by Lily Baldwin
Brows drawn, he gently placed his hand on hers. “Ye need not be afraid, Catarina. ‘Tis why I’ve come. That tyrant cannot hurt ye now. I’m going to take ye away.”
She snatched her hand back. “What are you talking about? What tyrant? And how dare you address me as your familiar.”
“Forgive me, my lady. I meant no insult. I’ve had the privilege of becoming acquainted with yer family. I realize though that ye and I still are strangers.”
Catarina narrowed her eyes. She was growing increasingly suspicious of Brother Augustine. There was something very unholy in his black eyes. “You have one final chance to say your piece, after which I fully intend to return to my chambers.”
He nodded. “As ye wish, my lady. Yer father and sister bade me come to save ye from yer husband.”
She lifted her chin. “I love my sister dearly, but she has always judged Henry falsely. I assure you my husband is no tyrant.”
“Is he not?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I spoke plainly enough.”
Brother Augustine lifted a skeptical brow. “Then yer father and sister are wrong and yer husband is a kind man?”
She faltered. Henry was certainly not a kind man. He did not care for her with tenderness nor did he value her company, but he was not a bad man. She straightened her spine and lifted her head and said as much. “My husband is not a bad man.”
His skeptical brow stayed aloft. “Then yer husband is a good man?”
A good man? Her father was a good man, but Henry was nothing like her father. Catarina resisted the urge to shrug. “He is good enough for me.”
Quinn drew closer. “Do not sell yerself short, my lady.”
She thrust her hand between them, ensuring he kept what little distance the narrow merlon permitted. “Why are you here?” she demanded.
The monk scratched at his forehead. Then he threw his hands up in a frustrated gesture. “There’s no good way to tell ye this, so I’m just going to say it.” He looked at her squarely. “Yer father committed an act of treason. He and yer sister were forced to flee Berwick for their lives. Before leaving, Bella made me swear I would come here, to Ravensworth, and take ye away. She feared yer husband would punish ye for yer father’s disgrace. He might shame ye or hurt ye or, worse yet, give ye over to King Edward himself.”
Catarina stumbled into the open, her mind reeling. She felt a strong hand grip her waist and pull her back out of sight. Her father was guilty of treason. He and Bella were in danger. She grabbed the monk’s robe. “Where are they now? Are they hurt?”
Brother Augustine shook his head, his expression grave. “I cannot say, my lady. I’m sorry. I left yer family’s home in Berwick even before they did in my haste to reach ye as quickly as possible. I do not know where they are or how they fare. But I can assure ye, at least, that they are not alone. My brother, Jack, is with them. He will protect both yer father and yer sister with his life if necessary.”
She unclenched her fists, her hands dropping to her side. “I…I do not know what to think.”
He grabbed her hand once more. “My lady, we’ve little time. We must leave, this very minute in fact.”
She tensed. “But why must I flee? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“That is true, but King Edward’s men will still come here, looking for yer father and sister. How will yer husband react to that? The man I met this morning was as cold as a winter frost. He’ll not look kindly to being thrust on the King’s unfavorable side.”
She straightened her spine and tilted her chin higher, refusing to accept her family’s grim prediction. “He is my husband, our vows taken before God. Even the king cannot change that.”
Brother Augustine’s black eyes glinted in the torch light. “Ye must come with me. I’ve made a promise to yer sister and to yer father. I will steal ye if I must.”
She thrust out her chin. “I will not leave my husband or my home, not for any reason.”
He grabbed her forearms. “I can force ye.”
“I can scream.” Her heart pounded.
A flash of anger crossed his face before he turned away. From behind she watched his fists clench. Then he expelled a long sigh and turned back. “There are worst ways to punish ye than to send ye from Ravensworth. Search yer heart. Do ye truly believe he’ll not make ye pay for the actions of yer father?”
