"Do you have a change of heart?" asked Eleanor with a gentle smile.

"Nay, my queen." Katherine held herself rigid, girding herself against the memory of the Welshmen and their last struggle for breath. She heaved a heavy breath, understanding their grief and their terror, feeling their strangulation. "'Tis the most awful sentence visited upon a woman, to marry a man she does loathe."

"Ah," sighed Eleanor, rising and meeting her gaze with a frank expression. "Love can be learned." She touched Katherine's cheek. "Sir Dafydd is a loyal and n.o.ble knight. 'Tis certain he will suit you, given time."

"He is Sir Geoffrey's progeny, is he not? I am certain 'twill be otherwise," she replied sharply, bestowing an unwavering glare upon the queen.

Behind her, Anne gasped.

'Twould not be amiss should Queen Eleanor throw her into the dungeon.

She would welcome it!

The royal lady did not seem hoaxed by her desperate ploy, though a long-suffering stare from her dark eyes did settle upon her. Katherine did not flinch.

When Eleanor deigned to speak, 'twas with the most regal of tones. "'Tis time for the wedding ceremony to commence."

The journey behind the queen down the narrow corridor was all too brief, the small chapel all too cold.

Katherine hesitated at the entry. On the alter table, two candles flanked the silver cross, their flames dancing like angry nymphs in the chill draft of the chamber. She shivered. The queen beckoned impatiently to her. Slowly she stepped into the chamber.

By the altar, Rhys stood alongside the black-robed priest. He was suited in his armor, but a white surcoat with dagged edging covered the chain mail. Absent of his coif and steel helm, his blond hair shone bright in the candlelight. Clean-shaven for the first time in weeks, he looked resplendent, and with his schooled features, a most dignified and comme il faut knight.

'Twas difficult to believe he was the same man who, as a lover, had exhibited such hearty emotions just a short while agone. His appraising eyes looked steadily into hers. Of a sudden, Katherine found herself looking into the same expression that had aroused her pa.s.sion at daybreak. At the remembrance of that sweet intimacy, warmth spread through her limbs and into her belly.

It did not appease her soaring tension that Rhys communicated everything a cherished bride could desire-love radiated from his clear blue eyes, encouragement bolstered her with his broad smile, his bold admiration held her spell-bound, then stunned her, as he unabashedly and leisurely inspected her figure from head to foot, resting overlong on certain parts-parts that began to tingle. Heat rushed into her cheeks, warmed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, awakened her inner core.

This must not be, not in G.o.d's house, not at the moment she was to be bound to Sir Dafydd!

Resisting the tempest rising within her, Katherine pushed down the feverish flame licking at her insides. Her blood pulsed from the effort, yet she did not look away from Rhys. She dared not, for the priest stood too close, too menacing. Though he made her vulnerable, making her weak of flesh, Rhys was her salvation in this moment of darkness. He filled her vision, calmed her fears. His gentleness and his presence soothed and comforted her, gave her strength. Because of him, she knew she would not collapse from terror.

"Courage, my lady."

He took her hand. As one, they faced the priest. The good father made the sign of the cross. Rhys tugged at her to kneel by the altar. Prayers were intoned, words she did not follow. The priest's words, rambling in her head, continued unabated, then came to a halt. She started at Rhys's clear voice.

"In the presence of G.o.d, I, Dafydd de la Motte, take thee Katherine to be my wedded wife, promising with divine a.s.sistance to be unto thee a loving and faithful husband as long as we both shall live."

A gold ring was blessed and slipped onto her finger.

'Twas her turn to give voice to the harrowing vows. Terror overpowered her voice. Rhys bent his head close to hers and whispered the words of the priest, encouraging her to follow. She stumbled along, trembling at the vows binding her to a dreaded existence.

At last, no more words were necessary, all had been said that made her a married woman.

Rhys gently pulled her to her feet.

Eleanor bestowed a brief kiss upon her cheek and gave a satisfied nod. "You shall find happiness, my dear, if you but seek it. Remember, the king wishes you well."

As though in a trance, Katherine stared through the royal lady.

Eleanor turned to Rhys. "'Twas unwise for you to act as proxy. Lady Katherine is distressed." Her mouth set in an angry line. She turned and swept from the chapel, her two ladies-in-waiting hurrying behind.

Sister Mary Margaret startled Katherine when she and another nun took their leave, their hands folded primly within the sleeves of their dark robes. Forsooth, Sir Dafydd would crave witnesses for the bridal. She pierced their retreating backs with a dull and desolate stare.

