Page 24 of Katherine the Vixen

To Katherine—and no doubt, Siaspar’s—astonishment, Lady Malpas walked in, followed by a servant bearing a tray laden with wine and wafers. The man placed everything on the chest and retreated before anyone had pronounced a single word.

Lady Malpas was the one to break the silence.

“Husband. I think it is high time that we put our differences aside. We are, after all, married, and I think that with some measure of good will, we might be able to come to some sort of beneficial arrangement.”

Siaspar did not respond to this extraordinary declaration, but Katherine saw him stiffen. It was clear that he was on his guard and she couldn’t blame him. His wife’s reversal of attitude was too extreme to be trusted.

Then a terrible thought crossed her mind. Had Lady Malpas come to Siaspar’s room with the intention of bedding him? Had she finally warmed to him? Did she want to give this marriage a chance, as she’d said? Perhaps while he was gone, she had given her situation a thought and had concluded that sharing his bed was inevitable—or perhaps she simply hoped for a child. If that were the case, and Siaspar agreed, then they would go straight to the bed and fall on top of the little scullion they both hated.

Her hiding place had suddenly become the worst possible place to be.

Fortunately, when Siaspar turned to his wife, the glint in his eyes indicated that if she was in an amorous mood, he certainly was not. He would not tumble her into the bed, no matter what she did to try and entice him.

The tightening in Katherine’s chest eased marginally. They were not about to pounce on each other in a mad attack of lust. Still, she did not understand what was behind Lady Malpas’ change of heart. She was smiling, doing her best to engage her husband when she had never looked at him without a scowl on her face before.

Why?

Siaspar was utterly bewildered by his wife’s behavior. After weeks of hostility, she had come to him unbidden and brought what seemed to be a peace offering. What was going on? One thing was for sure, he was not taken in by her supposed mellowing toward him. It had to hide something.

“Are those wafers?” he asked, glancing at the tray. “Father Bernard will not be impressed, I’m afraid. I thought he’d encouraged you to be scrupulous in your observance of Lent?”

A smile curled his lips. He had not forgotten how she had used the excuse to refuse him access to her bed a few weeks ago.

“I am scrupulous. These are for you. I thought you would like them. I had cook prepare them especially, following a recipe from Allerby Castle.”

He did not comment on this obvious criticism of the castle’s usual fare. “To what do I owe this unprecedented honor?” he asked instead, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Let us not squabble, husband,” Lady Malpas replied, pouring them both a cup of wine. “You should know that I have come because I need your advice on an important matter.”

“Ah. I should have guessed that you had not come for the pleasure of my company.”

Absent-mindedly he took the cup she was handing him. What on earth could she possibly need him for?

There was a tinkle of a laugh. “Come, my lord, you will admit that you have given me little reason to enjoy your company so far.”

“I will.” No point pretending otherwise because she was right. And he had loved playing the role of the savage she took him for. “I will return the compliment. You have been diligent in your efforts to appear unbearable. One might almost think that sourness comes naturally to you.”

He raised his cup to her before draining it in one gulp.

“I see you are not going to be mollified.”

“No. So, out with whatever you wish to say,” he growled. She had chosen the worst possible moment to come speak to him and he was growing more and more impatient with her. “What do you want from me?”

“I will tell you, all in good time. Why don’t we sit down like civilized people and have some wine?”

Civilized. Obviously. Lady Malpas refilled his cup and sat down, waiting for him to do the same. After a while, he did. The sooner this was resolved, the better.

“There. Isn’t that more pleasant? Have a wafer,” she enjoined, handing him the plate she had brought with her.

He took a wafer. Anything to hurry this along.

“I’ve drunk your wine, I’ve eaten your wafers. Now speak,” he ordered.

“I’m afraid I lied, and have in reality nothing to ask of you.”

Siaspar snorted. There was a surprise. “Go on,” he prodded. “There must be something you want to tell me.”

“There is, but you should know that the news I have to impart is not the most pleasant, which is why I thought it best to give you something beforehand, to fortify you.”