She sucked in a deep breath, summoned her courage and prepared to enter the lion's den and find out. But as she took her first, determined step, her way was blocked by a soldier striding in the opposite direction. When she side-stepped, so did he, then apologised with a laugh.

'We should become partners in the dance, he said gallantly.

Catrin had been keeping her eyes down as befitted a modest woman, but now she raised them to his face and her reply died on her lips. Black curls; hot, dark eyes; white, even smile. 'Lewis? she strangled out, and her hand went to her throat for suddenly it was difficult to breathe.

The laughter left his expression. He looked her up and down. 'Sweet Jesu in heaven, he whispered and, reaching out, he took her arm. 'Catty?

She felt the pressure of his fingers, the solidity of bone that challenged her disbelief. 'You're dead, she gasped. 'I grieved over you so hard that I thought I would die myself. You cannot be real! Drowning, sinking, she clutched for air, but there was only Lewis within her desperate grasp, and it seemed as if he was pulling her down. 'I don't feel well, she said as her knees began to give way. She heard his oath of alarm as he moved to catch her and felt the darkness of his embrace close around her.

He swept her up in his arms and, ignoring the curious glances cast his way, bore her to a bench situated outside the kitchen entrance. Her head lolled against his shoulder; one of her braids tickled his hand. The smell of dried rose petals drifted from her garments and filled his nose with the scent of her. Tenderly, he set her down and took a moment to examine her properly without being examined himself.

Her face had lost the plumpness of adolescence, and the flesh clung smoothly to her bones. The curve of eyebrow was the same; she still did not pluck them even though it was the fashion. The tilt of her nose and set of her jaw reminded him with a pang of times past. It had not all been bad. His eyes strayed beyond her ice-white face to her garments. Despite being crumpled, her crimson gown was that of a wealthy woman, as was her wimple, and the fillets securing the ends of her braids were of polished silver. Whatever she had done with herself after he left, she had made her way well in the world. He looked at her hands and saw with a slight frown that she no longer wore the Celt gold wedding rings he had given her. Instead, on her heart finger, there was a different ring: gold in the shape of a triple knot.

'So, Catty, you've got yourself a man of wealth, he murmured, with more than a pang of jealousy. His frown deepened as he looked at her hands. Wealthy or not, she still worked for her living. Her nails were clipped short and her skin had a slightly rough texture that suggested she spent her days doing more than spinning in a bower. Why, he wondered, was she here at Rochester? And what was he going to do about it?


Opening her eyes, the first thing Catrin saw was a tuft of grass growing through a dried-out crack in the soil and, either side of it, the toes of her shoes peeping out from the hem of her red gown. She realised that she was sitting on a bench, bending over, her head between her knees, but the wherefore and why escaped her.

'Drink this, said a solicitous male voice. She was drawn gently into a sitting position and a cup placed in her hand. Lean brown fingers touched hers and, with a nauseous jolt, she remembered. A look into the face bending round into hers dispelled all notions that her imagination had been playing tricks.

'Lewis. Her voice trembled. Once again the flutters of panic began in her stomach and tightened her throat. She tried to leap to her feet, but he held her fast.

'Drink first, he said. 'I know it's a shock.

Catrin tilted the cup to her lips with shaking hands. It was raw, red wine, sweetened with honey and spiked with Galwegian usquebaugh. She swallowed, coughed, retched and swallowed again, tears filling her eyes. The drink hit her stomach like a hot coal and flashed through her body. She sat back on the bench and breathed deeply, and each breath was filled with the scent of him; of orris root and horses, of a healthy, vigorous man in the full flow of life. 'Tell me, she said shakily. 'I need to know.

He drank from a cup of his own. She saw the familiar way he pouched it in his cheeks before he swallowed, and the unfamiliar line of a scar moving as he washed the wine around his mouth. What she had thought of as shattered bones and corrupted flesh was living, breathing, warm and vital.

'I killed Padarn ap Rhys, he said. 'It was in fair fight, but do you think his followers would have accepted the outcome? It would be a matter of their clan's honour to see me dead. So I decided to «kill» myself before they did it for me.

'And left me a grieving widow with never a word, so that you could save your own hide. Catrin's lips drew back from her teeth as a spark of anger lit from within and carried her forward from that awful day on the banks of the Wye.

'I was intending to return for you.

Catrin gave a cracked laugh. She felt as if all of her was breaking into little pieces; shattering like a fine and brittle mirror. 'When? Just how long were you intending me to wait? You must have an overbearing sense of your own attraction to think that I would still be dutifully pining four years later! She took another vicious drink of the wine. Had she not, she would have thrown it in his face.

'I do not blame you for being angry, just as I don't blame you for not waiting. He steepled his hands together in a prayerful gesture and gave her an engaging look from beneath his dark-winged brows. 'But I am telling you the truth. I—

'Then it will be for the first time in your life! Catrin interrupted furiously. 'How dare you say that you do not blame me when it was you who abandoned me, and in a fight over your seduction of someone else's wife! Her hand trembled on the cup. 'I thought you were dead. You can stay dead! She sought refuge in the burn of her rage, but her defences had been breached. Just the sight and scent of him brought everything back. Despite her rage, or perhaps part of it, there was a hot sensitivity between her thighs.

Lewis shook his head sorrowfully. 'First you say tell me; then, when I try, you bite my head off. I know I deserve it, but at least do me the grace of listening.

She glared and drank, saying nothing, feeling the ground slip from under her feet.

