“Why don’t we just ask Robbie?”
Catherine shuddered and crossed herself, as once again the memory of the young man’s gruesome death clawed her mind and heart. “Because Robbie is dead, Lucas. He was pushed in front of a cart by the soldiers for warning me of danger.”
The lad’s dark eyes widened. “Oh. Oh. Well. I must say, Catherine, it would surely help if you told us what your father did—”
“Lucas!” Brand hissed.
“It would help,” said Lucas, his expression stormy. “Because this doesn’t seem like a small thing such as…I don’t know…kissing the queen’s maids or besting her favorite in a tournament. She is so angry. And two people are dead already.”
Sick despair slumped her shoulders.
“That is the problem,” she said hoarsely. “I don’t know what he did. Or said.”
“He might not have done or said anything,” snapped Brand as he slid off the horse. “We all know court rumors are often wrong, yet swiftly spread by those with a grudge or someone wanting to usurp a position. Tis a viper’s nest at the best of times. But we won’t get to the truth until we find Robbie’s relatives. Let’s pair off and search. We’ll stable the horses at that inn over there, and meet again at dusk.”
Brand quickly secured lodgings and supper from the smilingly deferential innkeeper who came outside to greet them. Then the other four men left to begin the search for Robbie’s family.
Catherine wrapped her arms around herself, discreetly flexing muscles cramped and sore from sitting in a saddle for the best part of two days and sleeping on the hard ground. Now they were here in Guildford, she wished she were anywhere else.
Her eyes had been opened to a different world, one of the glorious pleasures that might be found between a man and woman, certainly, but now she also knew much of dark and ugly matters. Of violent deaths, merciless orders, and cruel lies. Surely Mary didn’t know of these evil deeds. How could she?
And yet, a devil of doubt whispered, how could she not?
“Catherine? Are you well? You’ve gone very pale.”
“I’m afraid,” she admitted reluctantly, almost unable to meet Brand’s steady gaze. “Being here, it makes everything so real. That Papa is never coming back, and my desire to find the truth might put even more lives in danger. What if we discover something truly a-awful, either about my father or—”
“The queen,” he finished bluntly. “I strongly suspect the latter.”
“Oh, of course you do. But you’ve never even met her, Brand! How do you think this is for me, knowing someone I loved and served my whole life could have…”
Unable to even say the wicked, sinful words, she buried her face in her hands.
Brand cursed, and she wept harder at the thought of him angry with her, until he hauled her into his arms and stroked her hair.
“Don’t cry, Carey,” he said gruffly, his lips just brushing her cheek. “I would know the truth as much as you. We’ll find it, I know we will. And whatever it is, you won’t be alone.”
Held tightly against his warm, hard chest, she almost believed him.
How many Blacksmiths could there be in one bloody town?
It was increasingly difficult to keep a smile on his face as they were politely fare-thee-welled from yet another unrelated family. He and Catherine had been trudging up and down the narrow, muddy streets of Guildford for hours now, even along the river Wey and as far up as the sternly imposing Guildford Castle. Several times it seemed like they had gained a promising snippet of information, only for it to lead nowhere.
“It’s no use,” said Catherine miserably, her steps dragging heavily in the borrowed wooden shoes. “We’ll never find Robbie’s family. And it’s getting dark.”
Brand gritted his teeth, hating to admit defeat, but she was right. The night offered an enemy both cover and an easy escape; while they weren’t being followed at present, people were beginning to watch them and he didn’t want to risk Catherine’s safety in a surprise attack. “We will find them. Perhaps not tonight, but in the morning. Besides, the others might have news and even now the right family could be waiting for us.”
“How…how long do you think we have?”
“I don’t know. We traveled discreetly and with a destination in mind. Guildford may not be the soldiers’ first choice, but I still wouldn’t dare expect any more than a few days.”
“And then I’ll be arrested. Do you think the Tower, Brand? Or—”
“No,” he growled, coming to a halt on the footpath, taking her cool hands in his and chafing them. “I won’t let them take you. Understand?”
Catherine stared up at him, her ashen cheeks only emphasizing the deep blue of her eyes, the soft pink of her lips. Unable to resist, he lifted his other hand and traced her trembling lower lip with his thumb.
“I understand,” she replied softly, and in one swift movement she tilted her head so he cupped her cheek. Then she turned, her gaze never leaving his, and kissed his open palm.
Sensation sparked through him, and he sucked in a harsh breath. How much temptation could one sinner be expected to take?
Not even an icy stream plunge had been enough to quell his cock after Catherine used him as her feather bed, and the saddle tortured him the rest of the journey. Now when she looked at him with those huge, thickly-lashed eyes and kissed him, it took every ounce of control he had not to drag her into another alley and take her until he collapsed.
“Let’s go back to the inn,” he said, lust roughening his tone to a near-growl. “I’m sure you would welcome some food and wine.”
Fortunately they weren’t far away from the inn, and Lucas and his men were already there. They dined in a private room for supper, generous in size and well scrubbed with freshly
