Forbidden Legacy (6 page)

“Stephan.”

Her husband glanced back, his gaze cool, the pungent ocean breeze ruffling his hair.

“I didna miss that you evaded my questions.”

“Nor did I expect you to.” He climbed below deck.

“And he thinks I am stubborn!”

“You are.”

At Thomas's voice, she whirled.

The knight stood several paces away, his eyes thoughtful.

“How long have you been standing there?”

He sauntered over. “But moments. I came to see how much you had improved.”

“Did you, now? I thought you returned to see how your plan to goad Stephan into taking over my training faired.”

Thomas shrugged. “Mayhap that as well. You held your own.”

“I should have handled my weapon better. I have trained with a sword for several years. And before you ask, I admit that Stephan is a good teacher.”

A smile touched his mouth. “Indeed, he is a master with the blade.”

“A master?” she asked, her curiosity growing.

“Aye, his skill is renowned, his expertise sought out by many.”

Mayhap that was the reason the king had insisted on her wedding Stephan. Deft with the sword, once they'd seized Avalon, her husband was a trustworthy man whom her guardian could depend on to keep the fortress secure. Still, other questions lay unanswered. “Why will Stephan nae speak of his family?”

The knight's smile faded. “There are some questions best left unasked.”

A reply that invited more questions. Frustrated, she shifted to a different topic. “Stephan mentioned that he wanted his brothers to be safe, then refused to say more.”

The slap of waves against the ship's bow filled the air.

Her frustration grew. “Have you met any of his family?”

Silence.

“Mary have mercy, you are as hard as Stephan to pry answers from.”

“Lady Katherine, heed me well. Your husband is a complicated man; a good, decent warrior who has endured much and suffered more than you could possibly understand. I caution you on prying into his life.”

She twisted her brow into a frown. “How dare you advise me of what I can understand when you tell me naught?”

“'Tis nae mine to tell.”

“Then,” she said, keeping her gaze leveled on him, “I will find a way to convince Stephan to trust me with his past.”

“Your efforts will change naught,” Thomas said. “Regardless of what you learn, 'tis too late to change anything.”

“You are nae making sense,” Katherine said, frustrated that his every comment did naught but raise more questions. “Please, tell me what is going on.”

The knight shook his head. “If Stephan wishes to broach the subject, 'tis his decision.” With a nod, he departed.

Fine, let him go. Neither did she care. Sir Thomas and her husband could immerse themselves in preparations for the battle. In the end, 'twas her castle they claimed, one she would keep.

M
oonlight shimmered upon the ocean's surface, wisps of silver glinting off each swell. Grief built in Katherine's chest as she took in the spectacular ode to the night, the familiar tang of the sea far from helping to soothe her nerves.

“You should be abed.”

At her husband's voice she stiffened.

“I couldna sleep.” She glanced his way, far from wanting company. “Neither, 'twould seem, could you.”

Illuminated by the spill of silvery light, his face remained a solemn mask. “I heard you leave the cabin.”

“Between the ship's creaking, the rumble of water, and the snoring, I find that hard to believe.”

His mouth tightened. “I dinna lie.”

Exhaustion washed through her, memories of the nightmare poking her mind like sharp sticks. She rubbed her temple. “If you came here to argue, go away. I have little patience for a dispute this night.”

For a long moment he studied her. “Why did you leave your berthing?”

She stared at Stephan, a stranger whose presence made her feel protected, a husband in whose company she felt like a stranger. Katherine leaned against the rail, lifted her face against the cool night breeze. “I-I awoke from a nightmare.”

The quiet pad of steps sounded, paused at her side.

Though a hand's width away, the crisp, clean scent of his masculinity surrounded her. She swallowed hard, nae wanting to breathe this man any deeper into her life. Alone and in the quiet, she could have mulled over the horrific dream, worked past the pain, if only for a while.

“Of your family's murder?”

Her chest squeezed against the unbearable loss. “A-aye.” Her rough whisper melded with the echo of wood severing sea. “I loved them so much. 'Tis difficult for me to accept that . . .” She drew in a steadying breath, exhaled. “To accept that those I loved are gone.”

“I am sorry for your loss.”

The sincerity of his words had her glancing over. Moonlight outlined his face, the square of his jaw, and his unwavering gaze. “I thank you. 'Tis difficult.”

With a sad sigh he rested against the rail. “Losing those you love is never easy.”

“It isna.” She faced the roll of the sea, assuring herself that the slide of water on her face was the spray of the ocean, nae tears.

“Do you have nightmares often?”

She wiped the salty drops from her cheeks. “Since the attack, they come every night.”

