Katherine’s skin began to prickle with unease—and fear. “They will not turn me away. Surely they can feed me, and we have other castles, other homes.”
“Castlemaine, Shanid, Newcastle, and Castleisland, to mention but a few of your father’s holdings, have all been abandoned. In fact, Castlemaine houses the queen’s troops.” Katherine gasped in horror. “Your kin still holds Dingle, as far as I know, but ’tis a small tower, and much overcrowded now,” Hugh said, watching her. “They will not have a place for you there.”
“I do not believe you!”
“I would not lie to you, Katie,” Hugh said, not unkindly.
Katherine worried the folds of her gown. Somehow she had never dreamed all would be lost—all except for Dingle and perhaps a few very small, very old keeps.
“They can not keep you,” Hugh said. “Do you wish to be married off to a sheep farmer? To a kern?”
She stared at him, shook her head no.
“You can stay here,” Hugh said.
Katherine met his bold gaze and wanted to weep. What offer was this?
“Why do you look so surprised? Do you think I would abandon you just because of my troth to another?”
“You offer me a home?” she asked, confused.
He smiled. “’Aye, I do. A home, with a strong roof over your head, food upon the table, and a good, warm bed.”
Katherine stared at him and saw the heat in his eyes. It was becoming difficult to breathe. “Are you saying that I will have my own bed—or your bed?”
He laughed at that. “You always were clever, Katie. My bed. You would share my bed. I could not keep my hands off of you if you lived here under my roof, darling. You are beautiful. I want you. You are the stuff a man dreams of. How sorry I am that your father was dispossessed.”
Katherine clenched her fists. “What a fine friend you are, Hugh.”
“Why are you angry? You are no child, not anymore. It was O’Neill was it not, who tore your dress?”
She paled.
“I knew it! And you were a virgin, weren’t you—after having been in the nunnery?” He was red with anger now.
She found her tongue. “I am still a maid, Hugh.”
His eyes widened. “Then I am very pleased—and O’Neill is a fool. So, Katie? What do you say? Will you stay with me?”
She fought for words. “I cannot believe what you speak,” she said bitterly. “I cannot believe what my own ears have heard.”
“’Tis no insult,” he said quickly, “I am hardly the first man to take a mistress, and we are friends, longtime friends, and you will not be unhappy.”
She was close to weeping. But she would not cry—not over him. “Once I loved you,” she said, “but no more.” She dashed past him and rushed down the stairs.
Perhaps she hated him now. She could not recall being this hurt, not ever. The steps were narrow and so smooth from centuries of use that she stumbled and slipped. But Liam was pacing at their foot and he caught her there.
For a moment Katherine embraced him, reflexively, regaining her balance. She looked into his gray eyes and saw not his anger, nor his worry, but only recalled that here was another male who wished to use her for his bedsport—for his pleasure. Furiously she pushed at him. He released her.
“What did he want?” he demanded.
Katherine spit, “What all you men want, of course!” Her eyes flashed, even filled with tears. “He wanted me to stay here at Barrymore and warm his bed,” she said bitterly. “I am not good enough to be his wife, but I would make a fine whore!” She darted past him, but only managed a single step, for Liam’s arm shot out and he caught her, whirling her violently around.
“And what did you say?” Liam asked, his face close to hers, his eyes brilliant with fire.
She twisted against him. “I should have told him to go to hell! Now I tell you, O’Neill—go to hell and leave me alone. Both of you—leave me alone!” She broke free of him and ran across the hall and outside into the raw, blustery night.
There, against the castle wall, cloakless and cold, she wept. Soon her tears were shed. But the cold remained, wrapping icy tentacles around her empty heart.
