His expression was of deep concern. ‘Catherine—what the devil are you about? Have you no sense? Today is not the day you should have chosen to come into the city. It’s madness.’
‘I do realise that now.’
‘I hope you have a good explanation for your conduct.’
‘I had to come to see my father’s lawyer. I never gave the King’s trial a thought.’
‘Clearly,’ he snapped, taking the reins out of her hands to take hold of her horse. ‘Haven’t you the sense you were born with?’
Catherine glowered at him from beneath the wide brim of her hat. ‘Yes, I have, John, and I won’t be treated like some milksop who is likely to break in two at the slightest pressure.’
‘I realised that the first time I met you. But you would be in great danger should things get out of hand—which could happen at the slightest provocation. I should have called on you before now, but throughout the days the King has been brought back to London I’ve been kept busy night and day with no time to spare. Now come with me and I’ll escort you back to Oakdene.’
Catherine had no choice but to do as she was told since he had charge of her horse. He was clearly concerned for her and he had spoken the truth. She should have had more sense than to venture into the city today of all days.
They mounted their horses and rode out of the city. Only then did Catherine speak.
‘You can leave me now. I’m sure you have more important matters that need your attention than escorting me back to Oakdene. I can make my own way home.’ One look at his face told Catherine that he was still in a dangerous mood.
‘I’m going with you. It’s not safe for you to be out riding alone. Have you any idea what could have happened to you back there? You could have been seriously hurt—or worse—by your ill-considered actions. You could at least have had the sense to let a groom accompany you. These are troubled times, with people from all over England converging on London to witness the trial of the King. The next time you go riding, do not go unaccompanied. Do you understand, Catherine?’
Catherine’s face flamed with indignation. ‘Insist all you like, John, but I am capable of making my own decisions—and I prefer to ride home alone. I object most strongly to your—’
‘I’m going with you, so don’t argue. I want to make sure you arrive at Oakdene in one piece.’
Only a few hours before this tirade would have reduced Catherine to submission. But now it left her unmoved and angry. ‘I am not one of your soldiers, John. I am not one or your subordinates, so please do not treat me as one. If you cannot speak to me in a civil manner, then I will take my leave of you now.’
On that note she pressed her knees into her horse’s sides and urged it on, hearing him curse softly. During the struggle with her assailants her hair had slipped from the careless knot at the back of her neck. Now, from beneath her hat, it fell in gentle waves about her shoulders. In the grey light of day, she looked like a wild, tawny owl. Catherine knew John continued to follow her, but she did not look back.
* * *
It was dusk by the time they reached Oakdene. Catherine left her horse for the grooms to take care of and strode to the house, ignoring John, who dismounted and followed her to the door.
On entering the hall and seeing the baggage piled up ready to be strapped to the coach the following morning for her journey to Hereford, he stood still.
‘What’s this? Are you going somewhere, Catherine?’
A fervent glitter brightened Catherine’s eyes. ‘Yes. I’ve decided to go away—to leave Oakdene. I don’t want to be here any more.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Wilsden. I leave for Wilsden Manor tomorrow.’
John turned to face her in astonishment. ‘Wilsden? You were just going to disappear? Did you not think to notify me? Did it not enter your head that I would be concerned, that I would want to know?’
‘No, John. I know how busy you are at present.’
‘How could you be so foolish? You must know that I want to be with you more than anyone.’
She said, ‘I was not sure...’
‘How could you think of going away?’
‘I was going to write and let you know. Besides, I do not intend going for good—at least, I don’t think so. I just thought some time to myself is what I need just now. Wilsden Manor seemed a good idea.’
‘But that’s miles away in Hereford. Do I have to point out the dangers for a woman travelling alone with thieves and cutthroats and all manner of undesirables lying in wait for a coach to pass by—not to mention the state of the roads at this time of year? An axle could break and you would find yourself in a ditch in the middle nowhere. Has that thought not entered that stubborn head of yours?’
‘I am well aware of everything you have pointed out, John, which is why I shall take three of the grooms with me and do all my travelling by day. I am not as helpless as you appear to think.’
‘With a pistol and a dagger in your belt I imagine you are confident you will survive any kind of attack,’ he scoffed, ‘but you are wrong.’
Catherine was about to respond with a scathing remark when she was aware of Mrs Coleman hovering across the hall.
‘I’m sorry, my lady. I did not wish to intrude, but I heard raised voices and...’
‘It’s quite all right, Mrs Coleman. Please don’t be concerned. His Lordship was just chastising me—most severely, I can tell you—for riding into the city without an escort. It had slipped my mind that today is the start of the King’s trial and the city’s positively heaving with humanity. Would you have some refreshment brought to the parlour—something warming? It’s been a cold ride from the city.’
‘I will—at once.’ She scuttled away to do Catherine’s bidding.
Catherine turned back to John, who was glaring at her with his hands on his hips. ‘Well? Have you finished berating me? If not, then I insist that you leave. I’m in no mood for an argument. Otherwise you are welcome to stay and take some refreshment before you return to your duties.’
