by Pam Roller
She’d leave that up to him.
He returned his attention to Elizabeth. “Lord Wiltshire desires a wife, and has agreed to marry Katherine—if he approves of her. I have assured him that although she cannot speak, she is not dimwitted as first thought.”
Katherine crossed her arms in exasperation at having no say in the matter. Instead of relief at knowing what her future held, her stomach clenched with tension. The marriage arrangement had taken place so quickly.
Gnawing at her top lip, she glanced at Elizabeth, who sat studying the contents of her coffee cup as if there were something fascinating floating in it. Lord Wiltshire was...what? Thick? Pockmarked? Covered with warts? She grimaced, unsure she even wanted to speculate.
And what good was meeting him if it was just to see if he wanted her? What if she didn’t want him?
“Katherine.”
She met Lord Drayton’ icy stare.
“When he arrives, you will be courteous.” He jabbed a finger on her words. “And if you show any defiance, or offend him as you have just insulted me....” He drew in breath between tight lips.
Beneath his glower, she detected a gleam of frustration in his eyes. He was clearly anxious to be rid of her.
She swallowed the sudden thickness in her throat and wondered at the ache in her chest. She looked away from him and nodded.
“What are your plans today, Elizabeth?” Lord Drayton asked briskly as he rose and walked toward the door. “I can accompany you to town if you wish to go.”
Elizabeth said, “I do need to go to market with the cook. And Alex, I—I would like to show Katherine the keep later today. If that will be all right.”
Lord Drayton was already through the door. “I will be leaving shortly,” he called back.
Katherine raised her head. Enthusiasm trickled through her at the prospect of touring the ancient keep.
Unexpectedly, Lord Drayton reappeared in the doorway.
“You say you are taking Katherine to the keep?”
“Well...yes, I would like to.” Elizabeth replied.
“No. I do not want you to do that.”
“As you wish,” Elizabeth said without hesitation. Her chin trembled.
Katherine closed her eyes and shook her head. Would he allow her no amusement? Or was he implying that since she would be leaving, there was no use in exploring the castle? She slanted a narrowed glance at him and picked up the quill, but his next words, although gruff, stayed her hand.
“Elizabeth, you know better. Those stones are loose and some of the stairs are treacherous. You could easily fall.”
He studied Katherine. The concern in his eyes startled her.
“I can imagine something happening to Elizabeth, and your becoming lost and unable to voice your distress.” He shook his head. “I cannot allow the two of you to go.”
“That is well,” Elizabeth said. “I am sorry, Lady Katherine, to disappoint you.”
He was right, Katherine thought, but then realized his true intentions. If something happened, she’d be unable to present herself at her best for her prospective suitor, and Lord Drayton would have to house her for a longer period. This was the main reason he wanted her kept safe.
“I know you wish to see the keep,” he continued, and the blue of his eyes seemed to darken as he gazed at her. “When I return from town, I will take you through it myself. But you will need to don a simpler gown. That one looks too cumbersome.” He hesitated then, seeming to grope for words. “Although... ’tis becoming on you.”
Katherine took a quick breath of astonishment, and then wondered at her foolishness in feeling so gratified at his small compliment. He had implied only that he wanted her to look pretty so the baron would approve of her. He himself cared not at all.
Later in the morning, dressed simply in a loose yellow morning gown, Katherine waited for Lord Drayton in the dim parlor. She sat bent forward over her needlework, peering closely at the linen to get the stitches straight.
When her neck began to ache and she couldn’t keep the threads from twisting, she flung the linen to the floor, stood, and turned to the window. Lord Drayton wasn’t here. What was the harm in opening the drapes for just a while so she would not go blind or permanently bent? His rule was so very ridiculous!
She glanced behind her at Millie sitting in a chair against the wall bowed over some mending, and then stole to the windows and grasped the panels of the dark drapes. She ignored the memory of fear in Elizabeth’s eyes, and flung the drapes open one by one until light spilled through all three tall windows. Turning to survey the room, she saw Millie standing with her mending clutched in her hands. She spun to survey the room as Millie sprang up.
