“I’ll sleep here with Jamie tonight,” she said.
She would not meet his eyes. She did not want to see the hurt she knew was there. What he offered her was good. It just was not all she hoped for. She understood she needed to accept it and be grateful. But she was not ready to make that compromise tonight, not when the hurt was so fresh.
He did not argue but leaned down to kiss her cheek. When she felt the warmth of his breath and smelled the wood smoke in his hair, she was tempted to lean into him. But her heart was too bruised to give in. In time, she would be strong enough to be with him and still protect that true part of herself she valued most. The part he could not see.
But not tonight.
When Jamie’s nursemaid appeared, Catherine asked her to help her undress and then sent her away for the night.
She crawled into bed next to her son and breathed in his scent: damp earth, dogs, and the barest hint of his baby smell. For the hundredth time that day, she prayed her thanks to God for bringing her home and keeping her son safe.
She lay awake thinking of the changes in her household. Not only was the bond between William and Jamie stronger, but there was also an easy closeness between him and Stephen that was not there before.
The servants’ attitude toward William had changed as well. Alys, in particular, seemed to have developed a strong affection for him. She complained repeatedly how he had lost weight.
The problem was not that Catherine did not recognize and appreciate her husband’s many good qualities—but that he did not recognize hers. She sighed and rested her cheek against Jamie’s hair. Unbidden, the abbess’s words from last summer came back to her. She should be grateful her husband was an honorable man who treated her son well. That should be enough. It must.
Hours later, she felt William slide into bed behind her, fully clothed. She was too drowsy to complain. Instead, she let herself sink into the comfort of her cocoon. With her husband’s arms wrapped around her and her own wrapped around Jamie, she fell into deep sleep.
When she awoke in the morning, William was gone. She rubbed her hand over the indentation where he had slept, but there was no trace of his warmth. With a sigh, she dropped a kiss on her sleeping son’s head and then climbed out of bed.
She slipped her robe over her shift and headed down the stairs to dress for the day.
She was one step from the landing before she saw Edmund outside the solar door. Instinctively, she put one foot back on the step behind her, ready to retreat. But Edmund had already seen her.
She meant to ask about his health, to tell him she was sorry for his injuries. But his gaze moved down her body with deliberate rudeness, making her conscious that her hair was loose and her robe hung open. She jerked the robe around her and glared at him.
She noticed his limp as Edmund walked toward her. He did not stop until his feet touched the step on which she stood. She did not back away, though he was so close she could smell him and feel his breath on her face.
“It is curious,” he said, his eyes level with hers, “that after such a long time apart, you do not sleep with your husband.”
“Get out of my way.”
“Is it because you carry another man’s child that William will not have you?” he asked in a harsh whisper. “Or is it you who turns your husband away? Perhaps you cannot appreciate a good man after whoring with Welshmen.”
He caught her arm as she swung to slap him. They stood glaring at each other, neither one backing down.
“Which is it, Edmund? One time you say I must be as cold as ice, another you call me whore.” She narrowed her eyes at him and hissed, “But we both know the true reason you resent me.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
“ ’Tis because you will never have me,” she said. “Do you suppose I don’t know you’ve lusted after me from the first?”
From the way Edmund’s eyelids twitched, she knew she hit her mark dead-on. She let the satisfaction show in her eyes.
“If my husband knew how you look at me, he would rip your eyes out.” Thrusting her shoulder against his chest, she shoved past him.
“Then why do you not tell him?” Edmund called out behind her. “He would not believe you, would he?”
Yesterday, before the ride home, she would have told William. But now? William believed she deceived him in things more important than this.
The solar door opened. Her husband’s dark amber eyes swept over her, taking in her crimson face, loose hair, nightclothes, and bare feet. Then they shifted past her to Edmund.
“You have embarrassed my wife, catching her before she is dressed for the day,” William said. “Next time, wait for me in the hall.”
William gave her a nod and headed down the stairs. Before Edmund followed, he ran his eyes up and down her. She wanted to throw something after him. Slamming the solar door was not nearly enough to satisfy her.
Pulsing with anger, she paced the room. She could no longer pretend Edmund was merely an annoyance. Though she was not certain he was truly dangerous, he was her enemy. One way or another, she intended to get him out of her home.
