Roger's Bride

by Sarah Hegger

He would leave that for a day when he could show her the difference. “Does the…rutting frighten you?”

  “Nay,” she said, but her tone belied the word. “I do not believe I am a rutting sort of girl.”

  The conversation rapidly fled his control, as his unruly body demanded he show her how wrong she was. “Are you a kissing sort of girl?”

  “Eh?” She glanced at him, and gave him the gap he needed.

  “Shall we find out?” He closed the slight difference between their mouths. “Rutting and kissing are not so very far apart.” Not for what he intended, in any case. “I propose an experiment.”

  Her gaze flickered to his mouth. At the very least, he had awakened her curiosity.

  “Let us see how you feel about kissing first?”

  “Are you going to kiss me?” Flushed, she peered at him.

  Roger touched his mouth to hers.

  She froze.

  Roger feathered his lips over hers. This would go a lot easier if Kathryn would participate. Although she had not punched him yet, so he took that as encouragement.

  Her lips were soft beneath his, succulent and he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.

  “Oh.” She parted her lips in surprise, and Roger slanted his mouth, and touched his tongue to the lip he’d just sucked.

  “What are you doing?” At least that is what he thought she said, it was hard to speak and kiss at the same time.

  Enough. Let him fail in a blaze of glory.

  Roger cupped her cheeks, tilted her head, and slipped his tongue into the depths of her mouth.

  Sweet Jesu, she tasted of honey and heaven. A heady taste that shot straight to his rod.

  Shyly, tentatively, she moved her tongue against his. Her eyes drifted shut.

  Reining in his desire, Roger kissed her slowly. He took his time exploring her mouth, coaxing a greater reaction from her.

  His Kathryn learned quickly. Her hands clasped his wrists as if to keep him in place, and she opened her mouth, deepening the kiss.

  For all her courage and bluster, the delicacy of her innocence rang in the back of his mind. He held back the need to cage her against the wall and press his body to hers. He longed to take his hands on a happy exploration of the curves that had taunted him for days. Instead he held her face, gently with all the reverence a girl deserved as she received her first kiss.

  His control slipping, Roger ended the kiss and stepped back.

  Kathryn opened her eyes slowly. Her lips glistened from his kiss and she gave a soft little sigh. “That was…not what I expected.”

  “Better or worse?” Her skin warmed by the pink sunset proved impossible to resist, and he stroked her cheek.

  She pressed into his light caress. “I believe you know the answer to that.” With a small shake of her head, she stepped back from me. “There will be more kissing if I marry you?”

  “A lot more.” Of that he could assure her.

  “Hmm.” She strode to the far end of the battlements. Hands on the parapet, she leaned forward and breathed in the night air. Her bliaut curved to the swell of her ass. “I will need a promise from you.”

  “Aye.” He need tread carefully here. There could be no knowing what Kathryn would ask of him. “If it is in my power to make this promise, I will give it.”

  “My mother.” Kathryn tilted over the edge at an angle that made him nervous. “I need my mother to be safe. She has to be.”

  Had he not said so already? “You have my word of honor. It shall be so.”

  She turned to him with a glittering smile. “Then, by all means, let us marry.”

  “Could you come away from the edge?” God’s Balls, he’d become a mother hen, but she had leaned so far forward it would take but a breath of wind to send her hurtling to the ground hundreds of feet below them.

  A cheeky grin greeted his demand. “Do I make you nervous?”

  “In ways you cannot imagine.” Marriage to Kathryn promised a lifetime of challenge. Good thing, he fed on challenge. The thought stopped him for a moment. Could his mother have known that when she invited the Mandeville family to Anglesea? Nay, impossible. How could Lady Mary have predicted Matty would run and he and Kathryn would end up chasing her? Then again, his mother was a wily one.

  “Roger?”

  “Aye.”

  “Did you kiss Matty?”

  Her question shocked him. Did she think he went about kissing women willy-nilly? Perhaps when he and William were younger…“Nay.”