She thought of Henry’s neat, perfect world. If what the brother said was true, her father would be stripped of his wealth and title. If caught, he would be put to death. Being unmarried, her sister also stood to lose everything. Her heart ached for her loved ones, but she had to think of her son. His place was at Ravensworth as Henry’s heir. And despite what Henry might believe, her place was with her son. She took a deep breath. “Henry has shown a forgiving heart in the past. You have said that you’ve become close to my family. Then you must know that my mother was not of noble birth. She was the daughter of a Sicilian merchant. Lord Ravensworth married me despite the inferiority of her birth.”
Brother Augustine nodded. “Bella spoke of yer mother.” He paused. Then, at length, he said, “I am so sorry for yer loss.”
Catarina’s chest tightened. She took a deep breath. “As am I.” It still hurt to speak of her mother who had been killed five years earlier along with thousands of others when King Edward marched on the Scottish city of Berwick. After three days of merciless slaughter, King Edward claimed the decimated city for England.
“What did my father do?” she asked.
“He called King Edward to task on the role he played in yer mother’s death. In short, yer father denounced him.”
Catarina pressed her lips together, fighting to keep her emotions at bay. “My father was not wrong. The massacre at Berwick is a bloody stain on my king’s soul.” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, steeling her courage. “But he is still my king.” She lifted her chin. “And my husband is my lord.”
Despite her brave words, her legs started to shake. She felt Brother Augustine’s large hand gently grip her arm as he helped her find her balance. Still, her head spun. She leaned forward only vaguely aware of resting her head against the monk’s chest. When her world stopped spinning, she raised her eyes and met his dark gaze.
“Forgive me for bringing such ill news,” he said softly.
Remembering who she was, she squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. “I am Lady Ravensworth. You have delivered your message. Now you must leave the castle grounds immediately.” She turned and ducked beneath the gap in the wall and started back down the stairs.
“I cannot do that,” Brother Augustine said, following behind her.
“My orders were clear,” she snapped without looking back. “Leave Ravensworth at once.”
“I cannot do that,” he said again.
She took another step down and turned, scowling up at him. “How dare you defy me?”
“With all due respect, my lady, I came here to steal ye away. Yer lucky yer not at this moment slung over my shoulder.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Lord Ravensworth will ask me where I came by news of my family. I will have no choice but to name you as messenger.”
He shrugged. “Worry naught for me, my lady. If I were ye, I would be concerned about my own safety.”
She glanced back at him. There was an urgency in his gaze that almost made her question herself. He must have sensed her falter, because he reached out a hand to her. “Come with me. Please. I don’t want ye getting hurt.”
She looked at his offered hand, then shook her head. “My husband would never hurt me.” She fought to keep the disdain from her voice as she continued. “He is too careful with his possessions.”
She knew he wanted to stop her, but his hand dropped to his side. “I’ll not force ye. I’ll not be the tyrant I’ve warned ye against.”
She stood there for a moment and lost herself in the promise of his words. She was not used to men, holy or otherwise, choosing her will over their own
. Despite her wish to remain, she tore her gaze from his and started back down the stairs. Just when she was about to circle out of view, he said, “If ye need me, I’ll be in the great hall.”
She stopped and looked back. “You should just go.”
“You might need me.”
Disobedience was not something to which she was accustomed. She swallowed her frustration. “At least will you go to the stables?”
He hesitated at first but then bowed his head, acquiescing. “Come to the stables then if ye have need, my lady. Bella and Jack would never forgive me if I let anything happen to ye.”
She shook her head. “I do not need you, Brother Augustine. I will never need you.”
