Perhaps it was the novelty that made it possible that first time. He ordered her to put out every candle and wait in silence on the bed. Only later did she understand that the sounds she heard in the dark were her new husband touching himself to prepare for the task.
There were no kisses, no caresses. It was, at least, mercifully quick. As soon as he was finished, he left her. She cried through the night, believing her life could not be worse.
How naive she had been.
He made weekly visits to her bedchamber, intent on getting her with child. She tried not to hear the foul things he said in her ear or to feel the rough hands rubbing over her thighs and buttocks. When he succeeded, she forced her mind far away as he pounded and grunted against her flesh.
Over time, it became increasingly difficult for him to do his duty. When he could not, he beat her. Sometimes the violence excited him, for just long enough. He took to drinking heavily before he came to her. The drink only made him more violent.
By a miracle, she conceived. Her pregnancy saved her life. Rayburn still lacked any redeeming qualities, but he ceased to terrorize her in the bedchamber.
Then, a few weeks ago, he decided he must have “an heir to spare.”
She had no regrets about what she did to save herself this time. And to save the Crown for Harry. One day, Harry would be a great king, the one England deserved. Still, she was bone-weary from the strain of her deceit.
Her eyelids grew heavy as her mind drifted to the soothing childhood memories of playing with Harry at Monmouth. Those were happy times, before her mother died and before her friend became prince and heir to the throne. She curled up on the hard bench and let her eyes close.
“M’lady, what are you doing out of bed?” The maidservant’s voice roused Catherine from a troubled sleep.
“What is it?” she asked, sitting up.
“Men at arms approach the castle,” the woman said, her voice pitched high with tension.
“What banner do they fly?” Catherine demanded.
“The king’s, m’lady.”
The surge of relief that flooded through her was so intense she had to grip the bench to steady herself.
“What does it mean, m’lady?” the maid asked, twisting her apron in her hands.
“I do not know,” she said, trying to sound reassuring, “but we should have nothing to fear from the king’s men.”
If Rayburn was caught, why would the king send armed men here to Ross Castle? Perhaps Rayburn had escaped and they were looking for him? Would he come here to hide? Panic rose in her throat. She forced herself to be calm.
Nay, if Rayburn’s treason was found out, he would hardly come here. Faced with the risk of execution or imprisonment, he would flee to the Continent. She was almost sure of it.
“M’lady, the king’s soldiers are almost to the gate. The men are waiting for you to say what they must do.”
“Since they fly the king’s banner, we must open the gate to them,” she said. “But tell the men to wait until I come.”
“But, m’lady, you are too weak. You must not—”
Catherine silenced her maid’s objections with the lift of her hand. “Help me dress. I must know what news they bring.”
Holding the maid’s arm for support, she got to her feet. Her head swam at first, but the feeling passed quickly enough. She nodded approval at the first gown the maid held out and let the woman dress her. Her mind was occupied with a single question: Why would the king send his men here after the battle?
“There is no time for that,” she said when the maid brought out an elaborate headdress in blue brocade. “A jeweled net will have to do.”
Ignoring the maid’s protests, Catherine twisted her hair in a roll and shoved it into the net. As soon as the maid fixed a circlet over it to hold it in place, Catherine sent her running to the gate with her message.
She was relieved to find Jacob waiting outside her door. Gratefully, she took the arm the old man offered and smiled up into his weathered face.
“Let me give your apologies to the visitors,” he said, his brows drawn together in concern. “I’ll tell them you are too ill to greet them.”
“Thank you, Jacob, but I must do this,” she said. “They shall not set foot inside the castle walls until I assure myself they are truly the king’s men.”And until I know what it is they want.
After so many days in the darkness of her bedchamber, the bright sun hurt her eyes when she stepped outside the keep. She felt weak, but the fresh air cleared her head as they walked across the inner and outer bailey. Half the household waited near the gate, anxious about the armed men on the other side.
