Catriona’s Secret
Page 22
“That child is more mine than I ever was your son.” Geordie squeezed his fisted hands tighter. “Do you know the reason I wished to become a knight?” He asked, his heart pounding in anticipation for everything he’d ever wanted to tell his father.
“Certainly not for royal favor, as you don’t appear to bother with trying to get more.” Lord Strafford scratched at the top of his head where his scalp was visible amongst the fine gray and white hair.
“Because I wanted to be a better man than you.” Geordie stepped closer to his father. His feet were bare as he hadn’t time to put on boots prior to the baron’s arrival. “You sacrificed your own son to get what it was you wanted.”
“And you’re better than me?” The baron scoffed.
“I am,” Geordie said without hesitation. “Every time I felt as though I might fail, I thought of you and how much I loathe you. Of how I never wanted to be anything like you.”
Lord Strafford stood in a single, swift move he had not appeared capable of. “And yet it’s you who will be losing his head for murder at the end of all this, even as mine is still attached to my body.” He clapped Geordie on the shoulder.
Pain stabbed through Geordie’s wound, but he ignored it. God knew he’d had worse.
“Why even claim me as your son?” Geordie demanded. “You didn’t love me enough to keep me as a boy, you don’t care for me now. Why bother?”
“Love.” Lord Strafford gave a snort of laughter. “That’ll make you weak. You’re my blood. It’s why you’re such a damn good fighter. That cousin of yours, Robert, is as spineless as they come. At least you’ve got a set of stones on you.”
Geordie glared at the man he’d spent a lifetime hating. “Leave.”
“It’ll be hard to look down on me if you don’t have a head.” Lord Strafford shook his head with apparent disappointment and quit the room.
After the baron left, Geordie set about preparing for the trial. He harbored regret as he ran the cool, wet linen over his body, erasing Cat’s sweet rose perfume from his skin. He wanted to leave her scent on him, as though the memory of her could wrap him in a blanket of comfort.
Once he was clean and presentable, he was led down to the great hall. It had been set for his trial with stands erected for spectators on either side and a platform raised at the rear for the king and members of the house of lords. The stands were packed full of the people, all of whom turned to watch his slow entrance into the court. Despite the large room, the air was thick with the heat of too many bodies packed together and the silence was filled with the occasional rustle of cloth as people shifted restlessly.
Twelve of the realm’s peers sat aside, their faces solemn with the information they had spent the prior three days gathering to make their judgment. Geordie already knew what their efforts had uncovered and none of it would be in his favor.
He scanned the room, desperate to find the source of his strength. There, in the front, was Cat. She wore a lovely pink gown that made her cheeks and lips appear rosy. A veil sat over her golden hair. A pity. He’d wanted to see it one last time, to be reminded of how she’d looked above him, tresses tousled by their intimacies as they spent the night loving one another.
The trial was interminable. Stuffy with pomp and formality. Through it all, Geordie kept his gaze fixed on Cat. He didn’t listen to the accusations made, nor did he bother listening to the twelve peers offering their findings on his guilt. He knew well how it would end.
Nay, he wanted to gaze at Cat who stared at him in return, their eyes locked over several dozen people, through several thousand lengthy words that would see him condemned. He was glad he had not bothered to listen. It wouldn’t have mattered as he was utterly helpless in changing the outcome. For at the conclusion, the twelve peers of the realm stood together in their final verdict: guilty.
Within two days’ time, Geordie would die by beheading.
Cat sat in stunned silence at the court’s declaration. Beheading!
She put her hand to her throat, unable to breathe, as though it were she who was preparing for the executioner’s block. The men who had sentenced him to death did not flinch as they gave their verdict.
Frustration blazed in her veins and made her want to scream. Those men knew better. Not all of them, but several. She had managed to go to them after hearing back from the kitchen maid who had informed Cat that there had been a suspicious man in the kitchen. Not just any man—Robert’s own personal servant. The one who had lied for him.
Cat had rushed to find as many of the twelve jurors as she could. She’d found seven, a majority of the twelve, even if only by a hair. She’d thought it would have been enough. It hadn’t. Not one single man mentioned the evidence she presented to them.
Lady Strafford wept softy beside Cat. This earned a stiff rebuke from Lord Strafford, a beast of a man who it seemed impossible to have fathered someone as good and just as Geordie.
Guards led Geordie away in manacles, his gaze locked on hers until the last moment when he was led from the room. Only then did Cat breathe. She drew in a deep, stabbing breath as all the pain of realization rushed over her. Geordie was going to die.
After having finally found happiness together, it had slipped through their fingers, as intangible as sunlight. She put her hands over her stomach. Only three days prior, Geordie had spoken softly to the babe cradled in her womb, making promises it would be impossible to keep.
Anger seared through her at the unfairness of it all. How Sir Gawain continued to destroy her life, even in death.
The assembly of spectators had begun to disperse once the source of their entertainment had been escorted away. The twelve men who had judged him chatted amongst one another, their jovial banter bringing smiles where moments before they had been solemn. As though they had already forgotten the man they had fated for death.