Chapter Four
Catarina stood outside the massive, intricately carved wooden doors, which led to Lord Ravensworth’s solar. She smoothed her hands over her tunic and fanned out her veils. Then, with a deep breath, she rapped gently on the door. In moments, Sir Matthew, one of Henry’s favored castle guards, appeared and stepped aside for her to enter. In the three years that she had been at Ravensworth, she could count on one hand the number of times she had entered her husband’s solar. Her eyes passed over the carefully hung tapestries. The candles appeared fresh, but she knew that was only because each day servants scraped away the wax drippings and evened out the candles’ height. Henry was above all a stickler for order. He had told her on many occasions that nobility was not found in lavish displays of wealth—it resided in the details, and Henry painstakingly arranged every detail of his world, from her wardrobe to how the stables were cleaned. She rounded the corner and spotted two high-backed wooden chairs facing an imposing, rugged stone fireplace.
She squeezed her fists to keep from fidgeting. “My lord, I have news.”
He did not stand to mark her arrival as he would have done in the great hall nor did he lean over the arm of his seat to glance back at her.
“I did not call for you,” he said impatiently.
His curt response was no surprise. “My apologies, my lord. The news I bring is of the most urgent nature and ill indeed. It cannot wait until our morning meeting.”
Each morning before mass she met him in the great hall where she sat while he paced in front of her, reviewing his expectations for the day, which would include but not be limited to the menu she would give Cook and when she would be allowed to visit her son.
His hand appeared in her line of vision, impatiently motioning for her to come forward. She hurried toward him but froze when she saw who occupied the second chair. Rupert, with a smug smile playing at the corner of his lips, raised his cup as if to toast her coming.
“Close your mouth,” Henry said. “You look like a simpleton standing there with your mouth and eyes agape.”
She closed her lips and forced her shoulders to relax before her husband could criticize her posture. “I would speak with you alone, my lord.”
Henry shook his head, his dark hair not daring to move out of place. “My brother is here at my request. I have important business that will not be delayed by some feminine whim. Speak now or I will have you escorted back to your rooms.”
Her husband thought little of the opinions of women, a fact he had never tried to conceal. Rupert’s condescending grin widened. Fighting the desire to walk over to where her brother-in-law sat and toss his beer in his face, she squared her shoulders and gave Henry the news as he would have wanted it—direct and to the point. “My father has committed treason and has fled Berwick with my sister.”
She waited for his reaction, but his face remained impassive. The same could not be said of Rupert. He jumped to his feet and thrust a finger in Catarina’s face. “This is an affront to the Ravensworth name,” he hissed.
Ignoring her brother-in-law, she kept her eyes trained on her husband who did not flinch at Rupert’s response. He simply gestured to the chair beside his. “Sit down, Rupert and calm yourself, or I will have you escorted to your room.”
Catarina contained the smug smile she wished to flash at Rupert. She knew she needed to proceed very carefully, and so she kept her eyes demurely trained on the floor in front of her.
“Where did you come by this news?” Henry asked her at length.
“A monk told me in the courtyard.”
“The same monk who arrived at Ravensworth this morning?”
A wave of guilt passed over her, thinking of Brother Augustine’s heroic intentions. Still, she had warned him. She cleared her throat before saying, “The very same.”
“Step aside,” he said to her, and then he stood, calling to Sir Matthew. “Find Brother Augustine, and bring him to me.” Sir Matthew hastened to obey.
“Is there anything else?” Henry said to her.
She nodded. “Brother Augustine told me the king’s men were likely to come here to search for them.”
He rolled his eyes. “Anything our infant son could not surmise on his own?”
She stepped back and curtsied. “No, my lord.”
“You may leave.”
She deepened her curtsy and turned on her heels and walked calmly from the room. Leaving her husband’s solar unscathed, her concern shifted from herself to Brother Augustine. She knew in her heart that he had only wanted to help, but she could not be certain Henry would regard the monk’s actions with the same tolerance. At that moment, she made up her mind to intervene on the brother’s behalf if need be. She owed him that much for his role in helping her father and sister. She would wait in her chambers while her husband met with the monk. When some time had passed, she would return to Henry’s solar. Having made up her mind, she took a deep breath. She would do her best to ensure that Brother Augustine left Ravensworth in no worse health than when he arrived.
