“Edmund was your friend,” she said, leaning back to look at him. “You could not know he would do this.”
“I pledged to protect you, and I failed—not once, but twice.” He faltered for a moment, then said, “I do not know how you can ever forgive me.”
“I am glad I saved myself.”
“Please, Catherine. You don’t need to lie to excuse my failings.”
She bit her lip, trying to think how to explain it so he would understand. “The worst part with Rayburn was how helpless I felt. It was different with Edmund. Though I was frightened, I was never powerless. I believed I could get the better of him, and I was determined to do it.
“I am proud I was strong enough and clever enough to save myself,” she continued. “That will make it easier to get over what happened and not be afraid.”
She let her head fall against William’s shoulder. Recounting the traumatic events of the day before had tired her. He kissed the top of her head and held her securely in his arms.
“I’m glad you are my husband, William,” she murmured.
Only after her breathing became soft and regular against his chest did William give his reply.
“And yet, you had to save yourself.”
After a couple days of rest, Catherine resumed her routine tasks. Edmund’s attack would always be a bad memory, but she damn well was not going to let it rule her. She enjoyed managing the castle household. It was, however, a good deal of work. And now, every time she turned around, there was William, getting in the way and telling her to rest.
For the first day or two, it was reassuring to see him every time she looked up. But after several days, she was sure he would drive her mad with his hovering. He was unwilling to let her out of his sight for a moment.
She came upstairs this afternoon to do her sewing just to get away from him for an hour. At the sound of the door, she dropped her embroidery in her lap. It was William, of course.
“You do not need to keep watch over me from dawn till dusk,” she said, not even trying to keep the edge from her voice. “Go out hunting or take the boys riding—or something!”
“I am happy to be here with you,” he answered, the soul of patience.
“Well, I am tired of it, husband,” she responded sharply, then sighed in exasperation at hearing herself sound like a shrew. “I know you mean well, but you act as though I will fall to pieces if you relax your guard for a moment. You will not even touch me at night.”
There, she’d said it, and she would not be sorry for it.
“I was afraid it would remind you of—” He stopped himself, and she knew he could not bear to think of what that swine Edmund had done to her.
“I thought it too soon,” he finished lamely.
“Too soon for whom, William?” she demanded. “Is it that you cannot touch me without thinking of Edmund’s hands on me?”
She flung her embroidery on the table and stormed into her bedchamber, slamming the door behind her. He was still standing there staring at the door when she opened it again.
“It is not good for the babe to upset me like this!” she shouted at him and slammed the door again.
Mother of God, what had he done? William sank down onto the bench, which, thankfully, was just behind him. Propping his elbows on his knees, he ran his hands through his hair and over his face.
Should he go in to her now or leave her alone? Whichever he did was bound to be wrong.
A soft rapping at the solar door interrupted his thoughts.
“Blast it!” he said under his breath. He jerked the door open, ready to take his frustration out on whoever was there.
“Have you no sense at all?” he said, glaring down at Stephen. “Catherine could be resting!”
His tone would have put the fear of God into anyone else, but not this brother of his. He paused to take a better look at him. Stephen was fidgeting with his clothing and shifting his feet from side to side.
This was not like Stephen.
“What is it?” he asked.