This Ravished Rose

by Anne Carsley

  The man heaved a sigh. “Will she be all right? What is the matter with her?”

  Katherine kept her voice low. “She must rest quietly for a short time. She is always weak after this happens. They wanted to bleed her but I forbade it.”

  “You? Who are you in this household to order it?” His voice rose and Lady Dorotea moaned.

  Katherine saw the pain in the gray eyes and said softly, “One who loves her even as you do, sir. May I ask your name?”

  The polished words made his brows quirk together. “I am Lord James Hunsdale, son of her girlhood companion and her godson. She has perhaps spoken of me?” He put one hand on Lady Dorotea’s and smiled to see the answering touch.

  It was that smile that made Katherine lie. Lady Dorotea did not delve into old wounds nor did she brood over possibilities that never came. “Aye, my lord, often, and with the greatest warmth.”

  James Hunsdale rose to his full height and looked at Katherine. She felt once more the fascination that had drawn them together and knew that, whether he wished it or not, he felt the same. Her tongue moistened her dry lips and she felt her nipples contract against the stuff of her gown.

  James brought out a gold coin minted with the image of King Edward and held it toward Katherine. It was more money than a servant girl might see in years. “My godmother has been fortunate in her maid, girl. What is your name?”

  Katherine started indignantly, then imps flickered in her modestly lowered eyes. “Katherine, sir.”

  “Take this and continue to render her good service. I charge you with it.” The gray eyes met hers full on. “No more rushing around the street with strangers or dallying by the stalls. I will not chide you more for I see that you truly care for her. Remember my words in the future, however, or you will answer to me.”

  They might never have shared laughter and anger, taken each other’s measure in a crowded street, or touched in awakening passion. Just so did the great lords dally with their wenches, thought Katherine. How dare he speak so to a Hartley?

  “Jamie, are you still here? Forgive an old woman that I dozed for a bit. It was the excitement, I am not ill.” Lady Dorotea raised up slightly while the color came in her cheeks that had been the color of old parchment.

  James bent to her and spoke softly. Katherine could not hear the words but Lady Dorotea smiled as the strength seemed to return more swiftly. He pressed the contents of the cup on her and she drank once more. Katherine abandoned all thought of the sharp words that rose to her lips as concern for her benefactoress pulled at her.

  “Must you go so quickly?” Lady Dorotea’s voice was already resigned. Katherine thought with a pang that much of the vibrancy had gone from it even in the relatively brief time that she had known her.

  James said, “I am bidden to wait on the Duke of Gloucester who will soon go forth against the Scots. I will visit you as soon as I have seen him. I hope to find you in better health when I return.” His eyes sought Katherine’s and the girl nodded in answer to the plea there.

  “Jamie, be careful. Your life is precious.”

  He knelt before her in a sudden graceful movement. “Lady mine, I would that I thought so, but for your sake I will take all caution.”

  Lady Dorotea touched his bright head and said longingly, “That was long ago, Jamie. You bear a proud name that must be carried on. Have you not thought... ?”

  A hard mask settled over the momentarily softened face and Katherine inadvertently thought that this was the way he would look in battle as the enemy approached.

  “I must not keep the Duke waiting. Farewell for now, dear godmother.” He adjusted his sword which had been laid aside and turned toward Katherine. “Guard her well, wench, and there will be more gold for you. You have indeed risen in the world. There could not be a better mistress.”

  He kissed Lady Dorotea, inclined his head to Katherine, and left the room, slamming the door heavily behind him. They heard him issuing commands to those who had been waiting and then the clatter as all rode off.

  Lady Dorotea sighed, brushed her eyes and allowed her attention to return to Katherine. “Forgive me, dear child, I should have introduced you. It is not fitting that my godson speak so to you, who are for all practical purposes, my ward.”

  Katherine settled on the stool at her feet and said, “It has been long since you have seen Lord James my lady. He has been in the border wars?”

