“Who are you?” he asked when he reached the ground.
“I am Lady Katherine de Beaumont. But you may call me Kat. All my special friends do.”
He smudged his toe in the dirt under the tree and looked up at her shyly. “I thank you, Kat. And I am Matthew of Oxford.”
Kat smiled at him, and then knelt beside the injured boy to check his arm for broken bones. He cringed and tried to scuttle away. “I do not intend to harm you. Now let me see your wrist so I can determine the extent of your injury.”
Not waiting for his assent, Kat grabbed hold of his arm and gently probed the wrist in question. As she thought, there were no broken bones, only a swollenness that indicated a mild sprain.
Looking into the boy’s sullen black eyes, Kat admonished him. “You are most fortunate. ’Tis only sprained. I would recommend you find more honorable activities to pass your time in future. A word of advice—there is always going to be someone bigger and stronger than you. Let this be a lesson to you, although I doubt you will pay me heed. Now go, you are no doubt neglecting your duties.”
The blond boy scrambled to his feet, scowling as he backed away. “I shall tell my father of your deeds this day. He is bigger than even you. He will make you pay for daring to harm me,” he spouted boastfully, then threw a hate-filled glance at Matthew and fled.
Matthew looked at her with a worried frown. “He is trouble. Can his father really harm you?”
“Don’t worry, Matthew. His father is a cowardly bully, just like him. And I can take care of myself. Besides, my husband is a powerful man and Lord Calvert would not dare cross him.”
“Would you teach me to throw a knife like you do?”
The sudden change in topic was understandable given the circumstances. He wished to be able to protect himself, so he would feel less vulnerable. Kat sympathized with his ambition, but he was a bit young to be wielding such a dangerous object. Still, there was a way she could help him and give him a safe haven from those who would torment him.
“You are too young yet. Knifes are very dangerous and should be used with great care. Some day, when you are older, you will be trained as a squire and will learn all there is to know about handling weapons. But there is something I would like to show you instead.”
“What is it?” Matthew asked, his warm brown eyes intrigued.
“I cannot say. ’Tis something you must see for yourself.”
His eyes sparkled with excitement and he nodded his acceptance. Kat turned back towards the river with Matthew. When his small hand slipped trustingly into hers, Kat’s soft heart thumped with happiness. She longed to have children of her own someday. It was the main reason she had decided to accept Luc’s offer of marriage.
Whether boys or girls, she would love them equally. Though her parents had loved her, their endless attempts to sire a male heir, despite numerous miscarriages, finally resulted in her mother’s death. Because her mother preferred death to accepting the female child she bore her husband, Kat had felt inadequate and unworthy of love.
That was why Alex’s rejection had been so hurtful. Was it wrong to want to be loved unconditionally?
Children were loving and trusting, their needs so simple, and their love unconditional. She had much love to give. And with a child to love and to love her in return, she would finally have the acceptance she desperately craved.
“This is the stable,” Matthew said in surprise.
“Aye. There is a friend of mine I want you to meet.”
They entered the large stable, the wide-aisled structure cool in the shadows. The familiar smells of saddle leather, hay, and horses that Kat loved filled her nostrils while her eyes adjusted to the dimmed interior. Thirty stalls lined each side of the long pillared building, only a third of them with occupants. Apparently, the king was out hunting with his court, one of his favorite pastimes.
A familiar whinny drew Kat down the aisle to an occupied stall. Behind her, Kat heard Matthew whisper in awe, “He’s a beauty.”
Opening the wooden door to the stall, Kat chuckled. “He is a she, and her name is Lightning.” Patting her palfrey’s muzzle affectionately, Kat crooned, “Aye, my lovely lady, you are without compare. And please forgive Matthew, he meant no offense by mistaking you for a male.” The mare was steel gray with a black mane and tail, but in the sunshine she took on a silvery hue.
Matthew hovered outside the stall, his eyes filled with awe and a little trepidation. “Is this your horse?”
“Aye, and my best friend. Come on in, Matthew. Grab that stool as you do.”
