'It's more than a memory now, Louis murmured. 'It's here, it's real. He claimed her mouth again and pressed his hand into the small of her back, at the same time pushing his hips forward and up so that she could feel his arousal. 'Please, he said. 'Shall I get down on my knees to you? And promptly did so, but only to lift the hem of her gown and caress her ankles, and then work his way up her calves and thighs. She shuddered but did not try to stop him, and her gasps grew more audible. He rose to his feet again, but now the folds of her gown were bunched upon his forearms and she was naked to the waist. He cupped her buttocks and rubbed against her, enjoying the cool smoothness of her flesh. The anticipation was often almost as exciting as the act itself, although what he liked best of all was to watch the effect he had on his partner.
Holding her against him, he unlaced the drawstring of his braies and rubbed his swollen penis against her belly and between her thighs. 'Feel how hot I am for you, Catty, he muttered against her throat. 'I want to fill you until I burst. It's been too long.
He drew her down on to the improvised bed of cloak and hauberk, and spread her thighs. His thumbs rested on the soft skin there, then stroked lightly upwards, opening her to the thrust of his body. She arched her throat, a soft cry escaping between her clenched teeth. Louis watched her response and avidly fed upon it. He pushed deeper, cupping her buttocks and pressing down upon the small pea of flesh that was her centre of pleasure. She whimpered and clutched him.
Despite saying that he was desperate, Louis had no intention of racing to climax too soon and he held back, his movements rhythmic and measured, keeping up a constant pressure on her, without driving himself beyond control. She began to thresh and toss her head, and the whimpers became louder cries. Louis studied her face: the tightly squeezed lids, the open mouth drawing air in rapid breaths and letting it out in shallow gasps of frustration and pleasure. His loins twitched at the sight. Near, so near. He held her there a moment longer, relishing the sight of her struggle the way a fisherman relished the sight of a newly caught fish flapping its silver body on the river bank. Then he went for the kill, plunging deep and surging hard.
'Jesu God! Catrin uttered again, but this time it was not a whisper but a full-blown howl.
For a moment she went rigid beneath him, and then she shattered, the ripples of her climax engulfing him and bringing him triumphantly to his own.
He surfaced somewhat breathlessly from a well of pleasure whose depth had taken him by surprise. But then lying with Catrin in the old days had often been rewarding. He liked her wild response. It was always better with a woman who cried and screamed. And now that he had taken her, he felt more in control.
Withdrawing, he rolled away and sat up. She was still breathing hard, but the straining hunger no longer filled her expression. Very slowly, as if reluctant to do so, she opened her eyes and looked up at him with heavy lids. Then she flung violently away and burst into tears.
It was not what he had expected and for an instant he was nonplussed. 'Catty? He leaned over her. 'What's wrong?
She shook her head and wept all the more. Louis sighed and pulled her dress down over her buttocks and bare thighs. She was wearing red silk hose like the ones he had given her all those years ago, and the sight sent a small aftershock of lust through him.
'I'll bring some more wine, he murmured, and slipped out of the shed.
When he returned, she had pulled herself over to the wall and sat with her spine against the planks, her knees drawn up to her chin in a defensive posture. She had ceased to weep, but her eyes were swollen and she kept sniffing into a linen kerchief.
'I brought some bread too, else you'll be as drunk as a Bristol sailor, he said, as he set the wooden platter down in front of her.
'Perhaps I want to be as drunk as a Bristol sailor, she answered in a choked voice. 'Perhaps I want to consign what just happened to a drunken haze.
'Not you, Catty, it's not in your nature. You always run to meet difficulties head on.
'What would you know about my nature these days?
'Not enough, although I've made a beginning.
He started to grin, but she wiped it off his face when she said, 'Then I hope you're proud.
'I never gave pride a thought, did you? he retorted with some asperity, and poured wine into one of the cups. 'I wanted you, I still do and, as I far as I'm aware, the feeling is mutual.
He took a drink from the cup and then handed it across to her. 'Is it not?
She rested the cup on her knees and stared into the wine. 'I don't know. If you asked me my name just now, my tongue would stumble. I came to Rochester in search of the man to whom I am betrothed, and instead I find that betrothal null and void because I am no longer a widow but a wife.
Louis tilted his head. 'Tell me about him, he said. 'Tell me about your life since I left it and, in the name of Christ, eat some of this bread before you faint on me. He thrust the platter beneath her nose.
She took one of the flat, golden loaves and bit into it without any enthusiasm. 'I thought about throwing myself into the river and joining you, she said with a twisted smile. 'What a waste that would have been. But I was saved from myself and my grief by a lady named Amice de Cormel, who was in need of a maid for herself and a nurse for her seven-year-old son.
He listened attentively and with developing interest as she told him her tale. Catrin the girl-wife, whose sole concern had been tending the hearth and pleasing his needs, had become Catrin the woman of independent strength and means. But that was only a small part of her appeal. Piquancy was added by the fact that her betrothed was his prisoner. Louis could see the attraction that the tall blond knight might have for Catrin. Oliver Pascal's laconic ways only hinted at the quiescent strength of the man, and the way he bore himself would be equally as appealing to women as a more bold approach. Still, Louis might yet have released Catrin from old vows had she not mentioned that King Stephen was in her debt for tending his wounds at Bristol.
'King Stephen? he repeated, unable to believe his good fortune. 'You know King Stephen?
She made a small movement of her shoulders as if it did not matter. 'They keep him in irons and the irons chafe. I tend his flesh with salve and I have spoken to him often. He knows me by sight and by name.
Louis gazed at her while his imagination took flight. His young wife, whom he had once thought insignificant enough to desert, had the ear and the gratitude of Stephen himself. 'I have heard a rumour that Stephen will soon be exchanged for Robert of Gloucester, he said.
'Then his men will be freed too? She looked at him eagerly.
'That will depend on who holds their ransoms, but I should think so. He rubbed his palm across his upper lip.
'I don't even know if Oliver's alive. She gave a sniff and wiped her sleeve across her face. 'That's what I was coming to find out… and then this happened. She looked at him, searching his face. 'What am I going to do?
Louis considered her. He knew that he had to play this very carefully now; hold the balance, manipulate it in his favour. 'He is alive, you need not fear on that score, he said. 'I saw him and spoke to him earlier this morning.
Several emotions flashed across her face. Relief and joy, swiftly followed by the bitten lip and tear-filled eyes of guilt and grief. 'He is well?
'Chafing at the confinement, but otherwise whole. I was one of the party who captured him and the Earl of Gloucester on the Winchester road, and part of my duty has been to guard them. I am promised a portion of the ransom price but, in the light of what he is to you, I dare say I could be generous enough to waive it.
'You dare say? Catrin looked at him through swollen, narrowed eyes. 'You could be generous? She flung the words and then, with a rapid fumbling at her waist, she hurled a leather pouch in his face, making him duck. 'Take it, she spat. 'Take it all. Go and count it in a corner and rub your hands!
He looked down at the pouch where it had fallen into his lap. Silver coins spilled from its open throat. He scooped them back, laced the drawstring and placed it gently at her side. It was not as generous a gesture as it appeared. By the laws of matrimony, whatever was Catrin's was his. He would have the silver from her at a time of his own choosing.
'I confess that I am jealous, he said, with the travesty of a smile. 'I would like to run him through with my sword, but how can I when, to all intents and purposes, you were a widow and, as far as both of you were aware, the road was clear? I am sorry if I cannot be as gracious about it as you wish, or as I indeed would wish it myself. He paused and shrugged. 'But then, I realise that I have you and he has nothing. I will free him this very day.