  “You should have.” She strolled back toward him. “I am sure she would never have run had you kissed her.” One hand to his chest, she peered at him. “You are powerfully good at the kissing.”

  And there you had Kathryn. A knee to the balls and a stroke to the pride, all in one blinding statement.

  Chapter 17

  Kathryn accepted another bliaut from Faye the next morning. This one fine linen, and a deep blue that looked well with her hair. Normally she would not travel in skirts, but Roger looked at her differently in skirts. A similar look to his kissing look and she rather liked it.

  Faye and Gregory insisted they accompany them to Anglesea. It seemed rather pointless as she and Roger had travelled alone for so many days, but Faye had a stubborn streak it appeared.

  Kathryn stood in the bailey and chafed at the time it took to get the large party ready to travel. People darted this way and that, with Faye at the center of the storm. If it were just her and Roger, they would be partway to Anglesea already. The amount of food loaded onto the traveling wagon cheered Kathryn immensely. However, Faye insisted on what she called “proper” provisions. This meant tents joined the food, along with travel pallets and linens.

  “I do not sleep on the ground,” Faye said to Roger when he protested. “And neither does the future Baroness of Anglesea.”

  With a start, Kathryn realized Faye meant her. She was the future baroness of Anglesea. Of course, Lady Mary and Sir Arthur appeared to have many healthy years ahead of them, but the title made it all the more real.

  When Roger kissed her mind into silence, it did not seem so daunting. The children he spoke of would be heirs to a great demesne, and she would rule the mighty castle as chatelaine. Her father had never considered that she might aspire to such a lofty marriage. All his ambition centered on Matty.

  “What is it?” Always sensitive to her thoughts, Roger slipped his arm about her waist. This too was new. Along with all the courteous touches he pressed on her throughout the morning as if he dealt with that sort of girl.

  “I think you have made a poor choice of baroness.”

  He bowed over her hand. “I beg to disagree, my lady.”

  This “my lady” nonsense must end. On the road before she had been Kathryn or “you” or “girl”. Her new status constricted like a badly fitting pair of braies.

  The watch had called midday when they, finally, mounted and the party took to the road.

  The folk of Upper Mere stopped and waved as they passed. Faye reined in time after time to share a word with a resident. The people of Upper Mere adored their lady, and she seemed to know the name of every person who spoke with her. Faye asked after children and oldsters, mentioned events in their lives as if she had a stock of information in her lovely head.

  If a chatelaine did all of this, then Kathryn floundered in deep waters. Ask her to name any horse in the stables and she could tell you its dam and sire and also its strengths and weaknesses. But people, nay. They passed before her in a jumble of features and names.

  Roger’s gaze found her again, and she clicked her fingers at Dagger, and pretended to call the dog.

  Matty had been raised for such a marriage. Matty could plan a menu, have the keep glistening from turret to trough, and still find time to visit with a sick baby. Her sister wore gowns like Faye, rode her palfrey at a sedate walk, and always kept her hands clean.

  Except Matty had married her farmer, and left Kathryn t
o step into her part.

  “Are you well, my lady?” Roger nudged his destrier closer to Striker. “When you are fatigued we can stop.”

  Fatigued after a paltry afternoon lolling along in the saddle? Kathryn stared at him. Who was this man in Roger’s skin? When she had agreed to marry, it had not been this courtly stranger.

  “Cease!” She drew rein, and Roger stopped with her.

  He blinked at her.” What?”

  “Stop with all this ‘my lady.’” She waved her hands in the air as she imagined a lady would. “When have you ever asked me if I needed to stop because I was fatigued?”

  He stiffened and looked affronted. “I thought my betrothed deserved the courtesy of her position.”

  Kathryn snorted.

  He started.

  She did it again for good measure. “You are marrying me, Sir Roger,” she said. “Not some gentle lamb who needs petting and cosseting.”

  “You would prefer I treat you rough?”