“And will continue,” he said, his words somber. “After some months, however, if you are fortunate, instead of horrific dreams you will have peaceful sleep. After several more have passed you will have days when your grief doesna stain every waking moment. After years, memories of the tragedy will linger, but doesna haunt your every thought.”

He paused, scanning the silver wash of sea and night.

“Regardless of the passage of time, you will see something that makes you remember,” he said, his voice growing rough. “Then the hurt, the despair, will rush over you, bringing you to your knees.”

The pain of his words made her ache. Whatever loss he'd suffered haunted him still. A grief she understood, a heartache she struggled daily to accept. As a knight he would encounter strife, suffering, along with witnessing death many times over. Wouldna at some point his defenses shield him from further hurt, when he'd grow numb to the taking of a life?

Shame filled her. In her misery, had she become so shallow that instead of empathy for his suffering, she'd dismissed his hurt as less worthy than her own? “How do you move past the tragedy?”

“One nightmare at a time.”

From his earlier remarks, she'd expected words of wisdom, nae cynicism. “As simple as that?”

“Aye,” he replied, his voice devoid of the emotion of moments before, as if he'd tucked away his feelings with efficient practice. “You focus on the next task, begin. Life doesna allow us time to flounder on misery's shore. Those of wisdom learn to forget, to care for naught except duty.”

Anger stirred within her. “I think 'twould be a great dishonor against those important in our lives to try to erase their existence.”

“Holding on to the memories does naught but breed bitterness.”

“Is that what they have done to you?” she demanded. “Made you bitter?”

“Nay. I refuse to let them.”

Empty words. From the fury edging his voice, the recollections still burned hot. Compassion filled her. Although she grieved for her family, she believed one day she would move beyond just existing, of trying to cope with the pain, and find happiness. A conviction in stark contrast to Stephan's, who was filled with naught but despair.

Her godfather knew of her optimistic nature. In addition to sending Stephan and his men to reclaim Avalon, was he aware of her husband's personal struggles? Was that another reason the king had paired her with the knight in hopes that she would help him move past his personal strife?

Thomas's caution that Stephan was a warrior who had endured much whispered through her mind. Was his friend preparing her for the challenge if she tried to work past her husband's barriers? If so, then, like the Bruce, did Thomas believe if she offered advice Stephan would listen?

As if her husband would ever listen to anything she said.

The whip of salty air slid past.

Go back to your cabin
, her mind urged.
Little can be done to repair a man so broken.
To remain, to try to help him would be met with naught but frustration. However wise it would be to leave Stephan with the hurt he clung to like a blade, her thoughts returned to the fact that one day she would become strong enough to move past her grief. Her husband didna even have that.

Far from confident in the belief Robert Bruce or Thomas held in her ability, she'd try. “Happiness still exists, if only you seek it.”

“Happiness?” Stephan scoffed. “How can you preach hope when your family was slaughtered?”

The ingrate! “How dare you attack me when 'tis you who fear taking a chance to care!”

“We,” he said between clenched teeth, “are nae talking about me.”

“You are right,” Katherine said, sarcasm drenching her every word. “Talking about me is easy; then you can keep your distance. Tell me, do you have any more sage advice to offer? Mayhap counsel that will guide me on the morrow? I bow to your wisdom as 'twould seem you have mastered the—”

He caught her wrist. “Stop it.”

“Why?” she challenged, nae giving a damn about his anger, far from intimidated by his firm grip. Had her husband meant to harm her, he would have done so by now. “I am nae one of your men to be ordered about, nor a squire who looks up to you with a glaze of ignorance in his eyes but an unwanted wife.”

On a curse, he released her, stalked toward the ladder.

“Go,” she called after him, the wind tangling her hair in her face. “Leaving is what you are good at. Another battle to fight? A war to be waged? Bury your head deep within the brutality of combat; then you dinna have to think or remember!”

He whirled. Like a caged animal, Stephan stormed back. “You dare much!”

“You, my lord, dare naught. At least I live, feel sorrow, struggle, and go on. Unlike you, a man who acts as if he has deep faith but refuses to face the potential of pain. Leave me. Hide behind your blade. I dinna care.”

“Having faith doesna erase the horrors of life,” he stated with rough violence, “the brutality of people, nor their destructive greed.”

“It doesna,” she agreed, “but faith is a continual hope that burns inside, a belief that however horrific the event, with
His
grace, happiness will arise in the future, joy we can embrace—if we so choose.”

Her husband rubbed the back of his neck. “If only 'twas that simple.”

Saddened that he'd grown so jaded, the anger of moments before evaporated until naught but weariness remained. “Why does choosing to be happy have to be difficult?”

