Chapter Three

Ralph swept into the great hall, pushed past the servants who were setting up the trestle tables for the feast, and went to warm his hands by the fire. Not that they were cold, but he needed to occupy them to stop himself from punching a pillar. God’s blood, what was wrong with the woman?

More to the point, what was wrong with him if he couldn’t get her to answer a few simple questions? For all he knew, she could be a spy intent on letting Welsh raiders within the walls. Yet every time he looked at her, he could only wonder how her mouth would taste, how it would feel to twine his fingers through her hair, how her soft curves would feel, pressed against his body. And what was that heavenly scent that clung to her, tangy and sweet? He’d had to escape, before he did something utterly foolish like drag her into his arms and kiss her.

A servant edged toward the fire, bearing an armful of ivy and mistletoe. “My lord, I need to—”

Ralph scowled at her, and she gave a frightened squeak. “If you please, my lord. The fireplace…” She tilted her head at the greenery that her round eyes were barely visible above.

Hellfire! Now he was reduced to taking out his ill temper on the servants. His father would be so proud.

He drew a deep breath. “Come here…Godith, isn’t it?” He tried to gentle his tone, but it came out more like a bark.

The girl nodded and crept closer with the same caution one would approach a cornered wolf.

“Well, Godith, I shall leave you to decorate the hall in peace.” He stepped aside and Godith scuttled up to the great stone fireplace and started to drape the canopy with the garland. Around the hall, other servants were doing similar, decorating the pillars and trestle tables with twining ivy, holly, and clumps of mistletoe, and lighting the myriad candles. From the wary glances they shot at him, he was the one storm cloud in the midst of the festivities.

And it was all Katherine Beaumont’s fault. He strode from the hall, sensing the sighs of relief all around him. He would not allow her to ruin Christmas. God knew with John on the throne there was little enough to celebrate, but nothing must mar this one spark of light and joy. If Katherine presented a danger to Whitwell, he needed to know.

A small voice in the back of his mind told him he would take any excuse to see her again, but he ignored it.

He was halfway up the donjon staircase when he heard the rustle of clothing above him. Then the same sharp-sweet scent he’d smelled on Katherine teased his nostrils. Gritting his teeth, he sprang up the steps until he rounded the curve and saw her feet level with his eyes. Bare feet. Delicate bare feet with shapely toes and a high arch. He lifted his gaze, skimming a leaf-green gown, up past the flare of her hips. Her gown was ruckled awkwardly around her waist, and the girdle that should have sat low on her hips was knotted about her waist, bunching the cloth above it. The lacing down her side sagged instead of pulling the bodice tightly to her body. She looked like a child who’d dressed in her mother’s clothes.

It was impossible to remain angry when faced with such a sight. “In a hurry?” Then he looked at her face, and his breath caught in his throat. “God’s blood, woman, cover your head.” Did she have no shame? Her glossy hair fell in waves to the middle of her back, giving her the look of a woman who had just risen from a lover’s bed. His mouth went dry as images of her sprawled upon his bed seared his mind.

He gripped her arm. “Come back to your chamber before you’re seen.” The last thing he needed was tongues wagging about his liaison with the mysterious Katherine Beaumont. Not when the future of Whitwell depended upon his marriage to Lord Hywel’s daughter.

He tugged her arm, but she resisted. It was only then that he noticed how her hands shook, her neck cords standing out from her neck as taut as bowstrings. One hand gripped the central pillar with clawed fingers as rigid as the stone they clutched.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t move.” Her voice contained no trace of the defiance that had so riled him earlier.

He looked past her to see if her gown was snagged upon anything, but as far as he could see she was free to move. “Why not?”

Crimson blotches bloomed upon her cheeks. “I’m scared of heights.” Her gaze was fixed on the narrowest curve of the stairs, as it spiraled into nothingness.

“Don’t look down. Look at me.” He positioned himself against the column, blocking her view of the stairs. With agonizing care, she raised her head.

Her lavender-blue gaze speared straight through his chest. It contained no lie, no concealment, just a direct plea for help. It chipped the shield he’d erected around his heart and awoke a deep urge to protect. From herself if necessary. He could leave his questions until later. For now, she needed help. After a quick glance down to make sure no one was watching, he smiled at her. Heaven forbid anyone in the castle should see their lord acting in a way to make them doubt his leadership qualities, but he needed to convince Katherine she was safe. “You won’t fall. If you slip, I’m here to catch you.” He concentrated on keeping his voice gentle, as though coaxing a nervy foal.

Her lips curved in the tiniest of smiles. She had such enticing lips. He could almost feel what it would be like to trace the curve of that plump lower lip with his thumb.

Sweet Jesu, what demon had sent that thought? He mustn’t forget he knew nothing of her. She might awaken his protective instincts, but first and foremost he was responsible for the safety of his lands and people. He refused to see his father’s legacy destroyed.

