Tori Phillips Page 21

  “Olivia was finished with me long before she started to show with Francis. A year and a half later, two nuns arrived at Henry’s court. We were at Greenwich at the time. ’Tis a day I will never forget.”

  Kat thought she detected a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

  “The nuns carried a little girl with them, and they asked for me. You can imagine the jests and quips that bounced off the walls of Greenwich. A bastard had come seeking its father in the arms of the church—literally! Ha! It seems that, when Yvette’s family discovered she was with child, they sent her to a convent near Rheims, where she bore the little girl. As soon as Yvette had recovered from childbirth, she left.”

  Brandon’s eyes darkened into a wintry blue at the remembrance. “She abandoned her daughter without a backward glance. She had told the nuns my name as the father, and that I was one of King Henry’s courtiers. The nuns kept the child. They named her LaBelle, the beautiful one. When some of their order chanced to make a journey to London, the mother superior sent Belle with them to find me. After all, I was the son of a wealthy man and could care for her.”

  Kat cleared her tight throat. “You knew the child was yours?”

  Brandon nodded. “From the moment I first beheld her. You have just met my family, but I am sure you have already noticed how alike we are in face and feature.”

  “Aye.” Kat replied, remembering how much Francis looked like Brandon.

  “And the strangest thing was, when I saw Belle, I loved her immediately.” He shook his head with amazement. “I had not expected fatherhood would so ensnare me. I took Belle home to Wolf Hall. ’Twas a bit difficult to explain things to my mother.” He paused, then smiled at Kat. “But I think that was nothing compared to explaining it all over again to you. In truth, I feel like a schoolboy caught with a wench and his hose around his ankles.” He gave her a wobbly grin.

  Kat squeezed his hand. “Go on, my love.”

  Brandon relaxed at her touch. “Mother was delighted to take Belle under her wing. She said she had nothing but men and boys to bring up, and she was glad of a little girl to spoil. And spoil her, she has. My daughter rides roughshod over us all. I fear you will have your hands full, if you will accept her.”

  Kat nodded. “She is yours. Of course, I accept her.”

  Brandon smothered her last words with his kiss, his lips warm and sweet on hers. Though they had loved the night before, the events of the morning made the time seem like forever ago. When he drew away, her lips savored the imprint of his tenderness.

  “Thank you, Kat, though I warn you’ll be taking on a little hellion.” He pressed another kiss into the palm of her hand.

  A shiver of pleasure rippled through her. “I am glad of your children, Brandon.” She looked down at his hand holding hers. How large and strong it was, yet how gentle! She took a deep breath. Now was the time to tell him that she may not be able to give him a child of their own. She gazed into his dark blue eyes.

  “Brandon, I—”

  Stopping further talk, he kissed her with a fierceness that took her breath away. When their lips met, Kat felt buffeted by the tempest of their passion for each other. She clung to Brandon as if, in letting go, she would be separated from him forever. Drinking in his fever, she returned it in full measure. The time and the place spun out of her consciousness. Only Brandon mattered now.

  “Papa!” A little girl’s voice shattered the moment, bringing the world to a standstill. “Papa, what are you doing to that woman?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Breaking off his kiss, Brandon spun around. Belle, her hands planted firmly on her little hips, glared at the pair. Kat covered her mouth with her hand, while her green eyes twinkled with amusement. A rush of heat suffused Brandon’s face.

  “Papa?” Belle caught his displeasure. Nevertheless she jutted out her little chin and stared back at him.

  Mark and the nursemaid appeared around the corner of the high yew hedge.

  “My lord, my lady, forgive us!” Mark’s words tumbled out like a spring torrent. “One minute she was with us, and the next—”

  Belle wheeled on the flustered squire. “Ha!” She snapped her fingers. “You were too busy telling Polly all manner of lies. ’Tis you who should seek my forgiveness, Mark. I could have shot you both with an arrow before you realized that something was amiss!”

  Brandon managed to find his voice. “Belle! Enough! First, there will be no more talk of shooting arrows at people. There has been enough of that today for a year of Sundays.”

  Belle’s eyes, blue as cornflowers, wavered a little. “Aye, Papa. I didn’t really mean that I would shoot Mark and Polly, only that they weren’t paying any attention to me.” She stuck out her lower lip.

