Catherine. He’d found his wife.
The frustrating weeks of waiting were behind him. Patience, negotiation, money offers—none of it had brought her back. Now he could do what he was born to do, what he’d been trained to do, what he did best.
Percy blood ran through his veins. He was son of Northumberland the King-maker, brother to the legendary fighter Hotspur. None could touch him. It would not matter if there were ten men or twenty or sixty between him and Catherine. He would get to her.
“AAARRRRRRHHHHH!” He shouted his battle cry as he burst through the brush.
He rode to the edge of the sea where his horse could get better purchase and galloped along the shoreline. Brandishing his broadsword, he rode straight at the men on the beach, striking fear into every heart.
An unearthly cry in the distance sent a shiver up Catherine’s spine. She turned toward the sound and heard hoofbeats pounding up the shore. Everyone on the beach stopped in place to peer through the fog in the direction of the sound.
As they watched, a horse and rider emerged through the fog charging toward them at a full gallop. Horse and rider lifted and then sailed over a log as if the horse had wings. The men scattered as the rider bore down on them, sword swinging and screaming his battle cry.
William had come to save her.
She had heard stories of his feats in battle. She’d watched him practice countless times. None of it prepared her for seeing him like this. He fought with a grace and power that was both terrible and utterly magnificent.
The first two men were dead before they could draw their swords. The sword of a third went flying through the air. The man ran for the woods as William turned his horse to take another pass. At least two more fell. Then William dropped from his horse onto one man and came up swinging his sword into another. He whirled to face the remaining men, broadswords in both hands now.
“Your husband, I presume,” Maredudd said in her ear. “Let us get off the beach before one of these men thinks to grab you and hold a knife to your throat.”
She and Maredudd watched the rest of the fight from behind the low bushes that grew back from the shore. It was over soon. Two men were in the water, swimming toward the ship. Others had run from the beach and disappeared into the trees.
“Catherine! Catherine!” William’s voice echoed as he looked up and down the shore shouting her name.
William looked up and down the beach, frantic.
Then he saw her standing alone in the tall grass at the edge of the beach. Catherine. An angel come to earth.
He stood for a long moment, frozen in place, not breathing. Then he slid his sword into its scabbard and ran to her. His hands shook as he cupped her beloved face. Never had she looked more beautiful. He kissed each cheek, pink with the cold.
“I praise God you are safe!” he said, closing his eyes and letting his forehead touch hers.
He had promised himself that this time he would give her the choice. This time, she would come to him willingly, or she would not come.
“I failed in my duty to protect you. If you cannot forgive me, if you do not wish to live with me again,” he said, his heart pounding in his chest, “I will make other arrangements for you.”
He waited for her to speak, to rail at him for failing her. But she was silent. She would hear him out.
“I hope with all my heart you will choose to live with me. If you will, I promise I shall do all I can to protect you and be a good husband to you.”
Catherine rested her palms against his chest and looked up at him with vivid blue eyes that saw the truth in his heart.
“Thank you for coming for me.” She leaned her head against his chest. “Take me home, William. Take me home.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “How I have missed you!”
God be praised, she was his again.
“Greetings, FitzAlan.”
William pushed Catherine behind him and pulled his sword as the man who spoke stepped out from behind the bushes.
“ ’Tis all right,” Catherine said, grabbing his sword arm. “This is Maredudd Tudor. He has been very good to me.”
“Not good enough to send you home,” William said, staring hard into the man’s sharp hazel eyes.
“If not for Maredudd, I might still be at Harlech,” she said. “He did his best to protect me.”