Gayle Callen (10 page)

Katherine groaned. She should push him away, leave, do something, but he was so warm. She simply lay there, realizing with growing dismay that she had just allowed a man she’d only known four days to take her virginity, the one prize every husband expected as his due. Her lower lip began to tremble and she bit it. Perhaps this was why her mother spent each day in prayer. Did she sense how sinful Katherine was? Did she somehow know that her daughter would one day turn her back on all she’d been taught, even forget that a
monk had almost raped her once? A hysterical giggle bubbled in her throat. She’d let another monk have her, and willingly, too. She threw an arm across her eyes and listened to Reynold breathe.

Katherine awoke with a start, panicking in the darkness, relaxing when she saw the dull embers of the dying fire. Cool air chilled her side and she realized that Reynold no longer lay beside her. For a moment she thought he’d left her, after taking all that he had wanted, but she couldn’t believe such things of him. She propped herself up on one elbow and saw him at once, kneeling beside the fire, head bowed, unmoving.

R
eynold was filled with remorse, his eyes burning as they stared hard into the fire. What had he done? What horrible selfishness, what evil, had taken over his mind and soul again? He had ravaged Katherine’s gift of virginity, meant for her husband. She had not understood where desire would lead her; none of this was her fault.

But he had known, Reynold thought, clapping his palms over his eyes and arching his head back in agony. He had known, and allowed the passion to overtake his conscience and his will, destroying his vow to God and himself and his family. Had he no honor? Had his brother’s death meant nothing to him? He looked down at his body with a virulent hatred. If only he could beat it out of himself, this terrible weakness, this hunger for Katherine.

I have failed
, he thought, gripped by a despair so bleak it was painful. He sat back on his heels, head bowed, and found himself sinking to the floor, his
cheek pressed to the cold dirt, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He had betrayed himself, but mostly he had betrayed Katherine.

Tears streamed down Katherine’s face as she watched Reynold collapse to the floor. Her chest ached with the sobs that built inside her, yet had to be repressed. Horrible guilt twisted her heart, blotting out all of the good she thought she’d done with her life. Her own self-pity seemed to pale beside the torment Reynold was suffering. She had broken a vow to her betrothed, but he had broken a vow to God. She ached to comfort him, to tell him it was all her fault. But he would not want her pity.

I am so sorry
, she thought over and over again, wishing she could take back their sin. She had always known there was something…tarnished inside her.

She never thought she’d be able to sleep, watching Reynold huddled by the fire. But suddenly it was morning and Katherine was alone in the hut. She did not worry that in his grief, Reynold had left her. She knew him too well, her fondness for him tainted with sorrow.

Reynold stood at the edge of the road, staring out across the rolling, mist-drenched fields. He felt alone and friendless, a sinful man who deserved nothing more than that. It seemed hard to expect anything decent of himself anymore. He was no sooner fifty feet from the monastery, than he was lusting after an innocent virgin, a girl betrothed.
Gritting his teeth, he rubbed the ache building across his forehead. Had he forced her to accept his help, while some hidden part of him had rubbed its hands gleefully, ready for seduction?

Reynold refused to accept it. He could not believe he would use any excuse for sex. There was something about Katherine, with her clumsiness and her bravery when any other woman would have run home to her father. She was convinced of the rightness of her cause, whatever it truly was, and no danger could stop her. And she was not afraid of him.

Reynold grimaced and kicked at a tall stalk of grass. She hadn’t counted on him and his uncontrollable lust. Even now, as she appeared hesitantly in the doorway, he had the dark urge to throw her to the ground and part her legs and—

“Reynold?”

Katherine heard her voice crack. She must force aside this nervousness, this sorrow. Reynold was suffering, but she must not add to it. He looked so alone as he stood there in the fog, his face impassive yet tired, as if he’d remained awake the entire night. She suddenly didn’t know what else to say, how to atone for their sin. She could only stare at him, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

He began to walk towards her, his head down. Katherine remained frozen in the doorway, afraid of what he would do. Would Reynold berate her? Would he leave her at the next village? But as he continued to move closer, her heart pounded with the anticipation that he might touch her, might
hold her, might even—she shook her head to banish such dark, tormentingly sweet thoughts.

Reynold halted before her, and Katherine found herself staring into his broad chest. She was afraid to look up and see her punishment written across his face.

