“Then ask the king’s permission to keep Stephen here.”
Both men whirled around at the sound of Catherine’s voice.
“What are you doing sneaking up behind us!” Edmund shouted, his face red with anger.
“Perhaps you need to improve your skills,” Catherine replied with equal anger, “if a woman can surprise you in broad daylight in the middle of the bailey yard.”
“Catherine—” William began, but stopped when she turned her glare to him.
“Stephen is twelve years old. The king will not hold him accountable for his father’s treachery.” She arched an eyebrow at William. “He has been known to separate a father’s guilt from his son.”
With that, she turned on her heel and left them staring after her.
“You must do something about that woman,” Edmund said in a taut voice. “She interferes in men’s affairs. She does as she pleases, and she will take you down.”
“I know you mean well.” The cold anger in William’s voice got Edmund’s full attention. “But she is my wife, and you will not speak to her as you did.”
“Fine, just tell me you’ll not start taking her advice,” Edmund said. “For God’s sake, remember what she did to her first husband and watch your back.”
“Rayburn deserved what he got,” William bit out.
“Aye, but at his wife’s hands?” Edmund said. “How long did she deceive him? Five years?”
“The past is past.”
“You are thinking with what’s between your legs, man. Can’t you see she has blinded you?”
“Then I’m a happy blind man.” William grabbed Edmund by the front of his tunic and looked him hard in the eye. “Find a way to get along with her. If I must choose between you, have no doubt I will choose her.”
William was tired of this conflict between the two of them. He left Edmund and marched to the keep, intent on having words with Catherine as well. When he reached the hall, one of the servants informed him that Lady FitzAlan was in Stephen’s chamber on the third floor.
Puzzled more than angry now, he went up the stairs to one of the previously unoccupied chambers next to Jamie’s. He found Stephen in bed and Catherine hovering over him, wiping his face with a damp cloth.
She looked up and saw him in the doorway. “He has the fever. That is what I came to the bailey to tell you.”
“Let one of the servants sit with Stephen tonight,” William urged Catherine when she came to bid him good night. “You must get some rest. You are exhausted.”
For the last three days and nights, Catherine had shared the watch with Alys. Even when it was Alys’s turn, William would wake to find Catherine had left their bed to check on him.
The lad was ill, indeed. When William looked in on him earlier, Stephen’s skin was so pale that the blue veins showed through it. He’d looked unbearably young lying on the bed.
“The fever should peak tonight, so it is the most dangerous time.” She gave him a tired smile. “Once the fever breaks, I will rest, and gladly.”
“I’ll come with you,” William said, throwing the bedclothes back.
“You will only be in the way,” she said, putting her hand out to stop him. Although her tone was teasing, he knew she meant it. She kissed him distractedly and left.
Hours later, he awoke to find her side of the bed still empty. He dressed quickly in the faint first light of dawn. The keep was eerily quiet as he made his way up the stairs to Stephen’s chamber.
The door was slightly ajar. He eased it open.
A surge of relief swamped him when he saw Stephen. The lad lay on the bed, wan but awake, with a slight smile on his face.
Lying beside him, fully dressed on top of the bedclothes, was Catherine. She was fast asleep and holding Stephen’s hand.
William walked softly to the side of the bed and put his hand on Stephen’s forehead.
“I see your fever has broken,” he said in a hushed voice.