Tori Phillips Page 25

  Behind him, Kat smiled. The back of his neck lay bare, tempting her to kiss it. Later, she told herself. There was little time for a dalliance. Montjoy would be announcing supper any moment.

  “I am glad you are so pleased with the bath, my lord. I wish the same could be said for Belle. It took both Polly and me to get her—and that wretched cow skull—presentable. I am not sure what we would have done if Celeste hadn’t intervened.” She picked up a nearby pitcher filled with clean hot water. “Bend far over, so I may rinse you.”

  After the dousing, Brandon squeezed the water out of his hair. “My lady mother assures me ‘tis merely a stage. By the time Belle takes to bathing in a civilized manner, she will give me something else to worry about ’Tis the problems of child-rearing.”

  Kat wrung out the cloth she had used to clean his back. “I do not know the first thing about children, Brandon,” she said softly, looking down at her fingers. “I have never been around them, except for Fenton. He never seemed to be young.”

  Brandon shifted in the tub so that he could look at her. Cupping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted her face to his. “You will make a most excellent mother.” He kissed her tenderly on the lips.

  Kat tried to stifle her sob, but he heard it. Drawing back, he searched her face. She kept her eyes downcast. She couldn’t bear to see his disappointment when she told him the truth. ’Twas time he knew. Tomorrow was the wedding day—or maybe not.

  “How now, sweet? What ails you?” he cajoled. Taking her hand, he kissed it. “Do not tell me you are a nervous bride.”

  Kat gazed fondly at his hand holding hers in such a natural way. How large and strong it was, yet how gentle! She had to tell him. Time had run out.

  “I...I must confess something to you, Brandon, and I pray you will not think ill of me.”

  He nuzzled her cheek. “What could I possibly think, but good of you? Mmm, sweet,” he whispered in her hair.

  Ignoring the tingling ripples of delight coursing up and down her spine, Kat girded herself with resolve. Now or never. She could not pronounce her wedding vows with a lie in her heart.

  “I am glad you have Belle and Francis, because I...I do not think I will be able to bear you a child.”

  Stopping his love play, he regarded her seriously.

  God shield me! I was afraid of this! Never mind, say the rest, and be done with it. “In all the years of my marriage to Fitzhugh, I could never conceive, though he came often enough to my bed. I fear I may be barren.” She chewed her lower lip.

  Brandon’s eyes turned a darker hue, though he said nothing. At least, he still held her hand.

  Kat plunged ahead with a rush of words. “I overheard your father say that you wanted an heir, and I—”

  Grasping the back of her head, Brandon pulled her toward him. He smothered the rest of her words with his lips over her mouth. She caught her breath at the flaming passion of his kiss. When he looked at her again, she saw a blue fire dance in his eyes.

  “’Tis my father who craves an heir. Though he loves both his grandchildren by me, they are bastards.” Brandon spat out the word, as if it burned him to hold it in his mouth. “My father desires a Cavendish male to carry on the family name and titles. Two nine-year-olds are more than a match for me.” Reaching across to her, he traced his finger down Kat’s cheek. “Forget whatever my father has said.”

  Kat’s lips trembled. I cannot weep now. I cannot show him how much I fear Sir Thomas’s threat to stop the marriage . “But the king comes tomorrow, and your lord father means to—”

  Brandon placed his finger over her lips. “Shush! Let us not speak of the getting of children now, sweetheart. I much prefer the making of them.”

  He rose out of the tub, water cascading down his magnificent physique. His manhood stood boldly erect. Before Kat had a chance to say anything else, he swept her into his wet embrace. Her knees weakened as his mouth descended. He took her lips with a savage intensity. Her consciousness seemed to ebb and then flame more distinctly than before. Let supper wait! Let tomorrow wait!

  Still kissing her, he carried her across the chamber to the bed, the same bed where they had first made love. His lips blazed a trail of hot kisses down her neck. The caress of his mouth across the tops of her breasts set her on fire. His hands slipped down into the gown’s neckline, searching for her pleasure points. Kat whimpered and arched her back to meet him. His other hand moved under her skirts and explored her thighs. His fingers inched up, with deliberate slowness, to her center. His teasing touch sent currents of desire bolting through her. Her bodice grew too tight.

