“The food! Gingerbread, plum pudding, and mincemeat pie.” His face took on a look of delirium.
Caterina laughed sight of him. “You like sweets.”
He viewed her through hooded eyes. “I do like sweet things.”
“Apart from the food, what else do you like about Christmas?”
“Ah, I enjoy dancing. There’s more of that on the holidays.” Without thinking, Caterina let her gaze drop to his knee. “Now you’re wondering how can a man with a bad leg enjoy dancing? But, I do. My knee bothers me less in dancing, for some reason.”
Caterina put her hand up to feel her heated cheeks. “Prithee, forgive me. I didn’t mean to—”
He brushed her hand away from her face. “No need to apologize. I’m not ashamed of a wound taken in aid of my prince.”
“How did your injury occur?
“My horse was killed out from under me. I didn’t dismount on time, and when the beast fell, he rolled over on me, crushing my leg.”
She bit her lip. “I saw...when I found you in the Hall without your clothes...I saw a large scar on your shoulder. Did you receive that wound at the same time?”
He lifted one corner of his mouth into a half-grin. “Yes, that’s right. You did find me in a state of undress. I remember it well. And no, the scar on my shoulder is a more recent injury. A swipe of a sword hit its mark during a battle in the Holy Land.” She quivered at the thought, which he noticed. “The scar looks worse than the actual wound. ’Twas a shallow cut. But let’s not talk of battles when merry Christmas is upon us.” He trailed a finger along her cheek. The feel of his touch seemed oddly familiar. She wanted to rest her face in his hand.
“Merry times, indeed. Food and dancing. You seem more inclined toward corporal pleasures. Is there anything else makes you merry?”
“I do enjoy corporal pleasures, my dear little Caterina.” His nostrils flared and he inhaled as if taking in her scent. “But apart from matters of the flesh, I like that Christmas is for everyone. All are welcome to the castle on that day, regardless if he is a serf or an earl. ’Tis pleasurable to watch all the merrymaking.” He let out a short bark of laughter. “Ha! Now you have me thinking. My favorite part of the season is Twelfth Night when the Bean King is chosen. One year, I found the bean in the bread and got to be king. ’Twas great fun.”
“Did you make a good king?” She couldn’t help but tease.
“I did! My sister, Joan, found the pea and was Bean Queen that same year—you remind me of her in temperament… sweet, but feisty. Anyway, I made everyone laugh. I was a young lad. ’Tis a fond memory.”
She laughed. “You? You made people laugh?”
“’Tis not unknown. I made you laugh just this minute.” He took in a deep breath. “But, I detain you...again. I don’t mean to keep you from your chores.”
“Nay, not chores. ’Tis the time of day my lady puts us to our needlework,” she said with a deep sigh.
He knitted his brows. “Are you happy here?”
“I’m fortunate to be here.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not an answer to my question, yet your words are telling.”
“’Tis true I have much to get accustomed to. I’ve never been away from home before, and I’m not used to a large household.”
“Never? You’re at an age I would have expected you’ve spent a few years already under a lady’s tutelage.”
She felt her cheeks go warm and couldn’t meet his eye. “My family is not of substantial means. All my sisters stayed at home until they married. I’m the only one my father managed to turn out. And you?”
“My father is a powerful man. A baron. Alas, I am the third son, so I must seek my own fortune. I spent my youth at the court of King Henry himself. Sir John and I were squires together there, learning the ways of a knight.”
“You’re close to him? Sir John?”
“He is closer to me than a brother.”
“Caterina!” shouted Rosamund. “Why do you tarry so? You know Lady Eleanor awaits us while you’re lagging away.”
“I must go.” Embarrassed, she looked up into those green eyes and detected a sly twinkle.
To her surprise, he took her hand. “I have earned you a scolding. My apologies. Thank you for the conversation. Mayhap you will dance with me tonight.”
He bowed and placed his lips on her hand. The softness of them amidst the stiff bristle of his whiskers sent waves of warmth from her arm to her core.
