The fly suddenly sprouted arms and began to clutch her shoulder.
“Milady, you must awaken!”
Catherine sat up, heart pounding, to face Mariah, who bent over the bed, obviously distraught from her attempts to rouse her mistress. “What is it?” she mumbled, wiping her eyes and looking around her as she blinked away sleep.
She was in her chamber. The early morning sun glinted through the scores of tiny, glazed panes, lighting triangular patches of gold all over the walls and floor. But the room was empty, save herself and Mariah. Gray must have carried her up to bed, then, and gone to find Alban and set their plan into motion; if all went well, they would depart before noon to rescue Ian and Isabel. Then she would hold them close and smother their little faces with kisses as she explained away the nightmare of these past three months.
Happy anticipation swept over her in a torrent, making her bound out of bed in her hurry to prepare. She was so excited that she almost missed the import of what Mariah was saying to her. But as she padded to the washstand, the servant’s voice harped so persistently that it cut through her joyful daze.
“Milady, did you hear me? The reason I awakened you is that a missive has come. The messenger awaits you in the hall, and he’s refused to leave until he himself places it in your hands alone.”
“That’s strange.” Catherine frowned, pausing as she poured water into the washbowl. “Do you know who it is?”
“Nay, milady. ’Tis why I thought it meet to rouse you,” Mariah explained. “But you were sleeping as sound as if you’d not closed your eyes in weeks.”
“Not weeks, though I’d warrant ’twas most of the night,” Catherine murmured to herself, smiling as she remembered the voluptuous pleasure of making love with Gray on the furred skin in his solar. And on the table. And sitting in the chair before the fire…
“The night was peaceful, then, for you, lady?” Mariah’s silvery brow lifted, and Catherine could have sworn that she saw a softer look than usual in the maidservant’s eyes.
She smiled deeper. “I wouldn’t call it peaceful, but…”
“I had feared some trouble,” the maid continued, shaking out the coverlet, “when Lord Camville came home last night in such a fury, ordering us all inside and the gates barred.” She paused and looked at Catherine, before clearing her throat self-consciously and looking away. “In truth, milady, I was worried about you.”
Catherine stilled. Color suffused Mariah’s cheeks. If she wasn’t mistaken, the maidservant was trying to be nice. Clearing her own throat, Catherine said, “Thank you, Mariah. But there is naught to fear. All is well.”
Mariah glanced at her again, looking more unsure than Catherine had ever seen her. “’Tis glad I am to hear it, milady,” she nodded brusquely, her chin wobbling, “Because I know that I’ve a few sharp edges, and I’ve not always made it easier for you here. By my soul, I’m not ashamed to say I’ve always tried to protect Lord Camville from any I think might mean to harm him—but in these weeks, I’ve come to see that you’re not that sort. In truth, I like you right well, milady, and I wouldn’t want any hurt comin’ to ye either.”
She shook her head emphatically again; then, without waiting for a response, she walked into the garment chamber to fetch Catherine’s gown.
Catherine gaped after her in silence. ’Twas the most she’d ever heard Mariah say at one time, but she was glad to have been given the gift of it. ’Twas a boon indeed to discover that the older woman cared for her, and that her previous coldness had not stemmed from the fact that she was a spy for Eduard, but that she was simply a loyal and protective servant to Gray.
Mariah returned with the gown, helping her to dress in the now companionable silence that weighed soft between them. Soon, Catherine was ready, and she descended to the hall with Mariah in search of the messenger. They found him sitting at the great fireplace, sipping a cup of ale and breaking his fast with some bread and cold pork from the castle larder.
He sprang to his feet at Catherine’s approach, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. She’d never seen the man before; he was finely dressed, though gaunt and pale, and she couldn’t help but notice how his gaze darted around as if he expected something terrible to happen at any moment.
“Lady Camville,” he said, bowing low. When he straightened he held out a sealed parchment. “I present this missive to your hand alone, according to instruction given me by the most esteemed Lord Montford.”
Catherine’s stomach heaved, and she thought her knees might give way. With a trembling hand she took the parchment. But as she read its contents her heart pounded harder, nausea rising up to choke her. She grasped the edge of the table for support, vaguely hearing the messenger’s gasp as he leaped solicitously to her side; one of the hall servants quickly poured a goblet of wine and pressed it into her hand.
She pushed them both aside, in her haste knocking the cup to the floor. It clattered to the stones, and she watched the widening, bloody pool of wine with a kind of morbid fascination before she lurched to the doorway in frantic search of Gray.
Nay!Her mind screamed in protest to the message on the parchment. She’d wanted to destroy it, but the words scorched her brain, burning her thoughts like venom.
It was too late. Sweet heaven, but it was too late for them all.
God help her, but Eduard was on his way to Ravenslock.
Chapter 17
“This changes everything.” Gray tossed the parchment to the table, feeling a pit open in his stomach. “Damn Montford’s timing,” he added under his breath, leaning back in the willow chair Catherine had made for him and raking his hand through his hair.
“It does present problems,” Alban said, looking back from where he stood at the window of Gray’s solar. “You and Catherine can’t possibly rescue the twins and get them back here before Montford arrives. You’ll be gambling a battle out in the open if you try it and he intercepts you.”
“’Tis a chance we’ll have to take,” Gray answered. “We have to get them out of Somerset before Montford’s return. If the bastard catches us at it and wants a fight, then by God, I’ll give him one.”
“But that means the children will face the added risk of battle,” Alban argued.
“No one will face any added risk if I go to Ian and Isabel alone and leave the two of you here to keep Eduard out of my way,” Catherine broke in quietly from her position near the hearth. She’d been sitting silent since bringing Eduard’s missive to him, but Gray could tell by her expression that she was worried.