Without waiting for him to reply she strode into the parlour, relieved to find Mrs Coleman had drawn the heavy velvet curtains and that a roaring fire was blazing in the hearth. John followed and closed the door. Taking a seat to the side of the hearth, he stretched out his legs and rested his feet on the brass fender, his damp boots beginning to steam with the direct heat. Catherine looked at him, amazed that he could look so disgustingly relaxed after berating her so harshly.
With her arms crossed tightly over her breasts, she glowered at him. ‘Since you have made yourself so comfortable, my lord, I assume that means you have finished chastising me.’
‘I did not agree to stay to trade insults with you, Catherine, but it’s your own fault that I was so severe with you.’ Turning his head to look at her, he gave her a wicked smile, an indication that his mood was softening.
‘Oh, really? I cannot wait to hear the reasoning behind that statement.’
‘You provoke me.’
‘You provoke me as well and I will not speak aloud all the names I have called you in my mind since leaving the city. No doubt my brush with those thieves provided entertainment for your companions—and you.’
‘It certainly created some amusement—despite my shock on finding you among the crowd hoping for a glimpse of His Majesty.’
‘I imagine you were. I trust your appetite for sadistic amusement has been satisfied.’
‘For the present,’ he replied, making himself more comfortable in the chair.
Mrs Coleman entered bearing a tray of cold meats and bread and cheese and warm muffins, a speciality of hers, placing it on a table in the middle of where they sat, so it could be reached easily. When she left Catherine divided the food onto plates and handed one to John, before pouring warm spiced wine into two goblets.
The wine soothed
Catherine’s frazzled nerves. They ate slowly, speaking little—presenting a tableau of domestic bliss, Catherine thought, to anyone looking on. Little would they imagine the turmoil simmering in both their hearts. She looked across at her companion to find him smiling casually at her. He sat with a glass of wine in his hand, totally at ease, as though it were his custom to sit in her parlour in the early evening. Collecting up the plates, she placed them on the tray. To save Mrs Coleman the trouble of coming to remove it, she picked it up and excused herself.
* * *
It was some minutes later when Catherine returned and took her seat opposite John. Picking up her glass of unfinished wine, she sipped it slowly. Relaxing back in the comfortable upholstered chair, John felt his heart soften as he gazed at her. He thought that it was a crime for such loveliness to be hidden behind closed doors. She was a vision. The firelight reflected on the deep gold of her hair, which was drawn back from her face with enchanting fluffy tendrils curling on her cheeks. Her green eyes were luminous, her lips tempting, her flesh soft. His fingers ached to caress it as he had before. Catherine had no idea how intensely he desired her.
Despite their angry words, he could not deny that she had shown incredible bravery earlier. When she had punched one of her assailants in the gut it had not gone unnoticed by him. Looking at her now, her long, incredible legs clad in breeches stretched out and crossed at the ankles, who would have thought she was a gently bred woman instructed in the manners and deportment of a lady? She could have been mistaken for a young gentleman, but the face, chiselled to perfection, was almost too beautiful to belong to a man.
‘Did those ruffians hurt you?’ he enquired. ‘I’m sorry, I should have asked before.’
‘No, apart from my arm—a slight twist, but it is nothing.’
He watched her as she sipped her wine, contemplating the delight of taking her to bed again, removing her clothes and kissing those tempting lips and the bare flesh of her body. He loved her so much his heart ached with it.
‘A woman alone is never safe. But you’re a survivor. That’s what I love about you.’
She forced a smile. ‘Flatterer.’
‘It’s not flattery, Catherine.’ His face was serious and there was an intensity in his eyes. A lock of hair had fallen across his brow and the firelight softened his angular face. ‘You’re a strange creature. Just as I think I’m getting to know you, some new trait shows itself. Take today, for instance. You showed no fear when those ruffians tried to steal your horse.’
‘I was outraged that they even tried. But spare me from becoming predictable.’
‘I doubt you will ever be that. And you are very beautiful.’
‘What? Even in my breeches?’ she remarked teasingly.
‘Especially in your breeches. I find them very fetching.’
She sighed, shaking her head slowly and staring into the flames. ‘I suppose life has taught me how to survive. I don’t expect you to understand how I feel. In normal society there are few people who would understand me—what has made me like I am.’
‘Do you think you are the only one to have suffered, Catherine?’
‘No, of course I don’t.’
‘You accuse me of not understanding how you feel. There are few families that have been left untouched by tragedy. We all have burdens from the war.’
She looked at him steadily. ‘Even you, John? Tell me.’
‘You want there to be truth between us. I want that, too. No more secrets. The death of my older brother was just one of mine.’
‘Just one?’
‘No—my father killed himself—that was the other.’ I should have told you all this before, but it is not something I am comfortable talking about.’
She stared at him, her beautiful eyes wide with shock at the abruptness of his statement. ‘John—how—I am so sorry. I knew you had lost both your father and brother—I did not realise...’
‘How could you?’
‘Tell me.’
