This Ravished Rose

by Anne Carsley

  “You protest but there is greed in your eyes. Never. Never.”

  The steel voice of the woman they both loved rose up. “I stand as your mother, James. You cannot disobey and send me denied into death. Katherine is my ward and must do as I say. I shall be obeyed. This is no idle command. And think not to deceive me, you shall plight your troth here, now and in my sight.”

  “No.”

  “I will not.” They spoke as one.

  “Then be cursed, both of you. Leave my sight. My soul will be burdened with hatred. Will you have that on yours?”

  James came close and looked long at Lady Dorotea whose gaze did not soften. “You have never been a true follower of the church, why do you use it now?”

  “I am dying. Will you obey?”

  Then James knelt to her, both arms outstretched, dark face uplifted in agony. “Lady, Lady, do not ask it of me. I cannot. You, of all people, know that.”

  “You beg in vain, James.”

  Had she hit him in the face, it could have been no greater shock. He rose and bowed coldly. “I but acquaint you with that knowledge you have long possessed, Madam.”

  Katherine felt the trap closing. Suddenly she felt sheer terror; hate emanated from James and his sudden plea had made her fear him all the more. She jerked into speech, “You are safe. I have said that I will not and I hold by that.”

  James laughed in scorn. Lady Dorotea began to cough then, the sound rasping and heavy. Her body rebelled and the green bile foamed up. She twisted and began to strangle, her eyes were wide and the slow tears welled out.

  Katherine snatched up a cloth, dipped in the water jug and bathed her face. Cautiously she lifted Lady Dorotea up but even that slight weight was too much and they both fell back.

  “Help me, get those covers on the chair. Hurry,” Katherine ordered, ignoring James’ instinctive recoil. “James!”

  He moved then, working as he had often done on the battlefield, and in the space of a few moments the invalid lay clean once more, but exhausted and shivering. The pale lips moved and the thin eyelids lifted.

  “I command you both for the last time. Obey or go from me forever!”

  James took a step forward, his eyes bleak. His fingers closed around Katherine’s wrist and squeezed it so hard that she felt the bones move. The words were tom from him, falling stone hard into the stillness.

  “Before us all and in the eyes of God and Our Savior, I swear to take you, Katherine Hartley, to wife within the next three days. I swear this by the cross and upon the soul of my godmother.”

  Katherine stood very still as she felt his hatred well up around her. Her body was numb with fatigue and emotion, her fingers chilled to the bone. Revulsion rose in her at this mockery. Strangely at such a time, she remembered Antony’s words of her mother, “I knew her for mine from the first instant.” James jerked her wrist again and glared at her. Savagely she yanked it free.

  “I, Katherine Hartley, do plight thee my troth as I shall stand before God and his judgment.” Her voice was strong and sure, so much so that James took an involuntary step toward her, his fingers twisting.

  Lady Dorotea sighed long and deeply. The shaking in her body eased and she was able to sip the wine which Katherine held to her lips.

  James came close to the bed, his face once more smooth and controlled but his words were bitter. “Now, Lady, I have done your will and taken such a yoke as any man might fear all his days. Have I your leave to go?”

  “Jamie . . .” Lady Dorotea lifted a thin hand in pleading but he turned away and started for the door. Katherine jumped up and moved to intercept him but James put a hand on her throat and pushed her back while pressing on it.

  “Wife, prepare yourself for that which you have so eagerly sought. Will the price you pay be worth it to you?” He let go abruptly and Katherine staggered but did not fall. She pulled herself up firmly and gave him look for look. She did not touch her throbbing throat.

  “Lady Randle, you have driven a hard bargain for the love you perforce bear me. It will be honored, but know also, that the bonds between us are severed from this moment.”

  He slammed the door so that it reverberated on its hinges and they heard him shouting for wine downstairs.