Chapter Nine
The last of the trestle tables had been cleared and the minstrels took their place in the gallery above the Hall. Caterina’s whole body hummed with the music of her heart. She had scarcely touched her supper because every time she looked up, Sir Hugh had her fixed in his sights from where he sat on the dais. Agnes had to nudge her several times to take her portion of food from the shared trencher. Caterina had no appetite—again. It seemed she hadn’t eaten well since he arrived. Normally, she could scarcely wait for the chaplain to say Grace, her stomach rumbled so. She heard Sir Hugh had hunted well today and killed a boar, so they would have that for Christmas dinner, after all. She hoped her appetite would return by the time Advent was over.
Now, with her stomach tied in knots, she didn’t dare put food in it. Things had changed. Something would happen this eve, she felt certain. This feeling left her jumpy with nerves. At last, the chaplain said the final prayer and the servants began clearing the tables.
The music started up and those who wished to dance made their way to the center of the room. Caterina felt that now-familiar heavy hand on her shoulder. She spun around, unable to contain the grin spreading across her face.
Hugh held out a hand. “Would you care to dance milady?”
Caterina stood up and curtsied. Agnes looked to the empty spot next to her on the bench and up to Caterina, her eyes wide with surprise. Down the table, closer to the dais, Millicent nudged Rosamund who gave her such an icy look, Caterina would have frozen in place if she’d not had the warm eyes of Sir Hugh to turn to.
She took his hand, and he led her out to the dance floor. There, all the couples faced each other, the men forming an inner circle and the ladies, the outer circle. As the dance began, the two circles moved away from each other in opposite directions. The high trilling of the pipes echoed the feeling running through her body as her feet hit the floor in time to the drumbeats. Each time Hugh came opposite her, her body quivered like the strings of a harp in play. They moved around each other, and then the larger circles moved again, pulling them apart. As he promised, he danced with grace, his limp no longer evident.
Near the end of the dance, she and Hugh twirled around each other to the sound of the pipes, elbows linked. He leaned into her. “You’re deft when you dance. You haven’t tripped once. Mayhap you should move through your days accompanied by minstrels.”
She dared to cuff him in the arm, and he broke into a bigger smile. He put his hands on her waist and lifted her up in the air to spin in circles with the other dancers. When they moved into a larger circle and young men began to turn cartwheels in the center, Hugh pulled her aside.
“Nay, not for me all that jumping around. Are you thirsty?”
He still held her by her hand. Caterina nodded yes, not trusting her voice at the moment, and he led her to a table set with drink, where he poured ale into a horn and handed it to her. “Thank you for the dance. I’m honored, as I imagine you have many suitors.”
An unlady-like snort erupted from her nose before she thought to stop it. “You jest.”
Hugh raised his eyebrows. “You’re a beautiful woman. There’s naught to jest about.”
“Remember, I grew up in a quiet household with six sisters. I didn’t often enjoy the company of gentlemen...until now.”
“And now?”
“Nay, I have no suitors.”
“Mayhap it’s time you did. Cat? May I call you Cat?”
“Yea, that would please me. ’Tis what my family calls me.”
/>
“So…you’ve not been wooed?” His eyes grew dark, and he moved nearer to her. “Not been kissed?”
She stepped closer, her heart racing. Hugh put his arms around her and she closed her eyes and tilted her face upward.
He cupped her chin. “Nay. Open your eyes. ’Tis only one first kiss, and I want to look on you.”
He stood so close now, she could smell the scent of him—wood smoke, horse, and a musky male scent. Her eyelids fluttered open and as she looked into his deep green eyes, she quaked with anticipation. At last, he put his mouth on hers. At first, his lips lit light as a feather. She marveled at the softness of his mouth, and the sensation of his stiff beard on her tender skin sent shivers of delight through her.
But the kiss didn’t end with that. Caterina let his mouth take the lead. He deepened the kiss and parted her lips with his own. At first, his tongue exploring her mouth startled her, but then the feel of it became something exquisite. Her body responded to his touch, but more than that she felt their souls fit together as if they were made for one another—two halves of a hinge opening.