He took her hand and rubbed her fingers gently with the ball of his thumb. 'I do not deny that I have been untrustworthy in the past, Catty. I took my responsibilities lightly. I misbehaved. I know that I was not a good husband

Catrin blinked as treacherous tears filled her eyes. She pressed her lips together and looked down at her lap.

'I admit that I flirted with the wife of Padarn ap Rhys. I admit that I visited whore houses with the other soldiers, but such women meant nothing to me. I thought I was proving myself, when all I was doing was being a fool and playing with dross when I should have been at home with my gold.

Catrin sniffed. 'Spare me your honeyed tongue, I knew what you were like.

'Well, that is the meat of the matter, he said, still stroking her hand. 'I was like it then, Catty, but I'm not any more. On the day I fought with Padarn, I swore an oath to change. In a sense I truly am dead. I left the old Lewis on the banks of the Wye that day. I'm now Louis de Grosmont, and I serve William d'Ypres, Lord of Kent. Very gently, he tilted up her chin on his forefinger, betraying the glitter in her eyes. 'I was going to come back for you, Cat, I promise I was. But not until I had proved myself worthy.

'And you expected me to wait, thinking that you were dead? She jerked her head away, but the wobble of her voice betrayed her.

'I thought you might stay a widow longer than this, he said, and touched the gold knot ring on her heart finger. 'But then I made many misjudgements back then. There was sorrow in his tone, and perhaps the faintest note of reproach.

'Yes, you did.

'Are you then remarried?

Catrin swallowed and shook her head. 'But for Winchester, I would be.

'Ah. You lost him there then? Although he spoke with gentleness and compassion, his eyes were sharp.

It was impossible to bear. A great wave of grief began to gather. 'I do not know. I came here to find out if he is a prisoner and, if he is, to pay his ransom!

'And found me, instead.

Tears spilled. 'I should never have come. The final word ended in a howl of self-reproach and she began to cry.

'Yes, you should, it was meant to be. Louis took her in his arms and held her firmly. When she tried to push out of his embrace, he tightened his grip and murmured soothing words at the same time. He wanted to know more about her and until he did, he had no intention of yielding her up to another man, if at all. What had once been stale was now fresh and new and intriguing. Besides, it was several days since he had last had a woman and he was hungry. And she was, after all, his wife.

'Catty, Catty, he crooned, kissing her temple and her wet cheek. 'Catty, it's all right, I promise. He let her weep, and at the same time rubbed her back and her shoulders. He made her finish the wine, and then gave her the rest of his. Only then did he taste her lips, moist with wine and the salt of tears. His hands soothed, stroked, and then manipulated. From her side they moved to her waist and then to her breasts. His kisses went from comforting, to questing, to passionate, and beneath his touch her nipples budded and her body arched.

'Stop, Catrin gasped as they broke for air. She tried to push him away, but Louis ignored her protest and placed her hand on the swollen bulge beneath his tunic.

'Catty, for God's love don't refuse me or I will go mad, he groaned. 'I have to have you. He ended any attempt at protest with another deep, probing kiss, and moved his own hand to her lap. His fingers searched and then delicately rubbed. His tongue thrust and stroked, and his hips rocked.

She made a small sound in her throat, and her hand closed around him and began to squeeze and relax. It was good, exquisitely so, and Louis had to struggle to keep his wits about him. It was obvious that they could go no further than this without seeking somewhere more private, but it could not be too far or the impetus would be lost.

There was a storeshed a few yards away, in which was stacked kindling for the great stone ovens in the kitchen. It was not the best place for a tryst, but it would afford them more privacy than this. Disengaging, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

His voice was light with excitement and daring. 'Do you remember that time in Chepstow, Catty? In the keep undercroft before we were wed? It was a rhetorical question. He knew she did because it was the first time that she had experienced the delight of climax, and he had brought her to that point time and again, panting, sweating, crying out and clawing him.

Now he pulled her into the small shed and wedged the door shut with a hefty chunk of split log. Anyone who wanted fuel would have to wait. Snatching off her cloak, he spread it on the bare floor in front of the kindling and removed his gambeson to use as a pillow.

'Lewis, I can't. She tried to retreat, but he was blocking the entrance and there was a wall of wood at her back.

'That's what you said then too, he answered with a grin. For all that she was shaking her head, her rapid breathing betrayed her. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. The tip of his tongue flickered out and touched her palm, then trailed lightly to the pulse point on her wrist. 'Pleasure, he said softly; 'nothing but pleasure. Returning to her palm, he kissed her fingertips one by one, then bit down gently. His tongue circled. He was the hunter and she was the prey. He stalked her now, his other hand encircling her waist and pulling her against him. 'Remember Chepstow, Catty. He angled his head, pushing her wimple to one side, and sucked her throat.

'Jesu God, she whispered, and he felt her swallow. In the streaks of light showing through the cracks in the wood, he saw that her eyes were closed and that her breathing was short and shallow as she sought not to gasp.

'It's more than a memory now, Louis murmured. 'It's here, it's real. He claimed her mouth again and pressed his hand into the small of her back, at the same time pushing his hips forward and up so that she could feel his arousal. 'Please, he said. 'Shall I get down on my knees to you? And promptly did so, but only to lift the hem of her gown and caress her ankles, and then work his way up her calves and thighs. She shuddered but did not try to stop him, and her gasps grew more audible. He rose to his feet again, but now the folds of her gown were bunched upon his forearms and she was naked to the waist. He cupped her buttocks and rubbed against her, enjoying the cool smoothness of her flesh. The anticipation was often almost as exciting as the act itself, although what he liked best of all was to watch the effect he had on his partner.