Katherine was happy. This was what every woman dreamed of—marriage and security, a fine, noble man and an ancient home. Not pirates who stole into dark chambersin the middle of the night with wicked, amoral intent—not pirates who swooped down on innocent traders, plundering and committing mayhem, seizing innocent women. Not in the interest of assuaging their lustful natures, giving scarcely a thought to their hapless victims.
Katherine knew that she was very lucky—the luckiest lady alive, no doubt.
She had not seen her father, either, not since the betrothal had been made and announced. She had ignored Gerald’s summons, which had come almost immediately after she had accepted John’s proposal. She also had ignored her own conscience, refusing to think of how she disobeyed her father. But when it became too strong, too insistent, and too intrusive, she decided that being an English gentleman’s wife might very well aid her and Gerald. For in time she would discuss her father’s predicament with her new husband, and in time, he would begin to address the issue with the queen. Katherine knew that Elizabeth was very fond of John Hawke—he was one of her favorites after Leicester and Ormond. Surely the queen would listen to Sir John when the day came that he pleaded for her father’s return to Ireland.
They left for Cornwall immediately. Katherine advocated their hasty departure, feeling some urgency, eager to escape London. Both to thwart Gerald and Eleanor, either one of whom might dare to chase her down at court, and to thwart Liam—who was so bold that he might very well attempt another midnight rendezvous—this time with catastrophic consequences.
Meanwhile, night after night, she lay awake, impossibly restless, thinking not of her betrothed, but of the damned pirate.
John’s father, Sir Henry Hawke, was a somewhat portly, handsome man, who greeted them before they had even dismounted. Katherine knew from his grim expression that he was not pleased with the alliance. She could guess all the reasons he was against her. She was Irish. Her father was the queen’s prisoner, and in disgrace. And although she kept her faith secretly, as all true believers were required to do, everyone guessed that she was Catholic.
She and John had discussed the matter of the religious upbringing of their children, to no avail. He was staunchly Protestant, could not abide popery. Katherine could not imagine worshiping without the vestments, or by reading in English from the Book of Common Prayer. They dropped the topic before they began to argue, agreeing to discuss it another time.
Although Sir Henry Hawke was not pleased with her, having undoubtedly hoped that his handsome son would snare a titled heiress, he was not rude or unkind, and eventually he began to thaw. On their second day at Hawkehurst, Katherine made a startling discovery. She and Hawke were astride two Cornish ponies, out upon the moors, enjoying a mild and sunny March day. He began to tell her about the guests who would attend a fête given by his father in their honor, one where she would meet the local lords and ladies. Katherine was stunned to learn that Hawke’s closest neighbor was Lord Hixley of Thurlstone Manor. Juliet, as it turned out, was her neighbor!
“John, my dear friend from the convent where I spent the last few years is Juliet Stratheclyde, Thurlstone’s heiress and Lord Hixley’s ward.”
Hawke regarded her. “Stratheclyde died some years back, and I seem to recall there being a daughter, although I did not know she had been sent to a convent.”
Katherine spurred her pony to his. “John! Let us go visit Thurlstone. Oh, please!”
John smiled at her. “You are very beautiful, Katherine, when your eyes shine like that. Come, let us go calling.”
They waited in the great hall, admiring the rich tapestries, the silver plate, and the cushioned chairs. Juliet was out riding, Lord Hixley inspecting his mines. But the steward was eager to send a stableboy after her. John and Katherine chatted while they waited.
And then Katherine heard soft, running footsteps. She turned, smiling, as Juliet burst into the hall. She had never looked more lovely, her dark, waist-length hair unbound, her cheeks flushed from the outdoors, her eyes glowing.She wore a damask emerald gown that accentuated her striking coloring. “Katherine! Oh, Katherine!”
The two girls hugged and rocked each other in their arms. Finally, laughing, they pulled apart. “You were a raving beauty before, but this wild clime suits you, Juliet, you are even more lovely!”
“Katherine, you are too sweet! And you are no hag, let me assure you of that. What are you doing here?” Juliet’s gaze moved past Katherine and settled upon Hawke. Her smile faded. She stared at him, her cheeks slowly turning pink.
Katherine smiled to herself when she realized that Juliet could not take her eyes off of her handsome fiancé. She turned to introduce John. As she spoke her smile wavered. Hawke stared at Juliet with the same startled intensity with which Juliet stared at him. Katherine had finished speaking, and a sudden silence filled the room—one filled with unmistakable tension.
Hawke came to life. His expression stiffly formal, he finally bowed. “Lady Stratheclyde,” he murmured. “How pleased I am to make your acquaintance.” His glance, which had been locked with Juliet’s, now slipped from her eyes down to her toes, briefly but discernibly—in an unmistakably male manner.
Katherine no longer smiled.
Juliet did not seem to know what to say. Nervously, she glanced once at Katherine, then her eyes returned to John. “Sir John, let me…let me congratulate you…you and Katherine…on your wonderful good fortune.”
Hawke’s jaw had become incredibly tight. He nodded, and then turned to gaze out of one of the room’s beautiful, multipaned windows. Katherine was dismayed. Surely she was mistaken. Surely the air did not crack and sizzle between them—surely not!
As if to make up for her recent lapse, Juliet forced a smile and began to chatter away, her tone too bright. “Katherine, I am so happy for you,” she said breathlessly. “How happy you must be! When and where will the nuptials take place? How long will you remain atHawkehurst?” Her smile flashed. “When will you return?”
Katherine kept one eye on John, who had turned his back on them now and was studying a tapestry of William the Conqueror at Hastings. She sensed that he was listening to their every word. “We shall wed on the fifteenth of April in London. And we remain at Hawkehurst but another two nights.”
Juliet’s face fell. “Then I will not see you again, will I?” she said, sounding like her old self.
“Are you not coming to the fête being given in my and John’s honor?” Katherine asked.
“I don’t think so,” Juliet said.
“Weren’t you invited?” Katherine asked.
Juliet hesitated. “I was, of course, but…my uncle prefers that I do not attend.”
“But why?”
Juliet did not answer. “Katherine, I was truly hoping that we might pass some time together before you left. I wish you were staying longer.”
