What could be drawing them to this spot? As the men pulled their horses up below her, she leaned over the wall as far as she dared. She brushed away the hair blowing across her face. Then her eyes locked with William’s. The burn of his gaze seared through her.
Her hair! She jumped back. Without a headdress, she felt exposed, half naked. She grabbed Jamie and ran to the closest set of steps down the wall. If she hurried, she could be inside the keep before the men rode through the gates.
A quarter hour after William saw her on the wall, Catherine arrived in the hall to greet him. Her color was high, and she was breathless from running.
The eyes of every man were on her as she swept across the room toward him. William was too spellbound himself to chastise his men for staring at her. As one, he and his men tried and failed to keep from staring at the rise and fall of her chest in the close-fitting gown.
The elaborate azure headdress made her eyes look a startling blue and emphasized her long, graceful neck. Though not a lock of hair showed, the image of her above him on the wall was seared into his mind. With her long tresses blowing about her, she’d looked like a fairy queen sent to enchant them. He suspected every man with him imagined the pale gold waves falling over naked shoulders and breasts.
But he was the only man who would see her like that.
“I am glad to see you home safe, husband,” she said, dipping her head in greeting.
A slow smile spread across his face as he lifted her hand to his lips. “And I am glad to be home.”
Chapter Eleven
After sending hot water up to William’s chamber, Catherine went to the kitchen to make certain all was in order. The cook had everything well in hand, of course, but Catherine needed to keep busy.
She touched her headdress to be sure it was in place as she returned to the hall for supper. At least William did not chastise her in front of his men, as Rayburn would have. She smiled to herself, recalling the warmth in William’s eyes when he kissed her hand. Perhaps he was not too angry with her.
At supper, she listened with half an ear to the men’s talk of their fruitless search for rebels. Edmund’s harsh words plagued her. What if he was right? Was it possible William was unhappy with what took place between them in the bedchamber?
What could be wrong? She had every reason to hope he would get her with child soon. William was able to perform each time. And he wanted to do it. Over and over.
He did seem to dawdle. Perhaps that was a sign of trouble. It made it harder and harder for her to keep her mind on something else. She sighed, at a loss.
The platters were not yet cleared from the table when William stood and announced he was tired and would retire. The men exchanged glances, and one or two smothered a laugh. They stopped when she looked at them sharply, trying to discern the source of their amusement.
When her gaze met Edmund’s, he tapped his finger next to his eye as if to remind her he was watching her. Hateful, hateful man. Then he dropped his gaze to her chest and lifted his eyebrow, just to annoy her. She put her hand over her chest and glared at him.
“Catherine?” William was holding his hand out to her.
She took it, glad to leave. She’d rather be lectured about having her hair uncovered than remain in the same room with Edmund.
She had trouble keeping up with William’s pace. He was not as tired as he claimed. As soon as they reached their rooms, he shouted at the maid to leave and pulled her into his bedchamber.
Belatedly, she realized he did not bring her upstairs to lecture her about headdresses.
He barred the door, which made her feel anxious and trapped. Though he made no move to touch her, her heart was racing.
“You looked so beautiful up on the wall, with your hair flying in the wind,” he said in a wistful voice. “It was just like when—”
He stopped himself and did not finish the thought aloud. After a moment, he said, “ ’Twas nice to have a wife to greet me when I came home. It is new to me.”
His kind words and soft voice calmed her a bit. He stepped closer but still did not touch her. She had the disconcerting feeling that he was waiting for her, that he wanted her to do something.
“I want to be a good wife to you,” she stammered. “I beg your pardon. I should not have been outside with my hair down like a young girl.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. His breath was warm on her ear as he leaned down to whisper, “Take it down for me now.”
She swallowed. “Unless you want me to call my maid, you will have to help me with the pins in the back.”
He spun her around. With a deftness that showed experience she did not want to think about, he had the headdress off in no time. He shook her hair loose with his fingers; it felt good to have it down again. As he massaged her scalp, she closed her eyes. A small sigh escaped her.
She was helpless to unfasten the long row of buttons at the back of her close-fitting gown, so he did that, too. Though she assured him she could manage the rest alone, he continued to help her undress. When the last garment came off, she sidestepped out of his reach and slipped under the bedclothes.
She watched surreptitiously as he removed his own clothes. Except for his arousal—which she tried not to look at—he was quite beautiful. She liked the strong planes of his face; the long lines of his lean, muscled body; his large, capable hands. In the lamplight, the hair on his head and chest glinted gold and red.