  In her own turn Katherine stared bitterly at Lady Dorotea, then said, “How could you? I am safe from Rykos, at least for the moment, but James hates me and will take steps to be free. What have we gained?” After a long coughing spell that left her meager strength depleted. Lady Dorotea was able to say feebly, “The troth plight cannot be broken, it is against the laws of the church and is as binding as marriage. Rykos cannot intervene, even the King cannot break such a vow though once it was rumored that he tried.” Katherine’s mind moved swiftly. The church would protect her if it came to that. There had been no pledge between herself and Rykos. It would not have occurred to him that his wishes could be circumvented. Lady Dorotea was right. She was safe for now, Rykos would turn his interests elsewhere for none fought against holy church. Later Katherine could deal with the problem of a husband who hated her and yet was bound to her. The dying woman had dared much for her sake. Humbled, the girl turned.

  “Was this the only way, dear lady?”

  “It will be no worse a marriage than most. James has long been urged to wed by both the King and his brother. His lands are great and he is the only male left of the line. It is his duty. You will know yours.” Lady Randle was tiring and her words came more slowly. Katherine knew that she must leave her to rest but she had to ask one more question.

  “Why did you force us into this? James has sufficient power by all you say to deal with Rykos’ men and to help me as well.”

  With all her fading power Lady Dorotea said, “None save the church has true power against such as Rykos. Further, without my insistence James would have seen you taken without a qualm. He holds women in little esteem as you have seen. It was the only way, Katherine. My godson is wild, you only little less, but you both will be preserved. Tell your sons of me.”

  She fell back on the pillows then, and Katherine, terrified, screamed for the maidservant who came running. The implacable old voice followed her,

  “Summon a priest from the Minster. Tell him to be here early in the morning without fail. Tell those below that I make my peace with God. You and James will be wed tomorrow after this is done.”

  Numbly Katherine gave the order to the maidservant who bobbed respectfully and hurried away. She closed the door to Lady Dorotea’s room and started toward her own. She could think only of rest now, all else must wait. There was an excited burst of conversation from the servants, a gutteral remark from one of the guards, then the swift voice of the friar as he gave instructions to a horseman who would ride night and day until he reached Alexis Rykos. There was no sound from James, she supposed he had gone to a tavern or abandoned her but at the moment she did not greatly care so strong was her exhaustion.

  When dawn came, outlining the shapes in her room, Katherine awoke, only slightly less tired than she had been. She wondered, as she had so many times before in the past hectic days, how such a personage as Lady Dorotea could be imprisoned in this manner and none knew of it. However, she was a known recluse and in poor health, the city was full of the coming war with the Scots. It was possible. She shivered at the power of Rykos. What did he hold over the great of the land and why did he seek her so diligently?

  Katherine told herself that she would speak the words demanded by Lady Dorotea. Later she would tell James everything when his anger cooled. She remembered the hatred in his eyes and shivered. Surely redress could be found, they were reasonable people. Suddenly reason deserted Katherine Hartley and she knew that it did not matter whether James hated her or not, so long as the fierce emotion between them prevailed, so long as she was in his presence and heard his voice. Her flesh quivered, the tips of her breasts rose taut, and she knew that she waited for his hands and body and the moment of claiming.

  Chapter 10

/>   Lord Husband and Lady Wife

  Katherine dressed for her wedding in the simplest of the gowns which Lady Dorotea had had made for her, a soft blending of white and green girdled at the waist with a green tie. She wore slippers of green leather. Her green eyes were brilliant against her pale skin and loosed red-brown hair. The small scar on her face shone white as it did in times of stress. She had been bathed in warm lavender water and the scent moved with her.

  There was a quick knock on the door and the suddenly obsequious maidservant entered.

  “You are summoned, Lady.”

  Katherine pinched the flesh of her cheeks to make them flame. Then she tilted her head high. James would see no shrinking waif, but a proud woman who would demand as good as she was given. Lady Dorotea’s anguish would not be given in vain.

  Lady Dorotea lay drawn into a wrinkled shell, her strength so low that she could barely whisper, but the indomitable eyes blazed from her skull with all their old power. James stood at the foot of the bed. He wore black velvet, unrelieved by lace or ornament. There were circles and pouches under his bloodshot eyes. His hands shook and Katherine saw a horn cup on the table behind him.