When Matthew hesitated, Kat coaxed him in a soothing voice she used to calm her mare. “Lightning is a very special horse. Gentle, too. She was a bride gift from my father-in-law. You need not fear her.”
“I’m not afraid,” he said quickly, and bravely entered to stand beside her.
She took the stool from his hand and set it on the hay-covered floor. Lightning bent her head and nudged Kat with her nose. Matthew laughed, an infectious giggle that warmed her heart.
“Climb up on the stool, Matthew, so you can reach her.” He obeyed immediately and Kat showed him how Lightning liked to be petted.
Matthew had a charming dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. “She is so warm and soft,” he said, stroking the gray mare’s chest. His eyes sparkled and Kat was glad she had helped him forget his cares for a while.
“Whenever I am troubled, Matthew, or need to get away from my worries, I come here. Just being with Lightning makes me feel better straight away.”
“You are lucky to have such a friend,” Matthew whispered, his face averted.
The statement verified what Kat had already suspected, and she blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. She well remembered the loneliness of her own childhood. Children were sometimes cruel and, as a child, she was teased and tortured for her mannish behavior. She was stronger for it, but that did not make the hurt any less.
“I want you to consider Lightning your friend, too. You may come and visit her in her stall whenever you want, whenever you need to be alone. Do you understand what I mean, Matthew?”
His brown eyes grew wide and filled with understanding. “I would like that above all things.”
“Good.” At that moment, Lightning whinnied and shook her head. Kat patted her in acknowledgement, lavishing her with attention. Beside the mare, Matthew wrapped his small arms around the warm horseflesh and laid his cheek along Lightning’s neck.
Kat had not lied to Matthew earlier. Whenever distressed, she sought the company of her horse. And Alex’s return certainly qualified as distressing. She had a very important decision to make whether to accept the devil’s bargain.
After removing a curry brush from the back wall, she showed Matthew how to groom the gray mare. As she did, her troubles seemed to slough away like horsehair from Lightning’s back. A sense of peace filled her. Even so, quietly and insidiously, one thought resounded in the back of her mind: ’tis merely the calm before the storm.
Chapter 6
A rumble sounded in the distance as Alex walked the narrow cobbled streets of Cheapside. He stared up into the sky between the overhanging buildings and spotted dark clouds moving in from the east. He hoped the weather would remain clear. Alex had been searching every weapons and antiquities dealer in London for hours.
The wind picked up with the coming of rain clouds just when Alex spotted the shop he felt sure was the one he sought. The last shop owner he spoke to told him about it. The merchant who owned it traveled to the Near East regularly in search of his commodity—ancient weapons of the once powerful Romans. But he had fallen on hard times a few years past. The thatched roof was thin in several spots, and the sign above the door was worn and nearly illegible.
The rusty door hinges screeched viciously as Alex entered the shop. Dust covered the nearly empty open-shelf counters that lined the perimeter of the room. A wooden structure holding a rusted suit of Roman armor stood like a lonely sentinel in a bac
k corner.
From behind a curtained door at the back of the shop, a middle-aged man emerged. Bald, with a fringe of gray hair around his head, the shop owner’s facial features were nondescript and weathered, most likely from years in the hot Eastern sun. The man greeted him pleasantly enough, but Alex quickly measured the pudgy man’s shifty character. His eyes were dark and close set, and flitted away from Alex’s measuring look.
“I am Torcere. How may I serve you?”
“I’m looking for a dagger, preferably Briton in decoration. I want something old and unique. ’Tis a gift for my father and must be special.”
Torcere, obviously believing he had a ripe plum in his midst, bowed obsequiously and motioned Alex to a counter in back. “Of course, of course, come this way. Though I specialize in Roman artifacts, I do have a small collection of daggers reminiscent of the early Britons. I’m sure one of them will meet your requirements,” he said with a nervous twitch of his head. He unlocked a door behind the counter and pulled out a long oak box. Inside the felt-lined interior lay a collection of carved ornamental daggers, but none were of jeweled enamel.
