“My mother was, but I’m English.”
“English? I could have sworn you were Norman. Beaumont is a Norman name.”
“I…ah…of course, I’m Norman. I meant I was born in England.” She took a deep drink from her cup. Ralph watched, fascinated as the silken flesh of her throat contracted.
“I…” He had no idea what he was about to say. All thought fled when the tip of her tongue darted out and licked a drop of wine from her plump lower lip.
A bell chimed in the courtyard, saving him. He blew out a breath and rose. “That’s the signal for the Christmas feast. This can wait. I’m sure you must be hungry.”
Food. He needed food. Drinking wine on an empty stomach must be the cause of his body’s lack of control.
Her face lit up in a smile, causing his stomach to swoop. “I forgot it was Christmas.”
It was pointless continuing this line of questioning. There was nothing he could do about finding her family today. Let him enjoy the remainder of the day without any worries about his responsibilities.
He gestured to the door. “Then we’ll observe the Christmas peace. Please do me the honor of joining me at the high table.” It was the place Hywel ap Morgan and his daughter should have occupied.
Katherine rose. “I’d like that.”
He wouldn’t worry about his marriage until tomorrow, either. For now, it was Christmas, and he would allow himself this day to enjoy the company of a beguiling woman.
****
It was Christmas Day! For the first time in years Kat felt the thrill that anything was possible on this magical day. With the promise of a medieval Christmas feast at the forefront of her mind, she managed to descend the spiral staircase without being paralyzed by fear. Or maybe it was the way Ralph insisted upon walking in front of her, allowing her to focus on his broad shoulders instead of the dizzying drop.
She might not know how she’d got here, or how to return home, but for now she was going to enjoy a Christmas feast in the company of a medieval lord. Wasn’t that what she’d dreamed of each time she’d explored a ruined castle as a child, or opened a historical novel? For too long she’d been focused on her losses: first her parents, then Rob. Perhaps she should take this day as a gift. Not dwell on the past and not worry about the future. Simply enjoy the experience of being in a castle on a snowy Christmas Day.
At the bottom of the staircase, there was a large set of wooden double doors. A man standing to attention beside the wall hurried to open them, and they stepped through into a sparkling world filled with the aroma of roasting meat. Kat’s stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
Yesterday, or eight hundred years in the future. Kat laughed, earning her a quizzical glance from Ralph.
“I’m sorry. I just decided that sometimes you have to stop worrying about whatever weirdness the world flings at you and enjoy the ride.”
Ralph smiled. A genuine smile that softened the harsh lines of his face and induced a flutter in her chest. “You have an odd way of expressing it, but I’ve come to a similar conclusion.” He offered her his arm. “Come now. Let’s—how did you put it?—enjoy the ride.”
They descended another flight of steps that led to the courtyard Kat had viewed from the top of the tower. Groups of men and women, wrapped in capes against the chill, dashed toward the rectangular stone building she had noticed earlier. Their voices were raised in merry chatter, and all were smiling and laughing. The low sunlight brought the trails they left in the snow into sharp relief. Now they were at ground level, Kat could see the snow was several inches deep. Drifts piled up against the walls, which also had a thick layer along the top.
Ralph led her to the same building everyone else seemed so eager to reach. Its doors were flung wide, casting a golden glow of lamplight and firelight upon the frosty scene outside. Kat had just set her foot upon the threshold when a drumbeat pulsed through the air. It was joined by a flute, a fiddle, and a low drone from an instrument she couldn’t place. The notes melded into an energetic tune that made Kat’s pulse quicken.
She looked around eagerly. A group of musicians—minstrels, she supposed—occupied a low platform in a recess at the rear of a huge room. This could only be the great hall. When she’d explored castles in her childhood, any great halls had either long since been destroyed or were roofless, empty shells. The only sounds to be heard were the chack, chack of jackdaws nesting in the crumbling stone walls. She’d always tried to imagine what it must have been like when the castle was in use, but she’d never envisaged the explosion of color, light, and music that now overwhelmed her senses.
Tables draped with white cloths formed three sides of a rectangle in the center of the space. Garlands of holly, ivy, and mistletoe edged each one, red and white berries punctuating the varying shades of green. Rows of garlanded columns marked out recesses at the two narrow ends of the hall, and an impressive stone fireplace dominated the wall opposite the door. The high table stood on a platform in front of the fire. Candelabra stood at intervals on each table, each one ablaze with candles that cast wavering shadows upon the walls, animating the animals and birds of the bright wall paintings.
Kat breathed in as she followed Ralph up to the high table, savoring the scent of roasted meats and poultry, cinnamon, apples, honey, and a whole variety of spices that she couldn’t identify. Servants, carrying silver basins of water, stood by the dais. Following Ralph’s example, Kat dipped her hands into one of the basins and dried them on the strip of linen the servant handed her. Then she stood in the place indicated, between him and his mother, who was already at the table.
