Page 61 of Katherine the Vixen

“Siaspar!” The Christian name resounded in the room with the force of a clap of thunder. “Don’t be so naïve as to think you were the first or will be the last to be used in that way.”

“I was not used, he⁠—”

“What else could it be? Or are you telling me he came to your bed out of the love he bears you?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Are you carrying his child?” Her mother now sounded close to fainting. “Is that why you’re both here? To tell us⁠—”

“It’s not. I’m not.”

“Has he promised you anything?”

“No.” Katherine was at a loss. How could she make people understand that what had happened was not as damning as it appeared, or even Siaspar’s fault? “But I am telling you, he is not to be blamed for what happened.”

“Then you are,” her mother said slowly, as if afraid to understand. “You were the one who went to him. This is worse than I⁠—”

“Stop, it’s not like that! I am not a…” Katherine blushed furiously at the idea that she had to convince her own mother that she was not a whore. “And he is an honorable man, generous and utterly selfless.”

“Of course he is, that is why he took your maidenhead and dressed you up like a peacock so he could parade you around as his mistress without being mocked for taking his pleasure with a dirty servant.”

“He is a good man,” Katherine insisted, getting angry now. It pained her even more to hear Siaspar’s character being reviled than it had hurt her to hear her mother accuse her of unseemly behavior. And it displeased her to see her so ready to assume the worst. Didn’t she know her daughter better than that? “If he was not a good man, why would he have come here for no other reason than to thank a blacksmith for having sent his daughter to work for him?”

“Well, considering what happened between you, I bet he is mighty glad you went to⁠—”

Fortunately for her sanity, Katherine never got to hear the rest of the sentence for at that moment, the blacksmith in question walked through the door, alone.

“Where’s his lordship?” his wife asked, eyes narrowing.

“Gone.”

“Gone?” Katherine was incredulous. Siaspar had left her behind without a word of goodbye. What was the meaning of this sudden coldness?

“He said that Katherine was never to work for his wife again.”

Two gasps followed this declaration, one of outrage, one of disbelief.

“He dismissed me? Just like that?” Katherine croaked, the pain of this betrayal burrowing deep into her gut.

“Yes, just like that,” her mother answered, pleased to have been proved right so unequivocally. “What did you expect? He’s taken all he wanted from you and now he’s sending you away.”

“He had his reasons for doing so,” the blacksmith interposed with a raised hand.

“I do not doubt it,” his wife commented bitterly. “And you, Matthew Robertson, are a coward. How could you just let him go? Had he been a lad from the village and not a mighty lord, I wager you would have demanded an explanation for his callous treatment of your daughter. Do you know what he did to⁠—”

“Petronilla, calm down. I will not⁠—”

“Stop it, please!” Katherine shouted, coming to stand between her parents. She could not bear to have them arguing when her heart was breaking. Siaspar had dismissed her with unfathomable coldness, and this when she had been telling her mother that he was different, not the selfish nobleman she imagined. It hurt beyond bearing. It seemed that she had been wrong. He was not different from the others. He had used her, and discarded her.

Except… If this were true, his behavior of the last few weeks didn’t make sense.

If he had meant to use her, wouldn’t he have taken her to bed every time the urge took him? Yes. And yet, instead of doing that, he had promised her she would not have to endure his attentions ever again. He had not touched her once, not even to kiss her. And despite this lack of interest in the release her body could offer him, he had constantly looked for her company. On the numerous occasions he had sought her out, it had not been to indulge his senses.

So what was happening?

Katherine shook her head, refusing to accept that whatever the two of them had shared was all over, not before she had spoken to Siaspar. She needed an explanation; she deserved one. They could not part ways like this, not after all they had gone through together.

“I need to go and see him,” she said, making for the door.