Alex scoffed, assuming the arrogant attitude of a rich nobleman unimpressed. “These are for peasants. I want something fit for a king. I see I have been misled. Pity, I will have to go elsewhere.”
Alex turned and headed for the entrance.
“Nay. Prithee, do not leave.” The little man scuttled quickly around Alex and blocked his way to the door. “I have the very thing you seek, my lord, a dagger old and jeweled and beyond compare. ’Tis in my private collection, but I would be willing to sell it to you for a fair price.”
Scowling, Alex nodded as if reluctant. “Very well, but you had better not waste my time. I’m not a patient man.”
Torcere nodded, bowing. “Aye, my lord, I understand. If you will just wait here, I must get the dagger from the back room. I promise you shall not be sorry.” He turned, not quite hiding his sly, greedy grin before he entered the back room.
Waiting only a moment, Alex shoved the curtain aside and stepped into the room behind Torcere. The dark, airless room consisted of a worktable, bench and a heavy ironbound chest against the back wall. Torcere had knelt down and inserted a complicated set of keys into the chest’s barrel padlock.
The shop owner spun around, stark fear etched on his face. “Mi—Milord.”
Alex waved him to continue and sat down at the table. Torcere hesitated, but greed won out, for he turned back to the chest and inserted a second, then third key. The latch opened at the third click, and the shady merchant raised the lid and withdrew a plain ebony box.
Alex held his breath, his body tense with anticipation. Could this be it? he wondered. Could my search for the Beaumont dagger be over at last? Torcere set the box on the table before him. It seemed an eternity before the man opened it and revealed the contents. Then shock quickly followed. The exquisite dagger, its leather sheath ornamented with silver mounts that had raised double spirals inlaid with garnet enamel, glowed in the flickering candlelight emanating from the table.
Alex stood and slowly released his breath. His hand shaking, he picked the dagger up. The cool metal felt perfect in his hand as he unsheathed the blade. Alex examined it with reverence, caressing the beloved surface like a long-lost lover. He brushed his thumb over the steel blade, and traced the familiar Latin inscription he recognized by touch alone. Ad mortem fidelis it read—faithful till death.
“I believe you are right. This is just the dagger I have been looking for,” Alex said. In a flat, emotionless voice, he added, “Where did you acquire a blade of this craftsmanship?”
The merchant was nervous and twitchy by nature, so the threat in Alex’s question was not missed. The shop owner’s legs quaked and he slid into the other chair to keep from falling. His eyes darted to the dagger as Alex ran a caressing finger along the sharp, lethal blade.
Torcere gulped. “In the Near East.”
“I must needs be more specific, I see.” Alex moved to stand over Torcere, a threatening presence with the unsheathed dagger in his right hand.
Torcere, fidgeting with the sleeve of his tattered tunic, looked up abruptly.
“Give me the name of the thieving mercenary you bought this dagger from.”
The merchant cowered. “How did you—?” Eyes dilated by fear flicked to the dagger.
“His name. I shall not ask again.” Alex stared coldly at the repugnant little man.
Torcere stuttered out a name incoherently. Gathering his composure, he repeated in a strained whisper, “Sir Hugo Krieger.”
Alex’s knees went weak in profound relief, yet his heart raced. Praise God, I have a name at last. But he steeled his elation.
Alex sheathed the dagger and then tucked the distinctive weapon inside his boot. Until he caught the traitor, no one must know he had it in his possession. He tossed several gold coins onto the table. The fear faded from Torcere’s eyes and they began to glitter with avarice as he stared at the coins.
“I want to know everything you know about this Hugo Krieger. Absolutely everything. Leave no detail out.”
Refreshing herself before supper, Kat stood before the washstand and brushed her hair. “I wonder where Jenny is?” she murmured beneath her breath.
“You have beautiful hair.” The deep male voice rumbled under her skin like a shivery caress.