  The priest was a small man with a firm manner which he employed as he greeted Katherine. “Mistress, I am told that you and Lord James wish to be wed here at the bedside in accordance with Lady Randle’s final desire in this world. She has made her peace.”

  “Yes, hurry up with it.” James spoke harshly as he caught Katherine’s fingers in his own. The grip was bruising as she tried to break free.

  “Father, I must speak with you privately.” Katherine did not really know what she wanted to tell him, only that this travesty must not take place. Forgotten were the practicalities of the past hour.

  His response was whispered. “She has a very short time. I was told that all was settled between the three of you.”

  “It is. Proceed.” James was growing savage.

  Katherine looked at the implacable visage, then toward the gasping figure on the bed and at the priest who shook his head. She bent her own.

  “I am ready.”

  The softly cadenced words and ritual responses rose and fell in the quiet room, punctuated by the slowing breath of Lady Dorotea. The glare of James mingled with the stoniness of Katherine’s demeanor and, in spite of all that he had been told of the situation, the priest shuddered inwardly at these vows which were rendered in the wrong spirit. He lifted the eyes of the wedded pair and said,

  “The circumstances are unusual, I know, but Our Lord will give you comfort. May you find happiness in your marriage.”

  James looked appraisingly at his bride. “Father we do not seek such a thing. Marriage is for the procreation of children. Does not Holy Church so teach?” “Even so, my son, yet we are but human . . .” The priest stopped in the face of the savage grin that lit the man’s features. “I will pray for you, indeed for us all. Now leave us, the lady sinks rapidly. I will call you when it is needful.”

  “Aye. Now to the marriage couch. Come, wife.” Katherine knew what the price of safety was to be. There was neither gentleness nor compassion in this man. She lifted her head.

  Through the mists that swirled about her, Lady Dorotea heard the cruelty in James’s voice in contrast to the old tenderness. She thought to remonstrate with him but knew that she must turn her mind toward things eternal. All faded as the prayers for the dying lifted her heart.

  James jerked in uneasy sleep as Katherine lifted her bruised body away from him. The sour smell of sweat was in the air, mingling with that of stale wine. The events of the past hour swarmed in her memory and she let them come, knowing that they must be faced.

  James had turned to her the instant they came into the bedroom and, with one hand, ripped the green and white dress from neck to hem. Then he picked her up and tossed her on the bed, pulling her shift high. She lay quietly, not wanting to anger him further, but her very stillness irritated him. He tumbled her casually and brutally as any tavern wench, and cursed at the whimpers of pain she could not stifle. She moved away once but he caught her back and kissed her breasts savagely. “You’ll not escape this bargain, my lady.” Drunken laughter rang in her ears as he put both hands in her hair and jerked her head back.

  Stung, she cried, “I did not wish it! Why will you not believe me?”

  “Foul liars, all of you!” Before his mouth ground down on hers once more, Katherine would have sworn that there was sick pain in his eyes.

  She longed to weep but would not give him the satisfaction. How much worse would marriage to Rykos have been? Still, thinking of the hungry eyes and lascivious mouth, she knew that it would be far worse. Slowly, Katherine began to straighten her clothes. A brutal husband was not a rarity. Her bruises would fade, he was going to war and there were compensations in a title. An odd longing shook her. How would it be to truly love your husband and fear for him?

  “Pondering the pleasures of marriage, wife?” James sat up, watching her, laughing that laughter that had no merriment in it, cruel glance fixed on her thighs.

  “In truth, my husband, I was thinking that your lovemaking is as graceful as your manners. I see that I shall not have cause to miss you greatly in the coming weeks.”

  She sat there in the rays of the afternoon sun which brought into relief the lines about her eyes and mouth and showed the tenseness in her body. The bruises on her skin showed even more livid. Yet her voice was light still as she smiled at him.

  James lifted his hand and slapped her with all the power he could muster. She fell onto the floor and crouched on all fours, the world swinging in darkening circles of light, the blood drumming in her ears. “Bitch, bitch, bitch!” hammered around the room. There was the sound of utensils being swept to the floor as he sought the wine jar.