  “Nay.” The man looked honestly confused, and she softened her strident tone. “I would prefer you treat me as me. I am not Matty.”

  He grinned.

  Kathryn wanted to cheer. Here was the man she had spent time with. The one who put her fears over marriage to rest. For as long as she had this man by her side, she could do this.

  “Nay.” He winked at her. “You are certainly not Matty, and I am glad of it.”

  * * * *

  Kathryn liked Faye, she really did, but the woman insisted they stop for Vespers. They set up tents, said prayers and prepared a meal as best they could over an open fire. Kathryn approved of the meal, and demonstrated her appreciation to the best of her ability, which also involved a little pilfering from Roger’s portion.

  Gregory led them in Compline, and finally they retired for the night.

  Kathryn to her tent, Roger to his and Faye and Gregory to theirs.

  Gregory set sentries. The soft tramp of their footsteps as they kept watch through the night accompanied her into sleep. Her offer to take a watch had been met with a quickly disguised grin from Roger, confusion from Gregory and a horrified murmur from Faye.

  As much as she had protested their addition, she did approve of the sleeping pallets, and woke the next morning in fine spirits.

  The day stayed clear and crisp, new growth lifting fresh green fingers to the sky. Roger took her for a long gallop ahead of the group, which Dagger enjoyed nigh as much as she did, and the meal that evening kept her mood sunny.

  By the end of the next day, however, her mood reflected the glowering storm that brewed above them.

  Faye refused to travel in the sharp wind, and they camped earlier that night.

  It took them three full days more to reach Anglesea. Three days for a journey she and Roger could have traversed in a night or two. By the time they sighted the tall battlements of Anglesea, Kathryn had to bite her cheek to keep the scream in.

  Roger drew up beside her, pride and love shining from him. “There she is. Anglesea.”

  Square, grey stone towers soared above the curtain wall, clearly etched against the endless blue of sea meeting sky.

  The sight of Anglesea brought Kathryn’s adventure jolting to an end. Within those walls lay her real life, and it demanded she take up her part again. She had been away longer than she first intended. They trod forward. She had left with the excuse of seeking spiritual guidance from the Abbey, and now she returned with a party. Had her mother fared well in her absence? With her father’s anger appeased by her betrothal, she had judged it safe to leave. However, Sir Royce’s rage lived and breathed, as capricious as a forest fire, and always simmering beneath the surface.

  Being at Anglesea should have kept the worst of his temper in check.

  Their slow pace rankled. She would know within a glance how her mother fared. Sir Royce would never mark her mother for others to see, but Kathryn knew well the broken look her mother wore.

  “What is it?” Roger cocked his head and studied her.

  “Are we starting that again?”

  “Nay.” He chuckled. “But you look as if you are sitting on briars.”

  “I am missing Matty,” she said. What happened at Mandeville remained family business. She could not dishonor her mother by making her shame common gossip. “You cannot tell anyone you know where she is.”

  He set his hand on her rein. “I will not, Kathryn. I gave you and Matty my word that I would keep her secret.”

  A horn blasted a long, mournful wail from the walls. They had been spotted, and Anglesea welcomed them home. The doors to the great keep swung open.

  News of their arrival filled the inner bailey with people. Lady Mary stood with Lady Beatrice and her children near the keep door. Sir Arthur strode forward to meet them with his son by marriage, Garrett.

  To one side, his arms crossed, waited her father.

  The weight on her chest lifted as her mother left the keep with a smile of welcome.

  “What is this?” Sir Arthur clasped arms with Roger. His kindly smile warmed Kathryn. “You go off on your own and come back with half the kingdom?”

  Sir Arthur turned to assist Faye from her horse. “Ah, my Faye.” He tugged her into a hug. “Looking as lovely as ever.”

  Turning to Gregory, he clasped his arm and asked after the children.

  “Kate.” Her father strode toward her. He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Well met.”

  Kathryn glanced at him.

  Sir Royce’s stare glittered hard as ice.