Chapter Five
Henry sat back in his chair and stared into the hearth at the writhing flames while he considered his in-laws’ affairs.
Beside him, Rupert slammed down his fist on the arm of his chair. “I cannot hide my surprise as well as you hide yours or my fury.”
Henry had all but forgotten his brother. After stomaching the assault of Rupert’s grating voice and inciting words, Henry was sorry to be reminded. Shooting his younger brother a reproachful look, he said, “Refrain from abusing my furniture.”
Rupert scowled. “How do you remain calm?”
Henry turned back to stare at the flames before saying, “Because I am not angry.”
Rupert jumped to his feet. Henry glanced up at him and grimaced at the veins bulging in his hulking neck. “Rupert, you are turning an unattractive shade of purple. Sit down and stop distracting me. I must think.”
“What is there to think about?” Rupert spat. “I told you—remember? I said she would bring disgrace to our name.”
Henry pushed away the finger that Rupert had suddenly thrust in his face but said nothing. He refused to engage his brother’s hot temper.
“You should never have married a half-commoner, I don’t care how beautiful she may be.”
Henry’s shoulders tensed. “Be careful, Rupert.”
Rupert snarled, his hands balled into tight fists. “You are the one who needed to be more careful.”
Henry could feel his calm slipping and how he loathed being angry. It made his head hurt.
“You must turn her out, Henry. Write to the pope and request an annulment. If she had no claim over you, she would now be without title and connection. She would be nothing.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Then it is fortunate for Lady Ravensworth that she is under my protection.”
“She should be punished for this,” Rupert shouted.
Spittle from his brother’s fuming lips flecked Henry’s cheek. With a scowl of disgust, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded linen square. After cleaning his face, he tossed the fabric into the fire. Struggling now to maintain his composure, he looked hard at his brother. “The Lady Ravensworth is pious and obedient. She has fulfilled her wifely duty and provided me with an heir. Mo
reover, she is not without sound judgment. A man could not hope for a better wife.”
Rupert sneered at him. “You are blinded by her beauty.”
Henry stood, unable to quell the fury his brother’s antagonizing words stirred within him. “I am blinded by nothing,” he snapped. “She is a woman, nothing more, nothing less.”
“Her mother was a Sicilian commoner and a whore for all you know. And now her father is disgraced and an outlaw on the run. Edward will come here and question your wife’s parentage and your judgment for marrying the daughter of an outlaw and a whore.”
Henry scoffed. “Edward will come here and find her family has no welcome with us. Then he will leave.”
“You are a coward,” Rupert seethed. “Cast her aside. The king will no doubt reward your loyalty. You could use this to gain his favor.”
Henry arched his brow at Rupert. “My place at court is assured. It is you who fell out of favor with the king not I.”
Rupert thrust his iron hand in Henry’s face. “Edward discharged me because I lost my hand fighting for England.”
Henry pushed the cool metal aside and stepped forward, a slight smile curving his lips. “I know about your dalliance with the king’s niece—everyone knows.”
Rupert’s eyes widened in shock. He had not known that word of his impropriety had reached Henry. He seized Henry’s shirt. Fury pulsed through him. “It was only one blasted night.”
Henry struggled to break free from his hold, but Rupert was the larger man by far. “I was a soldier,” Rupert bellowed.
“You were weak and foolish and got what you deserved,” Henry sneered.
Rupert released a guttural roar and spun Henry around, slamming him against the stone fireplace, but a sickening crunch stole Rupert’s breath. He froze, his heart pounding his skull. What had he done? He sprang backward, releasing his hold on Henry.
“I cannot see,” Henry whispered before he fell slack to the ground.
Unbidden, Rupert’s eyes darted left then right, instinctively searching for a place to hide. But his legs felt like lead as he stood there and watched Henry raise a shaky hand and swipe at the back of his head.