  Brandon swallowed his discomfort. Belle’s behavior was a very poor introduction to her new mother. What would Kat think of his child’s bad manners? “Belle, you know you should not have run off from Polly. At the moment, you are a guest here. Please remember that.” Turning to Kat, Brandon took her hand in his. She squeezed his fingers, which gave him a little reassurance. At least, Kat hadn’t stomped off at the first taste of Belle’s sour words. “Katherine, may I present my daughter, LaBelle Maria Cavendish?”

  Kat bestowed a warm smile on the child. “What a beautiful name! I am very pleased to meet you, Belle.”

  Belle stared at Kat as if the lady were an exotic creature come from the Americas. Brandon had the urge to shake his daughter. How could Belle embarrass him in this manner? Usually she was such a charming. loving child.

  He plunged on with the ritual of introductions. “Belle, this is Lady Katherine Fitzhugh.”

  Belle wrinkled her button nose. Catching her father’s eye, she bobbed a small curtsy. Brandon relaxed a little.

  “I am honored,” Belle mumbled, looking at her shoes.

  Brandon decided to ignore her misbehavior for the moment. First impressions were so important. He really wanted Kat and Belle to become friends. Kat squeezed his hand again before she let go. When he glanced at her, he saw a glimmer of understanding in her eyes.

  Kat bent down to the little girl. “Welcome to Bodiam Castle, Belle. I hope you like it here.”

  Belle rubbed the side of her nose, then shot her father a quick glance. “The moat stinks. It smells like something died in it,” she remarked. A spark of challenge lit up her eye.

  Brandon curled his fingers into a fist. By the rood, what had gotten into her? “Belle!” he growled.

  Kat touched his sleeve, then returned her attention to his daughter. The little minx looked extremely pleased with herself.

  “Aye, you have cleverly discovered our problem,” Kat remarked smoothly. “And, I wonder, can you suggest a solution?”

  Belle rubbed her nose again. Brandon’s mouth twitched. Clearly Belle had not expected Kat to take her insult so calmly. He could only imagine how some of the other ladies of the court might have reacted when faced with his offspring. Thank the Fates King Henry had betrothed him to Kat!

  “My papa can take care of it,” Belle replied, fixing him with a pointed look. “Papa knows everything.”

  Brandon groaned inwardly.

  Kat’s copper brows swept up. “Does he? I am very glad you told me of that, Belle. Brandon, I leave the moat, and its odors, in your capable hands.”

  Brandon glared at both of them. At the moment, he had a lot more on his mind than Kat’s grreen-slimed cesspool. Now, thanks to the prattling of a nine-year-old vixen, he faced a very unpleasant task in the near future.

  He bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile. “’Twill be a pleasure, ladies. Kat, I beg your leave to speak to my daughter in private?”

  The twinkle in her eyes increased in merriment, though she inclined her head gravely. “I must attend to our dinner. ’Twill be served soon. I look forward to seeing you again, Belle.” With that, Kat retired from the garden.

  Sweeping up Belle in his arms, Brandon carried her to the other side of the sundial, away from Mar
k and Polly. No matter. Polly had ears only for whatever drivel Mark told her, and his squire had eyes only for Polly, whom he had not seen in several months.

  Once out of earshot, Brandon put Belle back on her feet, then he hunkered down to her level so that he could look her directly in the eye. “How now, Mistress Lack-manners? What is all this about?”

  “What?” Belle retorted, attempting to play the innocent.

  “Do not tread so lightly upon my patience. You know you were impolite to Lady Katherine, and she is to be your stepmother anon.”

  Belle made a face. “Oh, Papa, do you have to marry her?”

  Brandon prayed for fortitude. “The king commands it. Your grandpapa desires it. And, understand this, Belle, I wish it.” He said the last three words very slowly, so that she could not misunderstand him.

  Her lower lip quivered. “Will you go away with her, and I’ll never see you again?”

  He drew his child closer to him. “Nay, we will all live together.”

  Her light brows knotted together into a tight bump. “Here? In this stinky place?”

