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With a strength he did not know he possessed, he took hold of the rack that had made the tracks and started to pull it back. Drogan came and helped, and within moments, they’d uncovered a small wooden door. ’Twas sealed tight, and Edric looked about for a wedge to pry it open.

Holding the torch so they both could see, Drogan handed Edric his dagger. Edric shoved the blade beneath each of the metal catches that held the wood in place and bent them back. Then he pulled the wooden door off its frame. Pushing it
to the side, he dropped down into the space below where he found Kate, lying insensible.

He pressed his ear to her breast and heard her heart fluttering within. Saying a prayer of thanks, he lifted her limp body into his arms and carefully passed her through the opening to Drogan who took her and gently laid her on the cellar floor.

Edric pushed himself out of the hole and knelt beside her, lifting her head into his lap. He called her name softly and watched her chest rise as she took in a full breath of air.

“God’s blood,” said Drogan. “Another few minutes and she would have suffocated.”

Edric could not bear to think of it. “Kate,” he said gently, stroking her hair, her face, her hands. “Come back to me.”

She did not respond. Edric lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs, following behind Drogan and the torch. “Get Lora. She will know what to do.”

Edric took Kate into the hall and laid her upon the long table that stood on the dais. He took her hand in his and rubbed it roughly, speaking to her, pleading with her to awaken, for he did not want to face a cold and empty life without her. Surely he had not found her below the cellar of his father’s keep, only to lose her now. “You are my
life and my love, sweet Kate. Come back to me and be my wife.”

 

Now she was hearing Edric’s voice, but she knew it could be no more real than those of Isabel and Soeur Agnes.

“Non, je ne suis pas Kate,”
she said to him, though she was not sure whether she spoke aloud, or only heard the words in her mind. Her muscles ached from trembling, but she could not seem to stop.
“Je suis…”
She moistened her lips. “I am Kathryn de St. Marie.”

She heard a gruff sound very close to her ear, then Edric’s voice. “Aye,” he said. “Kathryn. My Kathryn.”

She felt his warm breath on her skin and she shivered with the chill of her damp clothes.

“Awaken, my beloved. I will not let you slip away from me. I love you, Kate—Kathryn. I need you.”

Other voices came to Kathryn then, both male and female, but she could not make out their words. She suddenly felt something cold and wet on her face and opened her eyes with a gasp.

‘Twas Edric’s face she saw first. Then Lora and Drogan behind him. Were they real? “Edric?”

He said naught, but pressed his forehead to her breast.

“I thought you were…You found me!” she cried, suddenly remembering the dark hole Oswin had put her in.

“Aye. I’d have searched heaven and earth for you.
Jesu,
I was afraid I’d lost you.”

She gave a weak nod. “I was afraid, too.” Was still afraid her mind was playing tricks on her. He could not possibly have said he loved and needed her.

Could he?

“You are cold. Here,” said Lora, taking her cloak and draping it over her.

“I’ll get a fire started,” said Drogan.

There was a bit of noise and activity away from Kathryn’s view, but Edric did not leave her side. He pressed gentle kisses on her hands, then her forehead. “What of Oswin? Did he tell you where I was?”

“No, Kathryn. Sweeting, he’s…He fell from the tower. He’s dead.”

She felt a lump form in her throat. “I ruined all his plans. He is your saboteur. He did all he could to make you resentful of King William, and of Cecily’s father. Those letters…He told you lies, Edric. The letters offer help and encouragement.”

“What?”

“He told falsehoods with the hope that you
would become frustrated with King William’s rule and join Wulfgar’s revolt.”

Edric frowned. Oswin’s actions would make a perverse kind of sense to a demented mind. The steward had never gotten over his grief for his two sons, and it had made him bitter and irrational.

“He wanted you and everyone at Braxton Fell to feel angry with your lot. He did what he could to foster discontent.”

Edric lifted her from the table, and carried her to the fire where Drogan had moved a large, dusty chair. She was still trembling with cold, so he sat down with her, keeping her nestled in his lap as Lora and Drogan disappeared.

“You read the letters?” he asked, holding her close.

