Page 41 of Katherine the Vixen

“My lord.”

He stopped her with a raised hand when she made to curtsy. “No. I told you, not when we are alone.”

She straightened back up, heat invading her chest at the favor he was showing her. Gone was the intractable man who had told his wife he could not stand her dresses.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did. It will be good to leave the kitchen.”

“I thought it would. I know you are not used to working in a castle and only agreed to come here to help your family. So think nothing of it. You will find everything you need to transform yourself into Lady Malpas in the antechamber next to her room. As you well know.”

“Yes,” she breathed, thinking of the blue gown awaiting her next to a tub filled with, hopefully, warm water this time.

“Although I know for a fact that you resemble her best in the dark, when you are naked,” he whispered, leaning closer to place his lips at her ear.

Katherine’s legs went liquid at the words. He was all but telling her that he could not forget the feel of her naked body against his. She could not forget it either. They looked at each other for a long moment, totally lost in remembrance.

Was he about to kiss her? Everything seemed to indicate it. He was bent over her, their gazes were locked, and there was a storm brewing in his eyes—and in her loins.

In the space of a few weeks, she had gone from stranger and servant to potential enemy, before being redeemed and accepted as the woman who had saved his life. And now…now it felt different again. Something else had changed. She wasn’t quite sure what or if she should spend too much time wondering about it. Probably not.

“I… I should go and speak to the cook,” she croaked, cursing herself for a fool.

What was she doing? If Siaspar wanted to kiss her, why shouldn’t she let him? In truth, she wanted that kiss. In just a few days, and despite an inauspicious beginning, she and this man had forged a bond that was as strong as it was inexplicable. He had bedded her twice. She then had saved his life. No one she knew could make either of these claims.

The moment Siaspar took a step back, Katherine knew she would regret all her life not having allowed him to kiss her. But it was too late now. Having made her choice, she could not throw herself into his arms.

“Of course. I should go. Forgive me for keeping you.”

Remembering the way he had barked at his wife earlier, showing her nothing but contempt and impatience, she marveled that he should apologize to a servant for doing nothing more than speaking to her as he would to a lover.

She made to go but Siaspar caught her by the wrist before she could leave. There was such tenderness in that touch that her chest constricted.

“On second thought…” he said with a frown. “I will go speak to the cook myself. I don’t want to create problems for you. She will not question the unusual instruction if it comes from me. Besides, Nest only speaks Welsh. I assume the two of you cannot converse?”

Indeed, they could not. “The basic instructions are clear enough with a mime, and Mel usually helps, but yes, it would be hard to make her understand what I have to tell her today.”

Not least because it barely made sense. Siaspar was ordering her do something no one had ever done; for her he had created a position that didn’t exist. All to spare her the discomfort of the kitchen. She didn’t know what to say—or think.

“Go now, Catrin.”

Katherine didn’t miss the way he said her name. He had used the Welsh equivalent, which Mel had taught her only the other day.

Catrin.

Something warmed in her chest. No one else had called her that. And, in all likelihood, no one else ever would.

11

The next time she saw Siaspar, Katherine was dressed in Lady Malpas’ blue gown—and feeling as different from her usual self as if she had been forced to don a nun’s habit. The dress was not just an article of clothing. It affected the way she moved and even her stance when she was not moving. The fur was soft on her wrists, the fabric heavy against her thighs, making her feel womanly and beautiful, something she had rarely, if ever, felt, before.

When Siaspar’s gaze landed on her, she felt herself flush. Though she had heard him disparage the dress earlier, she could see that her intuition had been right. There was not the least trace of disproval in his eyes. Lady Malpas, and not the dress itself, was the issue, that much was clear.

“Good afternoon, my lord.”

After checking that no one was around, feeling very bold, Katherine decided to forego the usual curtsy. Siaspar didn’t even seem to notice, which increased her heartbeat another notch. It was as if, for him, it were normal that they should behave so naturally one with the other.

“Why, I would not have known you, Katherine. You look…”

“Like a lady?” she ventured when he stopped, though she knew she would never look as refined as that. Her hands were scratched and red and her manners, say what he might, were that of a blacksmith’s daughter.