Chapter 18

M ARIE HAD BEEN SITTING by the entrance to the cave, ready to take Kat's mare, when Kat rode hurriedly through the forest to reach her. Marie leaped up nervously the second she heard the hoofbeats, then crossed herself with a brief glance to heaven. "Blessed Mother, you're back!" she exclaimed.

"I have not been gone so very long," Kat said defensively, but of course, she had been gone a long time, far longer than she had planned.

Marie caught the mare's bridle and warned Kat, "Get down, and quickly now, my lady. Oh, what will happen if Lord Montjoy decides to come to your chamber when you are not within it?"

Kat shrugged, "He has already done so," she murmured uneasily. Aye, he had done so, and he had been suspicious, too. But actually, she was amazed at the leniency he was showing her, knowing how ruthless he could be when he was determined on something. She shivered suddenly, thinking that she might well be in serious trouble if she were caught betraying him.

But would he consider her activities in the forest a betrayal?

Not unless he knew about her and the Silver Sword.

She couldn't dwell on it any longer. She had been gone a long time. And though the lords of castles seemed to think themselves free to come and go with no word, they demanded explanations from their ladies.

"Kat, please hurry!"

Kat leaped down quickly. She patted her mare's nose. "Sweet Elisha," she crooned softly to the horse, "you serve me well!"

"Let me take her. Get back, please!" Marie insisted.

Kat gave up the reins and backed away. She'd be sorry for worrying Marie so—if she weren't still so irritated with Marie for bowing and scraping so quickly before Montjoy. The man had been here only weeks, and already it appeared as if the servants thought he had been here forever.

Marie leaped up on the little mare, a good mount, but a horse that might be ridden by a lady's maid as well as a lady. She really was worried. Kat smiled and waved, heading for the cave. "I will hurry, I promise! Meet me upstairs at the castle."

"Aye, my lady!"

As she had promised, Kat hurried. She nearly ran the dark distance through the dankness of the tunnel, and groped around in the few filtering rays of sunlight once she had reached the underbelly of the castle to find the stairway. With her hand on the stone, she quickly and carefully made her way up it, and then pressed against the stone to reach her room.

For a moment, a sense of unease stirred within her, as if she were not alone. Then panic swept through her. What if he were here? What if he caught her red-handed, coming through the door?

But a quick look around the chamber assured her that Montjoy was not in the room.

This was where they slept. He had managed to make it his room as well as hers. Now the lord's trunks were aligned with the lady's, and strewn about were various accouterments belonging to a knight—one of his cloaks, a calf-sheath for a knife, and even his boar-bristle brush.

But he had chosen another room in the tower for his business, and he was often there, composing letters to be sent to the London and the justiciar and other barons, men who would help with the ransom to see that Richard was returned to them, safe and sound.

It was irritating. He went there for peace and solace. No one disturbed him there. Not that anyone disturbed him when he was with her—not now, not since Prince John had burst in that night.

But she had no place of utmost privacy, for he entered this chamber—her chamber—without ever thinking to knock.

That thought propelled her into action. She stripped off her green cloak and tunic and underdress and quickly stuffed the garments into the bottom of her largest trunk, then laid the false panel over them. Even her hose seemed to threaten to give her away, and so she kicked off her shoes and stripped them off.

For a moment, she paused, discovering herself to be very dizzy. She sat at the end of the bed, and waited for the sensation to pass.

This life, she determined, was wearing on her. Besides the dizziness, she almost felt as if she were going to be sick.

She closed her eyes tightly. She had no time! she reminded herself. She willed the feeling to go away, but when she stood, the queasiness was still with her. She ignored it the best she could. She had no time to be ill.

Marie had seen to it that a bath had been brought in her absence. Just in case the water had become too cool, a large kettle of it boiled over the flames in the hearth to be added to the tub when Kat was ready.

Kat was certain that the bath had grown very cold, and so she quickly took the heated water. Even as she poured from the steaming kettle, there was a tentative knock at the door. She reached hastily for the large linen bath sheet that had been cast over one of the high-backed chairs by the fireplace.