She nodded and pressed her face against his chest, her body finally starting to warm. ’Twas time to tell him the truth, even though she knew what the consequences would be. She’d lived this moment a number of times in her mind, and feared she knew how Edric would react. “Oswin was not the only one to tell falsehoods. I misled you, too.”

Edric rubbed one hand along her side and leaned down to kiss her. “I care not, Kathryn.”

“Edric, my father is one of King William’s most powerful barons. He—”

He stopped her words with his kiss, a long, sensuous seduction of her mouth, her body, and her soul. “Say no more. We will wed before I know who you are and feel compelled to ask your sire for your hand. As Kate of Rushton, you can easily be mine.”

Kathryn closed her eyes. “No. It cannot be.”

 

Edric knew she cared for him. She could not be refusing to marry him. Yet she broke away from his kiss and cupped his jaw. “This is too important, Edric.”

“Aye. We’re agreed on that. We will marry as soon as—”

“No, I mean we must go to my father,” she said. “I won’t risk your losing his favor by marrying me without his consent.”

“Kate—”

“My father is Baron Henri of Kettwyck. His harvest was better than expected and he will have grain to spare…And millstones to replace the ones Oswin ruined.”

“Kettwyck? Your father is lord of Kettwyck?”

She nodded, but Edric realized that he did not care. He wanted her as his wife as soon as the law allowed. As Kate of Rushton, she could wed him.

“I love you, Edric, and there is nothing I want
more than to be your wife. But we must go to Kettwyck. My father will be a powerful ally.”

“Only if he gives his consent. Marry me now, Kate. Be my wife and we will face your father together.”

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, her expression clouded by indecision.

E
dric settled his wife on the saddle in front of him, and rode through the dell and up to the base of the fell where he’d spent so many boyhood hours in useless dallying. They reached the place where he and his brother and their friends had always tethered their horses, but Edric did not dismount, stopping instead to turn and capture Kate’s lips in a searing kiss.

“I love you,” he said. He’d never meant any words the way he meant these. Kate was his heart and soul. She was the world to him.

He dropped down from the saddle and reached
up for her, taking her hand as they climbed to the top of the fell, to the ledge where he would show her all his lands, the hundreds of hides that were hers to command.

In the past few weeks, she’d reviewed Oswin’s ledgers, and found them just as inaccurate and misleading as the letters he’d translated to his own purposes. Braxton Fell would survive the winter without help from anyone, and when they adopted the techniques being used at Kettwyck for draining bogs, there would be more arable land for planting in spring.

He drew Kate up to the hidden ledge, tossed a blanket to the ground, and sat down on the soft mossy grass with his back against the rock wall. Pulling Kate down to him, Edric situated her on the ground between his legs, her back resting against his chest.

“’Tis beautiful here,” she said.

“Aye, but only half as beautiful as my wife.”

“Edric, we should have waited to wed.”

“No, love.” He slipped his hands ’round her waist and let his thumbs drift to the undersides of her breasts. “Our nuptials were long overdue. Besides, your sire will not object, not when he reads the letter you sent him, describing your valiant rescue from the Fergusons.”

She tipped her head back, giving him access to
her slender neck. He kissed the pulse that beat there, and slid his hands up to cup her breasts. They were much fuller these days, and the tips had darkened slightly. He’d noted a slight rounding of her belly, and knew that she often slept in the afternoons when Aidan napped.

She carried his child.

“Are you warm enough?”

She nodded slightly. “But I see you’ve brought a blanket.”

“Aye. ’Tis for lying on.”

“Ah,” she said, turning in his arms. “I thought you brought me here to see all of your realm, my dear lord, not to seduce me.”

“And so I have, sweeting,” he said, laughing. “But a bit of seduction was also part of my plan.”

She put her arms ’round his neck and nipped at his lips. “Aye,” she whispered. “But not until I tell you my news.”

About the Author

MARGO MAGUIRE is the author of twelve historical novels, mostly of the medieval era. Formerly a Critical Care nurse, she worked for many years in a large Detroit trauma center. Now Margo writes full time and loves to hear from readers at P.O. Box 201094, Ferndale, Michigan 48220, or visit her website at www.margomaguire.com.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

THE PERFECT SEDUCTION
. Copyright © 2006 by Margo Wider. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

ePub edition August 2006 ISBN 9780061749261

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