This Ravished Rose

by Anne Carsley

  Katherine and her husband saw little of each other the next day for preparations for the funeral were in progress. These were to be undertaken by the Augustinian Friars of whom the priest who had married them was one and to whose order Lady Dorotea had left all her belongings. There was no bequest for either Katherine or James which was as they had expected. Neither did they find it strange that she had commanded that none be present at her interment save they and the necessary servants. She was to be entombed in the yard of the church where she had worshipped infrequently and Masses were to be sung for one year for the repose of her soul.

  Two days after her death, Katherine and James, who had exchanged only the most stilted of phrases since, heard the burial Mass in the lovely church where the stem faces of the saints lifted toward heaven and the light shone jewel-like in the glory of the streaming sun. The voices of the small choir rose high and higher still, soaring from the nave in lilting beauty. Katherine felt the tears burn in her eyes and glanced at James who stood rock still at her side. He was staring straight ahead with no indication of feeling. He still smelled faintly of the brandy he continued to consume without pause and his eyes were swollen.

  They came out of the church and stood looking at the lively bustle of the streets. The June winds were faintly chill but fresh as the scent of baking bread came to their nostrils. An alewife swept busily at the door of her tavern while several children played at soldier and Scot nearby. A snatch of song mingled with laughter as a girl rode by with her archer swain.

  Katherine felt a sudden surge of pleasure and her lips curved in a smile. There was a jerk at her arm and she looked into the angry eyes of her husband.

  “Does the sad occasion render you gay, Madam? You are showing lack of respect. I fear that you need lessons in deportment.”

  Katherine’s mood faded in the gusts of anger that he seemed to engender in her always, but she tried to speak civilly. “I know it is trite to say this, but Lady Dorotea would not have had us mourn bitterly. She would have smiled at the loveliness of this day. I loved her so and she was kinder to me than anyone else has ever been.”

  She would have given much to jerk back the words for the veins in his cheek began to twitch, presaging an outburst. “James, I did not mean..

  He turned upon her. “What spell did you work upon her to make her take your part so utterly and force me to that which I found abhorrent? An old, sick woman! Had you no shame? I am neither old nor sick, I assure you.”

  “No, just drunk.”

  “A man’s privilege.”

  The servants drew apart and stood whispering to themselves at these two who fought in and out of the house. Katherine and James stood absorbed and oblivious.

  Katherine said, “You need not have married me, you know. You could have explained privately to the priest and claimed duress.”

  “Lady Dorotea made sure of that when she bade us troth plight and then wed in her sight. You did your work well. Your maidenly hesitance was deceptive.” Stung, Katherine cried, “Petition for divorce, then.” “Had you forgotten the estimable Alexis Rykos? What of your fate should he return to find you free? I was told that you were in mortal danger.”

  “I was.” She shivered, her face turning pale. “I have Lady Dorotea to thank for my safety.”

  “To your shame.” He rubbed his hand tirelessly upon the fur of his collar while his eyes bored into hers. “You know that even the King himself could not have a troth plight set aside. I could not let Lady Dorotea die with such a burden upon her.”

  Katherine stabbed, “I had not thought you capable of such strong love and unblemished concern for others.”

  His voice had lost its edge and was dispassionate. “Mistake me not, Madam. You shall perform those duties of marriage as I command and be assured that I am not a kind husband. You will come to regret the freedom you have lost and weep that you cozened a dying woman. There will be no joy in this union for you. That I promise.”

  The flat tone unnerved her as much as the words. “James, will you not at least try to understand?”

  His glance shook her. “This conversation wearies me. I do not want to have it daily. Go back to the house with the servants. They are growing restless, as well they might when we brawl on the streets. I will give you my commands before I leave in the morning. They are to be obeyed to the letter or you will suffer for it.”

  James turned and strode toward the nearby tavern without looking at her again. She saw him smile and speak to the alewife who still stood bemused in her doorway. Unreasoning jealousy gripped her and she gritted her teeth. “I hate you. I hate you.” The words rang satisfactorily in her brain and she did not realize she had said them aloud until she saw the faces of the grinning servants.

  “Get you to the house! There is much to be done. Lord Hunsdale leaves at dawn.”

  Behind her sharp words Katherine knew suddenly that she feared the cruel and handsome man who was her husband.

  Chapter 11

  Summer Shadows

  Katherine woke in the night to feel her husband’s hard hands on her breasts and back as he turned her into position for the swift, forceful act of possession that was now his way with her. It was too dark to see his face but she could smell the brandy. In spite of all the instincts that warned her to lie quietly until he was finished, she twisted back from him. Instantly, he pulled her forward.

  “How now? Do you depart from your duty. Madam?”

  Weary of the violation of her flesh and sensibilities, torn with pain because she knew what love could be with this man, Katherine cried out, “You have husbandly duties. You ravish me as if I were some trull!”

  “Are you not? You seemed to know the fevers of the flesh quite well when I met you.”

  “You know full well that I was a virgin when we first lay together!” Katherine sat up in bed and strained to see his face.

