“That is what I have been trying to tell you, Captain,” Catherine said, pulling herself up to her full height and staring in turn at each of the soldiers before finally settling her gaze on their leader again.
“I did.”
Chapter 20
London
The Royal Palace of Westminster
Gray stood surrounded by guards in the great chamber of King Henry’s Court, forcing himself to remain still as he waited for Catherine to be brought in. The hours had been endless, every minute torture since he’d last seen her on the day of his arrest nearly two weeks ago.
Disbelieving as they were, the soldiers had finally placed her into custody along with him for Eduard’s murder; they’d had no choice after she’d stood like an avenging warrior queen over Montford’s body and made her bold statement to the captain. And so they’d brought her to London too, to let the royal inquiry sort out the mess of their sworn confessions.
Since then, Gray had been consumed with worry over her, driven by a fierce desire to see her and know that she was all right. But his inquisitors hadn’t allowed it. Instead, he’d faced their questions. Days of endless interrogation, sometimes for many hours, without food, drink or sleep. It could have been worse, he knew; they could have used some of their more infamous means of torture on him in their quest for the truth. He was grateful that they hadn’t and prayed that it meant Catherine had been spared as well.
Through it all, he’d done his best to convince them of his guilt, of his action alone in the murder of his hated rival. ’Twas the only possible conclusion, he’d told them, and they’d listened carefully to his explanations, sometimes scribbling notes, other times just observing him. Day after day, he’d stayed true to his story, relentless in his will to convince them.
Today he would learn if he’d succeeded.
At last the door at the back of the massive chamber creaked open. All of the more than three score guards, knights, nobles and ladies filling the room craned their necks to see the second prisoner brought forth.
Catherine walked steadily between her guards, head held high. Gray felt a stab of relief; she looked unharmed. Even the bruises from Eduard’s abuse had mostly faded. Her steps only faltered once, and that was at the moment she met his gaze. In that instant, her emotions shone on her face; intense longing and a love for him so powerful that it seemed almost otherworldly spilled from her, lighting her with that angelic radiance that took his breath away.
Vaguely, Gray heard the murmurs of the people in court who saw it as well. But his entire focus stayed on Catherine. All he wanted was to touch her, to hold her, to love her, and it took every ounce of his strength not to leap over the benches and people separating them to carry her from this place and never let go.
Before he could act on his impulse, he saw her breathe deep and direct her gaze firmly ahead. Then she took her place in court, standing with her guards only twenty paces away from him.
Following the line of her vision, Gray started. King Henry had entered the chamber previously; now he sat motionless on his dais, his stare hard and penetrating as he looked at them both. But the row of royal councilors sitting at long tables to either side of him leaned into each other, whispering behind their hands as they glared at Catherine.
Only at Catherine.
The hair prickled on the back of Gray’s scalp. Their expressions were filled with hatred, their mumbled comments malicious.
“Man-killer,”he heard one of them mutter.
“Liar,”murmured another, shaking his head.
A third scowled and formed a soundless, damning curse into the ear of the man next to him.“Witch.”
Sweet God in heaven…
Bile rose in Gray’s throat as he gazed from the councilors to the woman he loved and then back again. He felt their malice rippling toward her in an evil, oppressive tide.
Nay…
Oh, God, he’d failed to convince them. He’d failedher. They’d already tried and convicted her in their minds; he could hear their verdict as plainly as if it had been proclaimed aloud in the chamber.
Because she is a woman, a shadowy voice hissed from deep in his brain. Aye, he wanted to shout. A beautiful, strong, courageous woman who had fought back and killed the wretch who was abusing her.
But Catherine’s words to him on that day he’d first suggested training her to fight returned in the shadow voice to haunt him now and forced him to silence.
“Under English law a woman cannot take arms against a man.”
“In the act of protecting oneself, ’tis allowed,”he’d replied blithely.
“And yet many women have been punished for daring to do just that, especially to men bearing title…”
Oh God…