Motioning for Anne to follow the religious sisters, Rhys guided Katherine toward the doorway. But Sir Geoffrey stepped ahead of them, blocking their way.

In alarm, she recoiled against Rhys.

"'Tis well accomplished that Haughmond is properly conferred upon Sir Dafydd, else I would doubt my son's right of possession. Your hands do show much familiarity with his bride." Geoffrey eyed them sharply. "The day will come, Rhys of St. Quintin, when we will settle our differences. Never again will you touch my son's chattel." He gave Rhys a hard shove before he strode from the chapel.

A moment later the priest hurried past, his shaved head bowed, his eyes averted.

They stood alone in the chapel, with only the tendrils of candle smoke drifting around them.

Rhys leaned toward her, his forehead pressing to hers. "You needs be ready to ride for Haughmond within the hour. Can you contrive it?" He straightened and stepped back, giving her an encouraging look.

Katherine stumbled as though she had been cast adrift. Yet when Rhys lunged for her, she flung up her hands.

"I shall manage," she breathed. "I needs learn to stand alone, do I not?"

"Nevermore will you be alone, Katherine." His resolute voice echoed against the stone walls of the chapel. "I will always be with you, for my heart is yours."

She shook her head. "I'm bound to Sir Dafydd. There is no place for you in my future life."

She turned to leave the chapel, but Rhys's hands caught her shoulders and swung her back toward him. "Where ever I go, you are with me." His hands cupped her face, forcing her to meet his piercing gaze.

Tears blinded her. His tender words unhinged her ability to control her emotions. "'Tis wrong to love you," she cried, covering his hands. "But G.o.d forgive me, I can't help myself."

Rhys's head lowered and his lips captured hers. Without hesitation Katherine returned his ardor with such fierceness, it took her breath away. This final kiss must needs be a lasting keepsake.

Her lips parted and Rhys's tongue danced with hers, tasting, stirring sensations so raw and voracious she grew dizzy from the heady rush. Her agony increased all the more when he cradled her b.u.t.tocks against his unyielding armor.

Sweet Jesu, a mere kiss was not sufficient!

"Oh, Sweetling," Rhys murmured as his lips moved across her cheek and nuzzled her neck. "How do I leave you at Haughmond?"

Katherine froze. "You are for Haughmond?" She choked on the words.

Rhys lifted his head and settled a troubled look upon her. "I am to see you safely arrived before joining the king."

"Mon Dieu!" She launched herself from the loving embrace. "Such misery to be with you and yet belong to another. How do I bear it?"

Rhys stepped after her, but she flung herself into the corridor and whirled to face him. "Don't touch me, I beseech you. I cannot bear it."

She backed away, grazing her knuckles across the cold stones of the wall behind her. "Escort me, if the king commands it, but promise me you'll never touch me anon."

Rhys's startled confusion bore into her. "You cannot mean- "

"You will keep your distance. I'll not have my soul in peril."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. 'Twas a sin to covet a man other than her husband. Yet the molten heat flooding through her bore testament to her uncontrollable hunger. In a moment she would be unable to deny the fire Rhys stoked within her.

In desperation she cried, "Promise you'll leave me in peace!"

Chapter Eighteen.

"'Tis a promise I will never render."

Katherine sank against the wall behind her, using it for strength as she gaped at Rhys, startled by his restrained but resolute declaration.

"I've witnessed the manner in which you behold Sir Dafydd. I've heard your harsh condemnation of him." His voice filling the narrow corridor outside the chapel, he bestowed an appraising look upon her. "Do you intend to be his wife? Will you allow his touch?" He arched a questing brow. "Will you nurture his children in your womb?"

Katherine gasped and looked away. He knew her so well, better than she knew herself. She scarce had another thought. Sir Dafydd would not be allowed near her. She would not bear any child of his.

"Your inclinations are plainly evident on your face."

Surprised at his sudden sharp tone, she focused on the tip of his boot. "You must allow, 'twas a dark day when that knight did enter this world."

"Aye, a dark day, indeed." Rhys's tone grew forbidding.

She darted a perplexed glance in his direction.

"Tell me, what is it that provokes you?" A muscle twitched in his jaw. He stepped closer. "Is it the sire of Sir Dafydd that does beset you? Or do you mislike that you are the spoils of combat?"

The question posed no hardship. Gladly would she have been the spoils, had Rhys been the victor. But she dared not admit it. 'Twould encourage him and she must not. 'Twas safer to hide behind anger.

