"By God," she said fervently, "you are a bloody bastard!"
'The question of my legitimacy does not arise," he parried smoothly. "I fear you cannot claim the same of your uncle, which reminds me... I find I am most eager to make his acquaintance. And I'm sure you'll be happy to know that you have just provided the means."
For the second time in just a few short minutes, he walked round her again, surveying her with the same critical judiciousness. "A pity," he said with a shake of his head when at last he stopped before her. "You have moss in your hair again, lady. I must admit—" His slow-growing smile mocked her. "—it suits you."
Kathryn was speechless with rage. Just then she didn't know who she hated more—her uncle or this nameless arrogant knight!
She was just as silent on the way back to the keep. Roderick was bound, his hands tied tightly behind his back. Kathryn walked beside him. There was little chance of escape, for they were guarded well by the dark knight’s men-at-arms. Kathryn's skin grew icy-cold as they passed row after row of men armed with lance and shield. She saw archers and crossbowmen. Catapults and battering rams.
The dark knight had not lied. He had come prepared for battle. He had come for war.
More, he had come to win.
Roderick edged closer. "You know who he is?" His voice was meant for her ears alone. With a jerk of his head, he indicated the dark knight mounted up before them. Not once had he looked back at them.
Kathryn shook her head.
"He is Guy de Marche, Earl of Sedgewick."
"The Earl of Sedgewick," she murmured. Her brow knitted in concentration. "The name is familiar, yet I can recall nothing of him."
Roderick bent his head closer. "Guy de Marche was one of the most powerful lords in Somerset." His gaze was sullen as he glanced at the seemingly endless formation of men and arms. "It seems 'tis still true."
Kathryn stepped over an exposed root, wishing she had her cloak. The damp air seeped through her thin gown clear to her skin. "I did not know he was an enemy of Richard's," she said very quietly. "This is the first I've heard of it."
Roderick hesitated. "I can think of only one reason," he said slowly. "The earl left on crusade more than three years ago. Not long after, Richard heard that he'd been captured in Toulouse. Richard was always careful to stay clear of him but when he heard the news, he captured one of the earl's fiefs just across the border in Somerset—Ramsay Keep."
"He attacked the holdings of an absent crusader!" Kathryn's lips pressed tightly together. This news only confirmed her opinion of her uncle—he was lower than a snake's belly. A simmering rage filled her veins. Her resentment burned deeper yet when her gaze fell upon the ramrod-straight back of the earl, he with his battering rams and troops.
The evening mists swirled all around. Night fell swiftly, like the smothering folds of a cloak being dropped upon the earth. Kathryn saw that they were almost upon the gates of Ashbury, just outside the wooden palisade. She wanted to cry out in despair as she spied only a handful of men clustered around the outer walls.
This was her home, she thought desperately. Hers and Elizabeth's! And the Earl of Sedgewick would see it razed to the ground! God, how she hated her uncle for leading them down this wretched path of destructiveness—and she hated Lord Guy de Marche just as much. He would not be satisfied until he saw her beloved home destroyed!
The earl had dismounted quietly. Kathryn could scarcely see his shadowed form but her eyes conveyed her hatred as he conversed earnestly with one of his men. The others retreated slightly, jerking Roderick along with them. The earl watched them a moment, then turned and beckoned to her. Kathryn briefly entertained the notion of pretending she hadn't seen his gesture. But in the end she complied, deciding it might not be wise to provoke his anger.
His tone brooked no argument. "I need a way into the keep other than through the gatehouse. We will wait until those within are asleep, and then you will show me."
Kathryn was first startled by his daring, then furious at his stealthiness. "What, milord, do you fear a little swordplay?"
Guy's jaw snapped shut. "By God, lady," he said through his teeth, "did your uncle never teach you any manners?"
"What he has taught me, sir, I fear you already know!"
Guy muttered under his breath. He'd never met the likes of a wench like her. She was sorely in need of a strong hand and a will of iron. If he but had the time, he'd have liked nothing more than to instill a little respect in her.
His legs planted wide apart, he eyed her critically. "You refuse to show me then?"
Her chin lifted haughtily. "You are a fool if you believe I will help you throw open our doors and storm within. Ashbury is my home, milord, the only home I have ever known. I'll not help to destroy it."
Her contemptuous calm was infuriating. Guy's reaction might have been entirely different if he hadn't glimpsed the frantic fear in her eyes. "I've no wish to storm these walls, demoiselle. I seek only your uncle."
His words gave her pause. Yet. . . could she trust him? Now there was a question. She stared at him as if to seek an answer. But in the murky gloom he appeared dark and featureless, evil and forbidding.
I can't, she thought in panic. She cared nothing for Richard, but what of the others? What of Elizabeth? What of Aislinn, the cook, and Sir Ralph, her father's chief retainer? There were others who had served her family long before Richard came. Everyone would be caught off guard. Indeed, no one would even miss her since she'd told Elizabeth she planned to retire for the night after meeting Roderick.
"I can wait no longer." The sound of steel hissed through the night. Moonlight glinted on the silver blade of a dagger. Kathryn paled when the earl stepped forward. A mocking smile curled his lips when she instinctively stepped backward. He beckoned quickly with the hand that held the dagger and Roderick was led forward once more.
He paused before Roderick. "What say you, Hugh?" he asked of another knight who had joined them. "Shall this brave knight be the first to shed his blood this night?"
Kathryn went white with dread. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the earl's long-fingered hands, absently sliding up and down the length of the dagger.
With a lightning movement he pressed the dagger to Roderick's throat.
The earl's eyes never left the other man's face as he said, " 'Tis up to you, milady, whether your lover lives or dies."
Kathryn's heart leaped to her throat. For the first time, she knew fear as Elizabeth must have known it, watching their mother slowly die.
She cried out sharply. "No! No, please do not!"
Roderick's face was a mask of stone. "Do not listen to him, Kathryn! Would you forfeit the lives of those within the keep?"
The earl's lips twisted. "Noble words for a man about to breathe his last." His eyes flickered to Kathryn. "I say again, lady, I have no more wish for bloodshed than you. I seek no war. I want only your uncle."
Kathryn's hands were shaking. How was she to choose? How could she live with the stain of another's blood upon her hands?
The moon slid out from behind a cloud. The knife pressed harder against Roderick's throat. Dear God! The tip of the blade was crimson with blood.
"It is your choice," the earl repeated.
She jerked when a hand touched her arm. Startled, she looked up at the knight the earl had called Hugh. She was stunned to discover compassion on his face.
"Milady," he said softly, "my lord is a man of his word. 'Tis not his way that others die needlessly."
Kathryn closed her eyes. She had faith in no man's honor. . . in no man. Yet she had no choice, no choice at all.
"Then let him give it," she whispered. "Let him give his sacred vow that there will be no murder at Ashbury."
"Kathryn, no! Do not trust him!"
She opened her eyes and gazed at Roderick. "My sister saw our mother die." She swallowed against the burning threat of tears. "I'll not stand by and watch her die—or you, Roderick."