  “Yes, he has long served the Duke of Gloucester and Hunsdale itself lies in the remote north. Once Jamie might have won great favor at court but King Edward still blames him for an unfortunate happening in Burgundy years ago. Jamie does not speak of it; he is punctilious in his duty to the sovereign but his heart is in the north.”

  Lady Dorotea’s voice was stronger now as her memory wandered. Katherine’s curiosity was avid though she did not wish to press. “He has never been wed? I heard you say... ?”

  The bright eyes sought Katherine’s and held them. “I have spoken of it. King Edward has all but commanded it for the Hunsdale lands are vast. There was a woman in Burgundy, I do not know her name or else have forgotten it, they were betrothed and it was thought to be a good match. Suddenly Jamie returned and there were whispers of scandal and disgrace. He went to France and Italy, leaving his older brother here to waste away the fortunes. Tales of debauchery came to us; I scolded him, commands went out from the court. When his brother was killed in a senseless duel, Jamie was the only heir. He returned to take up the duties of the title. He came to see me before going to Burgundy, a bright and lovesome youth he was then. When next I saw him, he was a bitter, cold man. He never speaks of the past nor does anyone around him.” Lady Dorotea paused for breath and took a sip of wine.

  “He cares only for you and war then?” Katherine risked another question, fearing even as she did so that she was betraying herself.

  “His mother was my dearest friend; I stand as her representative. I have neglected my duty.” The old voice was firm with the authority and responsibility given of God.

  As she watched, Katherine was once more cognizant of the very real power that Lady Dorotea had once been and of how very fortunate she was to have such a friend.

  “I cannot think that you have ever been derelict in anything, my lady. Doubtless your godson chose his own path long ago and finds his life pleasing now.”

  “Ah, no. I have thought only of myself and this world. There is a higher obedience.” Lady Dorotea pushed herself up from the chair and brushed away Katherine’s offered arm. “I am feeling much better now, my dear. There is much to do.”

  Katherine saw that Lady Dorotea had reached some sort of crisis point within herself. Silently she waited as the older woman crossed to the pri-dieu and lifted her face to the image of Christ.

  Later, in the peace of the garden, Katherine pressed her face against the vines which covered one wall and tried in vain to still the longing within her. She was honest with herself as Antony had taught her to be.

  She hungered for the sight of James Hunsdale, the sound of his voice, the press of his fingers, the sharpness of his gaze, the tenderness his eyes could show. She wanted a man who held women to be lowly, she, proud Katherine, who had vowed to set the course of her own life. She remembered the scorn in his voice at their first meeting and the casual way he had dealt with her in the marketplace. Yet they had shared laughter and he knew that she loved Lady Dorotea. Was that not a good beginning? Their shared passion seemed far away, as if it had happened to other people.

  At the convent they had speculated and whispered of this fire in the blood, of the manner of it, but she had remained aloof. The romances to which they had been devoted had spoken of such things and now she knew how little those tellers of tales had really known. Now love had a face and a body for which her young flesh yearned. Katherine’s mobile mouth curved in eagerness, her face was illumined with light; she looked as though a candle had been lit within her. So it was that Alexis Rykos saw her as he came unannounced into the garden
.

  “I have come to renew my suit, Katherine.” He spoke softly so as not to alarm her but she whirled and gasped at the sight of him.

  “Sir, I tell you frankly that this is not possible. I will never wed you. I regret that I spoke in discourtesy when we last met but that cannot be undone. I ask you now to leave and forget this. Do not force me to disturb Lady Dorotea who is unwell at present.”

  Alexis came close and she smelled the heavy odor of musk. He seized her wrists and pulled her up to him, his thick lips set in a smile. She fought to escape but her struggles were useless as he fastened his mouth on hers, twisting it until his teeth ground against hers.

  She was a small thing in the grip of her master, he thought, as his hand found her small breast. Suddenly he wanted to hit her, to see the white flesh bruise under his knuckles, to hear her plead and weep. He squeezed harder at the thought. Then Alexis Rykos looked into the fierce eyes so close to his, and saw the air darken about him as it often did when he felt this ungratified desire. Some measure of sanity warned him not to persist. She would be his soon enough. He pushed her away, seeing as through a haze the teeth marks on her lower lip and the purple mark at her collar bone.