Suddenly he dropped to his knees before her, his bowed head level with her chest. Katherine could only tremble as he took her hands in his and pressed his face to them.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “I have violated the trust you have shown me.”

Katherine’s sorrow spilled out in hot tears that fell from her eyes. She wanted to touch his soft hair, to pull his head to her breast and comfort him. But still he squeezed her hands in tight desperation.

“Reynold,” she whispered, taking painful pleasure in the mere sound of his name on her lips. “I, too, have sinned and you must not take all the blame.”

He lifted his head. “You but sinned in ignorance,” he said passionately, his blazing eyes burning into hers. “But I—I knew what I was doing. I should have stopped—”

She covered his mouth with her fingers, then snatched them away when he stiffened. “Regrets are futile. It is done. Stand, Reynold. Lead me to the king. Then you will not have to bother with me.”

“Bother?” He seemed to choke on the word, but said no more.

He rose to his feet, a dark mountain of a man she once feared, but now she—she thrust such thoughts away. What had she been thinking, what foolish dreams had threatened her plans? Her own life was not to be thought of—she must get to the king.

The midday sun had finally burned away the last of the fog, leaving the ground steaming with mud. Reynold, morose and tired, tried to hang back from the group of peasants ahead of them. He had known he would have to be very careful in this remote section of Nottinghamshire. He had deliberately avoided the toll roads, where they might be seen by unfriendly eyes. It had entailed a slight risk, coming this close to Bolton lands. He’d only passed through a few times on his way to Oxford, so he prayed he would not be recognized.

He couldn’t understand why there were so many groups of peasants on the road. The ones before them pushed carts piled with freshly picked vegetables. A young girl in a dirty brown dress turned to stare at them, her face brightening with a smile. Reynold looked away, wishing he wore a hat for protection from curious girls. He hoped his two-day growth of whiskers would be disguise enough. An older woman admonished the girl, who turned away with a giggle. But soon she
looked back again, and gave them a small wave. Katherine returned the gesture.

“What are you doing?” Reynold demanded in a tight voice. “You but call attention to us.”

Katherine kept her gaze on the road. “I thought I had learned my lesson. If we act suspiciously, they will suspect us, is that not correct?”

Reynold could have bitten his own tongue. He hated having his words thrown back in his face. Farther north their presence did not matter, but here—

“From now on, keep your head down and ignore them.”

Her deep, blue eyes flashed at him once, then she raised her chin and kept walking. Reynold tried to slow their pace, but short of crawling, they couldn’t help but catch up with the peasants. He groaned softly when the young girl immediately tried to make conversation with Katherine. Even he felt the sweet tug of the girl’s youth, with the freckles across her nose and two of her teeth missing. Reynold hung back and tried not to be drawn in. He morosely watched the trees on either side.

Katherine slowed her pace just as the group veered down another road. “Let us go with them, Reynold.”

“No.”

“They are bound for the earl’s castle. They said it is just down this road. Perhaps we can spend the night.”

Reynold stared at her, his bitterness almost overwhelming. “Are you afraid to be alone with me?”

She looked down, and her long lashes swept her cheeks, hiding those magnificent eyes. “I am afraid of myself.”

“Katherine—”

“Please, let us be warm and dry and safe tonight.”

He watched the retreating backs of the peasants, saw the girl turn and entreat them to follow. “If I thought it were wise, we would. But Katherine—”

“I am going with them, Reynold. I have to.” She straightened, looking up into his eyes. “We shall have help from the earl.”

Reynold came to a halt in a mud puddle that felt like it was sucking on his feet. He saw the faint blush across her cheeks, the way she clasped her hands together.

“You do not trust that I can protect you?”

“’Tis not that! Here we can acquire money, horses, an escort. James will help me—I know he will!”

Katherine tugged on his arm, but Reynold barely felt it. He stared at her, feeling his soul sinking deeper and deeper into torment so foul he thought he’d be sick. Of course. James. He should have known. She was Lady Katherine Berkeley, and she was betrothed to the Earl of Bolton—his half-brother.

Katherine continued to pull on his arm, and Reynold stumbled along, too despairing to resist any longer. How the hell had she ended up at his monastery? What mystery was she the center of?