  “You have offered my services to clean the moat. Once that is done, ’twill smell as sweet as May blossoms.”

  Belle put his arms around his neck. “Papa, the lady does not like me,” she whispered, as if imparting a great secret.

  Brandon set her on his knee. “Lady Katherine knows all about you, Belle, and she still said to me that she wants you to be a daughter to her.” God in heaven, he hoped that was true!

  “All?” gasped Belle. “Even about Grandpapa’s spectacles down the well?”

  Brandon made a mental note to speak to his mother concerning the whereabouts of Sir Thomas’s hated reading glasses. “Everything.” He gave her a very serious look. “Methinks that ’tis you who does not like my Lady Katherine.”

  Belle only shrugged, but Brandon knew he had hit the core of the problem.

  “This day has been an eventful one for all of us, Belle. Francis suffers a grievous injury, and you have found yourself in a strange house.” He smoothed her hair in the way he knew she loved. “I have much on my mind, including the moat, and I need your help and understanding.”

  “Aye,” she replied, though she didn’t look at him.

  “Good. I shall hold you to your word of honor, Belle.” He put her down, then stood. “One more thing, sweetling.”

  “Aye, Papa?” She looked up at him with the face of a cherub.

  “There will be no toads, or any other foul creatures, put into Lady Katherine’s bed. Remember this well, for I share her bed.”

  Belle sighed. “Oh, Papa. Not just one—for good sport?”

  “Not even a tiny spider, or ’twill be no sport at all for you.” He gave her his best imitation of his own father’s stern look. “Mark my words, LaBelle.”

  She appeared to consider what he had said, then asked, “Does Lady Katherine serve tansy cake at dinner?”

  “You will have to ask her,” he replied, caught off guard by her shift of subject. “Now, away with you, and wash your hands. ’Tis time we eat. And, mind you, don’t toss the dogs any bones until dinner is over.”

  As Belle skipped over the crushed shells of the path back to Mark and Polly, Brandon wondered if he was really cut out to be a father. How was he going to handle Belle after his mother and Celeste had returned to Northumberland?

  The day wore on. Both dinner and supper came and went. Brandon grew more uneasy over the long absence of his father and the other men, who had spent the whole day searching for his attacker. Surely no harm had come to any of them, or he would have heard by now. Leaving Kat to entertain his family, Brandon climbed to the northern battlements. He stared into the darkening woodlands as the long evening twilight turned the shadows into purple specters.

  Pacing along the wall walk, he willed the host of riders to burst out from the covering of the trees. Brandon had never been the most patient member of his family. Unlike Guy, who thought things through, Brandon plunged into the unknown with a cheerful grin on his face. Action, not waiting, was his bent Brandon smote the stone of the parapet with his fist.

  Vengeance upon you, Scantling! Barbarous villain! I will have you in my tender mercies for seven days before you die.

  Brandon cursed under his breath. What was he but a sluggard, skulking behind a curtain wall, while his family thrust themselves into danger on his behalf? He possessed no more valor than a tamed duck, waddling toward the roasting spit. He had half a mind to saddle Windchaser and go looking for them. The more Brandon paced, the better he liked that idea. As the moon made her first appearance in the pale evening sky, he could stand it no longer. He dashed down the spiral stairs to the courtyard.

  Just as he reached the stables, he heard the clatter of many hooves over the causeway bridge. Guy, then Jack, drew up by the stable door.

  “What news?” Brandon held Moonglow’s head while Guy dismounted. “Did you find the cur?”

  “Nay!” Guy threw his gloves onto the cobbled stones. “The knave is as slippery as an eel. There was not a briar nor bramble, that we did not look under or trod down.”

  Jack patted Thunder’s nose before leading him back to his stall. “We thought we had him several times, but the trail proved false. We found his lair—empty. Methinks he has taken poor Wormsley and gone into deeper hiding.”

  “Or left the shire altogether,” Guy suggested. He pulled off his heavy saddle from the large gray horse’s steaming back. One of the grooms relieved him of the load.

  Brandon shook his head. “Methinks not. Scantling has no other resources to fall back upon. He has cast his dice upon this board. Methinks he will hazard his very life as the stakes. Nay, he lurks around Bodiam still.”