  “Undo my laces,” she panted as she cast her head back on the pillow. “I cannot breathe.”

  He continued his sweet, torturous stroking. “Is this gown a valued one?” he asked, nibbling her earlobe.

  “Nay!” she gasped. She knew she would burst at any moment.

  “Good,” he murmured. Grasping a firm hold of the green lawn material, he ripped her dress down the middle. He untied the ribbons of her shift, then he pulled the neckline out to its widest extent, baring her breasts to him.

  Lowering his head, his tongue tantalized the dusky pink buds of her nipples, which had swollen to their fullest. Under his stroking fingers and his tongue, her body ignited with liquid fire. A fury of passion and desire shook her. She abandoned herself to the sweeping whirl of unutterable sensations. A moan of ecstasy slipped through her lips.

  “Now! Please!” she gasped, pulling him to her.

  He moved over her, than lowered himself. She welcomed him joyously into her body. They seemed to melt together. Her world was filled with Brandon—only him. They moved together with exquisite harmony, soaring higher until they reached the peak of ultimate delight. She shattered into a million glowing stars. Groaning her name, Brandon found his release. His love flowed into her like warm honey. Holding to each other tightly, a cloak of contentment and peace enfolded them. Kat sighed with pleasant exhaustion.

  Brandon caressed a lock of her hair, which tumbled over his arm in a copper cascade. “You are a wonder,” he murmured.

  Kat smiled, waiting for him to say the words she had so longed to hear. Say it now! Tell me that you love me.

  “Kat, I—”

  The door shook with a tremendous pounding. “My lord!” Mark called from the hall. “You must come quickly!”

  Brandon dropped his head to her shoulder; his clean golden hair brushed against her cheek. “I will skin the knave alive, I vow it!” he growled softly in her ear. Then he sat up and shouted, “What the devil do you want?”

  “Your lord father, with Sir Guy, and Sir John, request your presence most urgently, my lord.”

  Kat relaxed against the pillows and sighed. “You must go, my heart. I will delay supper.” She kissed the back of his hand. “Your squire’s voice is full of urgency.”

  Brandon blew an errant curl out of his eyes. “That whipster of mine has the devil for a timekeeper.” He got off the bed, then pulled on the clean set of hose that Kat had placed on the stool by the tub.

  Mark knocked again. “My lord?”

  “Anon!” Brandon roared at his unseen squire. “And you’d best pray that the matter is a serious one.” He donned his shirt.

  “Aye, my lord,” the youth replied. “Your father brought home Tod Wormsley from the forest. He’s been wounded and near death.”

  Kat’s eyes flew open. “Tod! Angels in heaven preserve him!” Clutching her ruined bodice, she got out of the bed.

  “Amen to that!” Brandon thrust his feet into his leather boots, then tossed his doublet over one shoulder. He crossed to Kat’s side and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Take this mark as my pledge for a new gown.” His eyes shone with a soft look when he smiled down at her. “You are the balm of my soul, sweetheart,” he murmured. Then he was gone.

  Kat fell back among the tumbled bedclothes. What a shameless wanton that man has made of me! Aye! And I’d do all it again in a heartbeat. />
  She placed her hand on the spot where he had lain beside her. The coverlet was damp and warm from his heat. She sighed deeply. Katherine, you are the biggest fool God ever created.

  Mark led Brandon downstairs to the small alcove, then the squire withdrew to join the rest of the castle’s inhabitants at a noisy supper in the adjoining hall. Sir Thomas, still attired in his hunting cloak and boots, drank deeply from a tankard. Guy and Jack, their hair damp from their baths, had serious expressions on their faces. They greeted Brandon in subdued tones.

  Sir Thomas eyed his older son over his mug. “About time.”

  Brandon thrust his arms into his jacket sleeves. “How is the lad?” he asked, his fingers fumbling with his buttons.

  “Lives,” his father answered simply. He slammed his tankard onto the small table. “But he has lost a great deal of blood. That healer is with him now. She says tonight will tell his fate.”