  She went cold.

  * * * *

  “Get in there.” Her father dropped his pretense and shoved her into the chamber he shared with her mother.

  Mother followed on behind, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

  All through dinner Sir Royce had kept up the amiable pretense, but Kathryn’s belly tightened on the certain knowledge that he knew something. He waited until Compline ended before he gripped her by the arm and dragged her here.

  “Where were you?” Slowly, he circled her.

  “I went to the Abbey to pray—”

  Hard fingers dug into her hair and yanked her head back. “You lie.”

  Kathryn glanced at her mother.

  A quick head shake. A warning.

  Her father hauled her around.

  Hot breath hit her face.

  “I sent a messenger to the Abbey to fetch you two days ago. Imagine the monk’s surprise when he asked for Lady Kate of Mandeville.”

  Cold gripped her belly. “I went to clear my head. My thinking grew muddled with the betrothal.”

  “Indeed.” He gripped her throat. “Stop lying, Kate.”

  “I am not lying.” Why would her father have sent a messenger to the Abbey? Normally he did not bother himself with her comings and goings.

  Mother twisted her fingers in her lap, head bowed over them, shoulders taut as a bowstring.

  Kathryn drew in a calming breath. If she showed fear he would be worse.

  “Aye, Kate, you are.” His grip tightened on her throat “Shall I tell you where I think you were?”

  Kathryn remained dead still.

  “I think you went to look for your sister.” The gentleness of his tone terrified her more than a bellow. “I think you knew where to find her.”

  “I did not know where she was.” Matty’s life depended on her now. “You are right, I thought I might be able to find her.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I could not find her.”

  The punch plowed into her stomach, snatching her breath away and making her want to be ill. “Where is she?”

  “I did not find her.”

  The second blow landed higher, against her ribs and pain exploded through her trunk. Kathryn doubled over.

  “You filthy little bitch.” Fist in her hair, he yanked her head up. “You lie to me all the time. I know you know where your sister is.”

 
“I swear to you, I do not know.” The words came with difficulty as each breath sawed jagged through her. “You know I do not wish to marry, and I would have brought her back if I knew where she was.”

  “You will marry, girl.” He released her hair so suddenly that she stumbled. “I do know you do not wish to marry. I also know you will do anything for your sister and that whore.”

  Kathryn cradled her ribs. “Not this.”

  Her father turned from her.

  Dear God! Her mother!

  Sir Royce stalked her mother. “Let us see if she can persuade you to tell the truth.”

  His wrenched her mother’s arm behind her back.

  Mother stifled a cry, her eyes beseeching Kathryn.

  Kathryn ran at her father. “Get off her!”

  “Or what?”

  Kathryn gathered all her strength, and shoved. She pushed him hard enough to make him release her mother to catch his balance, and then she pushed him again, putting herself between them.

  Time stopped. Her breath gasped in the dead still.

  Anger built in Sir Royce, tensing through his muscles until it burst from him. Grabbing her by the nape he threw her onto the ground.

  Hard stone bit into her knees and palms. Kathryn spat blood from where she’d bit her tongue.

  “You dare!” His voice bounced off the walls.

  Kathryn tried to crawl to safety but his boot connected with her ribs. A sickening crack burst on her left side.

  “You miserable, misbegotten whore!” With his fist he drove into her back, pushing her to the floor where his boots lashed out again and again.

  Dimly her mother’s voice penetrated, crying and pleading with him to stop.

  “Nay.” Kathryn opened her mouth but she had no air to make words.

  He rained kicks and punches on her. Making contact with whatever part of her he could. Except her face. Even in his fury, Sir Royce would not mark her where others could see.

  Kathryn crawled for the door. If she could reach the passage he would be forced to stop.

  “They will hear you,” her mother shouted. “Stop, Royce, you will damage her and then there will be no wedding.”

  Her father’s feet stilled. He landed another punch to the base of her spine and straightened. He loomed above her, his breath coming in harsh grunts.