Just then a cloud shifted from in front of the sun, and the full force of light made Catherine squint. “’Twill be brighter today than yesterday, it seems,” she murmured, almost to herself.
“Aye,” Alban answered as he escorted her onward toward the hall. “Gray will be pleased that no rain will mar his tournament—less mud usually means fewer injuries.”
Catherine frowned. “Does he expect many men to be wounded?”
“’Tis not uncommon.” Alban shrugged. “Inméléesbruises and broken bones are to be expected. ’Tis much the same as regular battle, which is why the king doesn’t always view it with favor.”
“Is my husband not concerned, then, of incurring the king’s wrath with hismélée?”
“King Henry indulges Gray more often than not. War is a dangerous enterprise, and tournaments serve as our best and only preparation for real battle.”
Catherine was ready to ask another question, but before she could say anything, a hand gripped her arm, clamping down hard on the worst of her bruises there.
She stifled a gasp as Eduard’s voice hissed in her ear, “Sweet sister, I’ve had to run a merry chase to catch up with you.” Then louder, for Alban’s benefit, he added, “You left the chapel too quickly for me to bid you good morn.”
Standing still where he’d been near the door, Alban glanced warily back and forth between them. Catherine struggled to look unconcerned at Eduard’s interruption. “How silly of me not to have waited,” she murmured, “but I was so interested in hearing Sir Alban tell of the tournament today that I paid no attention.”
“Ah, yes, themélée. It should provide us with some lively sport, eh, Warton?”
“Indeed.”
Eduard smiled, though the look was more predatory than friendly. “I’m hoping to take ransom from Camville on the field today. ’Twould be a fine jest to trounce him so soon after his wedding to my dear sister.” Grinning now, Eduard pulled Catherine against him as if giving her an affectionate hug.
A muscle twitched in Alban’s jaw. “I wouldn’t wager my spurs on besting Gray. ’Twould be unwise to attempt it.” Then, as if dismissing Eduard, he directed his gaze to Catherine. “You’ll be coming in soon, then?”
“Aye, we’ll be in directly,” Eduard answered for her. “I plan to eat hearty in preparation for battle.”
Alban gave them a curt nod and stepped into the hall. As soon as he disappeared, Eduard renewed his punishing hold on her and walked her across the yard. In a few moments they’d rounded a corner of the main building, secluding them in the shadows between the castle wall and the stables. Gripping her shoulders, Eduard shoved her hard against the stonework, forcing a cry from her.
“Be silent, woman,” he snapped, “lest I assist you in the endeavor with my fist.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Catherine ground out, straightening to level a hate-filled glare at him. “You no longer have the right now that I am another man’s wife.”
Anger flared hot in Eduard’s eyes, and for a moment, she thought he would follow through with his threat anyway. But he released her. “Aye, your correction is Camville’s pleasure now.” Stepping away, he growled, “Still you must needs answer me. What happened last night with him? What went awry?”
“Nothing was amiss.”
“Nay? Then why did your husband ride out so early this morn? He saddled his mount and set off as if the devil himself chased at his heels.” Eduard leaned in, digging his finger under her chin. “The mongrel learned you’d been used before, didn’t he, Catherine?”
She jerked her head from his touch. “He discovered nothing. The sheet was bloodied, and all was as it should be.”
“Then why the hell-bent ride at dawn?”
“Perhaps ’tis his habit to ride early.”
“The morn after his marriage?” Eduard scoffed. “’Tis more like you failed to keep him interested enough to remain abed with you.”
Catherine kept silent, unable to refute Eduard’s jibe and unwilling to add to his animosity by trying. Pushing herself away from the wall, she clenched her fingers and faced him. “Whether that be true or not, I do not know. But ’tis likely that you and I will be missed at table if we tarry longer. I’m going back to the hall.”
Eduard looked surprised for an instant. Then he smiled. “Ah, the titmouse has a bit of hawk in her. Marriage to Camville has added some backbone to you, foolhardy though it may be.” Gripping her tightly by the back of the neck, he hauled her close enough so that his mouth brushed against her ear. “Just be wary, sweet Catherine. I know two very precious ways to keep you groveling, and I’ll take great pleasure in using both of them against you if you force me to it.”
Yanking herself from his grip, Catherine pressed her lips together and pushed past him. She headed for the hall, but Eduard fell into step right next to her, mocking her with a whistling tune that sounded profane coming from his lips.
As they neared the building, he slipped a brotherly hand under her elbow, and though she wished to pull away, she knew such an obvious movement would be noticed by the many eyes that now witnessed their approach. Yet she couldn’t stop herself from muttering a curse against him under her breath, ordering him to release her.
Her oath had an effect opposite to what she’d hoped. Eduard let go of her elbow only to reach out and encompass her waist, pulling her tightly and painfully close to him as they walked.
And though she forced herself to endure his embrace without outward reaction, it was all she could do to shut her mind against the sound of his laughter, ringing soft and malicious in her ear.
