William put his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “My mother gave herself to whomever she pleased, regardless of the consequences to anyone else. I will not tolerate such behavior in my wife.
“We must have this understood between us.” His eyes held hers with a burning intensity. “I will not share my wife with another man, whether he be prince or king or commoner. I keep what is mine.”
As they remounted their horses and rode in silence to the gate, Catherine was grateful he had not asked the one question she could not answer honestly. She had one secret she would keep from him, no matter what his threats or her promises.
One secret she would never tell.
Chapter Nine
The tension was thick at the table. News of her flight had spread through the castle—and likely to everyone in the village below as well. William’s men were restless. The servants gave her worried looks as they carried in jugs of wine and heaping trays of food. Beside her, William was as silent as the grave.
As soon as the interminable meal ended, Catherine made her escape.
“Jamie, come with me,” she said, taking his hand. “I will tell you tales of King Arthur before you sleep.” They were his favorites, so she knew he would not argue.
She sat beside Jamie on his bed and recited every Camelot story she knew. When she could no longer justify keeping him awake, she made him say his prayers and kissed him. With a nod to the nursemaid, she slipped out.
Jamie had slept in her bedchamber until Rayburn came home unexpectedly one night. That was the only time Jamie saw Rayburn hit her, but he was so upset by it she did not risk it again. The next day, she settled him into his own chamber on the floor above.
Her feet dragged as she went down the stairs. Knowing what she must do did not make doing it any easier. When did she become such a coward? William was not like Rayburn. As furious as he was with her today, he did not strike her. He might punish her by keeping her under lock and key, but his sense of honor would not permit him to physically harm her.
Perhaps sharing his bed would be no worse than unpleasant. Women all over England submitted to their husbands; most seemed none the worse for it. Aye, she would hope for the best.
Her maid was waiting for her in her bedchamber. “You may go now, Mary,” she said after the woman had helped her out of her gown and into her night shift. “I shall not need you until morning.”
Mary smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Of course, m’lady.”
There were few secrets one could keep from one’s maid.
“Tell Thomas he will not be needed either.” Covering her embarrassment as best she could, she said, “I shall help my husband prepare for bed tonight.”
The look of approval on Mary’s face did not make Catherine feel any better.
Once she was alone, she went into William’s bedchamber. She stood uncertainly before the bed. Remembering William liked her hair down, she loosened it from the braid the maid had just made and climbed up the step to the bed.
William sighed as he made his way up the stairs. Catherine had been as nervous as a cat at supper. Then she left in such haste, he could have no hope she would come to him tonight. Though he forced her to return, she did seem to accept she must fulfill her marriage vows to him.
If he had any reason to believe it would be tonight, he would be running up these stairs.
Making her so angry had not helped, of course. He was now inclined to believe her relationship with the prince was yet innocent. Still, he was glad he made it clear to her he would not tolerate infidelity. He knew from experience how lightly many noblewomen took their marriage vows.
He was not ready to face his empty bed, so he continued up the stairs to the upper floor. When he stepped into Jamie’s chamber, he nodded to the startled nursemaid who sat in the corner stitching.
He watched the boy’s face in the lamplight. Jamie, who was always in motion when awake, had the face of a cherub in the peace of sleep. The sweetness of his expression made William think of his brother John at that age. William had not been allowed to visit his mother’s home often. But when he came, it was to see John.
“God protect you,” he said, touching the top of the boy’s head.
Having no more excuse for delay, he trudged down the stairs to his and Catherine’s rooms. He gave yet another heavy sigh when he saw no light under her door. For the hundredth time that day, he reminded himself of the abbess’s advice. He must give Catherine time to trust him.
Where was Thomas? God’s beard, the man did not even light a lamp for him. Further punishment for his sins—as if he needed to be chastised by his manservant.
He felt his way in the dark to the table and lit the lamp. He yawned and stretched his arms wide as he turned toward the bed.
Catherine. Catherine was in his bed.
In three heartbeats, he went from dumbstruck to breathless. She was stunning, with her fair hair spilling over his pillow like a river of moonbeams. It was a long moment before he thought to drop his arms.
“You have come to me,” he said, not quite believing it.