“Everyone thought William unable to perform his husbandly duty.” Edmund leaned forward and gave her a long, penetrating look. “But we know better, don’t we, Catherine?”
Catherine folded her arms and fumed in silence, waiting for him to have his say and leave.
“You should have seen the ladies at court!” he said, leaning back and slapping the table. “I swear, the widows gave him no peace. Poor William developed the skills of a diplomat trying to keep the women with living husbands out of his bed.”
Edmund dropped his smile and tapped his finger on the table. “If an annulment was yet possible, the defect was not William’s.”
Despite herself, her face flushed hot.
“At first, I did not believe it possible he had not taken his rights as a husband,” Edmund said, rubbing his chin. “And yet, it explained much. He’d been on edge and foul-tempered ever since the wedding.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “How did you convince him not to touch you? Did you claim disease?”
Catherine stood, so angry now she was shaking. Putting her hands on the table for support, she leaned across it to make her own threat. “I shall tell my husband how you have spoken to me. I suggest you take yourself some distance from the castle when I do.”
Edmund grabbed her wrist and held it. “Who do you think William will believe?” With his other hand, he slowly ran his finger up the length of her forearm. “A woman who deceived her first husband and sent him to his death? Or his best friend?”
When her gaze wavered, he said, “You may as well sit, for we are not yet done with our talk.”
“If you leave marks on me,” she said, looking pointedly at where he held her wrist, “William just may believe me.”
When he released his grip, she hugged her arms to herself and sank back into her chair.
“I know he beds you now.”
Her face grew hot again as she imagined the servants whispering each night she sent her maid away. It would be easy for Edmund to learn of it, if he had a mind to.
“Even William, tolerant as he seems to be of your antics, would not risk having all the Marches laughing at him a second time.”
She tried not to listen, tried to keep from hearing the offensive things he was saying to her. Surely he could not go on much longer.
“How is it, then,” he said, his tone shifting from mocking amusement to accusation, “that William is even more miserable than before?”
She was stunned. How could Edmund be asking her the very question that troubled her?
She met his eyes without flinching and pointed to the door. “I will tolerate your insolence no longer. Get out.”
Once again, he acted as though she had not spoken.
“Your husband was happy for an excuse to leave today,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Rumor of a few ragged men crossing the border was not sufficient cause for William to lead the party himself—unless he wanted badly to be gone.”
The words stung and Edmund saw it.
“I have my suspicions as to the reason for William’s misery,” he said, watching her closely. “I wager you are as cold as stone in bed.”
Cold?
“God’s beard, that is it!” he said, slapping the table. He shook his head and gave a short laugh. “ ’Tis not enough for William to have a wife so beautiful that all the men lust after her. Nay, our William must have her warm and willing, too.”
Edmund leaned forward, his humor gone. “You will never make him happy,” he said, his eyes burning into her. “Leave before it is too late, before he gets you with child. You need a better plan this time. I can help you.”
Catherine was stunned again. Edmund was sincere. In his own way, he was trying to protect his friend. But from what? From her?
“William wants me to stay,” she stammered. “I promised him I would not leave again.”
“As if a promise matters to you!” he said, pounding the table. “William is not the first fool to trust you. Is destroying one husband not enough for you?”
His words were so harsh she felt as if he’d slapped her. It was useless to argue Rayburn deserved neither honesty nor loyalty.