“As you can see, m’lord husband, the abbess hopes I may come see her soon. It has been some time since…” She faltered for just a moment. “Since I visited.”
“Perhaps you would benefit from spending time on your knees with holy women,” William said in a hard voice. He narrowed his eyes and jabbed his finger against her chest. “But you shall not go outside these castle walls without me or Edmund Forrester. I will not have my wife sneaking off for some tryst.”
Before she knew it, Stephen was between them.
“You shall not say such vile things to her!” Stephen shouted.
William’s harsh words hurt and humiliated her, but it was Stephen’s futile gallantry that pushed her to the edge of tears.
“Stephen, I am sending your escort home today,” William said in a cold voice. “Go or stay, as you will.”
With that, he turned and stomped out of the room.
Stephen’s fair skin had gone blotchy, and his deep brown eyes showed confusion and hurt.
“William does want you here,” Catherine said, touching his arm. “He is just angry now.”
Stephen shrugged and hung his head.
She took his face in her hands and looked him in the eyes. “You have a home at Ross Castle as long as I am here,” she said. “I want you here, and so does Jamie.”
“I would rather face William’s wrath than my mother’s disappointment,” Stephen said, attempting a smile. “She is not a woman to cross.”
Catherine smiled back. “Whatever the reason, I am glad you will stay.”
“Edmund told me why William is so vexed with you,” he said, looking away and blushing faintly. “My brother is a fool, and I shall tell him so.”
It should not surprise her that Stephen knew more than he should.
“So you would slay dragons for me, Sir Stephen?” she said, touched by the boy’s blind faith in her. “You are good to offer, but I don’t think you can help me with your brother.”
“Surely there is something I can do for you? I would do anything you asked.”
She narrowed her eyes, considering.
“Aye, Stephen, there is something.”
An hour later, the men of Stephen’s escort rode out of the castle, headed for the North. Unbeknownst to William, they carried a message from Catherine to the prince. When Prince Harry brought it to the king, the king snatched the parchment from his hands and tore it to bits in his face.
“You expect me to move my armies across the length of England,” he fumed, “based on a woman’s gossip?”
Within days, the king would sorely regret that he had not.
Chapter Seventeen
Catherine did not show her face at table for three days. William knew their rift was the talk of the castle. From the looks the servants gave him when they thought he was not looking, it was evident they thought him the vilest of criminals. His men, on the other hand, were embarrassed for him. Even Edmund would not meet his eyes.
Stephen was firmly in the servants’ camp and vocal in his recriminations. How could William fault the lad for being a fool for Catherine? Even after discovering her cavorting in the dark with the troubadour, William’s desire for her was unabated. He lay awake at night, wanting her past bearing. He swore he could almost hear her breathing.
Even in the daytime, he caught himself imagining her trailing kisses down his body or remembering how her breath caught when he entered her. He would soon go mad with frustration.
He told himself he would be justified in taking her to bed again. She was his wife. He had a right. A duty. A man needed an heir. And a godly man must avoid the sin of adultery. Unless he wanted a life of celibacy, he must bed his wife.
If he was honest with himself, it was not only bedding her that he missed. He felt her absence beside him at table and longed to hear her laugh at Jamie’s antics or Stephen’s jokes. Sadness settled over him when he thought of the long rides they used to take.
He missed it all.
In the end, it was pure desire that drove him to stand beside her bed in the middle of the night. Though she lay perfectly still, he knew damned well she was awake.