The moment Ralph took his place, the music stopped, and the excited chatter faded into silence. For several seconds the only sound was the crackle of flames upon the hearth. The moment stretched out, and Kat gazed at the faces turned toward the high table. They glowed in the golden candlelight, eyes wide, mouths stretched in eager smiles. The sight transported Kat to a happier time, to the Christmases of her childhood when the air thrummed with magic, and anything seemed possible. A thrill surged through her veins, a feeling like waking to a new day filled with exciting possibilities. For too long she’d drifted through life like a sleepwalker, observing but not experiencing. She didn’t want her life to be that way anymore. She wanted to break through the invisible barrier she’d erected around herself and submerge herself in events as they unfolded. Touch…taste…feel.
Unable to resist, she glanced at Ralph. He was turned away from her, his attention fixed on the end of the high table, giving her the opportunity to study his profile unobserved. She drank in the strong brows, the imperious set of his jaw, his sheer strength. His chestnut hair curled at the nape of his neck and her fingers itched to tangle in it, pull his head down and—
A voice rang out. Kat wrenched her gaze from Ralph to a man dressed in black standing at the end of the high table. In a clear, deliberate voice, he recited some words in a language she didn’t recognize—Latin? It seemed her strange internal translator didn’t work with all languages. There was a brief pause after his last words echoed around the high rafters, then Ralph took his seat. The music rang out again, and everyone else sat down. Kat followed suit, and her arm brushed Ralph’s. A jolt of electricity coursed through her. She shifted sideways, putting a good few inches of air between them, but even so, every nerve ending tingled.
But why deny the attraction? She didn’t have to jump him just because she wanted to.
Oh, God, she wanted to. Now her body was emerging from its long hibernation, it craved a man’s touch. Ralph’s touch.
Chapter Six
Servants approached the high table, carrying huge dishes piled high with food. Ralph ordered the servants to take several down to the lower tables, then, when more servants placed a hollowed out round of bread in front of her, he placed a selection of roast meat and stew upon it. The mixed aroma of pork, saffron, and stewed apple made her stomach rumble. She should fix her attention on the food, not
the hands serving it. Definitely not imagine those hands upon her body.
Wrenching her attention from Ralph, she took a sip of wine and rolled the combined flavors of cinnamon, honey, and strong burgundy wine around her tongue. The insistent drumbeat filled the hall, urging her feet and fingers to tap out the rhythm.
Ralph leaned across to her, and suddenly her pulse set a far more frenetic beat than the drums. “I hope you’ll grace us with a dance later.” His gaze swept her like a caress, making her shiver.
How long since she had lost herself in music and let the rhythm sweep her into a dance? The last time had probably been—her heart lurched. The last time she had danced like that had been her wedding.
She became aware of Ralph’s gaze upon her, a furrow between his brows. His eyes stripped her to the soul, and a bubble of panic welled up in her chest.
She gave a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained in Ralph’s ears as it did in hers. “You mean you’re not going to lock me in my room the moment the meal’s over?” She winced. The words had sounded light and jokey in her head, but they emerged as an accusation.
His eyes darkened. “Why do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?” She twisted her hands in her lap.
“You know what I mean. The shrewish retorts. What are you trying to hide?”
“I…I’m sorry. I never mean to be rude. It just comes out that way.” It was the first time anyone had called her out on her rudeness. After Rob had died, she’d dreaded concerned friends and colleagues asking how she was, fearing she’d disgrace herself by dissolving into tears. It had been much easier to deflect them with a joke or flippant comment. Only they often came out far more abrupt and rude than she’d intended. But it worked. People soon gave up and avoided her. Of course, when the engineering company she’d worked for had been forced to make redundancies, it also meant she’d been among those laid off.
She put her hand to her throat, startled yet again when her fingers failed to find the silver coin.
“Have you lost something?” Ralph nodded at her questing fingers.
“Only my br—” She bit back the jokey retort and drew a breath. If she was going to make a new life, this was the first thing she must change. “I had an old silver penny on a chain. When I was thirteen, I found it in the mere at…at my home when I was with Rob.”
“Rob?”
“My husband. We weren’t married then, of course.” Images of that carefree summer with Rob played in her mind: the laughter; the sunny days swimming and rowing on the mere; the nights lying on the jetty, fingertips touching, counting shooting stars. For three years the image she’d had of Rob was his expression of horror when he’d known he was going to fall. Allowing herself to talk about him helped break past that moment, released the happier memories of their time together. “The coin already had a hole through it, and Rob put it on a chain for me. I never took it off until last night, when I…lost it.”
“A reminder of happier times.”
“That and more.” It had become a talisman. A symbol of her love for Rob.
She would have expected Ralph to dismiss the penny as female sentimentality, so she was surprised when he nodded, his eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry you lost it. I know how you feel. I…lost a ring recently.” He pointed to the band of flesh on his right index finger that was paler than the surrounding skin. He had long fingers, square-tipped with short, clean nails. Lovely fingers. Her hands tingled with the urge to weave her own fingers through his.
Bloody hell! Where had that come from? Heat flooded her cheeks; she shot Ralph a glance, praying her expression hadn’t revealed her admiration. What had he said? Ah, yes, his ring. “That’s a shame. Was it valuable?”
