Chapter Five

“Lady Katherine, are you unwell?” Ralph touched her arm, alarmed at the frozen expression on her face. He had brought her up here to challenge her, force her to tell the truth, but from her lost expression, she had truly believed her home to be beside the mere. Whatever the truth, he was no longer convinced she was here to spy.

And he couldn’t forget how she had appeared from nowhere, like a solid figure forming from a mist. He shivered.

No, that was a foolish fancy. He hadn’t noticed her in the dark, and that was all there was to it. Now she was here, she was his responsibility. He should do what his father would have told him to do from the start: provide shelter and do his best to find her family. He’d let his fears for the future of Whitwell color his behavior toward her. Well, from now on he would put that right.

“Lady Katherine, come down to the solar with me. It’s too cold to stay up here.”

This time he seemed to reach her; she gave a start and turned. She stepped away from the wall, then her gaze fell on the doorway and she faltered. Hellfire! He didn’t want a repeat of her earlier encounter with the stairs.

“I’ll walk in front. Place your feet on the widest part of the steps.”

This arrangement worked well. Katherine was still hesitant, but she descended without incident. After her sharp-tongued responses of earlier, it was a new experience to see her accept his help without question. What she had seen—or, rather, not seen—beside the mere had clearly affected her deeply. There was a mystery here he intended to uncover. He might not suspect her of lies any more, but if he was to help her, he must know what was wrong.

She was so lost in a dream she didn’t react when he took her hand and placed it on his arm to lead the way to the solar. He reacted, though. He could no longer deny the jolt of attraction at the touch of their hands, the heat coursing through his flesh from the light pressure of her hand on his arm. She was the first woman he’d met who hadn’t been over-awed by his status. He should be shocked at the way she defied him, answered his questions with questions of her own or outright rudeness. She had a delightfully strange choice of phrases. He didn’t even understand a lot of what she said, but somehow, he doubted it meant of course, my lord; right away, my lord. And what a refreshing change that was.

Yet there were cracks in her appearance of assurance, moments of vulnerability. And he recognized that. Oh, he knew all too well the feeling of being compelled to behave in a certain way, while praying no one got a glimpse of the flawed, unworthy person beneath the harsh exterior.

Once they entered the solar, he led her to a seat by the fire. The heat was welcome after the piercing chill of the tower roof. His mother was no longer there—probably inspecting the preparations for the feast. He poured a cup of wine for each of them then sat opposite her chair, studying her face. “I’ve answered your question.” As strange as it was. Who lost track of the year? Especially a year which saw a new king take the throne. “Now tell me where you are from.”

She took a sip of her drink, then studied her cup as though she’d never seen a wine goblet before. “I don’t know,” she replied finally. Even her voice intrigued him. He couldn’t place the accent, but it made her sound exotic. As though she came from a distant place filled with wonders. “I can’t explain what’s happened to me. I…I’m not aware of traveling, but I must have done. I thought I was near my home, but you’ve shown me my mistake.”

He leaned forward to get a closer view of her face. The firelight gave it an amber glow, lighting the delicate lines of her cheekbones, the elegant column of her neck. She raised a hand to her throat. It was a gesture he’d noticed before. It seemed automatic, and there was always that brief flicker of confusion in her eyes, as though her fingers failed to find what she expected.

Much as he’d felt all morning whenever he’d missed his father’s signet ring from his right hand. His mother hadn’t noticed yet. The longer that lasted the better. He cringed inwardly at trying to explain the moment of madness that had overcome him last night when he’d received Hywel ap Morgan’s message.

“Have you been ill?” Maybe she’d wandered in a fever. That would explain why she’d come here with no cloak or pack. Only surely a woman of her status would not have been left alone in her illness.

She shook her head, frowning. “I don’t feel as though I’ve been ill.”

“But you mentioned a mere, and your house.”

She gave a brittle laugh. “Isn’t it strange that we should both come from places with a mere?”

Ralph clenched his jaw. She was still hiding something. God’s blood, what did it take to make her tell the truth? He couldn’t afford to appear weak. His instincts told him she meant no harm, but he needed to be sure. There was too much at stake to trust his gut feeling. With the Welsh raids on one side, and King John’s demands for money on the other, the danger of his father’s legacy being undone had never been greater.

“Are you Welsh?” He flung out the question in Welsh. “If you are, I’ll hang your body from the tower.”

She shook her head, a puckered furrow between her brows. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Was that Welsh? I don’t speak it.”

There was no hint of comprehension in her eyes. No flicker of fear at the threat of hanging. Not that he would harm a woman, but she wasn’t to know. Some of the tension uncoiled in his stomach. Whatever secret she was hiding, spying for the Welsh wasn’t it. “I was merely asking if you were Welsh.”

“My mother was, but I’m English.”

“English? I could have sworn you were Norman. Beaumont is a Norman name.”

“I…ah…of course, I’m Norman. I meant I was born in England.” She took a deep drink from her cup. Ralph watched, fascinated as the silken flesh of her throat contracted.

“I…” He had no idea what he was about to say. All thought fled when the tip of her tongue darted out and licked a drop of wine from her plump lower lip.

A bell chimed in the courtyard, saving him. He blew out a breath and rose. “That’s the signal for the Christmas feast. This can wait. I’m sure you must be hungry.”

Food. He needed food. Drinking wine on an empty stomach must be the cause of his body’s lack of control.

Her face lit up in a smile, causing his stomach to swoop. “I forgot it was Christmas.”

It was pointless continuing this line of questioning. There was nothing he could do about finding her family today. Let him enjoy the remainder of the day without any worries about his responsibilities.