  Guy stretched, cracking his joints. “I am for a hot bath and food, brother. Tomorrow, we will—”

  Sir Thomas rode up. He swung his leg over the pommel by way of dismounting, then he tossed his reins to one of the men-at-arms who accompanied him.

  “No villain, my boy, but good hunting all the same.” Brandon’s father beamed with pride. “Shot a buck for your lady on the way back. Caught him in the gloaming, when the creature thought ’twas dark enough to come out and take a drink. Two arrows—straight and true: Fine hunting!” He slapped Brandon on the back. “Good woods here. Full of game.” He grew more serious. “We’ll find that villainous knave in good time, my son. I swear it. How does the boy?”

  “Well enough. He sleeps.” Brandon bit back his disappointment. Tomorrow, he vowed, he would take to the forest and find the snake himself.

  “Good! Good!” Sir Thomas pulled Brandon along as he walked toward the entry stairs. “Now introduce me to this new lady of yours. How does she look? A good breeder?”

  Brandon cast a quick glance to heaven, begging for another pound of patience. “You will like my Lady Katherine, Father. She is everything I have ever wanted in a wife.”

  Sir Thomas gave him a hard stare. “When did you ever want a wife, much less her qualities? Come, show me this wonder-worker! Do you think she’ll like the buck?”

  Brandon hid his grin. “She will be most grateful for it, methinks. The king comes to the wedding—or so we have been told—and brings some of the court. Lady Katherine loses sleep over the prospect of feeding them.”

  His father’s brows shot up. “The king, you say?”

  “Disguised.”

  Sir Thomas nodded. “Naturally. Who does Great Harry portray this time?”

  Brandon smiled even more, despite himself. “Robin Hood, with all the merry men of his band.”

  “Zounds! ’Twill be a fine excuse for a hunt. A real hunt in proper style!” Sir Thomas’s eyes snapped at the prospect.

  “Not until we can rid the forest of its man-killing beast, Father,” Brandon said.

  “And we shall! We shall! My word upon it! Now, my boy, what sort of table does this wench of yours set? I’m near famished!” So saying, Sir Thomas pushed Brandon up the stairs ahead of him.

&nbs
p; In the late evening, Francis’s temperature began to climb. Sondra applied another poultice of herb twopence, Solomon’s seal and narcissus root to the wound, then gave the boy an infusion of willow bark in hot water for the fever. Despite her medications, the boy’s sleep grew more fitful during the darkest hours of the night.

  For propriety’s sake, now that Brandon’s family was under her roof, Kat returned to the bed she shared with Miranda. Her cousin accepted her return without question or even the raise of an eyebrow. Kat lay wide awake, missing the warmth she had found in Brandon’s arms. As the hours advanced and no sleep came to her, Kat got up and pulled on her dressing robe. If she couldn’t sleep, she may as well make herself useful by sitting with Francis. Poor Sondra must be exhausted.

  Slipping out of the room, Kat moved like a ghostly spirit down the hall. As she put her hand to the latch of the sickroom door, she heard voices across the way, where Brandon’s parents were lodged. While Lady Alicia spoke in muffled tones, Sir Thomas’s voice came clearly through the thick panels of the oaken door.

  “Aye, the lady is pleasant enough, I warrant you, my love,” he said. “But look at her! She must be near eight and twenty! Too old for childbearing. Two husbands in a dozen years, and not one chick to count? What could the king have been thinking when he matched Brandon to her? I made my desire for an heir plain enough.”

  A deep shudder of humiliation ran through Kat as she listened to her own fears spoken aloud. Her face grew hot with embarrassment.

  Lady Alicia murmured something, then Sir Thomas continued. “Bah! With Brandon, all women are the same. He’s never cared for one more than any other. I could buy him a wife at the fair and ’twould be all the same to him. When the king comes, I will speak with him before our son is tied to Lady Katherine. Henry is of the same mind as I am. He will understand my concern for a grandson to inherit Wolf Hall after I’m gone.”

  Kat bit back a sob of pure misery. Bad enough that Sir Thomas considered her too old to wed his son, but the thought that Brandon considered her no different than his past light-o‘-loves cut to her heart.