Again (37 page)

Her father’s slumped shoulders and his slow and heavy movements made him seem so much older.
 
Gone was the confident warrior accustomed to triumphing over the enemy.
 
Now he was a man who was bested for the second time by death. Though he remained stoic before his people, every night he would withdraw to his chambers to give into his grief, his sobs echoing through the corridor.
 

Catherine quickly put aside her needlework and went to her father, grasping his hands in hers.
 
The sparkle in his eyes had dimmed, but she could still see the love that fiercely burned within.

With gentle force he pulled her close and wrapped his powerful arms around her, holding fast to his one remaining daughter.
 
She breathed in the closeness, his warmth, and his love, letting them flow through her, willing them to ease her own pain.

He pulled away just enough to look at Catherine’s face, keeping her encircled within his arms.
 

“My sweet Catherine,” he murmured, reaching up to stroke her cheek.
 
“So much like your mother.
 
So steadfast and kind.”

Catherine closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.
 
He did not know the right of it.
 
If she were indeed so steadfast and kind, Sara would still be alive.
 

He lifted her chin.
 
“You cannot be to blame for Sara’s death, Catherine,” he said, as if knowing her thoughts.
 
“Sara was headstrong and irrational at times.
 
You could no more tame such a spirit as to capture a bolt of lightning on the stormiest of nights.”
 
He cradled her against his chest, resting his chin gently upon her head.
 
“I pray the heavens have patience with her soul.”

“Aye,” Catherine agreed.

“I must ask something of you, Catherine,” her father said, pulling away once again and holding her hands.
 
For a long moment he looked at her, seemingly struggling with his next words.
 
“I had made this decision some time ago, before I left for Rynonshire, but it is just now that I have realized the importance of that decision.”
 
His eyes shimmered.
 
“Now, even more than before, I need to know you are protected.”

Catherine searched his eyes, her brows drawn together.
 
“Protected from what?”

His placed his finger gently across her lips to silence her.
 
“Please understand my reasons when I ask you to marry Galen and accompany him to Rynonshire.
 
He is strong and capable.
 
He will be a good husband to you and most importantly, he will keep you safe.”
 
He managed to raise the corners of his mouth in a smile.
 
“Perhaps I may even hope to see grandchildren someday.”
 
He grazed the underside of her chin with his finger.

With her father looking at her as such, so sad, yet so hopeful of a brighter future, she had no will to deny him.
 
Jonathan’s betrayal and Sara’s death had left a vast, empty space inside of her that she feared she would soon lose herself within.
 
Perhaps Galen could help fill that void.

“You and Galen have known each other for many summers, Catherine, and unless I have misread your feelings for him, I believe you care for him.”

Catherine moved her head in a barely perceptible nod.

“That will be enough for now.
 
The passion and love will come, just as it did for me and your mother.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, wishing suddenly to be a child once again, free of the burdens she now faced.

He squeezed her tightly, placing a kiss atop her hair.
 
“Soon we will have a quiet ceremony.”

When he left her chamber, his footsteps were not as heavy as they once were.
 
She was grateful to have made her father happy.
  
She knew she would make Galen happy.
 
Only time will tell if she would be happy as well.

A glint of the ocean drew her attention to the window.
 
She would miss waking up to see the water stretching endlessly beyond her imagination.
 
It would be difficult to leave Elderidge, for she had come to love the tranquility the ocean offered.
 
She would forever remember the way the waters moved, the color of its moods, and the strength beneath the surface.
 

So vastly different than the lands of Rynonshire, where the castle sits high atop a mountain, skirted by rolling hills, with the only water being a healthy river that wound its way down from the mountain and bordered the village below.
 
At Rynonshire she would start anew.
 
There she would try to forget.

≈

A heady fragrance saturated the air, daring anyone who breathed its perfume not to feel the joy in simple pleasures of life.
 
Color was everywhere, red, pink, purple, and blue.

Catherine grudgingly admitted that being outside did indeed lift her spirits a bit.
 
She occupied herself with gathering bouquets of flowers for tonight, when a small banquet would be held to celebrate her marriage to Galen.
 
The preparations kept her from thinking about Jonathan, who was still anchored at the port, waiting.

She had rejected Jonathan’s repeated requests to meet with her, knowing the futility of such an encounter.
 
What could he possibly say that would change her mind about him and what had happened?

Catherine turned to the sound of pounding feet along the path.
 

“Milady!”
 
Emelie’s ran to her, her voice urgent. “Master Jonathan and his men are gathered at the gates!”

Catherine’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name and the basket of flowers she held slipped from her hand, scattering the flowers upon the ground.

She did not want to see Jonathan again.
 
She did not want to open the wound that had hardly had a chance to heal, but it appeared she had no choice.
 
She had to see him before Galen did.
 

Catherine ran past Emelie.
 
She would not have any more blood on her hands.

≈

“I believe I made it clear that you are not welcome here,” Galen growled at the cluster of men who stood beyond the gates.
 

