He ignored her slight gesture of negation. “Mark my words. When the time is ripe, I will return for you, Katherine. This I vow.”
She found her tongue. “No.” She struggled against him. “You arrogant jackanapes!” But a secret part of herself was thrilled—to be wanted so fiercely by this man.
He made a deep, raw sound and swept her up against his hard, aroused body. Instantly Katherine went still, agonizingly aware of his massive manhood.
“Better,” he said, eyeing her trembling lips. “Much, much better.” He touched her cheekbone, pushed back strands of stray hair. Then he bent and, very leisurely, he plied her lips with his.
It could be their last kiss, no matter what he claimed, and Katherine could not forget that. Dear God, she could not resist him now! Liam pushed her against the wall and soon she found herself riding his powerful thigh the way the wanton in her breast yearned to ride him. Katherine dug her nails into his nape as he pushed her square neckline down, uncovering her bare breasts. His hands molded her. Katherine tore her mouth from his, head thrown back, neck arched, moaning with pleasure. Liam cupped her and bent and licked each taut nipple, all the while rocking his thigh against her sex. Every motion brought his pulsing phallus into contact with her throbbing loins. Katherine buried her face against his neck, whimpering. As swiftly as a striking snake, Liam slipped his hand beneath her skirt. He touched her wet, swollen lips through her crotchless linen drawers. Katherine convulsed, moaning. Liam continued to stroke her until she sagged against him, begging, “Don’t! No more!”
He held her.
She clung to him, her sanity returning, afraid to lift her head and meet his mocking eyes.
“Kate,” he said harshly. “Sweet, priceless Kate.” He pushed her back against the wall and tilted up her chin. Katherine had no choice but to meet his smoking gaze. “You are mine. Mine. Remember that when the nights are long and lonely—or when Leicester and his kind come panting after you.” He turned and strode to the door, then paused. “I am coming back. And when I do, I am coming for you.”
Shortly after Liam had left, a servant brought Katherine a large, linen-wrapped bundle. Katherine had just dressed. She was still weak from the passionate encounter with Liam, and feeling somewhat bereft. She told herself that it was nonsense. That she was glad he was gone.
Now she stared at the manservant, who held the large parcel in his hands. “What is this?”
“A gift from Liam O’Neill,” the servant said.
Katherine’s pulse raced. She told herself she must send the man and the gift away, but instead she said, “You may put it on the bed.”
When the servant had left, Katherine closed and bolted the door. Then she rushed to her bed, tearing open the inexpensive, colorless wrapping. She pulled out a brilliant turquoise gown, embroidered in silver thread. She discovered two more gowns, just as beautiful. Of course he had included ruffs, coifs, underskirts, and undergarments. Katherine laid the clothing carefully aside.
“Damn you, Liam,” she whispered hoarsely. She blinked back a tear, then hugged the turquoise gown to her breast. She buried her face in the soft silk. His parting words echoed in her mind.You are mine. Mine. Mine…
She inhaled, still clutching the gown, until she realized that she would wrinkle it. Promptly she stood and laid it flat. What did he mean by this act?
Was it charity, generosity, or both? Or did he seek to entice her toward him, knowing as he did how she secretly yearned for such finery? Or did he merely think to prove his point: that she was his; therefore, he would clothe heras other men did their wives? Did he still think to make her his wife?
If so, he thought erroneously. Katherine looked longingly at the pile of clothes, knowing she could not wear them.
Not because people would speculate about how she had come to be dressed in such a noble and expensive fashion, but because she sensed her weakness, sensed she could be seduced by him—even from afar.
Katherine looked down at the gown she was wearing, which Helen had procured for her. Her dismay tripled. It was a plain brown velvet. Once it had probably been quite pretty, but it had been well worn. The cuffs of the sleeves were faded and tearing, and the scalloped hem of the skirt was frayed. Katherine sighed, then quickly, before she might stop herself, she jerked a beautiful ruff from the pile of gowns on the bed. Her hands shaking, she fixed it to her gown, watching herself in the small looking glass above the room’s single table. It improved the gown enormously. And she would not dwell on who had given it to her.
Katherine unbolted the door. “Helen?”
The maid appeared. “Mistress?”
“Please fold the garments on the bed and put them away neatly, as I will not be wearing them.” Her voice was not quite steady.
Helen nodded. Then, “Mistress, the earl of Ormond is below in the gallery. He wishes a word with you.”
Katherine froze.
“Do you wish me to tell him you are otherwise occupied?” Helen asked quite shrewdly.
Katherine’s heart beat again. “No, no,” she said. And as she went downstairs to meet with him, she told herself that it was foolish to be afraid. She was one of the queen’s ladies now and although Ormand was her father’s age-old enemy, he was also her half brother, and surely he would not hurt her, not in any way, not now.
Katherine hesitated before entering the Stone Gallery on the floor below. The weather was not inclement, andthrough the windows facing west she could see ladies and gentlemen strolling on the walks of the Privy Gardens outside. A multitude of other windows on the hall’s opposite side looked out on the River Thames, where fishermen and barges jostled for space, and on the banks, where carriages passed one another and numerous pedestrians. Many other courtiers and noblewomen ambled up and down the long hall inside, or were clustered in small groups, conversing.
Katherine saw Ormond at the same time that the earl espied her. She did not move as he detached himself from a group of gentlemen and strode to her. He appeared as he had the last time they had met, a tall, dark, and imposing man clad in dark, almost funereal clothes. He was not smiling. Katherine tried to still her racing heart yet again by reminding herself that they were related.
He took her arm. “I wish to speak with you, Katherine,” he said, moving her back the way she had come.
Katherine was stiff, but she tried to relax. “What passes, my lord?”
