Page 53 of Katherine the Vixen

The name had been rather daunting when she’d first heard it, but as she dismounted from her mare, she realized that she now thought of the place as a sort of home. Of course, this had a lot to do with the man inhabiting it.

“Shall we ride on, my lord?” Lady Malpas asked, visibly impatient to reach her brother.

Instead of agreeing, Siaspar jumped down from his horse. “In a moment. The horses need a drink. This is why we stopped, not to admire a castle that looks as if it would crumble at the next gust of wind.”

There was a snort and for dreadful moment, Katherine feared it might have come from her. But a glance at Gwyn told her that the young man was responsible for the reaction. He went bright red when he understood that someone had heard him. Fortunately, however, none of the English ladies seemed to have noticed anything. She gave him a small smile to indicate she, too, had appreciated the comment.

He smiled back.

Siaspar led his horse, Arian, to the fast-flowing river and watched him drink, his mind in turmoil.

Here they were at last. Soon, he would be able to put his plan to execution. He had better get ready for what was to come. Fortunately, after what he had just seen, he was more motivated than ever.

Katherine’s smile when they had come to a halt and she’d seen where they were had been the best reward he could have had for this journey. Alone amongst the company, she had watched, not the castle at the other side of the valley, but the forest spread at its feet. He guessed that it hid the village where her family lived. When his gaze had met hers, she had bowed her head, like someone caught doing something forbidden. He hated that he had not been able to share in the moment with her, hated having to behave as if he didn’t care about her one way or the other.

Because he did care. More than cared.

And he was certain she cared as well. If she did not, she would not put so much effort into behaving as if there was nothing between them.

Since she had left the kitchen and come to live amongst them, he had stopped considering her as a servant. In his mind, she was his equal. Not because she was now dressed in lady’s clothes, not because she had saved his life, not because she had welcomed him inside her body, even if it was hard not to consider a person who had done all that as his equal. But it was something else. There was something indefinable between them, a connection that could not be denied any more than it could be explained.

At first he had thought he was attracted to her only because she was the exact opposite of Lady Malpas. It would make sense. Katherine was kindness and generosity where his wife was spite and arrogance, and the physical attributes they shared only seemed to highlight the difference between their souls. They were like two sides of the same coin, one polished and bright because it had been exposed to the sun from the moment it had been created, the other grimy and rusty because it had lain in the dirt for too long.

Then little by little, he had been forced to see that he enjoyed her company for its own sake, not just because it was a pleasant change from Lady Malpas’ sourness. Being with Katherine was as comfortable as being on his own—with one distinct advantage. She made him laugh. Very few people made him laugh now that this sister Bethan had left for Scotland, and he had missed it.

He’d needed that breath of fresh air. From the moment he had inherited Castell Y Ddraig and the responsibilities that went with it, his life had been all about work, calculation and advancement. Without ever trying to please him, just by being herself, Katherine was providing him with the joy and levity he had sorely needed.

Like just now.

Remembering her pleasure when she had seen her home would give him the strength to accomplish what he had come here to accomplish.

He placed his foot on the stirrup, signaling their departure.

“Let’s ride. I’d like to reach the castle before nightfall.”

“Can I help you, m’lady?”

Even though her eyes had gone misty, Katherine could not help a laugh at the question. As expected, her youngest brother—well, youngest save for James, the babe she had yet to meet—had not recognized her.

She smiled. “Yes, you can help me, Peter.”

He opened huge blue eyes. “You know my name?”

“I do, because I’m your big sister, Katherine,” she said, kneeling down to look at him. “Don’t you remember me?”

The boy was only three years old, and, though she had left less than four months ago, he plainly could not see past the elaborate clothes to the sister he knew shouldn’t be here.

“My sister?” he asked, puzzled. “But you⁠—”

“Who are you talking to, Peter?” their father interrupted, coming from behind the cottage. Katherine turned around and he stopped in his tracks when their gazes met. “My child,” he said in a breath.

Katherine flew into his arms, eyes burning. “Father.”

“Oh, joy of joys! But what… Look at you.” He gestured at the silk gown she was wearing in incomprehension. “What happened to you? Are you telling me that this is how servants dress in Wales?”

She laughed at the absurd notion. “No. They dress just as simply and comfortably as they do here.”

“So what is this? Have you perchance married a great lord?”