Fighting to regain control of his reactions, he released her arm and held out his hand. “Take my hand.”

****

Take his hand? That meant letting go of the wall. The wall was the only thing that stopped this endless staircase from spinning dizzily out of control. Kat’s gaze slid past Ralph’s broad shoulders to the dark void beyond the central stone pillar. The whole staircase swayed. She clutched the wall, seeking a firmer handhold, and managed to hook her fingers into one of the niches containing a tiny lamp. So far, she hadn’t found a single light switch, but there were several of these lamps dotted around. They filled the place with a smoky, oily scent.

Place… But what kind of place? A house? Or was it a castle? Oh, God, it was certainly looking that way. The narrow windows, winding corridors, and curving walls all suggested she was in a tower. She’d been in too much of a hurry to dress and find the way out to think too closely about the kind of building she was in. She’d descended several steps before the sickening sensation of a void to her right had made her freeze.

A castle. She was in a castle. What the hell was happening? Her legs began to tremble so much she feared they would give way.

“Don’t look down. Look at me.”

She forced herself to focus on his face. Forget the drop. Forget the weirdness. Just look at his eyes.

“Good. Now take my hand. I won’t let you fall.”

He had lovely eyes, now she came to look: sea-green shot with amber, fringed with sweeping black lashes. Nothing like Rob’s.

Her gut twisted. What was she doing? She had to get out of here. The knowledge brought her limbs back to life, and she edged her feet to the wider part of the treads. God, the stone was cold. She wished she’d been able to find some shoes. “I can do it myself. Just let me past.”

“You’re not going down. I’m taking you back to your chamber.”

“You can’t keep me here. I’m leaving.” She managed to lower herself another step, but Ralph didn’t budge. Great. Now she was wedged between the wall and his body.

Amusement flickered in Ralph’s eyes. “Are you going to turn around, or shall I carry you?”

“Turn? Here?”

Her last word ended on a wail as Ralph hoisted her over his shoulder, and she found herself looking at the broad expanse of his back. “Put me down!”

But Ralph didn’t reply. The stairwell spun round her, and in a far shorter time than it had taken her to descend, they arrived at the top.

“Put me down. I can walk from here.” Quite aside from the uncomfortable pressure on her bladder, Ralph’s hand on her thighs sent disconcerting sensations through her flesh. She definitely didn’t want to consider why his touch affected her like that.

“Do I have your word you won’t leave?”

“Down those stairs? You’ve seen for yourself I can’t get down alone.” She would, though, even if she had to do the whole flight on her backside. Just as soon as he left her, she was out of here. If she could find a toilet first, even better.

He placed her back on her feet and pointed at the door to her chamber. “After you, my lady.”

“Actually, I really need the loo.”

Ralph’s brows drew together. “The what?”

“For God’s sake, I’m bursting. Just tell me where the toilet is, then I promise we can go back to this whole”—she sketched a circle with her finger, taking in Ralph’s clothes—“medieval business.”

His expression couldn’t have been more perplexed if she’d asked for a deep-fried gerbil. But then he must have taken in the way she was jigging on the spot, because his face cleared. “The garderobe is down there.” He pointed to a narrow door at the end of the passage.

She made a dash for it and flung open the door. “Oh, sodding hell.” This was taking the medieval castle look too far. The toilet consisted of a wooden seat with a hole set upon a stone ledge. Sprigs of lavender hung from the rafters, but they couldn’t disguise the whiff emanating from the hideous depths lurking below the seat. Still, needs must.

By the time she returned to Ralph, she was all the more determined to find out what was happening and get back home. Or break out of the nightmare. Or whatever weird world she was stuck in. Anything to avoid using that garderobe thing again. Although she had to admit the soft rags had made a luxurious substitute for toilet paper. And there had, at least, been a basin, a jug of fresh water and soap for washing.

“Are you going to let me go now?”

“Not until you tell me why you’re here.”

“I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t want to be.” The words poured out in frustration. “One moment I was by the mere, the next I was here.”

“But before the mere, where did you come from?”

“I told you. My house. You must have seen it. You were there.” Don’t think about where they were now, or the strange business with the language. If she could just get home, shut herself away, where she felt safe, everything would return to normal. She should never have tried that mad new start ceremony. What was wrong with isolating herself from the world anyway?

Ralph shook his head and marched to the door. “Edith!”

A door creaked open farther down the passage, and Kat heard footsteps approach. A middle-aged woman in a drab gown appeared. “My lord?”

“The lady Katherine requires help with her gown and veil, and some dry shoes. Bring her to the solar when she is suitably attired to go outside.”

Kat’s head snapped up. “You’re going to let me go home?”

“I’m going to prove you’re lying.”