"My lady!"

It was Marie. Kat strode quickly across the room to let her in.

"He's not here?" Marie said, her palm against her heart. "Oh, thank the Lord!"

"Indeed!"

A smile swept across Marie's face, and she followed Kat into the room, catching the towel when Kat discarded it to slip into the water. "So, tell me, were you in time? Did you find Robin? You told him earlier about Richard's capture, so surely he must have been prepared for John's treachery. Tell me all about it!"

"It went very well," Kat assured her. "Robin was very glad of the chance to get his hands on the stolen gain. And also—" She broke off, for there was suddenly the sound of someone trying to open the bolted door, and then such a loud knock on the door that Marie leaped back, startled and afraid.

"It's he!" she cried, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Tell him to go away!" Kat said swiftly.

"I have to answer it. He'll break it down!" Marie said.

"Tell him that I am bathing, that I am not decent!" Kat pleaded.

She was shivering. She wasn't ready to meet him herself.

Marie hurried to the door and opened it. "My Lord Montjoy!" she bobbed a curtsy. "Ah, the Lady Kat—Katherine—is bathing. She's not dressed, my lord—" Marie broke off because Damian had pushed the door open, and stepped past her, setting her aside. He was grinning. "Marie, your lady is my wife, and I have managed to see her both dressed and undressed upon any number of occasions. You're excused, Marie. I'll send for you if the lady needs any assistance other than my own."

"Marie, wait—" Kat began.

But Marie had already bobbed another curtsy to him, and even as Kat spoke, she was fleeing out the door.

Damian grinned like a wolf seeing her in the tub, but then closed the door carefully and thoughtfully behind him.

"Bathing before supper, my love?" he inquired politely.

Something about his tone made the water seem very chilly. Despite the chill, Kat sank more deeply into it, rubbing her arms with the soap and the sponge, and trying not to betray either fear or secrets as she watched him in return.

"So it would appear, my Lord Montjoy."

His hands clasped behind his back, he walked around the tub. He was dressed simply in a white linen shirt, short golden tunic, and beige hose. It appeared that he had just emerged from a bath himself, for his ebony-dark hair seemed damp, as if it had just been washed.

"Is there something you want?" she asked growing more and more agitated as she watched him walk slowly around her.

He dipped down to his knees by the side of the tub, meeting her eyes. "There is always something that I want when I find myself near you, especially when you are in such a wondrous state of undress!" he told her softly. He dipped his hand into the water, then loosened his fingers and allowed a slender rivulet of it to run slowly over her shoulder. "You should bear in mind just how fascinated I become with the deliciously domestic sight of my wife in her natural state before deciding to change your dress and bathe in the afternoon!"

She stared into his eyes, wondering what he was insinuating with the comment. His eyes remained wide on hers, as silver-gray as burnished armor. Once again he lifted a handful of water and watched as it sluiced over her shoulder and breast.

She wondered how her cheeks could still redden so quickly and so hotly, after all that they had shared. She found her lashes quickly sweeping her cheeks. And her breath growing short, and a fascinating warmth from within her seeming to make her water all the colder.

"Why do you taunt me so?" she murmured. "I think that what I do matters very little. You will always have what you want, one way or another."

"Maybe. Maybe not," he told her. His gaze was on hers once again.

"You know that you will have your way!"

"Maybe what I want is not my way."

"I don't understand—"

"Maybe, once, I'd like it to be what you wish. I'd like to see you rise out of the water, intent upon the seduction of my body and my mind."

Kat was dismayed to realize that she was blushing fiercely again. "I no longer seek to fight you, or to avoid you in any way."