  Katherine came to her feet in one determined movement and launched herself at him in fury as savage as his own. Her nails clawed for his eyes, her teeth sank into his arm and she spat imprecations learned from the grooms at the castle where she had spent part of her youth. James half rose but tripped in trying to fend her off and they fell heavily together. Her mouth was bleeding and her face bore the print of his hand. He caught her shoulders even as her fingers fastened in his hair and they tussled until he held her pinned to the floor in ignominious anger. Then James took her face in one hard hand and fastened his open mouth on hers even as she tried to jerk free.

  The fire that spun through them both and momentarily fused them into one body was as sharp as their anger had been. James meant to recapture his wounded pride and Katherine felt the punishing hands lift to wrap themselves around her shoulders as the world settled into a steady burning focus of light and passion. She moved closer to him, welcoming the fire, sounds deep and incoherent in her throat as he lifted her.

  James tossed her on the bed and stood over her. “If you have cause to complain of my lovemaking in the future. Madam, I suggest that you address yourself respectfully to me. I will have no shrew for my wife.”

  “Aye, my lord, you seek the model wife.” Katherine felt the cold gather between them; in the lapse of fury she could feel nothing but the need to hold her own before him. Her denied body still pulsed with passion but she tried to conceal this from him.

  His eyes missed nothing. “Not seek, Madam, for we are wed already. You will be as I wish. Never seek to profit from this union, for you shall not.” His voice was clipped and expressionless.

  “As my lord commands.” The meek words were at total variance with the fierce glare that met his own. For an unreasoning second James swayed toward her, this woman who gave him word for word and blow for blow, a woman of courage and pride. Images of Margaret swept before him, she for whom he had given all that mattered. He reached down and cupped Katherine’s breast.

  He caught greedily at her body and, as the hard thrusting began, she lay very still, forcing herself to endure what she must. She shut her eyes and tried to think of how it had been for them both that first time,
the tenderness and the passion. Her mind said, “Forever, dear Lord God, this is forever.” Could she endure?

  It came so slowly that she did not know when she first began to feel the softness in her loins, the beginning of the hunger. James moved more slowly upon her as her body yielded to him and became pliant. Katherine felt him deep in her. Her mind fought back from this giving but her tongue welcomed his in her mouth and her arms rose to encircle his shoulders. James moved his hands upon her breasts and lowered his mouth to touch them gently before claiming her mouth again.

  Katherine cried out his name as the fire mounted in her and their movements became more frenzied. His eyes looked into hers and she saw the coldness in them before he turned her on her side and joined them more completely. He was no longer gentle but neither was he cruel.

  Later, they lay spent, each in a dark separate world. Then a knock came at the door and the priest called, “My Lord, come quickly!” James rose hurriedly, adjusted his clothing and rushed out. Katherine bound her hair back, jerked a shawl about her shoulders and followed.

  Lady Dorotea lay as they had left her hours before, her breathing almost imperceptible. James stood watching her, his face a dark mask on which no emotion showed. As Katherine came near, the priest bent over her.

  “Madam, are there any requests you would make of these your children?”

  There was no answer, nor did the fragile lids lift again. The breath slowed, then ceased altogether as a faint smile rested on the dead lips. Katherine knelt to whisper a brief prayer. James came to look for a moment, then pulled the coverlid over her face. He stood back as if in farewell and slammed out the door.

  Katherine looked up in alarm and the priest made to console her. “He is distressed and would not have you see it, Lady. You must care for him now. Weep not for your patroness. She is with Our Lord.”

  “Pray with me now for the repose of her soul.” The soft compassionate words floated upward.

  Downstairs, James was concentrating on getting thoroughly drunk. He had demanded the best brandy of the house and, when it was brought, drained the costly stuff and demanded more. Several leather bottles now stood before him as he sat in the cool shadows of the little room which looked out on the garden. The servants had retreated to their quarters and the house was very still. Reality retreated from him as drink and emotion took their toll. Soon he slipped lower in the chair and slept.