Startled, she stopped in mid-stroke and looked up. Alex leaned against the curtained-archway between the bedchamber and antechamber. His arms were crossed over his chest and one booted ankle rested over the other. His admission surprised her, but she kept her expression bland. The quickening sensation in the pit of her stomach was not pleasure at his compliment.
“You’re back,” she said inanely.
“Aye, I am back.” His blue gaze seared her meaningfully.
Kat looked away, her cheeks reddening. “I’m late. The queen required my presence in the royal chambers and I have no idea where Jenny has disappeared. She was on her way up here when I spoke to her a moment ago.”
“I sent her away.”
Kat whirled around and planted her hands on her hips. “You did what? Jenny is my servant. You had no right to order her to leave.”
“She didn’t seem to mind. I am quite capable of assisting you with any of your needs should you require my services.” His hot gaze raked down her body and then settled on her breasts, the carnal undertone of his words blatantly evident.
Her nipples pebbled and Kat gasped. “Your arrogance is exceeded only by your conceit. You may be sure that I shall never have need of your ‘services,’ now or in future.”
Alex’s face was shaved smooth and his black hair hung loose to his shoulders. Over a purple tunic embroidered with gold leaves on the rounded neck, he wore a dark green calf-length surcoate. Kat instantly regretted her choice of gown. She wore a green tunic embroidered with delicate green leaves, and over it she wore a purple surcoate with tight cuffs.
Alex shoved away from the doorway, his eyes bright with laughter. Something fluttered in her stomach. Kat, annoyed at her reaction, gathered her wild mane over her shoulder and plaited it in a quick, simple style.
It was still somewhat of a shock to find him alive. Had it only been yesterday when Alex burst into the chapel and stopped her wedding to Luc? When he destroyed her last chance at finding peace and happiness? And the family she desperately craved?
Kat opened the pearl-inlaid casket that held her valuables and found a jeweled snood. She pinned the net in place and then chose a silver filigree brooch.
“Allow me,” Alex whispered. From behind her, he plucked the brooch from her hands. Hot breath poured over her bared neck. Their eyes met in the mirror hanging above the washstand. For several beats of her heart, his gaze snared hers, desire blazing within the dark depths.
Then he raised his hands to her shoulders and turned her to him. His fingers slid down inside her bodice, skimming the upper slope of her breasts. Kat sucked in her breat
h. Her heart thumped erratically. Light strokes teased and tantalized her flesh as he lifted the fabric away from her chest and pinned the brooch to her tunic.
No matter how much she told herself she hated Alex, the tug of attraction was as strong as ever. The few times Luc had kissed her were pleasant, but never had she felt for him this breathless eagerness to press her body against his and indulge her senses.
Her reaction was all the more reason to accept Alex’s marriage proposal. After she fulfilled her part of the bargain, she would be free to start her life anew with a man who truly loved her.
The pin fastened, Alex stepped back.
Kat released her pent-up breath. “Thank you, my lord.”
Alex smiled down at Kat, his breath short and erratic. “It was my pleasure. Have you given any thought to my proposal?”
“I have thought of little else all day.”
He leaned back a little. “Have you decided to accept my offer, then? Will you allow me to court you for three months and prove my worthiness?”
“Nay. I shall grant you but a fortnight. If you have not convinced me in that time, you never will.”
“Nay. A fortnight is not sufficient. I shall agree to two months, but no less.”
A stubborn glint flared in her eyes. “One month and no more.”
Alex slid a finger down her jaw. “As you wish. One month.” He calculated the days. “Upon the feast day of St. Barnabas, shall we say? But I have a final condition or else I shall remove my offer altogether.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. “Very well. What is this condition?”
“I insist that I sleep in these chambers during the duration of our bargain.”
Kat stiffened. “I will not sleep—”
“You may have the bedchamber to yourself. The pallet in the antechamber will suffice for me. I shall not enter your domain unless you invite me.”
“That will never happen. You are—”
Alex placed his finger across her lips. She shifted, her thigh brushing his knee and a quiver raced through him. “Do we have an agreement?”
Vow of Seduction Page 7