"Nay, lady, that you don't," he whispered huskily. "But neither have I ever seen you rise like an Eve from your water, the wondrous, wicked glint of sin in your eye, and that eye to fall upon me. Nor heard such a whisper as, ‘My lord husband, we have been separated longer than I can bear, hold me within your arms, let me touch you, kiss you, make love to you …' "

The words in themselves were seductive, bewitching. The huskiness of his whisper, the nearness of him, all seemed to captivate and to charm, as did the curve of his smile. But she held her breath, refusing to respond. And as she watched him, he suddenly came even closer, lifted more water, and watched the droplets fall back into the tub.

"Your bath, my love, is very, very cold. Where were you when it was first intended for your leisure?" he demanded suddenly and sharply.

"I—" she began.

Damn him. He had managed to take her entirely off guard.

She dropped the sponge she had been holding so that the water sprayed up into his face. "I haven't been with Prince John, if that's what you're up to, my love!" she promised him in a cool snap, gripping the edge of the tub to rise. "And the moon will rest in the palm of your hand long before I ever come running to your bed with any wondrous, wicked glint of sin in my eye!"

She stood, reaching for her towel, but he snatched it away to mop the water from his face. He was laughing, she realized, and she swung, trying to hit him. Before she knew it, she was swept up into his arms, and he didn't care in the least that she was dripping wet.

"Let me down, wretch! All you ever intend to do is tease and torment me—"

"Nay, I intend much more!" he assured her. And he landed with her on the bed, the linen towel between them. She saw his eyes for just a moment, then felt the wonderful heat of his kiss explode on his lips, then take flight throughout her.

His mouth delved within and played upon hers, and she fought against the urge to hold him that so swiftly grew within her. But he was too fervent a lover. His arms encompassed her, stripping the linen from her. His kiss strayed, his tongue licked against her earlobe and stroked a long trail between the valley of her breasts. A soft touch fell against her collarbone and …

And then there was nothing. Her eyes had been closed. She opened them and shivered at the sudden fury she saw in his gaze.

"What …?" she whispered.

And he touched her neck. "Let's see, lady, will you tell me? What is this thin line upon your throat? I interrupted your bath too quickly, so it seems. There's blood on your throat. Explain it, please!"

Her hand flew to her throat, and for once in her life, she was left entirely speechless. She floundered, her lashes flickering, her lips bone-dry. She touched them with the tip of her tongue. "It was a necklace. I tried a necklace that I have not worn in some time, and the band of it was so tight and so sharp—"

She broke off speaking because he had risen. Frightened of what he might discover, she rose quickly, grasping the towel to her breasts. Her heart beat hard as she tried to decipher his purpose, then she saw that he had taken the sponge from her bath and now carried it to her. He paused, his knee on the bed, and shoved her down to her back, pressing up her chin as he bathed her neck.

"It's not so very bad!" she cried.

"And done by a necklace! How very amazing! It appears to be cut—as if by a knife."

"It's not so very bad, really!" she insisted. He sat back now, watching her with interest, the sponge discarded.

"Where is the offending necklace? I shall get rid of it immediately."

"I—I don't know where I put it," she murmured nervously, rising from her back to sit at the foot of the bed. Why couldn't she have been dressed when they had this discussion? She felt ridiculously vulnerable, sitting there in her towel.

"Ah, well, perhaps then what I have to say will be very good, indeed. In this castle, my lady, you seem to disappear so easily. And now jewelry disappears likewise, after slicing through flesh."

She looked away from him, still holding her towel to her like a suit of armor. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think that things are running very smoothly here. It is time to take you home. To my home."

She swung around to stare at him with open dismay, too surprised to try to hide her emotions. "To your home! But—but that's completely impossible!" she told him.

"I beg to differ. It's not impossible. It's what we are going to do. I need to go home. I sent the majority of my knights there when I returned to England, and I must ready them all for war again."

"War?"

"John will rise against Richard. You know that. He is trying to raise the money to hire soldiers now, Englishmen, mercenaries, all that he can find."

"You will fight for Richard," she murmured.

"Did you ever doubt that?" he asked her.

She lifted a hand airily. "I knew that you were the King's man."

"So is Robin Hood, so they tell me."

She swallowed hard. "He is, of course."

"And how would you know?"