The maid clutched her mending. “You mustn’t” she said, her voice high and tense. “Lord Drayton, he....” She trailed off as she looked around the room.
Yes—the room! Katherine’s heart soared with sudden gladness. In the radiant light, the parlor gleamed.
Beams of sun glistened on ivory-cream tiles that surrounded the ornate fireplace and mantel hearth. It twinkled off the glass of the cabinet above the mantel and brought to life the blue and white china showcased within. Two tapestries woven, embroidered in once colorless shapes now came alive with reds, golds, and greens of an autumn hunting scene. Oak tables on either side of the sea-blue velvet couch shone, and the lyre and flute near the corner showcased their fine blond wood.
Tiny dust motes floated above the glistening wool threads on the thick blue and green carpet covering the polished wood floor.
And finally, Katherine was able to see in its glorious detail the exquisitely carved oak paneled wall that enclosed the room.
“M’lady,” Millie said, and then sat heavily in the chair. “Oh, m’lady....”
Katherine, smiling, retrieved her tree—of—life embroidery and sat back on the couch, perusing the room once more. She would close the drapes the instant his horse passed by on the drive. At a snuffle from Millie, however, she looked over at her with concern.
“If I may speak?” Millie asked, her voice thick with emotion.
Katherine sighed and nodded, fully expecting another reminder of the silly rule.
“Lord Drayton hasn’t had the curtains opened since Lady Drayton died.”
Katherine dropped her needlework onto her lap. Surely he grieved the loss of his wife, but his quality of mourning seemed to stretch into unreasonable actions. Still, she waited for further explanation.
Millie spoke hurriedly. “She fell from her window, like I told ye. The night she died, Lord Drayton told us he didn’t want t’see a window in his house ever again. He shouted at the servants, said he’d take his rod to us if we ever opened them. And then he went around and tore her portraits off the wall.” Millie lowered her eyes and added, “I don’t know if his threat of whippin’ ye was real or not. But if it is true, ye will not be able to call for help. Please, m’lady. Ye must do what he says.”
Fear invaded Katherine’s self-assurance. She hadn’t taken his threat seriously. Now she wondered if she’d been wrong, again, about the type of man he was.
Millie gasped as the trotting of hooves sounded outside. Katherine spun toward the windows.
And locked eyes with Lord Drayton as he rode by on his gray horse.
She gulped in alarm at the sight of his eyes narrowing into twin blue glaciers, and then she doubled over with one hand on her stomach and the other over her mouth in a bout of frantic coughing.
Millie dashed to each window. Seconds later, dimness once again encased the parlor and shrouded everything in muted colors.
The echoing slam of a door sounded. Booted footsteps rang closer. Katherine straightened and stared at the open entrance of the parlor.
In he strode, glancing at the drapes before returning his gaze to her. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and he stood for a moment as if making a decision. Then, his eyes swept over her. “I see you are ready to explore the keep.”
Would he not he
reprimand her for opening his drapes? His caginess kept her from knowing his thoughts. She clasped her hands together so he wouldn’t see their shaking. Forcing her mouth into a smile that felt wooden and false, she nodded.
“Then we will do so now. ’Tis best to go in bright daylight. Are you ready?” With no expression save the coolness of his gaze, he turned and offered his elbow.
Katherine shot a desperate look at Millie.
“Millie may accompany you.” A bare twinkle, gone before she had time to examine its implications, flickered in his eyes. But he did not smile. “It would be the proper thing, I suppose. Millie may bring your slate along since paper and pen will not be feasible.”
Katherine hesitated. She’d hit him, called him names. Fool!
“Come,” he said. His eyes bore into hers.
With lead feet, she walked to him and, with trembling hand, took his proffered arm.