Somewhere, in the inky darkness of Cat’s despair, came a flicker of an idea, a spark of hope. Mayhap if she could get Robert to confess, she could circumnavigate the court. If the truly guilty party was brought to light, Geordie might still be saved.
She leapt to her feet.
Lady Strafford startled. “What is it, Catriona?”
“This can’t end like this.” Cat’s voice quavered; proof she did not feel as strong as she would need to be.
“But it has,” Lord Strafford said in a low tone. “It is good we have Robert to at least inherit the barony.”
“Do you not even care?” Cat hissed. “Geordie is your son. First, you abandon him to be killed and now, after finding him alive, you welcomed him as your heir, then do nothing as he is condemned to die? You would lose him twice without so much as blinking an eye?”
Lady Strafford put a fisted hand to her gaping mouth and looked fearfully at her husband.
“You’ve got to have a head to blink an eye.” Lord Strafford’s narrow gaze scanned Cat up and down. “And I intend to keep mine. You know nothing of the affairs of men, you foolish chit. Mind you stay out of the business of them.”
Cat caught sight of Sir John in the crowd and spun on her heel.
“Off to go have a good cry?” Lord Strafford called after her in a mocking tone.
She turned about to glare at him. “Off to handle a task you are too cowardly to attempt.” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off toward Sir John, lest the noble knight become swallowed up within the crowd.
“I don’t know what you are about to do,” Tristan said from beside her. “But I can’t let you go about something foolish without anyone there to keep you safe.”
Now nearly to Sir John, she could spare a side glance at Tristan and gave him a grateful smile. “Sir John,” she called.
The large knight turned toward her, his face grim. “Lady Catriona, my heart aches for you.”
“Do not let it ache yet, as this is not over.” She stood still in a moving crowd. Tristan and Freya remained near her, trying to deflect as many of the bumps and jostles as was possible.
S
ir John stood against the passing people like a great tree that lets a river part over its roots. “What pray tell do you mean by such a thing?”
“I believe Sir Geordie’s cousin, Robert, set him up.” Cat rushed on to explain about the servant saying his master slept the night Sir Gawain died, and how that very servant turned up in the kitchens when pennyroyal was added to her ale.
Sir John nodded as he listened. “It sounds suspect indeed, but the trial is over. It will not be heard again. The jurors have made the decision based on their own investigations, which were quite thorough.”
“But they were not.” The burn of desperate frustration tightened in stomach. “They knew more but omitted it.”
Sir John shook his head. “My lady, there is naught I can do to reverse this verdict.”
Anger welled inside her and exploded in a sharp curse.
Sir John blinked in surprise. “Lady Catriona, I…”
“This is ridiculous.” She gestured to an open door leading to the hall where a majority of the people had departed. “In an entire court of men who speak of little more than bravery, you are all cowards when it comes to doing what it is right.”
Sir John opened his mouth, but Cat rushed on. “If you will not help me, I will see to it myself.”
“Lady Catriona, whatever you mean to do—”
“I will not be talked out of. Good day.” With that, she rushed from the large hall.
Tristan trailed behind her. “Are we going to confront Robert?”
“Aye, that is exactly what we are doing,” Cat said. “But first we must find him. Freya, you come with me. Tristan, seek Robert out and find Eldon and Durham as well, please. Once you find Robert, have a servant sent to me. All of us working together will make it easier to locate him. It will be better to confront him in public, of course, to get a confession all can hear.”
Tristan nodded and rushed off in the opposite direction.
Cat immediately set off through the denser areas of the castle, the smaller halls where people milled about, the gardens, any other place she could think of to find him.
All the while, her stomach knotted with the desperation of a ticking clock. She had failed in finding sufficient evidence against Robert before the trial. Now, with Geordie’s death looming closer with every minute, she would not fail again.
28
Cat had searched everywhere for Robert in her pressing fear for Geordie’s life. It was near the door to her own apartments that she finally caught sight of the man. Mayhap she ought to have discreetly followed him to a more populated area. She was, however, worried that he would slip into his apartments and she might not get the chance until much, much later. If at all.
So concerned she might not get another opportunity, she rushed toward him without pausing to think. “I’d like a word with you, please.”
The man stopped and regarded her with disdain. “Lady Catriona Strafford, I presume.”
Cat nodded. “I must speak with you. Will you join me in the gardens?”
“Nay.”
Cat hadn’t truly anticipated he’d accept her offer. Very well, she would work with what she had. “You are aware of my husband’s predicament?”
The dour look to his face lightened into a courtier’s pleasant expression. Without his brow furrowed, he appeared far more attractive a man than his glower suggested. “I’m quite aware. You have my condolences on the impending loss of your new husband.”
His words carried no regret.
Cat’s pulse quickened with what she was about to do. “I imagine it must be difficult for you to wonder at the sex of the child within my womb.” She set her hands to her stomach. “Knowing that your inheritance hinges on whether I birth a girl or a boy.”