  Katherine breathed deeply, steadied herself and spoke evenly, “Must I summon the guard or will you leave now?”

  Alexis could not understand the fury this girl aroused in him. He always held his emotions in check, knowing as he did that others were ruled by theirs.

  “No one will offer for you. I have made my wishes known to Gloucester. Edward’s consent is only a formality. I will explain your background to him. This is a far greater match than you could have expected.” Katherine put both hands to her hammering head. “In God’s name, why? Surely your pride turns you from an unwilling woman.”

  Alexis smiled slowly, lingeringly, the tips of his teeth white against his full lips. The familiar tingling in his palms was beginning again. It had been several months since that girl in London. Fortunately, she had not been high born and there was no search.

  “Let us say, dear Katherine, that I loved you in the first moment I saw you.”

  “That is not true!”

  “No, but it will do for a reason.”

  “I will protest to the Duke. I cannot think that he will be totally unsympathetic.”

  “He is not. On the contrary, he is most concerned about your recurrent bouts of the fever sustained by you while nursing your father and understands that at times your senses quite leave you. The need for a protector is apparent and Lady Dorotea is most frail of late. Ah, yes. The Duke is most understanding. I would not trouble him about your father, either; he has recalled certain injustices at Antony’s hands. That is why the name was familiar to him.”

  “My father was . . .” She stopped as Alexis laid his hand on her mouth in a possessive, greedy gesture.

  “That is past. Forget it. Prepare yourself for our wedding day within a fortnight. I leave you to compose yourself.”

  He bowed to the stricken girl and let himself out the garden gate.

  Katherine stared after him, then touched her sore mouth which was already swelling. Deadly fear possessed her. There was an aura of death and sickness about Alexis and his strange determination to possess her utterly. All her strong health rose to meet this challenge even as she recoiled in revulsion from what she had seen in his eyes. Disregarding the pain, she wiped her mouth savagely then ran for the quiet of her bedroom. As she neared the doorway, a figure came toward her. He was a well dressed older man with an air of authority.

  “Mistress Hartley, I am of the household of Master Rykos who has sent me to give you comfort in your needs.”

  Astonished she stopped and glared at him. “I need no comfort. Return to your master. You are not welcome in this house.”

  “Your betrothed has given instructions. Set your mind at ease.”

  “You mistake me. I have no betrothed. I will not wed that demon and have told him. Go.” The last was almost a screech of fury.

  The retainer’s voice grew deep and earnest. “Master Rykos warned us of this disorder of the mind, saying that when it occurred you must rest. You need not fear. All is well.”

  Katherine looked at him in frustration. “I must see Lady Dorotea.”

  “She is lying down and cannot be disturbed. The servants have been instructed. You will be cared for by Master Rykos’ retainers until his return from London. You will find the house surrounded by them, I believe. Such were his orders and he is a man who will be obeyed. You are fortunate.”

  Katherine tensed and her green eyes flamed with anger. Fierce words rose to her lips at this invasion of a peaceful household, this wanton disregard for privacy and her own expressed wish. She twisted her fingers together and looked up to see the avid eyes of the man on her. He thought her demented as Rykos had said. It would take little for him to have her forcibly confined to her room and then all hope would be gone. Lady Dorotea was almost a recluse and Rykos had played his game carefully. Now Katherine must dissemble to gain time. By all the saints, that oily little man would pay! She bent her head submissively and her voice was hesitant.

  “Truly, I am not insensible of the honor done me but I am not yet strong and must rest often.”

  He summoned a waiting maidservant who came forward and put a hand under Katherine’s elbow. “Rest, Mistress Hartley. Do not trouble yourself.”

  “I think I will lie down now.” She gritted her teeth and allowed herself to be led away.