“Naught in life is easy.” For a long moment he stared at the roll of waves, and then he glanced over. “Your words are honorable but a belief culled from the experiences of your sheltered life.”

“Sheltered?” Any lingering sympathy faded. “I traveled often with my father, met with kings, dignitaries, as well as dealt with those living with meager means. Well I know the challenges people face and overcome.”

* * *

Stephan glared at his tigress of a wife, unsure whether he was more furious at her verbal attack or that she'd dared. Nay warrior had ever confronted him and lived! God's teeth, if he had half a brain he'd . . . Sanity drizzled through the blur of anger.

She wasna a warrior but his wife, a woman who grieved her family's brutal murder. He muttered a curse, furious that Katherine had driven him to this point. Worse, that she could. She should have remained at Urquhart Castle while he seized Avalon with his men, as was his right.

Instead, she'd tossed out ultimatums to a king, a bloody king! He knew she'd be trouble, a nuisance at every turn. Challenge him? Aye, the lass would try a saint!

“You have been exposed to a good deal of life,” he said. To his mind, a fine concession.

“And that should what, appease me? As if your agreeing that I have been exposed to life somehow holds deep insight?” She arched her brow. “Who do you think you are? Oh, I know,” she said, her sarcasm thick. “You are a knight who earned a king's favor. Your status of nobility naught of blood, but by the grant of a king. So dinna try to placate me with the toss of a few understanding words, as if hay for cattle. I am nae a fool.”

Nay, she was far from that. If anything, with her insight, his wife saw too much about him, more than he himself had dared to face. Blast her! Neither would this discussion continue. “I shouldna have made light of your experience.”

The tension within her body faded. Her eyes watching his filled with starlight and that damnable hope, an emotion far too dangerous to believe in or accept. Awareness stirred. Shocked by the slide of need, Stephan willed the sensation away.

“What is wrong?” she asked.

At her soft entreaty, he caught himself noticing the light shimmering on her mouth, the fullness of her lips, and the soft, sweet curve that lured him to taste. Bedamned! How could a warrior who'd served God most of his life have such strong feelings for a woman he barely knew?

More confusing, in all of his years of travel during the Crusades, never had he met a woman who intrigued him, drew him, made him think about her with more than a passing thought.

Except Katherine.

His wife.

A woman who, if he chose, he could bed.

A breeze whispered across his skin, the coolness making him realize his pulse had begun to race.

God's blade!

“What is wrong?” she asked.

“Naught.” Angry at himself for wanting her, for giving her a degree of hope that he was a man who could care for her in the way she'd expect, Stephan stepped back. In her grief, Katherine sought refuge. With her defenses down, 'twas easy for her to confuse gratitude for something more, feelings he could never have.

“Know that I will protect you, always,” he said, finding comfort in the familiar role of a protector. “You gave your trust to your guardian; as your husband, I demand the same.”

Anger flickered in her eyes. “You demand? Our marriage was a bond made to achieve a strategic goal. Naught more. Neither do I know you enough to give you my absolute trust. If ever that time should come, you will have earned it.”

He fisted his hands. “
I
am trying to offer you comfort,” he said, his pulse jumping at her anger. That emotion he understood, could handle with minimal effort. “Yet you insist on challenging me on every front.”

“You make rules and deem them comfort?” she asked with disgust. “I see them as naught more than you trying to make me conform to the role you think I should play.”

Frustrated, Stephan paused. As if he blasted knew how to deal with women! In his world, he understood his duty, loyalty, and followed the commands of those senior to him without question.

Marriage had decimated his established routine. Now he was cast into a foreign existence where he was saddled with a woman holding the temper of a shrew, and expected to cleave to the lass along with wielding a blade!

“Enough,” she stated, hurt edging her voice.

Curse this night to Hades! He'd heard her crying, had sought to offer her succor. Instead, their argument had added to her upset.

His wife started to walk past him.

Stephan caught her arm. “Katherine, wait.”

“Release me!”

He held.

Wariness darkened her gaze, but he caught the hint of vulnerability as well.

“I fight,” he explained, “'tis what I do. When nae in battle, I prepare for the next confrontation.”

“Mayhap that is why in the brief times I have seen you, you have chosen to wage war on me instead of learning who I am.”

“I have duties that demand my attention.”

“Given that we are on a ship,” she said, her voice dry, “which makes it difficult for you to keep from my sight, I am impressed at how often I canna find you.”

Warily, he studied her. “Why would you seek me out?”

“I am a stranger here.”

Stranger, mayhap, but with the little time since they'd sailed, she'd earned the respect of his men, several of whom had stood behind her decision to join in with their sparring. Even Thomas, his closest friend, had dared to intervene.