Page 20 of Katherine the Vixen

“An opportunity? How s-so?” she stammered. What was he talking about?

“To remain silent.”

“I don’t understand, my lord.”

“Then you must be exceptionally naïve. Allow me to explain. You spent two nights in my arms, and both nights I reached my release inside you.” Katherine was sure that, this time, the gleam in his eyes was pure lust. Was he remembering the rush of pleasure he had experienced in her arms? “Because of that, many a woman of your standing would have made sure to present me with a child nine months later.”

“But how? As I said, I did not fall with child. There is no going around that fact.”

“You did not fall with a child of my loins,” he specified with a wolfish smile. “But a determined woman would have made sure she did find herself with a child, so as to make the most of this unhoped-for opportunity. She would have found someone to remedy her lord’s failure to make her with child.”

Katherine was silent for a moment, while her mind absorbed what he had said.

“Are you saying that you expected me to sleep with the grooms, the stone masons, your squire even, from the moment you bedded me in order to make sure that I would be in a position to come to you in nine months with a baby in my arms and gain some material advantage from you?” She was both incredulous and offended by the supposition.

“That is a masterly summary of the situation. For someone who feigned not to understand what I meant, you quickly caught on. Maybe you are not so naïve after all.”

“No, just only incredibly stupid not to have thought of taking advantage of you,” she spat out, forgetting her place in her outrage. How dare he accuse her of such deviousness?

“Your words not mine.” The little bow he gave was nothing less than an insult. “But, yes. Incredibly stupid. Or incurably honest.”

“I am honest, whatever you may think. I never set out to reap any benefit from the situation. As I have told you, I was not the one who decided to take your wife’s place in her bed.”

“Maybe not,” he conceded with a graceful tilt of the head. “But you might have decided that there was something to be won out of the whole debacle. I cannot even say that I would blame you. We all have to make our way in the world. Don’t I know it.”

“Well, I did not exploit the situation.”

“No, you did not. That was your mistake.”

“No. My mistake was to come and see you, believing it my duty to reassure you, and trusting that you would understand my motives for doing so and trust that I was honest.”

Katherine could barely speak for anger and disillusion. She had thought that coming to see Siaspar would convince him she was not in league with Lady Malpas. It had not. It had only given him an opportunity to mock her.

“I will leave you now, my lord,” she said, feeling more dejected than ever.

“Yes. I think that is for the best.” But before she could go, he grabbed her by the wrist. “Go and tell your mistress that you are not to give her husband a bastard child. I would be curious to hear what her reaction will be. She might be disappointed, having planned to pass off the child as her own later on. Everything can be expected from a woman like her.”

“You are being cruel to me when I have done nothing to deserve it.”

“Nothing? You and I will have to differ on that.” He gave a mirthless laugh.

“I’m sorry I came. I wish…”

She shook her head, not quite sure what she meant. Siaspar, however, seemed to think he understood.

“Oh? Are you telling me that you wanted a baby?” The fingers left her wrist to come and cradle her stomach. Katherine gasped at the intimate touch. His hand was so warm, his touch so careful despite his anger… “Are you saying that you wanted me to fill your belly with a bastard child? A Welsh cur? You will allow me to doubt that. I know what you English people think of us. The woman I married has done me the honor of informing me that we are little more than savages.”

“I am not saying anything other than I am not carrying your child.”

Of course, she didn’t want a baby. She was ruined, which was bad enough. A baby would make things a hundred times worse.

She moved away from him. The warmth of his hand on her stomach, the intimate contact, had confused her. He was talking harshly, throwing abominable accusations in her face yet his touch had been as tender as a lover’s. Such intimacy made it difficult for her to think.

But there was one thing she had to tell him.

“Not all English people are the same, my lord, just as I’m sure not all Welsh people are like you.”

“Like me.” Siaspar’s teeth flashed in the darkness. “Whether that is a compliment or a slur, I will have to decide on my own, I suppose.”