Her cheeks reddened. "I don't know, of course, but from everything that I hear …" Her voice trailed away. She turned to him. "You should go home, of course. Raise all the knights and soldiers that you can. I will stay here, because we will need all the able-bodied fighting men from this estate as well."

He was shaking his head. Slowly. A smile curved his sensual lips. "Nay, lady. I do not think so. You are my life. Where I go, you will follow."

"Please!" she whispered. "Don't make me go!"

"My home is very beautiful," he assured her. "Warm. Warmer than this castle, as a matter of fact, my love."

"I can't go with you."

He lifted his hands. "Convince me."

"What?"

"Convince me."

She gritted her teeth, wondering at his good humor—and at the very wicked gleam in his eyes. Then she caught her breath, and wondered if she could convince him. She glanced down at her trembling fingers for a moment, then smoothed back a rich fall of golden hair from her shoulders. Her eyes touched his, and she moistened very dry lips.

She rose, letting the towel drop from her. "What if …" she whispered softly. "What if I were to give you what you said you desired." She wasn't at all certain about what she did, but instinct guided her.

As did her fascination with him.

She curled her feet beneath her and brushed his cheek with her fingertips. She feathered a kiss against his lips, brushed his chin with her kiss, and touched the open V of his white linen undershirt with her lips and tongue. Her eyes met his again and she trembled as she rose against him, pressing her length against his, her breasts against the thin fabric of his clothing. She straddled his hips as he sat there, her arms curling around him.

He watched her for a moment. "Jesu!" he breathed, and his arms wound around her. A second later she was flat on her back, and he was stripping away his clothing. He was down beside her, glimmering eyes devilish, his whisper even more so. "Go on," he urged her.

She wet her lips again with the tip of her tongue. "What if I were to say …"

"Say and do," he reminded her.

It was not so difficult. She pressed her lips to his naked chest, and the heat of her breath bathed that bare flesh as she then whispered against it, "My lord husband, we have been separated longer than I can bear …"

She barely heard his groan, for suddenly it seemed that the words were true. It was tantalizing to touch that hard, rippling bronze flesh with her tongue. It was exciting to feel the pulse and power of the muscle beneath her, to stroke the length of his arm, to burrow against his chest. Her hair fell around them both, a soft cloak to tease and torment awakened and aroused flesh. She rose above him, then stared down into his eyes. A smile curved her lips, and a wicked green fire of seduction sizzled in her eyes. "Indeed, my lord, we have been separated so very long!" Then once again her lips touched his. "Let me hold you. Touch you!" she murmured against them. Then she used the whole of her body, rubbing against him, as she lowered herself upon his length. Her hair draped them, her kisses rained over him. Her hands and fingers caressed. Lower and lower.

She heard the sharp intake of his breath as she touched him. Then the expulsion of a low, startled groan of deep pleasure as she tentatively stroked him with her tongue, and whispered once again.

"Touch you … hold you …"

He seized her hard; his body shuddered as if he had been gripped by great seizures, and she felt a dizzying sensation, a sweet sense of power, and of wonder—and of desire. She grew bolder. Her touch was delicate, then more rugged, intoxicating …

Then she was lifted and flipped to her back so suddenly that her breath was stolen away. She met his eyes, and the searing heat of the passion within them caused a tremor in her heart. "Jesu, lady, Jesu!" he breathed.

She smiled, somewhat in wonder at her own power, and in wonder, too, at the sweet desire that lived within her. She reached out her arms to him. "What if …!" she whispered.

"Jesu!" he repeated, and swept her hard into his arms. She gasped at the searing blade of him as he swiftly entered into her; hard, vital, fully aroused. Then she closed her eyes, for she was suddenly swept into the whirlwind of the very desire she had elicited, and she was riding the wind, and riding a storm. She felt herself buffeted to excruciating new heights. She saw the pinnacle before her and knew that she had left behind her thought and reason to seduce, and entered into her own storm of desire. Soft cries were escaping from her, and she buried her lips against his shoulder to silence them. He brought her higher still. Then it seemed that the world exploded in Stardust. Brilliant rays cascaded down upon her as she fought to regain her breath. She felt the immense power of the man as he found his own release within her, felt the hot sweet cascade of his seed pouring into her, and cried out once again, turning into his arms to be held as they drifted slowly back together.