She took a deep breath. "I despise the man." Her voice rose, echoing against the stones of the corridor. "Yea, I do begrudge the air he does breathe. I mislike that knight's very existence."

"Clearly," Rhys replied in a tight voice.

"I will not mingle my blood with Sir Geoffrey's get." Katherine laid emphasis to her claim by punctuating the air with her forefinger. "No child of his can give me comfort."

She watched tight-lipped as Rhys expelled a breath. "And what of me? Would my child bring you comfort-or pain?"

His fervent and strained expression stabbed at her heart and had her insides churning. Her words tumbled out in a rush. "By rights you mustn't ask me this."

"Do not begrudge me the query, Katherine. Most sure, I needs know if you would scorn me likewise." Rhys took hold of her hand and clasped it to his chest.

She forced herself to silence. 'Twas on the tip of her tongue to tell him how much she yearned for his child. In the long years ahead, a child of his would be a great comfort. But she must say naught. The future did not belong to them.

She tried to pull away, but she could not loosen his hold. Frustrated at his determination, concentrating on her anger rather than the delight of his touch, she made her voice sharp. "A plague on the de Borne line. I care naught if they all do rot in h.e.l.l."

"You repudiate your husband?" asked Rhys in a measured voice.

She nodded.

"Pray, how will you accomplish such a feat?" He lifted a calculating brow. "How do you intend to keep your husband from giving you children?"

'Twas a plaguing question that offered no answer. "Do not press me," she replied in irritation, her glance sliding away. "An inspiration will come if I pray to Saint Winifred. She has never forsaken me."

"Ah, foolish lady, 'tis as worthy as any of your schemes, I reckon," Rhys commented, drawing her fingers to his lips.

To her consternation, he bestowed a gentle kiss upon her hand and she did naught to prevent it. Verily, she basked in the joy of his warm touch, even as a tremor of unease coursed through her.

Rhys looked up at her through his lashes. "That being the case, I choose to continue to act on Sir Dafydd's behest. My offspring shall be the heirs of Haughmond."

"You must be mad!" Aghast at the staggering suggestion, Katherine tugged frantically against his hold. "What of Sir Dafydd? He will not allow you to trespa.s.s on his bounty. He will not allow you to cheat him out of his heirs."

"Ho, Katherine." Rhys chuckled without mirth. "I doubt me that happens, but 'tis precisely what you plan to do to him, is it not?"

Once more she had no answer and doubted she could argue her point to advantage.

"War makes of men many things. It does, thereto, make widows." Rhys spoke with a quiet self-a.s.suredness. "Accidents come to pa.s.s," he murmured in a suggestive tone. "And arrows do go astray."

Incredulous, Katherine's jaw dropped. "Oh, Rhys, you mustn't seek out my husband for such an intent. Murder is a sin!"

Rhys gave a skeptical look. "Do not chastise me. You wish Dafydd to return in splendor and partake of his husbandly duties?"

She shook her head.

"You do not spurn us both, dear heart. I do not allow it."

She went cold inside, sure she heard him aright, desperately hoping she had not. "'Tis not your charge, Rhys," she admonished.

"You were meant to be a wife and mother."

"Cease! Leave me in peace, I beg you," she cried, yanking against her imprisoned arm.

But his hold merely tightened and he gave her a fierce look. "Will you find joy in your marriage? Will you love your husband's children?"

"I beg you, don't do this!" Her hand, crushed within his, grew cold and numb. Staring into his implacable regard, she knew he would not release her. Feeling cornered and utterly vulnerable, she gasped out the raw truth, "G.o.d forbid I want no child of his!"

Rhys grabbed her shoulders. "Then bear mine," he demanded, all the hope from his soul shining on his face.

"Sweet Jesu, you have lost all reasoning."

"Yea, but even outside G.o.d's sacred chapel I yearn for you," he groaned. "Feel me!" He seized her hand and pressed it to the front hem of his dagged tunic.

With a strangled gasp, Katherine s.n.a.t.c.hed back her hand, clutching it to her breast. The growing flame within her threatened her sanity. "On Saint Winifred's bones, I beseech you to leave me my dignity."

"I cannot," he murmured into her ear. Pinning her betwixt the cold wall and his lean frame, he pulled her into his arms. "I will not allow you to consign yourself to a life of solitude, like a hermit-like a nun! Nay, there is more that you do deserve." Rhys's explosion dropped to a whisper. "I will touch you, dear heart. I will hold you." His lips brushed lightly, then slanted desperately against hers, shattering her waning resolve.

She strained to keep her face away.