  Brandon made the sign of the cross. “Pray God for his recovery.”

  The others followed suit.

  “Amen to that!” Sir Thomas bristled as he looked at each of the younger men in turn. “He’s a brave lad! Said that he swore to tell you, Stafford, that his master has lost his wits. Said that he is coming to the wedding and he hungers for your blood, Brandon.” The eldest Cavendish glared at his son. “Does this drivel make any sense to you?”

  Brandon curled back his lip. “Aye. ’Tis Fenton Scantling, Lady Katherine’s nephew.”

  Sir Thomas’s eyebrows shot up. “The same who shot Francis?”

  Brandon made a fist behind his back. “Aye.”

  “Methought he had fled the district,” his father barked. “Truly the man is a lackwit to stay.”

  “How the devil did he escape our search?” Jack asked.

  The Earl of Thornbury snorted. “I found the boy hanging onto a tree limb. My squire took a look around That poxy tree had a hollow center. William saw an arrow at the bottom of it, and a wealth of blood. ’Twas a miracle the boy could pull himself out of that hellhole!”

  Guy whistled through his teeth. “No wonder we never found them!”

  Sir Thomas waved the subject away. “’Tis tomorrow that burdens my mind. We must call the wedding off.”

  Brandon felt as if he had been slapped in the face. With his body still aglow from Kat’s lovemaking, the last thing he intended to do was to let her go now, especially at his father’s whim. “Nay,” he replied steadily, staring directly at his father.

  Sir Thomas’s blue eyes glowered. “Listen to me, boy. We do not speak of the lady, ‘tis your king you must now consider. His chamberlain sent word an hour ago that the royal party lodges at Hever, and will be here by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. we are not to begin the ceremony without the royal Robin Hood!”

  “I will marry Kat, father, come hellfire and brimstone!”

  Sir Thomas slammed his fist on the tabletop. “You will go to the devil soon enough, I warrant You haven’t heard two words that I’ve said, Brandon! This Scantling means to kill you in your wedding finery, and in full sight of the king. We cannot allow a madman with a crossbow near His Grace. Or you, for that matter.”

  Putting sweet Katherine aside, Brandon’s mind considered the problem from a different point of view. “This bloody-mouthed cur will come in a disguise, methinks. One that will not draw attention.”

  Sir Thomas threw up his hands. “God’s teeth! More masques! First, we have Robin Hood and Maid Marian, and Lord knows who else. Now we have a murderer dressed up as...what?”

  Jack snapped his fingers. “As one of the villagers or farmers. Lady Kat wants to be married in the little church on the other side of the meadow, so that all her people can witness it. The chapel here is too small.”

  “But the chapel inside the castle is safer,” Guy mused. “’Twould be better to move the ceremony there.”

  Sir Thomas looked pointedly at Brandon. “’Twould be better to dispense with it altogether. You know my thoughts on this matter.”

  Brandon gritted his teeth. “All too well, Father, but my mind is made up.” He leaned across the table. “And I am much like you, sir. I have a very stubborn streak.”

  “Bah!” Sir Thomas strode out of the alcove.

  Guy sank onto the bench. “One day you will try his patience too far, big brother.”

  “Aye, but that day has not yet come.” Brandon straddled the stool and regarded his sibling. “Mark me, my friends! I have just been gifted with a most marvelous plan.”

  “I knew it!” Jack crowed. “When did you not have one or two plots up your sleeve, Brandon? What is our little game this time?”

  “’Twill involve more disguising,” he replied with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  Guy groaned. “As long as I do not have to dress up as a woman, I am ready for anything!”

  Brandon chuckled. ’Twas one of his best ideas yet, if only Kat and the hapless squires would agree.

  “Tonight, after the household is abed...”

  A hand closed over Kat’s mouth, startling her into wakefulness. Fenton! she thought, as she struggled to free herself from the bedclothes.

  “Kat!” Brandon whispered in her ear. “’Tis I, sweetheart. You must be still.”

  Kat blinked as the last vestiges of sleep cleared from her eyes. Brandon smiled down at her, then kissed her nose. Was it morning already? It had taken Kat hours to fall asleep. And what was Brandon doing in her chamber? ’Twas very unlucky for the bridegroom to see his bride before the ceremony.