At last, he broke the kiss and stood back to take her in. He blinked hard a few times, with an awed look on his face, all his arrogance gone. Something profound existed between them, and she could see he felt it, too.
She loved Hugh De Lacy with all her heart. A wonderful Christmas gift. ’Tis love.
****
No doubt, Catty’s face provided a good place to rest the eyes. Her blue eyes so dark, they appeared almost black in excitement as they’d whirled around each other. Her lips as red as cherries he wanted to taste. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh spied Rosamund watching them together on the dance floor.
When he moved Caterina off the floor, he made sure they stood in a spot the other lady would have a clear view, and then positioning her with care, and all the while waiting for Rosamund’s attention, he kissed Caterina.
He only meant to touch her lips with his in a gentle kiss, but once he started...The taste of her. The feel of her body in his arms. And she returned his kiss, matching his ardor, catching him off guard. Lost in her embrace, he lost sight of Rosamund.
’Tis a pity...
Chapter Ten
The coarse blanket pressed to her face proved a poor substitute for the lips that had so recently been on hers. Caterina pressed harder and bit the edge of the blanket to stifle the glee coursing through her.
She felt the mattress beside her sink as Cecily settled down for the night. “I saw you kissing Sir Hugh.” Caterina shrugged in response. “Well, I’ve been making time with Sir John whilst you’ve been playing the fool with Sir Hugh. They’re very close, you know. John tells me Hugh is determined to wed Rosamund. He’s had his sights on her since arriving, and he wants no other lady.”
Caterina sat up. Both Cecily and Millicent were sitting up as well, their faces in half-shadow of the candlelight, turned on her.
“He seems to want another now,” she managed to say.
“Nay, he wants a woman who can give him a title and wealth. Neither of which you can provide,” said Cecily.
“Sir Hugh asked me to dance tonight. Not Rosamund. Sir Hugh kissed me tonight. Not Rosamund.”
Millicent dropped down on the mattress and turned her back on her. “Mayhap he used you,” she said into the darkness.
After that exchange, Caterina lay awake most of the night, listening to the wind whistling outside and thinking about what Cecily said, comparing the words to the feeling she had when with Hugh. He felt it, too. She was certain of it. But still…
Just before the sun rose, Caterina fell asleep deciding when she next saw Hugh, she’d know by the look on his face where his heart lay.
When the trumpet sounded, she tried to shake off the last grips of sleep. Her limbs felt heavy as she pulled her gowns over her chemise and went on to help prepare her lady for the day. She didn’t see Hugh among the people moving about the castle until entering the chapel. He stood there looking so handsome he took her breath away. His eyes moved toward her in a slow arc. When their eyes met, he winked at her and looked away. The impudent…Does he think I am a trifle?
After leaving the chapel, she tried to put herself in Hugh’s path, but to her horror, before she neared him, Rosamund appeared at his side—smiling. Rosamund never smiled. Hugh smiled back, and Rosamund touched his arm. They moved out of sight. He’d never even looked in Caterina’s direction.
“How is it, Caterina? You look pale,” said Agnes.
“I do feel ill. I may need to rest a bit. Tell Lady Eleanor I’ll be there anon.”
She didn’t know if she could take her leave or not, but she couldn’t burst into tears in front of the others.
Caterina picked up her skirts, ready to flee, but she didn’t know where to turn. Her mattress in the wardrobe connected to the solar where they would find her. The Hall already hummed with activity as servants replaced the rushes on the floor and small groups of people warmed themselves by the fire.
She headed for the tower out of desperation. Winding up the dimly lit stairs, Caterina had to steady herself by running her hand over rough walls moist with condensation. The smell from the garderobe, a permanent resident in the dank tower, filled her nostrils. At last, she reached the top and flung open the door to the turret. Three guards in padded clothing and chainmail stared at her in surprise. One of them touched the hilt of his sword, but then withdrew his hand.
“How goes it, milady?” asked the oldest-looking one.