They lay there in silence, and he stroked her hair. It seemed amazing to be so sated, so easy there with him. She had sworn to hate him. Too easily, far too easily, she was finding too many other emotions.

"If only …" she whispered softly, and she smiled as she curled upon his chest and met his eyes.

His eyes closed. He cast his elbow over them, still holding her with the one arm, but absently, or so it seemed. She laid her head down on his chest.

"If only …" he repeated quietly.

"So I will not have to go?" she murmured.

Then he shook his head. "If only … then you would please me greatly, as you did, my love. But that is all. I do not bargain, and I do not change my mind. I want to bring you to my castle, my home. Tonight."

Kat froze. She couldn't have heard him right!

"I will not go!" she stated. "I cannot go! I—"

His deep, weary sigh interrupted her. "Katherine, you will go, and you know that you will do so. If you fight me, I will bring you bound and screaming. One way or the other, you will do as I have said. It is necessary."

"It is necessary!" she repeated in a furious hiss. She crawled up atop him again, her fingers clenched into fists. "It is necessary!" She suddenly began to pummel and thunder against the chest she had so foolishly found so irresistible just moments before. "Damn you!" she choked out furiously. "You let me—you just lay there and let me—"

He caught her wrists, tensing as he raised himself up, his teeth grating with a warning sound. "You're my wife. I ‘let' you honor the vows we gave to one another, and nothing more."

"Oaf!" she shouted, trying to wrench free. She was in such a frenzy that she nearly managed to do so. "I swear, you're all alike, there's not a drop of honor within a single one of you. You can't begin to honor a bargain. I—"

"You what?" he demanded, giving her a firm shake. His eyes blazed. "And if you'll excuse me, madam, but who are all alike? What bargains do you speak about? Did you make a bargain with another man, pray tell?"

Kat felt the fury ease from her as fear came swiftly slinking into her heart in its place. "Just you!" she managed to hiss. "You said something that you didn't begin to intend to honor—"

"I never made you any promises, Katherine."

"Just like—"

"Like who?"

She closed her mouth, her lips sealed. Her eyes fell. He never pressed her. She couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't even explain.

"You play a dangerous, dangerous game!" he warned her.

She had nothing to say to him. He set her aside, and to his credit, did so gently. Kat remained kneeling on the bed, her back to him. "Whoreson!" she muttered suddenly. Then she stiffened, wondering if she had pushed his temper as far as she dared.

But she heard only a sigh of impatience. He was dressing, already clad in his white, full-sleeved undershirt and tunic, and pulling on his heavy wool hose. "One day, my lady, you will take back such words!"

"I think not."

He pulled his boots on and rose, then stood behind her naked back and leaned low to speak confidently against her nape. "I think so, madam. But it doesn't matter now. Be ready to ride in an hour."

"An hour? But are we not having supper? The cooks have worked all day. And we've entertainment—"

"There will be plenty left here to eat the food. And the entertainment will wait. You will be ready."

"You are seeking to do me harm in one way or another," she insisted. "Starvation is one of the ways!"

"You are not in the least starving. We have ample food in my kitchens, I assure you. You will be ready to ride."

"And if I choose not to be?"

"I will carry you all of the way, over good Lucien's hind quarters."

She spun on him, not doubting his words. "You, my lord, are among the most vile of all knaves! And you had best take great heed. One of these days, I might well slip into the forest and disappear so completely that not even you could find me."

He smiled grimly. "That, my lady, is another reason why we are leaving."

He strode across the room. Stunned, Kat leaped up, trying to drag the sheet along with her. She raced after him, catching his arm. "I won't. I won't disappear. I swear it. If we could just stay here. I'll—"

"You'll what?" he queried, intrigued.