Ralph nodded. “But I treasured it for its association with my father. It belonged to him. He gave it to me when he left for the crusade. Said he was proud of me and knew he could trust me with his lands.” There was a faraway look in his eyes. Kat doubted he was even aware of the music and laughter surrounding them. “He died of a fever without ever setting eyes on the Holy Land.”
“You must miss him.”
“All the time. The ring was a constant reminder of my need to manage these lands well and live up to the trust he had in me.”
Then his eyes snapped back to the present and he looked at Kat. One corner of his mouth twisted in a wry smile. “My apologies. We shouldn’t be dwelling on the past. This is supposed to be a feast.” He beckoned to a servant. “Have some more wine.”
“I—” Kat stopped when brain caught up with what Ralph had just said.
“Your father. Do you mean he went on crusade with King Richard?”
“Yes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were one of those maids who thought the flowers bloomed wherever King Richard stepped?”
“In a way, I suppose, although not quite how you mean.” Finding the coin with the head of Richard the Lionheart stamped upon it had spurred Kat to find all she could about the legendary king. From there her love of history had blossomed. “Did you ever meet him?” It made her dizzy to think that the man next to her had been a contemporary of her first historical crush.
“No. He was hardly ever in England, and my father never took me with him when he went to France.”
“What about King John?”
Ralph thumped his cup down, sloshing crimson wine upon the tablecloth. “Oh yes. I’ve met him.”
The bitterness and frustration in his voice were clear. He opened his mouth to say more, but Eleanor leaned across and placed a hand on his arm.
“Let’s not spoil the feast, dear.”
Ralph clenched his jaw, then after a long pause he took a drink from his cup. He replaced it with great care and nodded. “Forgive me.”
Eleanor smiled. “Now tell me about the gray stallion you were thinking of buying.”
Not being interested in Ralph’s opinion of horses, Kat let her attention drift. But every now and again, she glanced at Ralph, wondering what had caused his mood to darken.
****
The lively notes of the fiddle and the succulence of the roast boar soon lightened Ralph’s spirits. And, if he was honest, Katherine’s presence also helped. Despite her sharp tongue, when she was near, the candles glowed brighter, the fire warmed deeper, and food tasted sweeter. Or maybe because of it. No other woman would dare to speak to him in that manner. It was a refreshing change. Christmastide looked set to be much happier than he could ever have imagined, despite Lord Hywel’s absence and the King’s incessant demands for money.
After Twelfth Night he would devote his energies to achieving the marriage. In the meantime, he would enjoy Christmas. And Lady Katherine.
Seeing that she wasn’t eating, he cut a piece of roasted boar and placed it on her trencher.
“Forgive me for my display of temper,” he said, offering her a lopsided smile that had always left the recipient blushing. Annoyingly, she remained unflustered. “I received a message containing bad news earlier, but I shouldn’t have taken my ill mood out on you.” Fool. There’d been no need to go into detail. A simple apology was all that was required. He could almost see his father’s frown. Never explain yourself. Only weak men offer excuses.
“I’ll forgive you if you’ll forgive my…shrewish tongue? Was that how you described it?” Katherine’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous light, and he found his lips curling in an answering smile.
“Agreed. Truce?”
“On one condition. No more questions. They bring out the worst in both of us.”
“Done.” He raised his cup in a toast. “No questions. However, that does mean I’ll be forced to give you commands.”
Her eyes opened a fraction wider. “What do you mean?”
He leaned back in his chair, enjoying the moment. “I’ll give you an example. Later, when the dancing starts, I was going to ask if you’d like to join in. But as questions are forbidden, I must order you to dance instead.”
The corner of her mo
uth twitched. “What makes you think I’d obey?”
“Because I’d like to see you dance. And I always get what I want.”
Even as he said the words, he knew he wanted far more than to see her dance. She was a beautiful woman. Desirable. If he hadn’t been about to negotiate for Lord Hywel’s daughter, he would have been tempted to bed her.
Judging from her blush, she had read his thoughts. “It’s time you learned you can’t always get your own way.” And he knew she didn’t mean the dancing.
A pity. The more he looked at her, the more facets he found to her beauty. The soft candlelight cast a golden glow upon her pale skin, emphasizing the delicate cast of her features. Ralph imagined tracing the lines of her cheekbones and lips with his fingers, chasing the caress with his mouth. He leaned closer, as though he were the needle to her lodestone.
Heaven help him, if he didn’t do something quickly, he was going to kiss her in front of the entire hall. He had to find a distraction before he created a scandal that would destroy any hope of an alliance with Lord Hywel.
Katherine’s right hand drifted up to her throat once again. It gave him an idea.
“Excuse me a moment.” He walked down the hall until he found his armorer at one of the lower tables.
“Your health, my lord.” The armorer rose and bowed his head.
Ralph drew some coins from the leather pouch at his belt. “I have a job for you, once the feasting is done.” He explained what he wanted.
The man grinned. “If only all the work you gave me was as easy.”
“How long will it take?”
“Not long.” The man took the coins and jingled them in his hand. “I’ll do it now, before the wine leaves me too incapable to handle my tools.”
A few places along the bench, another man raised his cup. “And your wife wouldn’t like that!” He stood up, swaying. “To Arnulf! May he never lose control of his tool.”
The Gift of Time Page 4