It was a sight to see.
 
Dozens of men gathered on either side of the gate, throwing weighted stares at each other like daggers.
 
Lord Oakley, present to attend the marriage ceremony, stood with a cocky stance behind Galen, a twisted grin distorting his already sordid face.
 
So much anger and distrust was spread thickly in the air.

Catherine took a deep breath before speaking.
 
“Galen, allow me to speak to him.”
 
Catherine’s voice sounded calmer than she felt.

“Nay, Catherine,” said Galen his eyes not leaving Jonathan.

“Please, give me only but a moment, so that we may put this to rest.”

Galen turned to face Catherine, judging what he could of her intentions.
 
“To what end, Catherine?”

When Galen stepped back, her senses were assaulted by Jonathan’s presence.
 
Dressed in black, Jonathan’s mood was as somber as his clothes.
 
His eyes were stricken with confusion and grief, and were full of questions.
 
His face was a mask of seriousness she did not know he possessed.

She held Jonathan’s gaze as she spoke to Galen.
 
“I will not have you or your men fighting with them.
 
There are things that need to be said.
 
Things he must understand.”

Galen looked from Catherine to Jonathan, and then gave the signal for the gate to be opened.

“Catherine -- ,” Jonathan started.

She interrupted him.
 
“Sara died with your child growing inside of her.”
 
She heard Galen’s sharp intake of breath and turned to him.
 
“Tis true, Galen.
 
Sara told me he bedded her.”
 

The sound of swords being unsheathed cut through the air.
 
All of her father’s men were poised, ready to defend Sara’s honor.
 

A muscle worked in Galen’s jaw, his eyes wide with surprise.
  
His lips parted, but after a sweeping glace at Catherine and Jonathan, he thought better of it and clenched his jaw shut.

“Well, well,” Lord Oakley chuckled quietly to him.
 
“It looks like your little problem is solved.”

Galen turned sharply toward him, his eyes slivers of ice.
 
“Do not deceive yourself that you are free from blame.
 
I will see you rot in hell for what you did to Sara,” he hissed.

Lord Oakley raised his brows.
 
“So why do you not strike me down?
 
Why do you not give the truth to Catherine?”

Galen held a scathing look at Lord Oakley before allowing a glance at Catherine and Jonathan.

“I thought as much,” Lord Oakley smirked.

Galen whipped back around and ground out his warning.
 
“If you value your life with your cock intact, you will say nothing.”

Lord Oakley, stepped back, and with lids lowered in submissiveness, inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Catherine eyed them both warily.
 
It unnerved her to see their heads so close together, hissing words between them.

Galen turned back to Catherine.
 
“What will you have me do?”
 
He swept his hand, indicating his men.

She looked around her.
 
Both sides had knives and swords drawn, ready to fight.
 
“Pull your men back and let me speak to him alone.”

Galen gave the order and he and his men stepped back.

Catherine turned back to Jonathan, waiting for him to signal for his men to retreat with their weapons as well.
 

They stared at each other for what seemed to her an eternity before he stepped closer.
 
His desperation was palpable.
 

“Catherine,” Jonathan’s eyes were pleading.
 
“You must believe me.
 
If she carried a child, it was not mine.”

Catherine spoke as if she did not hear him.
 
“My sister was easy prey for any man.”

“I did not touch her!
 
You must believe me.”

“Did you whisper the same words in her ears as you did in mine?”

He closed the gap between them and grabbed her by the arms.
 
“Hear what I say.”

She jerked free.
 
“I have heard too much already,” she hissed.
 
She could no longer hold at bay the hurt that the memories brought forth.
 
“You made me feel things I never thought possible, not only with my body, but in my heart and my soul.
 
I believed in you!
 
I believed I had a choice in life!
 
I believed a man and woman …”
 
She drew her fist to her mouth to stifle a cry of anguish.

She closed her eyes tight as she fought for control.
 
“I gave you everything I had.
 
How could you betray me?”

Both hands shot up and his fingers raked through his hair in frustration.
 
“Someone plays us for fools, Catherine!
 
There is no truth to this!”
 
He shot a scathing look at Galen.

“You call my sister a liar?”
 
Her voice turned cool.
 
Catherine did not want to believe her sister would purposefully cause her such immense pain.
 
“Did you know her well enough to believe that she was capable of such lies, or did you just exchange pleasantries before you bedded her?”

Jonathan stood straighter, stung by the accusation. “No, Catherine, I did not know your sister, but
you
know
me.
”
 
A heavy breath seemed to deflate him, leaving him without weapons to fight.
 
Hands out to his sides, palms up, he bade her to look at him fully. “Stop and think with your heart, Catherine.
 
Am I capable of what you say?
 
Think upon it.
 
You know the truth of it.”

“Aye,” she said.
 
“I know but one truth.”
 
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
 
“The truth is I gave my soul to you.
 
Now tell me…how do I live without it?”
 
She clenched her hands against the choking sobs that threatened to spill forth.