The succeeding nights were no better.
He told himself he would not take her if she did not also want him. But each night he did. As he moved inside her, he would close his eyes and think of the other Catherine. The girl who threw her head back laughing and reached for the stars.
She came to him each night without his asking. She told him she prayed daily for another child. Though he knew he did not take her against her will, he felt shamed by what he did. Each encounter left him feeling emptier than before.
Though she denied him nothing, she rejected him wholly. When she left his bed, as she always did, he told himself he hoped she would not return the next night.
But in his heart, he knew if Catherine did not come to him, he would go to her. He knew better than to want something from a woman she could not give. And yet he could not stop himself from wanting more from Catherine.
Other men kept mistresses. There were plenty of women who would gladly fill that role for him. Beautiful women. Eager women.
But he wanted no woman but Catherine.
Chapter Ten
Catherine could let her guard down, knowing she would not run into William as she went about her tasks. Early this morning, he received a report of raiders crossing the border and took a group of men to flush them out.
He seemed grateful for a reason to be away.
She met with Alys as usual. She approved the housekeeper’s plan to send the household servants to do a thorough cleaning of the gatehouse while most of the men were out of the way. Next, she spoke with the cook. She wanted a hearty supper prepared for the men when they returned this evening.
At midmorning, she sent Jamie off with his nursemaid and settled herself gratefully into the quiet solitude of the solar with her embroidery. She felt confused and on edge. William’s behavior bewildered her. When he looked at her with that weary sadness, she found herself wishing for the burning looks he used to give her.
She perceived she was somehow the source of his wretchedness. But how had she failed him? She had every reason to hope he would get her with child soon. She went to his bed every night. It was not nearly as bad as she had expected. In sooth, she’d grown to like the way he kissed her face and hair… and some of the other things he did as well. Most of it was so unsettling, though, that she found it difficult to sleep afterward.
If only she had another woman to talk to! Her mother had said little about what went on between man and wife in the bedchamber beyond vague allusions to duty and perseverance. She had no sisters, no close female cousins. The only person she might have such a conversation with—though she blushed at the thought—was Abbess Talcott.
’Twas unlikely, however, that William would approve of a visit to the abbey any time soon.
She was startled from her thoughts by the crash of the solar door against the wall. Looking up, she was astonished to see Edmund Forrester filling her doorway.
“There you are!” He said it as though he’d caught her someplace she should not be. “I’ve been looking for you.”
She could smell the strong wine on him from across the room.
“The servants know where I am,” she said with a calmness she did not feel. “Any one of them could have brought a message to me.”
He did not respond to her subtle reprimand for entering the family’s private living quarters without invitation. Instead, he stared at her in a way that made her glad for the heavy table between them.
“What is it that you need, sir?”
With the household servants all working at the gatehouse, no one would hear her if she screamed. She chided herself for letting her imagination get away with her. She’d never felt easy with Edmund, but she had no reason to fear him.
She set down the embroidery frame she was clutching to her chest and posed her question again. “What is it that I may do for you?”
He turned and shut the door. She jumped at the sound of the bolt sliding home. Before she could gather her wits to look for something to use as a weapon, he pulled up a stool and sat across the table from her.
“There are any number of things you could do for me,” he said with a broad smile. “But as you are my best friend’s wife, I will not suggest them.”
She fought the urge to wipe her damp palms on her skirts. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how frightened she was.
“I presume I have permission to use your given name?” he asked with false politeness.
She glared at him. “You do not.”
“Catherine.” He drilled his fingers on the table, quite aware, she was sure, of the effect on her taut nerves. “You made a fool of William, claiming you could have an annulment a full week after your wedding night.”
“How dare you speak to me of this?” she said, gripping the sides of her chair. “Leave my rooms at once.”