  “You will not disgrace my name with your whorish tricks.” James leaned over her and fastened his hungry mouth on hers. She could not move except to breathe. Sweat trickled down between her breasts as the savagery of his thrusts tore at her. She twisted her legs in an effort to escape but he settled more firmly on her as he bit and worried her lips. It seemed to Katherine that he meant to beat her to death in the very act of love.

  Abruptly James withdrew and looked at her, one corner of his mouth curling downward. Katherine put one hand across her throbbing breasts and gave him look for look as they challenged each other across the seas of their own unwilling desire. There was a baffled gleam in his gray eyes and she knew that he wanted to leave her but could not. That knowledge was a sweetness in her, though she dared not give way to gentleness lest he grow more angry than he now was.

  He put one hand on her head and gave her hair a small tug. She lay motionless and still but turned her body slightly so that he could trace the line of her flat stomach and smooth legs up to the curve of her breasts. He snapped out an oath and pulled her to him, his mouth grinding down on hers, his maleness hard in her tender places. Katherine yielded softly, taking no initiative, letting him vent his anger at himself.

  Now the pulsating sweetness was lifting in her and her hips began to move slowly as they lifted to his thrusts which were lessening in intensity and becoming more stroking as his own excitement mounted. His breath was warm in her ear as he held her face still so that he could bathe it with kisses. His hands moved up and down the length of her body and she pulled his hard muscular warmth to her, feeling his flesh respond to the movement of her hands. Now they were rising in liquid tenderness toward the edge of the abyss. Her face was buried in the crook of his shoulder and she could hear the hammer of their hearts which now seemed as mingled as their flesh. They murmured incoherently as the time of release drew near. Katherine felt herself melting, draining, drawing and exploding as she clung to James and he wound both arms around her in this timeless moment of their joining.

  They came together several more times that night, always beginning with the thrust
of his flesh into her eager warmth and the slow, sweet movements that brought them again into breathless pleasure. They finally slept with his head pillowed on her breasts, her hands twined in his wheaten hair.

  Katherine awoke to feel her shoulder being shaken urgently. She felt sore in every muscle and her head hammered. James was bending over her. He was cool and immaculate in gray traveling clothes the very color of his eyes which were clear and alert. His hair was freshly washed and sprang back from the cap he wore. His sword hung at his side, his leather gloves were held in one hand.

  “Madam, I am leaving now. My steward has the fullest instructions as to you while I am gone. These instructions are to be obeyed as though I myself spoke them. Do you understand?”

  The memory of the night still touched Katherine with delight and rendered her unwary. “James, surely we may part gently.” Shadows still lay under her eyes and the reddish hair tumbled over the small breasts that still bore the marks his lips had made.

  “I am waiting for the answer to my question.” He was formal, reserved, but cruelty flickered at the corners of his mouth.

  Long training held Katherine steady. She did not reveal her feelings, instead she cloaked them under fair words which meant nothing. “I could not mistake your meaning, sir.”

  “Your duty now is obedience to my orders. Bear me a child to carry on my name. Perform this function and your life may be bearable.”

  “And if I do not?”

  “Then, Madam, you will have cause many times to rue the day you planned this marriage. That is my final word.”

  He pulled on his gloves and went toward the door. Katherine felt the scald of tears behind her eyes but she whispered, “Brute, I curse the day I’ll bear your whelp!”

  James heard and whirled to face her. “Bear it you shall. What other use are you?”

  Katherine’s flaming temper broke then. Picking up the empty wine cup at her hand, she hurled it at his mocking face. “I hope the Scots tear you and destroy you. May you come to ill in their glens. I shall pray that they are victorious over you!”

  James ducked and gave her a courtly bow. “How welcome are the prayers of a dutiful wife. Satan guard you, Madam.” He laughed cruelly and slammed the door just as the bottle of brandy sloshed against it.

  Katherine threw herself back into the tumble of bedclothes and waited for her anger to cool. She became conscious of the various aches and pains of her body as well as of the delicious lassitude which drifted over her. The memory of the night returned and she found it passing strange that that passion should produce the coldness of the day. Nothing was changed between them, that was certain. He still hated her even as he sought to make her with child.

  A few minutes later the high sweet notes of a trumpet split the air as the call to march was sounded. There was a great clatter of hooves, a cheer, then the clash of a war song. Unable to resist, Katherine pulled her shift over her head, took up her shawl to cover her shoulders, and went to the window. James, mounted on his warhorse, lifted his hand to those about him, a company of some twenty men whom he took to join Gloucester. The morning wind, cool and faintly damp, lifted his hair. The sun glinted off his light mail suit and shining sword.

  Guilt touched Katherine. They went to no easy task for the Scots were wily and she had wished him ill. Her long hair fell about her as she leaned wantonly out the window and called, “Jamie, Jamie, take care!”

  James looked up at her and then balefully at the men who smiled and tried to hide their smiles. His horse reared and whinnied as the rider’s legs tightened. Then James brought it down with a firm gesture, lifted his feathered cap and saluted her. Then the troop turned as one and raced swiftly down the street toward the gates. Katherine put one hand to her lips and laughed. “Indifferent we never were.”

