
“And I believe I know who best would want your womb emptied of a potential heir.” Lady Strafford raised a brow. “In this attempt to harm your child, we may have the evidence we need.”
From across the room, Cat caught sight of the serving woman. “Do excuse me.” Without another word, Cat leapt to her feet and dashed across the room to the servant.
The woman moved swiftly through the crowd, but through determination and a lack of care for any of the court’s consideration of her, Cat managed to reach her.
“My ale,” Cat said sharply.
The woman spun about to face he
r with a pleasant smile that shifted to confusion. “My lady?”
“Who gave you my ale this morning?” Cat demanded.
“I got it from the kitchen, same as I always do.” The woman offered a respectful bob of a curtsey.
“Did you see anyone unusual in the kitchen?” Cat asked. “Anyone who ought not to be there?” She put her hand protectively over her stomach. “Someone tried to poison me with pennyroyal. Someone meant to harm my babe.”
The woman’s brown eyes went wide with horror. She shook her head frantically. “Nay, my lady. I didn’t know, I—”
“Ask the other servants.” Cat hastily withdrew several coins from her pocket and slipped them into the woman’s hand. “Please. A man’s life depends on this.”
The brunette’s fingers closed around the coin and she gave a quick nod before departing back into the kitchen.
Cat’s pulse did not cease racing after their exchange, nor did it in the following hour leading up to Geordie’s trial. If anything, it raced faster still as the time approached when Geordie would be judged.
Her only hope was that the serving girl would be fast enough to do something to help.
27
Geordie could not have anticipated the prison of his room being any worse, but then he had not imagined being trapped in it with his father.
He did not bother to temper the hostility in his gaze as he regarded Lord Strafford. “Why did you come?”
“You’re my son, the heir to my lands.” Lord Strafford lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “And you’re high in the king’s favor. I wanted to ensure you squeezed it for everything you could.”
“I have everything I need,” Geordie said through his clenched teeth.
Lord Strafford looked around the small room and gave a slow nod. “I see that.”
Geordie’s hands tightened into fists. “I suggest you take your leave.”
The baron smirked. “But you are stuck in here, Sir Geordie, and a baron has more power than a knight. I’ll depart when I’m good and ready to.” He lowered himself to the large chair beside the fire and set his feet on a nearby tabletop. “I hear you married a woman who was already with child. I trust the babe is yours. I’ll not have my legacy passed onto a bastard.”
Catriona’s Secret Page 21