The glower was back on his face, dark and full of hatred.
“I know you tried to poison me to make me lose the babe.” She stepped toward him, but he did not step back. The distance between them was too close, too uncomfortable, but she refused to retreat her advance. Regardless, she raised her voice in the hopes it carried down the hall and to anyone who might be in their chambers. “I know you killed Sir Gawain. I know you allowed Sir Geordie to take the blame so you could eliminate him from the path to your inheritance.”
Robert’s face darkened. “And where is your proof?”
“It was your servant they saw in the kitchen, before I was given my cup with pennyroyal in it.” She hugged her arms over her babe. “You were willing to kill an innocent child, just as you are condemning an innocent man.”
“I sent my servant to the kitchens to fetch me some garlic for a nasty bout of gout I’ve been suffering from.” He smiled at her and a chill slid down her spine. “Though I will say, an unfortunate loss of your child would be most convenient on my behalf. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
Cat shook her head. “I refuse to leave until you admit to what you’ve done.”
“Move yourself from my path, Lady Catriona.”
Cat widened her feet. “Not until you confess to what you’ve done.” Her voice was becoming louder still, nearly a shout. “I know you killed Sir Gawain to cast blame on my husband and I know you tried to poison me.”
Robert’s gaze slid coolly around them, up and down the narrow corridor, as if confirming no one had heard her outburst. “I’ve warned you.”
No sooner had he spoken the words than he drew his fist back and drove it toward her stomach. Cat’s forearms were already crossed where she hugged her unborn child and that made it easy for her to block the force of Robert’s blow. Pain shot up her forearms at the impact, but her child was safe. Which was the only thing that mattered.
Freya screamed somewhere in the distance, but Cat was too focused on Robert to pay her any mind.
He drew back to try to strike her again, but she spun away. She had to get the upper hand. He darted after her and put himself directly where she needed him to be. On the offensive, thinking he might get a hit.
She charged forward and slammed her forearm into his face.
Blood spattered out of his mouth and he staggered back, holding his jaw. “I forgot you know how to fight, you feral wench.”
He pulled a dagger from his belt and ran at her. Cat slid free her own blade in preparation for his attack. She’d long since stopped bothering with an eating dagger at her side and carried a true weapon.
Robert crashed into her despite her anticipation. The weight of his body against her chest knocked her hard to the floor. The blow forced the air from Cat’s lungs, but it was not anything she hadn’t experienced before. She gritted her teeth and swept up with her blade. It caught against his shirt, splitting it and revealing a slice of red beneath from where the point slicked at him.
With a roar, he pinned her to the ground. His dark eyes were wild with intent. He turned his blade to her stomach. “You’re right. I did kill Gawain. The man was a wastrel and after Geordie defended you against him, I saw the opportunity to place his death on Geordie’s shoulders to restore my inheritance. Until he stepped forward and told the world what a whore you are. This child will ruin everything. You will ruin everything.”
Cat kicked her leg up at him, but the skirts she had to wear for court impeded the blow and made the attempt seem little more than a helpless struggle.
A series of fluttering bumps flickered against Cat’s stomach, from within. Her child. As though it was scrambling for its own life inside her womb. With a cry of defensive rage, she drew her knee up with all the force she could muster. It landed perfectly between Robert’s legs. He loosed a howl of pain and dropped to the side, rolling off her.
Cat scrambled over to him with her hand protectively over her stomach. With her other hand, she put her dagger to Robert’s neck. “Do not move.”
He gave a high-pitched squeak and clutched his wounded manhood. His blade lay several feet away, dropped no doubt by the impact of her blow.
“Freya, I—” Cat glanced about, noticing for the first time Freya was not there.
Sir John rounded the corner with Freya at his side and the king’s guard behind them. Cat gasped out her relief.
“Don’t kill him,” Sir John said as he ran to her. “Back away from him, Lady Catriona.”
Cat immediately lowered her dagger and backed away, leaving Robert for the king’s guard. “He confessed to his crimes.” She hugged her arms over her child as it bumped against the inside of her womb. “It was he who killed Sir Gawain, just as he tried to kill my unborn child.”
“A trial will handle this.” Sir John bent and hefted Robert to his feet. Or as much to his feet as he could be with his knees still bent in apparent agony.
“Thank you for assembling the guards with such haste,” Cat said with gratitude.
“Oh, I assembled them the moment you left me.” Sir John chuckled. “You’ve got a penchant for mischief, Lady Catriona.”
Cat couldn’t help but smile. Everything in her felt light and free. Geordie would be safe; they could finally have their life together.
“She’s mad,” Robert ground out. “I made no such confession. She attacked me. I’ll admit to nothing I didn’t do.”
Cat turned an outraged look to Sir John, but before she could bother to protest, the door nearest them opened. An aged woman in an elegant blue silk kirtle with her white braids twisted into rolls on her head peeked her face out. “He lies,” she said in a fragile voice. “I heard his confession myself.” She gave Cat an apologetic smile. “Were I as brave as you, my dear, I would have come out to help you.”