  When the maidservant came with watered wine and fruit, Katherine ordered that quantities of hot water be prepared and brought immediately. When it came, she barred the door, then washed her hair and her body carefully, luxuriating in the release of tension. She looked at herself, the smooth, too thin body, small breasted and slim hipped, face and hands faintly tanned still. The waist might be spanned by a lover’s hands. Her eyes dominated her face which was softly touched with freckles. Hopelessly she abandoned the idea that some change had been wrought in her, that she might be more alluring by the very intensity of the emotion she had undergone.

  “I am so tired that I grow foolish.” She spoke aloud, conscious suddenly of the extent of her weariness. She threw herself on the bed, half dry as she was, pausing only to pull a furred cloak left by James over her. Then she slept, long and exhaustedly, lulled by the scent of leather and the out-of-doors that it brought to her.

  It was two days before Katherine roused sufficiently to have command of herself for more than routine movements. She woke enough to unbar the door, eat lightly of the food that was brought, speak of the need for rest and then return blindly to slumber. But in the afternoon of the third day she dressed in an old gown, pulled her hair under a coif and went into the garden. The warm sun touched her skin as she lifted her face to the light. She thought of Lady Dorotea, but not sorrowfully. Memories of their first encounter came to her and she smiled with remembered pleasure. Her patroness seemed very close as Katherine drifted in a pool of light.

  There was a sudden cough, then a discreet “Milady?” She sat up quickly and looked in the direction of the voice. The speaker was a tall man in his early forties with a scarred face and capable hands. His eyes were brown and wise. In his hands were several parchment rolls which he placed carefully on the bench in front of him.

  “Lady Hunsdale, I must acquaint you with His Lordship’s wishes regarding the time he is away. I understand that you have been ill. Are you now restored?”

  “Surely this can wait. I do not care to discuss business matters at this time.”

  “It cannot. Forgive me, I am John Redgrove, lately summoned by my lord to assist you. I am his steward and have the responsibility and the honor of his household at Hunsdale Castle.” He picked up one of the parchments and started to unroll it. “I have here directions concerning you.”

  Katherine rose, rubbing her faintly damp hands on the dark wool of her gown. “In my husband’s absence I will issue the orders. Naturally I will consult you but I am chatelaine.”

  “He was most explicit.” A flush came over John Redgrove’s face and his manner became awkward. Hurriedly he began to read. “The Lady Katherine, my wife, will go at once to Hunsdale Castle where she will remain. On no account will she go forth from there without my express command. She will be governed by Master Redgrove who has my authority. Further, no monies will be expended on books, musical instruments, cloth or fripperies of any kind.”

  Katherine stared fixedly at the embarrassed man. “What sort of place is Hunsdale Castle?”

  “It is far in the North, a rugged border castle. A guardian, actually.”

  “And the amenities?”

  Master Redgrove shifted positions uneasily. “Well enough, Madam. My lord is seldom there and some things are naturally slack, especially in the rough winters.”

  “I see.” Katherine did indeed see. She was to rusticate there, far from comforts and enlightenment, a wife so that none might say the Lord of Hunsdale did not obey the commands of his king, yet a safety so that none should endanger his heart. She had heard of women so wed, immured in the family castles, bearing children yearly, living out their barren lives in a small circle of loneliness and boredom. The bitterness of it smote her heart afresh. Not content with this, James meant to see that she had no comforts of mind and few of body. There was no redress, a husband’s will was law. Just so had he calculated.

  Looking up, she saw the truth in John Redgrove’s eyes and her courage rose fiercely, “The house must be closed and belongings prepared, servants selected. It will take days.”

  “No. You are given three days to prepare. Three women will accompany you on the journey, one will remain with you
while the others return. They have been selected by orders of my lord. When you arrive at Hunsdale, my wife, Frances, will stand ready to assist you.”

  Katherine walked a few steps from him, then turned and came back to face him. “I see that all is tended as it should be. You are most efficient.” She smiled and her warmth belied the coldness of the words.

  John Redgrove continued to speak of the work to be done and the arrangements yet to be accomplished but Katherine knew he sought to spare her the shock of James’ commands. Behind those commands lay the steel of a man who hated her. Even as she nodded and murmured in response to the steward, Katherine knew that she truly had no choice, she must do as she was told, play the part of the yielding woman until she knew her territory, then there would be time to see what the future might bring.

  That future loomed dark enough in the resulting flurry of activity as the house was prepared to be left and belongings gathered. Katherine did little beyond gathering her few gowns and books. She seemed to drift in lethargy, almost uncaring of the urgency around her that the lord’s commands be obeyed with all speed.

  It was late afternoon of the day before they were to leave and Katherine was walking in the garden when a voice behind her spoke,

  “My Lady, I do not wish to disturb you but there are coffers of the Lady Randle’s which must be checked before we leave and Master Redgrove has said that you alone can do it.”

  The girl was at least three years younger than Katherine and buxom with snapping black eyes. Her cheeks were red and her smile bright.