“All right, Catherine.” He expelled a deep breath, making no effort to hide his exasperation.
He jerked on one boot. “Like most boys, I was sent off for my training at an early age.” He jerked on the other boot. “Perhaps I was a bit younger than most.”
He stood and took his belt from the back of the chair. “I was never close to any of my family. Except for John.”
She noticed how his voice changed when he mentioned John.
“He was my half brother, younger by three years,” he said as he strapped on his sword. In a tone meant to convey the subject was closed, he said, “John is dead. Without him, there is nothing and no one for me in the North.”
“What of your mother and father? Are they still living?”
William picked up his leather riding gloves from the chest where Thomas had set them out the evening before. “Will these be your parting words to me, Catherine? My men await me.”
“Oh, you go to Hereford!” she cried, putting her hand to her mouth. “I had forgotten.”
He was meeting with the other Marcher lords in Hereford and would be gone at least four days. She leapt out of the bed and into his arms. His clothes felt rough against her bare skin.
“I wish I could go with you,” she said.
“That would be far too dangerous.” He smiled and winked at her. “These Marcher lords are a conniving lot, so I must have my wits about me.”
“But I know the whole conniving lot and could advise you,” she said. “Watch out for Lord Grey. He has the land north of here and wants to add some of ours to his.”
“The risk is too great to take you, since I travel with only a half-dozen men.” He kissed her forehead. “I am leaving most of the men here to keep watch on this part of the border.”
She leaned against him, knowing the argument was lost.
“You and Jamie will be safe here,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “I am leaving Edmund in command.”
“Not Edmund!” She said it before she knew it.
“He is the best man I have,” William said. “I trust him to keep Ross Castle—and you—safe until I return.”
She put her hand on her hip and pressed her lips together.
“That is more important to me than whether you like the man, Catherine. I do not know what you find so objectionable about him. Edmund is a good man.”
She did not want to argue with William as he was leaving. Instead, she wound her arms around her husband’s neck and gave him a kiss she hoped he would remember all the way to Hereford.
Catherine went out to the garden with Jamie, hoping the sunshine would lift the melancholy that settled over her after William’s departure. She watched Jamie try to catch a grasshopper. Each time he brought his cupped hands over it, it leapt away just in time. It got away for good when William’s manservant came into the garden and interrupted Jamie’s concentration.
“What is it, Thomas?”
“M’lady, there are men at the gate. They’ve come from the North to see Lord FitzAlan.” He hesitated, then added, “One of them is FitzAlan’s brother.”
“His brother?” She must have misheard Thomas. William just told her this morning that his brother was dead.
“He is only a youth, m’lady. A boy.”
“But we were not expecting anyone,” she said, unable to hide her surprise.
“I happened to be near the gate when they arrived.” Thomas cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “One of the men escorting him recognized me and told me the boy’s mother sent him.”
She thought she heard Thomas say under his breath, “Saints preserve us.”
“Thank you, Thomas. I will come at once.” Trying to sound pleased, she said, “Come, Jamie, we have guests!”
She felt uneasy. ’Twas odd that they received no prior word of this visit. And why had William not seen fit to mention this younger—living—brother to her?
