A sudden burst of light and a strange whooshing sound filled the chamber, followed by a sickening thud and groan. Catherine sprang to her feet, whirling around as she gripped the hilt of her sword.
Her horrified gaze met Eduard’s icy stare, lit in the blaze of torches held aloft by the half dozen men who loomed behind him. Eduard stood over Alban, holding a blade to his throat to keep him pressed to his knees; a dirk protruded from Alban’s thigh, soaking his breeches crimson with blood.
“Ah, Catherine, my sweet. Sneaking about dressed as a man,” Eduard drawled, his smile cold. “Suitable raiment for a woman like you, I suppose. But assuming that you know how to use that sword you’re wearing, I’d think long and hard before deciding to draw it on me.”
Chapter 18
“Eduard.” Catherine tried to swallow her terror. “How did you find me?”
“I told you what to expect from my spies, sweeting. ’Twas stupid of you to have ignored me.”
“Where is Gray? What have you done with him?” she couldn’t help asking, even knowing in her heart that something must have gone terribly wrong with their plan.
“Oh, I haven’t done anything to him. Not yet,” Eduard answered with a malicious smile. “I expect he’ll be coming along in a few hours, which is why time is short. There’s much you and I need to…settle, shall we say, before your loving husband enters my trap and finds his just reward. Now drop your sword like a good little warrior so we can get on with it.”
“You bastard,” Alban growled. “If you touch her, you’ll pay.”
Eduard answered his threat with a brutal cuff to the head, jamming the knife harder against Alban’s throat as he commanded him to silence.
Catherine shifted her stance, trying to keep her children behind her as she strained to come up with a plan of action. Her heart thudded painfully, her breath coming shallow as her gaze darted to the open door that led to the twins’ chamber.
Eduard saw her glance and his smile deepened. “If ’tis Camville’s two other lackeys you seek, don’t bother. They’re already taken care of, as Warton here will be as well, unless you do exactly as I say.” Alban grunted and flinched as Eduard dragged his blade along the exposed skin of his neck, making a thin line of blood well and trickle down to his shirt.
Catherine bit her lips to keep from calling out for Eduard to stop, knowing that was what he wanted from her in this perverse game of power he loved to play. Four more of Eduard’s knights filed into the room behind him, fully outfitted in armor like the rest; one of them held a bloodied sword, and Catherine cringed to think whose life’s flow stained the blade.
She looked quickly behind her to murmur soothing words to Ian and Isabel; they’d begun to cry, clutching the back of her tunic as they hid from their uncle’s gaze.
“Aye, hush now, little lambs,” Eduard said softly, never taking his cold stare from Catherine’s face. “Mummy has an important choice to make. ’Twill ensure whether this nice man lives or dies in the next few moments.” To punctuate his comment, he rammed his knee into Alban’s wounded thigh, and Alban roared with agony.
“Don’t do what he wants, Catherine,” Alban gasped, his face ashen as he looked up at her. “Don’t give up your weapon.”
Without another sound, Eduard pulled back his arm and smashed Alban in the temple with the heavy hilt of his sword, and Alban crumpled to the floor. Kicking him aside, Eduard stepped closer to Catherine.
“I’ll deal with Warton later. But you should keep in mind that he isn’t the only one who will suffer my wrath if you don’t begin to cooperate, Catherine,very soon.” He flicked his gaze with unmistakable meaning to the twins.
Nausea shot through her, and she swallowed hard against it, forcing herself to concentrate. She licked her lips. “What do you want me to do?”
“Do?” Eduard cocked his brow and grinned his evil, mocking smile again. “Oh, there’s much that you will do, Catherine. Much you must atone for, I’m afraid. You’ve put me through quite an ordeal, with your little escapade.”
She felt herself blanch. Old fears and agonizing memories of Eduard’s favorite methods of punishment sprang to mind, but she tried to stand firm as she faced him. “If I agree to your terms, you must promise not to hurt the children. Swear that you’ll leave them alone.”
“You’re in no position to bargain, woman. Concede now or suffer the consequences, both for yourself and for my darling niece and nephew.”
She gazed at him helplessly, at his men clustered in the doorway. Beyond them she saw more knights carrying in the limp forms of Sir Payton and Sir Newell. Finally her gaze fell on Alban’s prostrate body, and defeat gouged her with claws of steel. Hands trembling, she unclasped her sword belt, letting it fall heavily to the floor.
In an instant, Eduard’s men surged forward, responding to his command to take the twins and lock them in the solar for safekeeping. Catherine bit her lips to keep from screaming as her children were picked up and carried from the room, shrieking her name and reaching out to her over the shoulders of the knights who held them. When they’d gone, the last of Eduard’s men lifted Alban, still senseless, and dragged him from the chamber between them like a butchered animal.
The door closed to resounding silence, leaving her alone with Eduard. Slowly she raised her face to him, meeting his icy stare. He wore a look that she knew too well. The look that told her far more powerfully than words ever could how much she was going to suffer—how much he was going to enjoy making her hurt for her transgressions against him.
Tearing her gaze from his, she searched the room wildly for something, anything that she might use as a weapon. Anything to keep him at bay. But there was nothing. Her chamber was empty, as always. As he’d ensured it would be.
Her entire body began to quake with treacherous weakness, with tingling dread as he stepped closer. And closer…until he stood near enough that his breath misted warm on her temple.
His smile was dark as he reached up and stroked his finger across the delicate, fragile line of her cheekbone. He touched her gently. Softly. Profanely.
A moan of fear escaped her and her knees threatened to buckle when he leaned a little closer to murmur, “’Tis a fine contrast of sensation is it not, sweet Catherine? To experience such tenderness before such pain…”
He paused for a moment. Then, with a sudden, savage growl, he raised his arm and backhanded her, sending an explosion of agony rocking deep into her skull. When his fist sank into her belly, she dropped retching and gasping to the floor.