"Apparently, what I promise means nothing to you anyway," she accused him, suddenly wanting to run again.

"You might want to confess all your sins," he suggested, and waited.

"My sins!" she exclaimed. "I do assure you, my lord, I have nothing to confess to you!"

"Then be ready to ride," he suggested. And before she could speak again, he had gone out of the room, heavily closing the door behind him.

Kat watched him go, then picked up one of her small shoes to hurtle it after him. "I hate you!" she cried. But the words were meaningless. She wanted to hate him so badly, he deserved to be hated …

But more and more …

"I will not love you! Ever!" she vowed out loud.

She swept the covers from her bed around her. His subtle, masculine scent seemed to linger, and she wondered how she had come to need the feel of his arms around her.

How she had come to reach such sweet glory from his touch. They were man and wife …

She froze suddenly, shivering violently, and pulled the covers more tightly about her. She was hungry one minute, sick the next, and dizzy when she exerted herself.

She leaped up, the covers about her, and began to pace the room, trying to count the days. They had all seemed such a blur since her marriage!

But it was true. She was late. Very late with her woman's time and …

A groan escaped her. She sank down to the foot of the bed. She couldn't be—she just couldn't be! They were scarce married, it just wouldn't be fair, and the Lady Greensleeves just couldn't be— enceinte! —with child, it would make creeping through the forest like a wraith nearly impossible.

A babe. An infant. His, hers. He would have a handsome son, she thought. A little boy with those wonderful gray eyes, eyes that were alight with curiosity, and never so hard a silver with so much of the ways of the world behind them! Or a daughter, perhaps, with that ink-dark hair to flow down her back. His child.

His child, or …!

An awful shudder ripped down her back.

Her husband's child?

Or the Silver Sword's?

Kat was ready as he had commanded, mainly because she knew that he wouldn't hesitate to carry out any threat, no matter how much trouble she gave him.

And she felt the need to steer far clear of him this evening.

She didn't toy with the idea of running away for more than a few seconds. If she escaped, he would come after her. If he didn't find her, the Silver Sword would, and if he didn't, Robin would. One way or the other, she would be returned here—and then she would be taken to Montjoy's stronghold anyway.

When the time to leave came, she did so with energy and grace and a beautiful smile. If she pretended to go willingly, his men might well believe that there was nothing wrong with her returning to her own castle—the moment the first chance presented itself. And it had to be quickly. She needed to be here! Her tunnel was her one escape into the different world, the forest world.

As anguished and worried as she was, she even intended to be pleasant to Montjoy while they rode. She didn't want any of their retainers to realize what a great deal of trouble still lay between them now.

But as it happened, Montjoy did not ride with them. At the last moment there was some difficulty with the mechanism of the drawbridge and he meant to stay until it was fixed.

Kat received word of this when she was already mounted on her gray mare, with Marie riding behind her. She wouldn't have been alone, for Damian's right-hand man, the very courteous young Sir James Courtney, was at her side when Howard came out with the message. "My Lord Montjoy says that he will be detained no more than the night at most, and that you must journey on without him."

"But, Howard, if there is a difficulty here, then I must stay!" Kat insisted.

"Oh, no, my lady. Lord Montjoy was very adamant on the matter. You are to ride on."

She lowered her lashes, trying to hide her emotions. Damn him! She could jump off her mare and go in pursuit of him, she thought. But he might well drag her back out here and tie her to the horse so Sir James could take her onward.

And if she rode on cheerily without him, she might well be able to ride back without his realizing it if something important happened that she needed to tell Robin. She might only have one or two more chances to reach the forest. She had to make those chances pay.

And there was also the small matter that she wasn't really ready to deal with him tonight, not when she was so plagued with this new worry.

"Then, Howard, you must tell Lord Montjoy goodnight for me. And wish him a most pleasant evening."

"He says that he will miss you, my lady. That the long separation will be more than he can bear."

