Page 37 of Katherine the Vixen

She curtsied quickly. When she looked at him again, there was a grimace on his face.

“Please don’t do this,” he said in a low voice.

“Do what?” What had she done wrong?

“Curtsy. It’s…unsettling to have someone I bedded, someone whose maidenhead I’ve taken, curtsy to me, and not at all pleasant.”

Katherine could not help a smile at this very candid admission, because she could understand his reaction. Out of nowhere, the urge to tease him seized her. Dare she? Yes, perhaps. Something had changed between them since he had read her father’s letter to her and she had told him what had happened with Lady Malpas.

“Come to that, I never thought I would curtsy to the man who took my maidenhead, and call him my lord.”

“No. I suppose you did not.” Siaspar gave a reluctant smile, as if her teasing had taken him by surprise, but still delighted him. Then his brow furrowed. “Wait. I never asked. You do not have a beloved back home, a man who…”

He faltered. Katherine guessed that this would not happen often. Siaspar ap Morgan was not a man prone to hesitation. This unusual proof of vulnerability made her rush to his aid. Powerful as he was, in that moment, he needed reassurance.

“You mean, is there a man who would take issue with the fact that I am no longer a maid and demand an explanation?”

“Yes.”

“No. Worry not, no one is going to come and fight you for dishonoring his sweetheart.” The thought of Walter waiting for her in the village caused her a pang of unease. What would he feel if he heard her dismiss him so thoroughly? Because perhaps he would fight for her if he knew what had happened.

“That’s a relief,” Siaspar said, looking like himself once more.

“I imagine it is, as you would have been required to fight them with your bare hands. I’m afraid the men in my village would not be able to handle a sword. Fighting with fists, as they do, would be the only honorable thing for a knight to do. Otherwise, it would just be murder.”

“What makes you think I could not give a creditable account of myself with my fists?”

“Well, could you?” Katherine challenged on the same tone. There was something in this man that made it easy to be comfortable.

“I believe so, especially if my honor was at stake.” His face became serious once more. “I suppose you do not know this, but my paternal grandfather was a brewer.”

“A brewer!” Katherine recoiled. Had he announced that his stallion was in fact a griffin she would not have been more surprised.

“A brewer.” He made it sound as if this was the highest distinction one could bestow upon a man. “And he would not hear of his grandson being unable to defend himself if he came to have a drink with him in the village tavern and landed in the middle of a brawl.”

The image of Siaspar having to fight his way through a crowd of drunken peasants was enough to make her snort.

“You are telling me that you have actually found yourself in a village brawl, exchanging blows with villagers?” It was hard to picture such a scene.

“More often than I care to remember,” he said with a sigh. “With hindsight perhaps, I should not have gone there swathed in furs and wearing a gold crown. I should have known that would be asking for trouble.”

Laughter burst out of Katherine. She had not laughed so freely since she’d arrived in Wales and it did her good. “My lord, I believe you are jesting with me.”

“I am jesting with you. I apologize.” He didn’t seem sorry at all, rather, delighted by her reaction.

“What did you want to see me for, then?” Surely he had not come all this way to tease her about his past?

Siaspar had enjoyed hearing Katherine’s tinkling laugh. When she asked the question, he realized that, lost to the pleasure of her company, he had almost forgotten the reason behind his visit to her.

“Tomorrow you will be summoned to Lady Malpas’ bedchamber.” Months after their wedding, he still refused to give his wife her new title. Seeing Katherine’s eyes widen, he quickly specified. “Not by her, and not to be bedded, I promise.”

Some color came back to her cheeks, a crimson flush that made him wonder if she was relieved or disappointed. His groin stirred, and he did his best to ignore it. He had just told her that she had nothing to fear from his lust, so he could not now appear like a liar.

“When you enter the room please, behave as if we had not met before.”

“I would never behave in any other way in other people’s presence,” she assured him in a whisper. “But why will I be called?”

“You will see tomorrow.”