‘My brother Richard was killed at the beginning of the war at Edgehill—which I have already told you. Father was a changed man afterwards—embittered. He did not respond to my mother, who thought the world of him. He threw himself into the war, determined to vent his anger on every Royalist who crossed his path. My mother lost not only her eldest son, but her husband also—even though he still lived. My brother was my father’s shining light. The rest of his children did not compare. He missed him so much. He didn’t want to live without him.
‘I believe that when he rode into battle at Marston Moor, he wanted to die that day. When he became engaged in sword fight with a Royalist he could have won the fight and walked away, but he didn’t. He didn’t try. He stood and let the soldier strike him down and didn’t raise his sword to defend himself.’
Catherine did not say anything, but simply sat there, listening as the words began pouring out of him. He spoke quietly about his painful past. She knew how hard it must be for him to say these things, each word uttered a word of pain. What she had been through was nothing compared to his suffering.
‘I should not have been so quick to judge and you were right to chastise me.’ John straightened and looked at her as if remembering she was there. His face looked haunted. ‘You were there—at Marston Moor—and you saw it happen?’
‘I did. I tried to save him—he spoke to me...’
‘What did he say?’
‘“Let me be.” He died in my arms, but I don’t believe he knew who I was.’
‘That must have been very hard for you.’
‘The hardest.’
Catherine saw tension in his face and heard the bitterness in his voice, and her heart wept for him. She felt that what had happened had affected him more deeply than even he realised.
‘I never told anyone what happened that day. Moreover, I lost several friends in the debacle that was Marston Moor and found it hard to think about afterwards, let alone discuss what had happened.’
‘That is understandable. I suppose no one who lived through that could ever be the same carefree person again.’
‘That is true. I realised that I must take life seriously since I could never be sure that I wouldn’t be plunged into a similar horror. I have never told anyone about my father. I have never discussed it, not even with my mother.’
‘Perhaps it’s kindest not to. There are some things a person is better off not knowing. Thank you for telling me, for sharing that with me.’ She tilted her head to one side, her heart pounding so hard she believed he must hear it.
John got to his feet and crossed the room, lost in his thoughts. When he turned and came back to where she sat he looked down at her upturned face. ‘Why are you going to Wilsden, Catherine? Are you running away?’
She thought about it and then nodded. ‘I suppose I am in a way. There is nothing for me here. In fact, I don’t want to be here any longer. This house—it’s not my home any more. I don’t even know a place I can call my home. Wilsden is the most dear, because it was where my mother grew up. The only drawback is that it’s close to Carlton Bray.’
‘What is it you want, Catherine?’
‘That’s simple—a home, hearth and contentment. Is that too much to ask?’
‘Then marry me, Catherine. Marry me and let me take you to my home in Sussex. I know you will love it there.’
She stared up at him amazement. ‘Marriage? But—but I had not thought...’
‘You’re not going to raise objections, are you? My nature, being what it is, I’ll just ignore them. And please don’t say this is all so sudden.’
‘But, John, it is sudden...’
‘I should have thought it was obvious, the way we were together—have you forgotten?’
‘I forget nothing.’
‘Thank goodness. I love you, Catherine. I admit it freely. No matter what you might say or
do I—I know I will love you until the day I die. I cannot imagine my life without you. But for all that, I have no illusions about you. You are the most wilful, stubborn, temperamental woman I have ever known. There is much more—but above all else I want you to be my wife.’ Taking her hand, he drew her up to stand before him.
‘I—I don’t know what to say.’ She had spoken stiffly, but there was something in her eyes that made his heart beat wildly, a softness, a glowing. Was that love he saw in them?
‘Answer me truthfully, John. Do you truly love me?’
‘More than anything, my love—there will be nothing but the truth between us from now on. A thousand times or more I have cursed myself for a fool, but it would seem that I cannot help loving you. I want you to marry me—be my wife, bear my children and live a happy life.’ He gazed at her for a long moment, then moved closer. Raising his hand, he brushed a stray curl from her face with his fingertip. ‘Harbour no more thoughts of running away, Catherine. I’m not so easily got rid of. You remember how it was between us when we spent the night together beneath this very roof. It can be like that again—every night of our lives, if you want it to be. Marry me, Catherine.’
Catherine stared at him. ‘Yes, yes I will,’ she answered. ‘How could I ever forget what it was like when we were together? It was the most wonderful thing that has happened to me in my life. But there is one thing you should know—something I have to tell you.’
‘And what is that?’
‘I am with child, John. Your child.’
John’s eyes opened wide with astonishment, then his face became thoughtful, his eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘A child? Good Lord!’ He had not expected this, but he should have known it was a possibility when he took her to bed. ‘How long have you known?’
‘A few days,’ she murmured, half turning her head away. ‘At first I wasn’t sure, having no experience of such things, but now I am as certain as I can be.’
He stood straight, moving a step away from her, his face impassive—the expression he normally used to shield his thoughts when troubled or angry. A muscle began to twitch in his cheek. He stared down at her, his face expressing bewilderment, disbelief and finally agony as the realisation of what she had intended dawned on him. After what seemed like a lifetime later, he turned her face to his, forcing her to look at him, his eyes hard and intense.
Resisting Her Enemy Lord Page 20