She felt her cheeks pinkening, and she wished she could bid her husband goodbye herself—so that she could throw something at him.

"Tell him—" she began. "Tell him goodbye!"

With those words, she turned her horse's head toward the road. Marie's mount trotted along behind hers, and Sir James followed quickly, and after them came the ten armed guards chosen to serve as her escort.

Kat kept up a steady pace, leading the party herself. But darkness was falling quickly. She had packed a number of belongings, as had Marie, and with the pack animals following behind them, it seemed to be slow going. On a fast horse, the two strongholds were probably not much more than an hour or so apart. Tonight, the ride seemed to take forever.

"Perhaps tonight's journey was not so very wise," Sir James murmured. He held a burning taper high against the darkness. "In these woods."

"Oh," Kat said lightly. "We are safe in these woods."

"Aye, I imagine that we are," Sir James agreed.

Kat frowned. She wasn't afraid of the bandits—she knew all the bandits! But Sir James Courtney was her husband's man, and Richard's knight or no, Lord Montjoy was among the Norman aristocracy. Shouldn't he have been afraid?

Perhaps not. She had been rescued for Montjoy by the Silver Sword. And he and Robin Hood worked in unison.

Not even Robin had been in the least dismayed to discover that she had been married to Montjoy. He rather seemed to have enjoyed the information.

It didn't matter. Not tonight. She was weary and aggravated, and very tired.

And to make matters worse, the ride was making her feel queasy all over again.

She needed this night's respite from Lord Montjoy. She wanted to be angry with him, she wanted to always remember that day in the forest when he had behaved so discourteously in his Norman fashion.

But even being upset, she knew that something was changing. Something that she could not control. Even when they fought. Even when he used his power over her. Even when she knew that she must best him in the end.

She cared about him. She might even be falling in love with him. There had been no hardship, other than the loss of dignity, in casting aside restraint to whisper the words he had longed to hear. We have been separated longer than I can bear …

She smiled suddenly. Maybe, someday, there would be a chance for them. If Richard was rescued and returned. If there was no longer a need in the world for the Lady Greensleeves.

If she could …

If she could forget her one night in the forest with the Silver Sword.

Well, she couldn't forget it. Not now. Not if she was right about her condition!

Perhaps she was wrong! Oh, she had to be.

Even as she fought both men, she felt drawn to them both, and respected them both …

Cared for them both.

"My lady, Clifford Castle lies ahead," Sir James informed her.

She reined in. Montjoy's castle stood tall and monstrous in the moonlight. It was larger than her Castle de Montrain, but there was no protective moat around the high stone walls. There were four main towers, but the castle was not built as a square or rectangle, but seemed to meander there, large and forbidding in the moonlight. Repelling invaders, yet welcoming those who were meant to come. She had seen it many times before.

She had never imagined she would dwell within it.

"Then let's reach the castle, shall we?" she said, and nudged her horse into a canter.

The party behind her followed her lead. Sir James called out to the guard as they reached the gates, and guards in the colors of Montjoy quickly appeared at the portcullis, calling out a welcome.

The few people out and about at night hurried close to watch her curiously as she entered the courtyard. Women held bushels of straw or buckets of fresh cool water, coming to and fro from their domiciles within the castle walls. All stood still at their distance, then bowed and offered shy smiles as she made her way among them. She smiled in return, surprised to feel the warmth of her welcome here.

It was not so bad a place, it seemed.

There was simply no escape tunnel here!

Sir James led them to a broad entryway in the north tower. "Here, my lady!" he said. Dismounting, he hurried to her side and helped her down. Huge wooden doors at the tower opened even as a young, toothless little groom came to take her horse. She thanked him and allowed Sir James to lead her into Montjoy's main hall.

It was mammoth, taking up all of the lower floor of the tower. The walls were lined with the armaments of the Montjoys. Full suits of armor were cast upon iron figures against the back of the dais, armor for the joust, dress armor, and the rugged, useful knight's armor that Montjoy surely wore into battle.