Chapter Twelve
Panic swept over Katherine’s features. She trembled visibly as if yearning to dash far away from Alex. That was nothing new to him, her alarm acutely reminiscent of Mary during her feral-like spells of clawing terror.
He would say nothing of Katherine breaking his rule, and focused on the tour in an attempt to allay her fear. As they walked through the Hall, he gave her a reassuring smile and said, “There are several entrances, but the one I am taking you to is the safest. Do you enjoy exploring new places?”
She nodded and sent him a furtive glance.
Perhaps he might venture a question, and said casually, “You seem to have a keen inquisitiveness. You went into the closet to see my wife’s portrait, did you not? I noticed it had been moved.”
Again she nodded, this time staring straight ahead.
They’d arrived at the back corridor and turned right. “I am curious. Did something frighten you so much that you fainted?”
Katherine frowned and shook her head.
“What happened to you, then? The closet door handle was not broken.”
She glanced at the slate Millie held.
“Please do.” Relieved to finally know, Alex stopped and, taking the slate from Millie, handed it to Katherine. He tried to hide his grimace in anticipation of the chalk’s squeak.
It is my concern only, she wrote.
The unseen wall of distrust thickened between them. Annoyance made him retort, “Was your eavesdropping in my study yesterday also only your concern?”
Katherine lowered her eyes and bit her lip, then wrote, No. She hesitated and added, You were kind to them.
“Clara is a good person,” he said with a shrug. “Stephen helps in the barn. He is a fine lad.”
They walked on.
Taking her to the keep was a bad idea. He should turn around now and escort her back to the parlor, and then leave her there until Wiltshire arrived. But the battlements were special, a connection to his past that he felt compelled to share with her.
The battlements held no ghosts from his past.
Katherine could, perhaps, see him as a man wishing only to live a solitary life instead of the indifferent rogue she surely regarded him as now.
And he could give her over to the baron tonight with no further thought that he could have done more to ease her mind.
****
At the end of the long, dark corridor, another wing extended to the left. It seemed they were walking toward the back of the house.
To break the silence, and to gauge Lord Drayton’s temperament, Katherine paused to venture a question on her slate. Is this your family home?
He brightened as he read her words. “Yes. Built two centuries ago in front of the keep. Cromwell’s men took possession of it during the king’s exile, but Charles reclaimed it for me after he came into power.”
He loved his home, she noted as she felt the old floor boards echo beneath her heeled shoes. She no longer trembled, but instead looked forward to the tour.
The passage began to narrow and descend. They stopped at a heavy oak wooden door at the end. When Lord Drayton grasped the handle and pulled it open, the ponderous creak of its old hinges seemed overly loud in the quiet.
He led Katherine and Millie through the door and down two dozen or so stone steps that were smoothed and dipped from centuries of the feet that had trod them. “The original steps of the keep,” he told them, “built in the thirteenth century during Henry III’s reign.”
The air cooled as they descended.
At the bottom of the stairway, he opened another door that led to a long straight tunnel of rough gray stone walls and floors.
“Stay close, Katherine. You as well, Millie. ’Tis dark, and there are rats about.” Without hesitation he stepped forward, holding out his lantern. His footsteps rang hollowly.
Katherine peered ahead and saw...nothing.
Dear God. All was swallowed up in blackness. Then the air grew stale and dank and the tunnel shrank all around her. She wanted to keep her distance from Lord Drayton and fought against the roiling panic, but the old terror tumbled her closer to him. The toe of her shoe almost touched his booted heel and it was all she could do not to clutch at his waistcoat.
Maybe she could turn and find her way back. Millie had procured a lantern for her and the tunnel was a straight path back to the door. But she couldn’t retreat.
Unaware of her paralyzing emotion, Lord Drayton abruptly turned down one twisting passage, then another, and another until Katherine had no idea where she was. Perhaps her confusion was exactly what he’d intended.
The passage grew more constricted and airless with every step, and ragged breaths tore from her pounding chest.
Up ahead, skittering sounds warned of the rats.
