Page 35 of Katherine the Vixen

“No. Thank you.”

Siaspar gave Katherine a long, level stare.

He knew that from this day onward, he would never again think of her as a schemer. She was just a good person who had been forced into an impossible situation. There had been such warmth in her voice, such love when she had talked about these people she had been forced to leave, that he could not help but see her differently. Never a man to be easily impressed, he had been moved. Imagining the pleasure her letter would give her family when they received it had made the enterprise even more rewarding.

He got up and folded the parchment neatly.

“My man will have this delivered to your father if you instruct him where to find the cottage. Go see him at the barbican. He speaks some English, enough to understand your instructions.”

He handed her the letter, which she took with a shy smile.

“I don’t know how to thank you, my lord.”

“Then don’t,” Siaspar answered simply. “Consider this as compensation for what you had to go through since you joined Lady Malpas’ employ.”

He gritted his teeth, because one of her tormentors was none other than himself. Then he remembered something she had said.

“You mentioned that you had been hired to be a chamberer. Yet you work in the kitchen. How is that?

Had she been given the role of scullion as a punishment for her defiance?

“That was the understanding, as I am quite gifted with the needle. But then the day we arrived, I was ordered to report to the kitchen. I think Lady Malpas meant to keep me out of the way so that no one, least of all you, could ever see us together and remark on our resemblance.”

Of course. Why would the master of the castle ever set eyes on a little scullion covered in grease, except in passing?

“I gather that you would have preferred the position of chamberer?”

She looked at her hands, which bore the traces of her hard work and shrugged. “Yes. But I do not see that it will ever happen. Please do not concern yourself. As a scullion, I still earn money to help my family. That is all that matters.”

He looked at her steadily for a moment. It was not all that mattered to him. This woman had been wronged, by none other than his wife, and he was the master of Castell y Ddraig. As such, it was his responsibility to address the situation.

“If you will excuse me.”

With those words, he left the room.

10

That afternoon Siaspar fell into deep musings. What he had discovered about the woman he was married to had disturbed him greatly. The extent of Lady Malpas’s vindictiveness and disregard for other people’s feelings was truly staggering. The instinctive revulsion he had felt the day he had met her had been justified a hundredfold.

Could he remain married to a woman like her? A marriage of convenience was one thing. Being shackled to a cruel, manipulative, would-be murderer, quite another. Who else would she hurt while she was mistress of Castell y Ddraig? Oddly, the attempt on his life had not caused him to take immediate action. Having realized how dangerous she was, he would be on his guard and he could look after himself.

But Katherine… Katherine had no one to turn to. She’d been abused badly—and he could not let that go unpunished.

Knowing he would not rest easy until he had addressed the matter, he climbed the stairs to Lady Malpas’ chamber two at a time. His arrival was greeted with all the wariness he had expected.

“My lady, I have reached a decision,” he told her without preamble, forgoing even the pleasure of letting her fear that he had come to bed her. “You are now my wife and you live in Wales, yet you are still irremediably English. You speak like an Englishwoman, you eat like one, you dress like one. It is my wish that you stop doing so.”

As could have been predicted, this discourse was not well received. Lady Malpas rounded on him, proving he had been right that morning to tell Katherine the resemblance between them was only skin deep. Her blue irises shimmered with ice, rather than glowed with kindness.

No, Lady Malpas would never measure up to the little scullion, in any way.

“If you wished to have a Welsh wife then perhaps you should have married a Welsh woman,” she sneered.

“Indeed. But alas, I did not have that luxury.” He made a grimace. If only he had been free to choose a woman from his own country, who did not despise everything he was… “I needed an English wife, which is not to say I wanted one. I’m not sure I wanted a wife at all, if we are being brutally honest. But I have one now, for my sins.”

In the background, Lady Helen dropped her needle. Siaspar was certain this was an attempt at distraction but he did not let it bother him. He had come here for a purpose and would not be denied.

“And so I will start by appointing a Welsh tutor for you,” he announced, walking over to the trestle table where the remains of the three women’s meal lay. Once again, Lady Malpas had refused to join him in the hall. Not that he had minded. The less he saw her, the better. “It’s high time you learned the language of your new country.”