He gestured to the door. “Then we’ll observe the Christmas peace. Please do me the honor of joining me at the high table.” It was the place Hywel ap Morgan and his daughter should have occupied.

Katherine rose. “I’d like that.”

He wouldn’t worry about his marriage until tomorrow, either. For now, it was Christmas, and he would allow himself this day to enjoy the company of a beguiling woman.

****

It was Christmas Day! For the first time in years Kat felt the thrill that anything was possible on this magical day. With the promise of a medieval Christmas feast at the forefront of her mind, she managed to descend the spiral staircase without being paralyzed by fear. Or maybe it was the way Ralph insisted upon walking in front of her, allowing her to focus on his broad shoulders instead of the dizzying drop.

She might not know how she’d got here, or how to return home, but for now she was going to enjoy a Christmas feast in the company of a medieval lord. Wasn’t that what she’d dreamed of each time she’d explored a ruined castle as a child, or opened a historical novel? For too long she’d been focused on her losses: first her parents, then Rob. Perhaps she should take this day as a gift. Not dwell on the past and not worry about the future. Simply enjoy the experience of being in a castle on a snowy Christmas Day.

At the bottom of the staircase, there was a large set of wooden double doors. A man standing to attention beside the wall hurried to open them, and they stepped through into a sparkling world filled with the aroma of roasting meat. Kat’s stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Yesterday, or eight hundred years in the future. Kat laughed, earning her a quizzical glance from Ralph.

“I’m sorry. I just decided that sometimes you have to stop worrying about whatever weirdness the world flings at you and enjoy the ride.”

Ralph smiled. A genuine smile that softened the harsh lines of his face and induced a flutter in her chest. “You have an odd way of expressing it, but I’ve come to a similar conclusion.” He offered her his arm. “Come now. Let’s—how did you put it?—enjoy the ride.”

They descended another flight of steps that led to the courtyard Kat had viewed from the top of the tower. Groups of men and women, wrapped in capes against the chill, dashed toward the rectangular stone building she had noticed earlier. Their voices were raised in merry chatter, and all were smiling and laughing. The low sunlight brought the trails they left in the snow into sharp relief. Now they were at ground level, Kat could see the snow was several inches deep. Drifts piled up against the walls, which also had a thick layer along the top.

Ralph led her to the same building everyone else seemed so eager to reach. Its doors were flung wide, casting a golden glow of lamplight and firelight upon the frosty scene outside. Kat had just set her foot upon the threshold when a drumbeat pulsed through the air. It was joined by a flute, a fiddle, and a low drone from an instrument she couldn’t place. The notes melded into an energetic tune that made Kat’s pulse quicken.

She looked around eagerly. A group of musicians—minstrels, she supposed—occupied a low platform in a recess at the rear of a huge room. This could only be the great hall. When she’d explored castles in her childhood, any great halls had either long since been destroyed or were roofless, empty shells. The only sounds to be heard were the chack, chack of jackdaws nesting in the crumbling stone walls. She’d always tried to imagine what it must have been like when the castle was in use, but she’d never envisaged the explosion of color, light, and music that now overwhelmed her senses.

Tables draped with white cloths formed three sides of a rectangle in the center of the space. Garlands of holly, ivy, and mistletoe edged each one, red and white berries punctuating the varying shades of green. Rows of garlanded columns marked out recesses at the two narrow ends of the hall, and an impressive stone fireplace dominated the wall opposite the door. The high table stood on a platform in front of the fire. Candelabra stood at intervals on each table, each one ablaze with candles that cast wavering shadows upon the walls, animating the animals and birds of the bright wall paintings.

Kat breathed in as she followed Ralph up to the high table, savoring the scent of roasted meats and poultry, cinnamon, apples, honey, and a whole variety of spices that she couldn’t identify. Servants, carrying silver basins of water, stood by the dais. Following Ralph’s example, Kat dipped her hands into one of the basins and dried them on the strip of linen the servant handed her. Then she stood in the place indicated, between him and his mother, who was already at the table.

The moment Ralph took his place, the music stopped, and the excited chatter faded into silence. For several seconds the only sound was the crackle of flames upon the hearth. The moment stretched out, and Kat gazed at the faces turned toward the high table. They glowed in the golden candlelight, eyes wide, mouths stretched in eager smiles. The sight transported Kat to a happier time, to the Christmases of her childhood when the air thrummed with magic, and anything seemed possible. A thrill surged through her veins, a feeling like waking to a new day filled with exciting possibilities. For too long she’d drifted through life like a sleepwalker, observing but not experiencing. She didn’t want her life to be that way anymore. She wanted to break through the invisible barrier she’d erected around herself and submerge herself in events as they unfolded. Touch…taste…feel.

Unable to resist, she glanced at Ralph. He was turned away from her, his attention fixed on the end of the high table, giving her the opportunity to study his profile unobserved. She drank in the strong brows, the imperious set of his jaw, his sheer strength. His chestnut hair curled at the nape of his neck and her fingers itched to tangle in it, pull his head down and—

A voice rang out. Kat wrenched her gaze from Ralph to a man dressed in black standing at the end of the high table. In a clear, deliberate voice, he recited some words in a language she didn’t recognize—Latin? It seemed her strange internal translator didn’t work with all languages. There was a brief pause after his last words echoed around the high rafters, then Ralph took his seat. The music rang out again, and everyone else sat down. Kat followed suit, and her arm brushed Ralph’s. A jolt of electricity coursed through her. She shifted sideways, putting a good few inches of air between them, but even so, every nerve ending tingled.

But why deny the attraction? She didn’t have to jump him just because she wanted to.

Oh, God, she wanted to. Now her body was emerging from its long hibernation, it craved a man’s touch. Ralph’s touch.