The arrow slits at the back wall, the exposed wall, were covered over with elegant tapestries. A Persian rug lay before the giant hearth, and a dozen hounds stood wagging their tails just beyond it, woofing, waiting to greet both her and Sir James, whom they knew so well.

Lined up in the hallway were a number of the house servants. The cooks, Elizabeth, Hubert, and Humphrey; the maids, Lisa, Arlaina, Tess, and Nan. Then there was the tall and lean Tom of Quincy, Sir James's own squire, and castellan when both Sir James and Lord Montjoy were absent.

The servants all seemed pleased to greet her, and sorry to hear that their lord was not with her. Tom of Quincy was anxious to see to all her needs, and she assured him that she was weary more than anything else. Elizabeth promised to have a warm and welcoming meal sent to her room, and Tess vowed to have her things in her room for her in a matter of minutes, with Marie given a chamber close by.

Kat thanked them all, then followed Tess to the master's chamber on the second floor, high above the great hall, much as her own chamber at home was located.

And like her own it was very large. She felt Montjoy the moment she entered into it.

There were more of the iron, skeletal figures here, all clad in different sets or pieces of armor.

A wealth of swords adorned the walls. Again, the tapestries were rich and varied, but mostly Norman work, she could tell. The pictures chronicled the victories won by William the Conqueror.

"Your maid will be yonder, lady, for there is a servants' wing just past in the hallway," Tess told her, remaining quietly behind her.

Kat didn't turn. She wanted to be alone in his room. "Thank you, Tess. Marie, please, go on to your room. Get some sleep. It has been a long day."

"And a rough ride," Marie said softly, but with feeling.

Kat smiled, lowering her head. Perhaps she had set rather a rough pace for poor Marie. She had not intended to do so.

But now she wanted to be alone. She had to be alone! She wanted to think.

And to feel …

"My lady, I shall see to your trunks and unpack—"

"Nay, not now, I beg you. I am fine. Just weary. Leave me for the time," she said.

Tess bobbed her a little curtsy in agreement and left her. Kat stood alone in the large room and tried to imagine Montjoy here. There was a table near one of the tapestry-covered arrow slits. In the day he must have the tapestry taken away so that he could work there. The table was piled high with various parchments, maps, and documents. His great seal lay upon it as well.

Far across the room were a bowl and pitcher of fresh water, and across from the very large strung-rope bed, there was an embroidered linen dressing screen. Various trunks lay around the screen.

There were mementoes from the Crusades. A silver coffee server sat on a trunk to one side. A jeweled dagger in a silk embroidered sheath lay on another. Curiously Kat moved to one of the trunks, paused, then determined to look through it. She went down to her knees, then opened the trunk, and gasped at the array of clothing she found there.

The trunk was filled with silks. Women's silks. Gowns in pastel and bright colors, soft, see-through, entirely flimsy pieces. She tried to imagine them on the female body, and she wondered if they had been purchased with a specific female in mind. Her? He had known that he would have a wife …

But these things bore a scent. A musky scent, an attar of some exotic flower. It was a scent not to her liking. A scent that had surely been worn by the woman who had been clad in the silky garments.

Suddenly, the dressing screen began to teeter precariously.

Kat backed away as it fell over.

And revealed the woman who had been hiding behind it. A small, dark-haired woman with olive skin and almond eyes and long, free, jet-dark hair. A woman encompassed in the same gauzy silks and veils as filled the trunk.

"Who in God's name are you!" Kat exploded.

"I am Affa," the woman said proudly. "I serve the great Lord Montjoy. And I serve him very, very well!"

This was too much! Oh, dear Lord! This was truly the wrong side of way too much!

A black fury seemed to simmer before Kat's eyes, sizzling to red. She nearly plucked her shoe from her foot to throw across the room at the woman.

Just in time, she restrained herself. No matter how she longed to scream and shout—and pummel Montjoy's too-handsome face—she would restrain herself. It might well work to her advantage.

"Affa! How very curious," she murmured.