  “Brandon! You should not be here!” she whispered.

  He chuckled. “Aye, but events outpace us. We must be up and about early.”

  Beside her, Miranda jumped. Glancing at her bedmate, Kat saw Jack leaning over her. By the glow of the firelight, she made out the figure of Guy at the foot of the bed. All three men had the most devilish grins on their faces.

  Kat pulled herself to a sitting position, then crossed her arms over her breasts. “What’s amiss? Is this some sort of mischievous trick to play upon a bride before her wedding day? Truly, gentlemen, I am a bit too old for such games.”

  Brandon sat down on the bed beside her. “You are as youthful as eternal springtime, sweetheart, but there is more to this midnight visit than jests and tricks.”

  “’Tis midnight?” Miranda gasped, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Crickets!”

  “Shush, my love.” Jack stopped her mouth with a kiss.

  “’Tis the first hour of Midsummer’s Day,” Brandon crooned, running his hands along Kat’s arms. “The dawn comes earliest this mom, so we must be about our business quickly.”

  Kat shivered under his touch but refused to give in to its suggestion. “So? Good morrow and goodbye, until we meet at the church door.”

  “My very words,” Brandon continued in his soft, seductive voice. “I wish I could spend an hour or two discoursing with you, fair Katherme—you look passing sweet at this moment—”

  Guy snapped his fingers several times. “Get on with it, Brandon! The cock will crow too soon.”

  “Then to the heart of the matter. You know that your nephew has taken a hearty dislike to me?”

  Kat nodded. Brandon stroked her cheek, making it very difficult to concentrate on anything but his tempting presence.

  “Wormsley has told us that Scantling means to kill me at the church door.”

  “Nay!” Kat put her hand to her mouth. “’Tis too wicked!”

  “He must have lost his wits,” Miranda gasped.

  “My thoughts exactly, ladies.” Brandon grew more serious. “I promise you, this will not happen. I will not put you into any kind of danger, sweet Katherine.”

  The devil take him! Brandon and his craven friends were going to run away, leaving her at the church door. “Was this your idea or your father’s?” she asked coldly.

  Brandon knotted his brows together. “My father has nothing to do with this, Kat. He wishes to call the wedding off.”

  “And isn’t that what you are
doing this minute—slipping out of a marriage you do not want? At least, you have the decency to say goodbye before you sneak out of here like a thief in the night.”

  Leaning over, Brandon whispered in her ear. “If we were alone, and not in such a hurry, I would prove to you how much I want to slip into this marriage, my sweet.”

  Kat’s skin tingled all over.

  “About it, man!” Jack snorted impatiently. “The long and the short of it is this, Kat. Your elderly priest stands waiting now in your chapel to bind you and my silver-tongued friend here in holy matrimony.”

  She must be dreaming, Kat thought

  Brandon chuckled. “Ah, Jack of Hearts, you have such a way with women. But he speaks the truth, Kat. ’Tis Midsummer’s Day, and by royal command—and by my heart—I will wed you in holy mother church.”

  “But what of later this morning?” Kat glanced at Jack and Guy. She wasn’t dreaming. “What of the king?”

  “My first thought is to make you well and truly my wife,” Brandon continued, his gaze speaking volumes in blue. “Later?” He chuckled under his breath. “The king is not the only one to play a part. We have devised a mummery that will catch out the villain. Afterward, if you want to be married again, we can do that, too.”

  Kat tried to read past his laughing expression but couldn’t. “You are marrying me to defy your father?”

  Guy groaned. “Was there ever such a cautious woman? You offer her honorable marriage, and she questions you like a judge! Let’s do this the old-fashioned way. Just pick her up, Brandon, throw her over your shoulder, and carry her to the chapel as is! Jack can bring the maid of honor.”

  “Coz! They have gone stark, staring mad—or else drunk too much wine!” Miranda tried to pull the sheet up to her chin, but Jack refused to let her.

  “Nay, my love,” Jack whispered. “We are stone sober, and in serious earnest.” He pulled back the covers from both women.