The guilt of all he’d wrought pounded his headache to blazing proportions. As if he hadn’t already done enough to James, he’d seduced his betrothed. He’d taken her virginity, something his rigid brother would prize highly. Katherine didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong with him, though he felt his eyes were bulging out of his head as he stared desperately at her for what felt like the last time. Already she was leaving him, pulling him toward her future husband’s home. He wanted to crush her to him, whisper his sorrow and his apologies, inhale the scent of her one last time.

The smile she bestowed on him was fraught with tension. If only she didn’t have to know. She’d hate herself even more for what they’d shared the past night. Reynold knew the servants weren’t likely to recognize him. He and his brother were never close, and he’d seldom visited. James was the product of their mother’s first marriage, and he’d been fostered out at a young age to train for the earldom he’d already inherited from his dead father. Reynold had mostly grown up in his own father’s home, when he wasn’t being fostered at his cousin’s. Though Reynold had inherited a few manors when his father died, James had never let him forget the difference in their status. It hardly made Reynold feel brotherly. Besides, he had known how it upset James to have his younger brother bigger and stronger than him. He had never felt comfortable in Bolton castle, so his few visits had only been when he needed a place to
stay for a night. In the mornings he had quickly gone.

Yet if he could stay in the background, disguised by his clothes and the ragged beginnings of a beard, there was a good chance James wouldn’t see him. Trying desperately to ease his conscience, Reynold thought perhaps he could accomplish this one last deed for Katherine. He would quickly return to the monastery, and she would never know with whom she’d committed her only sin.

The memory of their dark night together stirred in him unholy thoughts. How he still wanted her. He watched her back, knowing what the baggy clothes hid. If he closed his eyes he could see her breasts by firelight, feel the silkiness of her thigh, hear the soft, feminine gasps of her pleasure. He was hard just remembering how she’d touched him. He so wanted to believe that in some part of her heart she had loved him, even just a little.

“Reynold!”

He glanced up, sighing as he watched the wind dance with her blond hair. She was so beautiful he ached with the sight. But she wasn’t his. This pain was just one more thing he would have to suffer because he took Edmund’s life.

“Hurry!” she said. “Soon it shall be dark and they will close the gate!”

Katherine only spared one last glance for Reynold, and even that silly mistake cost her a twisted ankle. She frowned at her clumsy limbs, but the pain was slight and she was used to it. Nothing could stop her. She was close to knights and armor
and horses, all of which could help King Richard. Katherine grew cold at the thought of facing James. Would she tell him of her sin? Perhaps she’d know what to say after they’d helped the king.

She tried to think how close she was to accomplishing her mission, but the thought of her sin had brought the night rushing back like some darkly tormented dream. There had been nothing frightening about what Reynold had done to her. In fact, it seemed like she’d been another woman, a woman whose flesh burned for a man.

Katherine looked back once more to find Reynold watching her, with those eyes that shone out from beneath his heavy brows as if he could see everything about her. And he had. She blushed and turned forward, following the excited young girl. She could no longer compare Reynold to that other monk. That man had deliberately misled an innocent. Katherine was not innocent any more. And Reynold had never lied to her or tried to thrust upon her something she wasn’t prepared for. She flushed in shame as she remembered pushing his garments aside. Had she truly been concerned for his injuries? Or could she only think of his body?

No, no, no, she was confusing everything. She cared for him, she worried about him, and all of those emotions had weakened her ability to resist what she should have. She should have saved herself for her husband. Katherine tried to picture what lovemaking would be like with James. But
he had never shown any passion, never held her hand for more than a moment to press his lips there. She had always told herself it was because of her arm and her clumsiness, but that did not seem to matter to Reynold.

Katherine lost a shoe in ankle-deep mud. She bent over to retrieve it and hopped as she tried to put it back on. She felt a hand clasp her elbow and knew Reynold was there once more, as he always was. She slowly straightened and looked up, up, into his hooded amethyst eyes. He looked at her without speaking, and Katherine couldn’t tear her gaze away. His hand burned the flesh of her arm. She remembered his fingers inside her body, his mouth plundering hers. Katherine caught her breath and found herself staring at his lips. Would he kiss her? Would she let him, here under the bright sun?

Instead, Reynold seemed to break away with a violence she didn’t associate with him. He pulled his magic sack off his shoulder, and began to root through it, his movements abrupt. They partially blocked the road and people streamed by them, jostling Katherine.