She looked for all the world like a beautiful avenging angel. Thomas shook his head in wonder. Surely, God had found the perfect woman for William. A woman strong enough to break through his barriers, to demand his heart, to heal his wounds.
Chapter Thirteen
William ended his business in Hereford early and set a fast pace for home. Home. It struck him that Ross Castle was the first place he had ever thought of as his home.
His mother’s house was never that. His very existence had been a source of strain. As soon as his mother could convince Northumberland to take him into his household, she sent him. William’s status on Northumberland’s vast estates was complex and uncertain. No one knew whether to treat him as a poor relation of Northumberland’s first wife, which he was, or as the great man’s son.
William’s true relationship to Northumberland was an open secret. God’s truth, it would have been difficult to deny he was a Percy. He looked like a younger version of Hotspur.
Although Northumberland never claimed him, he assumed William’s fealty. Likely he thought William should be grateful just for being brought into his service to train for knighthood.
In time, Northumberland let him lead a few men in the frequent skirmishes along the Scottish border. William proved able and rose in the ranks. After a few years, Northumberland gave him command of a portion of his army. Remnants of that force still served under William.
This past spring, Northumberland sent him to fight against the Welsh rebels. The great man saw no need to tell William he was sent as a diversion, a false show of Percy loyalty. While William fought with the king, his father was in York hatching another conspiracy.
When Northumberland made his move against the king, he ordered William to return to the North with all possible speed. William ignored the call. He’d sworn his oath to King Henry. All he had of value was his honor—and his fighting skills. While his father took up arms against the king in the North, William fought rebels in Wales.
William pushed aside his memories of that difficult time. At the next rise in the road, Ross Castle appeared on the horizon, and his thoughts returned to Catherine. She was the reason he left Hereford in such a hurry.
But Edmund’s words of warning came back to him.
“What man would not want such a woman in his bed? But for God’s sake, do not trust her,” Edmund harped at him. “Have a care, or one day you’ll find she’s opened the gates to rebels—or made false accusations about you to the prince.”
Trust came hard to a man who grew up having uncertain ties and no true place in the world. While William did not truly believe Catherine would betray him, he kept his guard up.
He tried to, anyway. His resolve was slipping day by day.
His anticipation grew as he approached the gate. He looked up at the ramparts, half expecting to see her there watching for him. ’Twas foolish to be disappointed. She did not expect him for another day.
Who would have thought three days could seem so long? All he wanted was to get her alone in their bedchamber, to feel her naked against his skin.
He threw his reins to a stable boy and left his men without a word. Ignoring their ribald remarks, he ran ahead to the keep. He looked up at the sun. Almost noon. He would find her with the rest of the household at dinner in the hall.
He burst through the doors, and she was there, just where he expected to find her. She stood and called his name, pleasure radiating from her face. His heart leapt in his chest as he strode across the room to her, intent on sweeping her into his arms and kissing her senseless.
He did hold her tantalizingly close before she put a firm hand against his chest and offered her cheek.
“William, we have guests,” she whispered in his ear.
Damn, damn, damn. Grudgingly, he released her and turned to see what fool had the poor sense to visit today.
He looked around the table, taking in each man. With a sinking feeling, he recognized the livery of Carleton, his mother’s latest husband. He supposed he should stop thinking of Carleton as her “latest,” since she’d been married to him for a dozen years or more.
It never ceased to amaze him how his conniving mother managed to end up with men who had a knack for choosing the losing side of every major political intrigue. Carleton had sided with Northumberland in this latest debacle. The man lost most of his lands—but was lucky to keep his head.
William nodded at the men he recognized as his gaze moved from man to man along the table. When he came to the boy sitting next to Catherine, he started. The resemblance to his mother was striking. This boy had to be Eleanor’s youngest son.
The boy stood and gave him a bow. Looking at William with their mother’s bold brown eyes, he said, “Greetings, sir. I am Stephen Neville Carleton.”
“Aye, I can see that is who you are.” William neither smiled nor moved to greet the boy. “How is it that you find yourself here at Ross Castle?”
“William!” He heard Catherine’s whispered reproach but ignored it.
The boy blushed, but he held William’s gaze. “Our mother insisted on sending me.”
“There is no thwarting her,” William said, shaking his head. “Sit down, Stephen.”
He could hardly send the boy away in the middle of his dinner. While William washed his hands in the basin a servant brought to him, Catherine filled his trencher. It had been hours since he rode out of Hereford, and he was ravenous.