Lord Drayton glanced over his shoulder. “Can you see why we worried for you on the night we couldn’t find you? I thought you might have gone exploring. No one would hear you if you became lost or hurt among these twisting paths.”
His words took on a sinister meaning, and Katherine glanced behind her at Millie. The maid’s face was obscured in the shadows thrown by the lanterns.
Hideous fear knotted Katherine’s belly as the passage further narrowed and Lord Drayton had to duck his head. She dabbed trembling fingers at the beads of perspiration on her upper lip. Her legs shook and she could barely move them. One more moment and it would be impossible to conceal her utter disintegration.
“M’lord, Lady Katherine—she is feeling poorly,” Millie called out in alarm.
Katherine sagged against the wall, gasping with short breaths. Both lantern and slate slipped from her numb hands and made echoing clatters as they hit the damp stone floor.
“What is it, Katherine?”
Lord Drayton touched her arm, and she reached out to him like a lifeline. His features wavered and blurred. Her gaze slid from him to Millie, but darkness invaded her vision. The rough stone wall tearing at her back was her only sensation as she slid toward the floor.
Struggling for breath, she was vaguely aware of something sturdy and gentle wrapping around her waist. Her head lolled against solid warmth, and the rhythmic beating of a heart sounded in her ear.
A faraway voice gurgled as if speaking through water. “We are almost there.”
Distantly, she heard the working of a latch and a deep groaning of hinges.
A soothing voice murmured in her ear. “’Tis all right now, Katherine. We’ve arrived at the keep.”
She was lowered to a sitting position on cold stone, and then felt herself enveloped in the warmth and strength of his arms.
After several minutes, her racing heart and panting slowed. She remained motionless, unwilling to be free of the captivating heat that surrounded her.
His heat, his strength. So natural to be held by him. Unabashed and unafraid, she turned her face into his chest and breathed him in. Her heart again quickened, but for a different reason altogether.
She felt languid and warm and never wanted to break away, loving the way he cuddled her against his body, the way his hand
caressed her cheek.
“How do you feel?”
His words broke her bizarre state of mind. The man holding her like a lover was the turbulent and obstinate Lord Drayton. The desire, the sensation of sheltering protection—no, it was all wrong and quite improper. And yet...she couldn’t let go.
She disliked him, she reminded herself, feared him, needed to be gone from his home so that she would no longer have these ridiculous feelings.
Summoning all her will, she pushed at his chest and felt his body stiffen under her hands.
Abruptly he released her and stood. “Tend to her, Millie.” His voice held a rough edge.
Stark emptiness filled her where the warmth had been.
The maid came forward, her kindly round features creased with worry. She knelt and dabbed at Katherine’s forehead with the corner of her apron.
Katherine waved her away. She was more in control of herself now and there was no need to fuss.
Lord Drayton held out his hand. Obligated to take it, she let him help her up. He didn’t release his hold on her hand and remained close, his face hard scrutiny. “I want the truth. What happened in the closet?”
The closet? She shook her head, confused.
“I found you in there curled up like a babe, with your fingertips torn to bits. The wall in the back of the closet is embedded with the scratches you made.” He released her hand and took the slate from Millie, and thrust it toward her. “What happened? Answer me.”
It was none of his business, really, but she supposed he deserved an explanation. Frowning, she took the slate, shrugged, and wrote, Afraid of small spaces.
He shoved out a breath. “As I thought. Why did you go in there?”
Curious.
“And your meddling mind got the better of your fear.”
Brows creasing in irritation, she looked into his eyes. Yes, she mouthed with stiff lips.
“Had I known what your reaction would be in these tunnels, I would not have brought you. ’Tis good that Elizabeth told me of her plans with you this morning.”
Had Katherine known what it would take to come to the keep, she wouldn’t have come at all. Yet she didn’t write the retort. Instead, she turned her attention to the cavernous room before her. They were here. She may as well try to enjoy it.