“I beg pardon for my intrusion. I am... upset, and I need to be alone to settle my mind. This is the nearest thing to a quiet place I could think of.”
“Man problems?” he asked, and then, not waiting for her answer, he turned his back on her and motioned to the others to do the same.
With no eyes on her now, Caterina let loose hot tears, which rolled down her cool cheeks. She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“It’s too cold to be up here without a cloak.” The older soldier wrapped his own cloak around her before turning away again.
Humiliation and disappointment washed over her. Hugh called her Cat, but he acted the cat to her mouse, playing her like he did.
“Look! The Yule log!” cried the youngest-looking of the soldiers.
Despite the great sorrow in her heart, Caterina had never missed the bringing in of the Yule log and didn’t want to let Hugh or Rosamund ruin this for her—especially not Rosamund.
From the turret, she had a view of the surrounding countryside stretching for miles. A dusting of snow covered the ground to be broken by splashes of color from the crowd below. Outside the walls, two lines of people faced each other, making a path for the Yule log from the forest to the castle. The log, bigger than a man, had ropes lashed around it, needing six men to pull it.
Caterina’s heart lurched when she spotted Hugh in his red cloak. He looked around at the crowd, not at the log. Sometimes he spun around in place, scanning the area. Caterina saw the familiar figure of Rosamund in her blue cloak moving toward him. When they met, he stood still, facing her. You’ve found your lady.
Then, she spotted something else farther away in the distance. A host of men on horseback cresting a hill, came into view. The older soldier noticed the advancing group at the same time and pointed to them.
They watched the soldiers on horseback close in on the unwary crowd below. The villagers and castle denizens stood unaware, the drawbridge over the moat down. Another row of soldiers on horseback crested the hill. The men on the turret pulled out their arrows and took position. The youngest soldier turned to the older man. “Shall I raise the alarm, sir?”
“Go now!” shouted the old soldier. Caterina’s heart leaped in her chest at the note of panic in his voice.
Hugh must have heard the thunder of hooves before he saw them. He sought out Sir John and the handful of knights left at the castle. They drew their swords and began shouting orders to the others. Her breath caught as she watched Hugh scu
rrying about the crowd, urging women and children back toward the castle. Of course, Hugh didn’t have on his armor or chainmail. Why would he, when on an errand to see in the Yule log? Caterina’s scalp tightened with fear. They wouldn’t stand a chance.
Echoing her thoughts, the older soldier said, “They’ll be slaughtered.”
“But surely, nobody would attack on Christmas Eve?” she asked in a faltering voice.
“They’re not supposed to. But that’s why it’s sometimes the best time to attack.”
Caterina went weak at the knees. Then, the old soldier let out a sigh of relief. “Halt! I see the standard bearer. ’Tis the earl returning! Baldric, go tell Lady Eleanor the earl is nigh on castle walls.”
Chapter Eleven
Lady Eleanor looked at her husband, love etched in her features. Caterina felt a tug at her heart. Would she ever find such love? The earl, Lord Alfred, sat in his chair by the fire, his young daughter in his lap. He was a fine-looking man with his mane of dark hair streaked with silver. The return of his two handsome sons, standing on either side of him, had set the ladies a-twitter again. Now, with the return of the earl and more of his knights, the solar was packed with people. Caterina edged herself into a corner.
“Send for Sir Hugh,” said the earl in his booming voice.
Caterina felt her stomach drop at the mention of his name. He must have been nearby, waiting for his audience, because within minutes, he trod into the room with his familiar limp. Caterina let her gaze drop to the floor. She heard their exchange of greetings and conversation through ears dampered as if stuffed with wool.
The earl spoke up in a loud and cheerful voice. “Let me see those missives you’ve been carrying.”
Hugh didn’t reply, but the sound of parchment unrolling told her the earl had them in his hands and had broken the seal.
“I’m pleased to offer you the land of Sir Percival and the house standing on it.”
“I stand in your service, my lord.” Her insides shuddered at the sound of Sir Hugh’s deep voice.
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