“I have never been infatuated with anyone.”
“Never?”
She shook her head and moved away from the window. “Never,” she said. “I went to foster very young. Right after my mother died, in fact. I was barely Adabella’s age when my father sent me off to Thetford Castle in East Anglia. I was there until he summoned me home to marry Alfred. Believe me, there was no one at Thetford to become infatuated with. They were either too old or too young or too wild.”
Essien leaned against the wall by the window, folding his big arms across his chest. “Thetford is de Winter’s holding.”
“It is.”
“No nice, shiny de Winter knights?”
“None worthy of my time.”
He laughed softly. “How cruel,” he said. “But tell me about your mother. Where was she born?”
Catalina made it over to the bed, looking at the garments that Brielle and Christin and Dustin had loaned her, all spread out over the mattress. “She was from Catalonia,” she said. “I was born on the feast day of St. Catalina of Alexandria, so she named me after the saint. Her family name was Antequera, a cadet branch of the House of Trastamara. My great-uncle ruled Catalonia, in fact.”
“So you have royal blood,” Essien said.
She nodded. “Aye,” she said. “Very minor, however. Trastamara is the ruling house of Aragon, and my family is simply an offshoot. My mother had several older brothers andsisters, but she married my father because of the Earldom of Mercia.”
“What do you remember of her?”
Catalina shrugged. “She died when I was very young,” she said. “In truth, I do not know what killed her. My father would never speak of it and the servants would only tell me that she fell ill with a fever. But I remember her voice. I remember that she had hair like mine, dark and wavy. I remember the feelings of love from her. I think that’s why I hug my girls so much. I want them to feel that love, to remember it. I was so young when I lost that security, like you were.”
Essien nodded. “I was even younger than you,” he said. “Until Hereford found my brother and me in the Levant, my life was a horrendous existence.”
She sat back down in the dressing chair, listening with interest. “Do you remember much of it?”
“I remember enough,” he said. “It is not something I really speak of because to speak of it makes me live it again, and I do not wish to do that. I will tell you someday, but not tonight. Tonight is for us, not the horrors of the past. I only want good memories of this night.”
She smiled faintly. “I would like that,” she said. But her smile soon faded. “This has all come about so quickly that I’ve not had time to be anxious or nervous.”
“Why would you be?”
She shrugged, turning back for the mirror and picking up her tortoiseshell comb. “A wedding night is always a nervous time for a bride,” she said. “The fear of the unknown, I suppose. The first time, it was because I did not know what to expect, but this time… the same can be said. You and I hardly know each other, Essien. We’ve not even kissed one another on the mouth. Not even at our wedding mass. And now we are expectedto consummate this union. Strangers consummating a sudden marriage.”
He came away from the wall, taking her concerns very seriously. “If you do not feel comfortable doing this tonight, we do not have to,” he said. “I would never expect you to do anything you are uncomfortable with, Catalina.”
He lay down on the bed, on his side, with his head propped up on his hand and a bent elbow. They were nearly eye level as she combed her hair pensively. Truthfully, all she could feel from him was sincerity. He wasn’t speaking the words because he thought that was what she wanted to hear.
He meant them.
She hoped he would always mean them.
“Are you always like this, Essien?” she said softly. “So considerate? Or are you only considerate now because this situation is so new? Will you forget in the months and years to come?”
He watched her as she combed her hair, studying her fine profile, her beautiful eyes. “Your father today,” he said. “Has he always treated you like that?”
“Always. Why?”
He nodded his head in understanding. “Now your question makes sense,” he said. “Will I always be considerate to you? I hope so. I will always try. I will never show you such disrespect as your father does. I am simply not like that.”
She looked at him, then. “Alfred was not terribly considerate, either,” she said. “You must understand that my experiences with men are my father and my dead husband. If I seem suspicious of your kindness, I hope you will forgive me and be patient. A kind man is very new to me.”
“Would you rather I be a tyrant?”
She laughed softly. “Definitely not,” she said. “I would rather you be simply Essien, the man who is now my husband.”
