Catrin tilted the cup to her lips with shaking hands. It was raw, red wine, sweetened with honey and spiked with Galwegian usquebaugh. She swallowed, coughed, retched and swallowed again, tears filling her eyes. The drink hit her stomach like a hot coal and flashed through her body. She sat back on the bench and breathed deeply, and each breath was filled with the scent of him; of orris root and horses, of a healthy, vigorous man in the full flow of life. 'Tell me, she said shakily. 'I need to know.
He drank from a cup of his own. She saw the familiar way he pouched it in his cheeks before he swallowed, and the unfamiliar line of a scar moving as he washed the wine around his mouth. What she had thought of as shattered bones and corrupted flesh was living, breathing, warm and vital.
'I killed Padarn ap Rhys, he said. 'It was in fair fight, but do you think his followers would have accepted the outcome? It would be a matter of their clan's honour to see me dead. So I decided to «kill» myself before they did it for me.
'And left me a grieving widow with never a word, so that you could save your own hide. Catrin's lips drew back from her teeth as a spark of anger lit from within and carried her forward from that awful day on the banks of the Wye.
'I was intending to return for you.
Catrin gave a cracked laugh. She felt as if all of her was breaking into little pieces; shattering like a fine and brittle mirror. 'When? Just how long were you intending me to wait? You must have an overbearing sense of your own attraction to think that I would still be dutifully pining four years later! She took another vicious drink of the wine. Had she not, she would have thrown it in his face.
'I do not blame you for being angry, just as I don't blame you for not waiting. He steepled his hands together in a prayerful gesture and gave her an engaging look from beneath his dark-winged brows. 'But I am telling you the truth. I—
'Then it will be for the first time in your life! Catrin interrupted furiously. 'How dare you say that you do not blame me when it was you who abandoned me, and in a fight over your seduction of someone else's wife! Her hand trembled on the cup. 'I thought you were dead. You can stay dead! She sought refuge in the burn of her rage, but her defences had been breached. Just the sight and scent of him brought everything back. Despite her rage, or perhaps part of it, there was a hot sensitivity between her thighs.
Lewis shook his head sorrowfully. 'First you say tell me; then, when I try, you bite my head off. I know I deserve it, but at least do me the grace of listening.
She glared and drank, saying nothing, feeling the ground slip from under her feet.
He took her hand and rubbed her fingers gently with the ball of his thumb. 'I do not deny that I have been untrustworthy in the past, Catty. I took my responsibilities lightly. I misbehaved. I know that I was not a good husband
Catrin blinked as treacherous tears filled her eyes. She pressed her lips together and looked down at her lap.
'I admit that I flirted with the wife of Padarn ap Rhys. I admit that I visited whore houses with the other soldiers, but such women meant nothing to me. I thought I was proving myself, when all I was doing was being a fool and playing with dross when I should have been at home with my gold.
Catrin sniffed. 'Spare me your honeyed tongue, I knew what you were like.
'Well, that is the meat of the matter, he said, still stroking her hand. 'I was like it then, Catty, but I'm not any more. On the day I fought with Padarn, I swore an oath to change. In a sense I truly am dead. I left the old Lewis on the banks of the Wye that day. I'm now Louis de Grosmont, and I serve William d'Ypres, Lord of Kent. Very gently, he tilted up her chin on his forefinger, betraying the glitter in her eyes. 'I was going to come back for you, Cat, I promise I was. But not until I had proved myself worthy.
'And you expected me to wait, thinking that you were dead? She jerked her head away, but the wobble of her voice betrayed her.
'I thought you might stay a widow longer than this, he said, and touched the gold knot ring on her heart finger. 'But then I made many misjudgements back then. There was sorrow in his tone, and perhaps the faintest note of reproach.
'Yes, you did.
'Are you then remarried?
Catrin swallowed and shook her head. 'But for Winchester, I would be.
'Ah. You lost him there then? Although he spoke with gentleness and compassion, his eyes were sharp.
It was impossible to bear. A great wave of grief began to gather. 'I do not know. I came here to find out if he is a prisoner and, if he is, to pay his ransom!
'And found me, instead.
Tears spilled. 'I should never have come. The final word ended in a howl of self-reproach and she began to cry.
'Yes, you should, it was meant to be. Louis took her in his arms and held her firmly. When she tried to push out of his embrace, he tightened his grip and murmured soothing words at the same time. He wanted to know more about her and until he did, he had no intention of yielding her up to another man, if at all. What had once been stale was now fresh and new and intriguing. Besides, it was several days since he had last had a woman and he was hungry. And she was, after all, his wife.
'Catty, Catty, he crooned, kissing her temple and her wet cheek. 'Catty, it's all right, I promise. He let her weep, and at the same time rubbed her back and her shoulders. He made her finish the wine, and then gave her the rest of his. Only then did he taste her lips, moist with wine and the salt of tears. His hands soothed, stroked, and then manipulated. From her side they moved to her waist and then to her breasts. His kisses went from comforting, to questing, to passionate, and beneath his touch her nipples budded and her body arched.
'Stop, Catrin gasped as they broke for air. She tried to push him away, but Louis ignored her protest and placed her hand on the swollen bulge beneath his tunic.
'Catty, for God's love don't refuse me or I will go mad, he groaned. 'I have to have you. He ended any attempt at protest with another deep, probing kiss, and moved his own hand to her lap. His fingers searched and then delicately rubbed. His tongue thrust and stroked, and his hips rocked.
She made a small sound in her throat, and her hand closed around him and began to squeeze and relax. It was good, exquisitely so, and Louis had to struggle to keep his wits about him. It was obvious that they could go no further than this without seeking somewhere more private, but it could not be too far or the impetus would be lost.
There was a storeshed a few yards away, in which was stacked kindling for the great stone ovens in the kitchen. It was not the best place for a tryst, but it would afford them more privacy than this. Disengaging, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
His voice was light with excitement and daring. 'Do you remember that time in Chepstow, Catty? In the keep undercroft before we were wed? It was a rhetorical question. He knew she did because it was the first time that she had experienced the delight of climax, and he had brought her to that point time and again, panting, sweating, crying out and clawing him.
Now he pulled her into the small shed and wedged the door shut with a hefty chunk of split log. Anyone who wanted fuel would have to wait. Snatching off her cloak, he spread it on the bare floor in front of the kindling and removed his gambeson to use as a pillow.
'Lewis, I can't. She tried to retreat, but he was blocking the entrance and there was a wall of wood at her back.
'That's what you said then too, he answered with a grin. For all that she was shaking her head, her rapid breathing betrayed her. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. The tip of his tongue flickered out and touched her palm, then trailed lightly to the pulse point on her wrist. 'Pleasure, he said softly; 'nothing but pleasure. Returning to her palm, he kissed her fingertips one by one, then bit down gently. His tongue circled. He was the hunter and she was the prey. He stalked her now, his other hand encircling her waist and pulling her against him. 'Remember Chepstow, Catty. He angled his head, pushing her wimple to one side, and sucked her throat.
'Jesu God, she whispered, and he felt her swallow. In the streaks of light showing through the cracks in the wood, he saw that her eyes were closed and that her breathing was short and shallow as she sought not to gasp.