  Later, as she lay in her bed listening to the calls of the night birds, Katherine knew that only ingenuity could save her. “Ingenuity and courage,” she whispered. Even now, when her life and fate hung in the balance, the thought of James Hunsdale stirred her blood with warmth and made her know how dear life was even though it hung in jeopardy.

  Chapter 8

  Appeal

  Katherine forced herself to spend the next day resting in her room, pretending to be sleeping when the maidservant peered in. She read and paced the floor as she planned her strategy. By dawn of the following day she was nervous and exhausted but it had been necessary to still suspicion.

  When she crept into Lady Dorotea’s room, Katherine was appalled for her friend’s eyes were deep-circled, her lips and fingertips blue. She lay propped on many pillows but could not get her breath so that she spoke in gasps and wheezes.

  “What is the matter, Lady? Are you in pain?”

  “My heart keeps hammering in my chest as if it wished to escape and I feel as though I have eaten an unsavory dish. It will pass. I often feel this way.” Katherine was contrite through the fear that gripped her. “I have brought this upon you!”

  “I am old, my dear. For many years I have lived as I pleased. I doubt the strongest constitution could have lasted longer. But what is happening? I have heard the tramp of armed men and voices raised in anger. Tell me all, hide nothing.”

  Katherine sank down beside the bed, the tapestries of which had been pulled back so that the Lady Randle might have the benefit of the warm winds from the open window. The sun slanted in and dust motes danced golden. The faint odor of lavender emanated from the bed covers. The tale was soon told for Katherine knew that to hide any portion of it would be dangerous to Lady Dorotea’s health.

  “We are prisoners in this house for his minions have their instructions and watch carefully.”

  A red flush came over Lady Dorotea’s pale face. “Help me dress. I am yet mistress in my own house, I vow.” She attempted to rise but could not. The breath came in deep, hoarse rasps and the frail body shook. She had always been healthy, indeed had taken risks with herself, now remembered those of her family who had had this same illness, and knew that the time was come. Resolve stiffened in her and she knew that the course she proposed was right. But how to bring it to fruition in the little time left?

  There was a clatter in the streets and cries of excitement. Both turned to the window in time to see several troops of men march by in battle dress. Bann
ers were waving and a battle song was struck up. The onslaught against the Scots was about to begin.

  “Let me help you.” Katherine put her arms under Lady Dorotea’s shoulders, feeling the heat of her body through the elaborate bedgown.

  “Let me just rest quietly for a bit, then I will get up and we shall see if they dare keep Lady Dorotea Randle against her will.” She leaned back and drifted into slumber even as Katherine held her. The girl stared in anguish for a moment, then placed her against the pillows.

  Katherine went out into the garden, picked some flowers and went for a jug in which to arrange them. Almost carelessly she moved toward the door which opened on the street at the back of the house. A tall, lanky figure appeared from the corner where he had been sitting. He spoke with a heavy accent.

  “Best bide quietly inside, Mistress. There’s rough company in the streets.”

  Katherine snapped, “I do not ask your opinion. Lady Randle is very ill and needs a physician.”

  “No one goes out.” He stood solidly in her path. “You cannot keep us here for days!”

  “It’ll not be days. The master has given orders and will be back within the week. The lady will not suffer, she has had her illness for years. The master said it.” Katherine tossed her head. “Well, if the master said it, then surely we must all obey!” The green eyes glittered dangerously as she glared at the boy, for he was little more than that.

  “Aye, I have my orders.”

  Katherine ran back up the stairs, well aware that the trap was closing. She sat long by the window and watched the darkness gather. Her mind was made up. If any help were forthcoming it must be of her own making for precious time was passing. Her flesh quivered at the thought of Alexis’ greedy fingers, then with remorse she remembered Lady Dorotea’s exhausted breath. Of all in York she knew only Lord James as a true friend of Lady Dorotea and to him she would go. Perhaps he would help her as well for his godmother’s sake. It was the only course open to her and a very slim one.