Page 50 of Katherine the Vixen

“Of course, I do. And clearly it worked.”

A snort. “Did it?”

“Why yes, it’s been more than forty years since the conquest. The fight is over now.”

“Yes…and yet my countrymen are not as ready to accept the changes as you seem to be. Men like Llywelyn Bren, who led a rebellion only six years ago have the temerity to think that they were here first, and that it is not up to the English to decide the fate of their country. I have to admit that I cannot disagree with this point of view.”

“But we won,” Lady Malpas insisted.

“We?” Siaspar laughed at the word. “Tell me, my lady, what did you do to aid the king’s army? Bore my countrymen into surrender? Scowl at them for days on end? I heartily sympathize with them if you did and will make sure to write to your king to congratulate his father on this masterful stroke. How ruthless of him to use such weapons as disgruntled ladies in his bid to break the mighty warriors’ spirit.”

Katherine was careful to keep her eyes on the water in front of her and not betray the fact that she was listening to the exchange, but she could not prevent her mouth from twitching. Siaspar had to be the most irresistible rogue she had ever met.

“You really are unbearable, you know that?” Lady Malpas’ voice was heavy with scorn.

As predicted, her resolve not to rankle him had been forgotten as soon as she had realized that they would indeed go to England, no matter what she did or said. And now that they were actually on the road, she never missed an opportunity to rankle or contradict her husband. The nearer to the border they got, the more invincible she seemed to feel.

“Maybe I am unbearable. But in my experience, we tend to see in others what we are ourselves,” was all Siaspar said, before heading toward the men who were seeing to the horses.

Having completed the washing of the dishes, Katherine joined the three ladies sitting by the campfire. Unlike them, who clearly endured the hardship of the travel as a necessary evil, she loved being outside. It reminded her of her childhood. The woods around them were surprisingly similar to the forest she considered home. Had she not known she was in another country, miles away from her village, she might have been fooled into thinking Harry or Annette would appear at any moment.

Night was falling when Siaspar walked toward them with his usual lazy strides. She knew the impression of ease he gave was just that, an impression. He could have broken into a run in the blink of an eye had attackers sprung from behind them or drawn his sword to cut a man’s throat in a heartbeat.

“Ladies, I am in need of assistance. A few stitches have come undone on my gambeson,” he said in his best impersonal voice. “Could one of you see to it?”

The three women exchanged swift glances, loath to take on the task.

“Katherine is far more skilled with a needle than we are, or so we have been led to believe,” Lady Helen eventually offered. “I am sure she can attend to it.”

Siaspar nodded, as if it did not matter to him one way or another who took care of the garment. “It’s over there. Come.”

He turned on his heel before Katherine could agree or disagree. She followed, certain he had planned this all along, relying on the contempt the ladies held him in to ensure a moment in private with her.

“I will do my best, my lord, but I confess that I am rather daunted and hope not to make mistakes. I have never attempted to stitch anything as thick as a gambeson,” she said as soon as they were out of earshot.

He gave a low laugh. “I would be amazed if you had. My squire is really the one who would see to it, even supposing such an undertaking was needed. But I’ll let you in on a little secret: I haven’t even got a gambeson with me at the moment.”

“Why did you come and ask for help to mend it then?”

He stopped to look her in the face. There was a dark light lurking in his eye, a light she knew all too well—and had come to love.

“Because I wanted to see you, but I did not want to ask for you by name. Fortunately, I can rely on Lady Malpas and her ladies’ dislike of me. I knew they would send you to do whatever was required. I trust that you will not give me away?”

“No, I swear it.” Katherine laughed a little breathlessly. Siaspar had made the whole thing up just so that he could see her alone. The notion had lit a small fire inside her. “Indeed, they do not consider you very highly.”

He looked pleased rather than offended. “It is good to see that my efforts at gruffness are not wasted.”

“You know, instead of going out of your way to confirm their low opinion of you, you could try to convince them that you are not a savage,” she pointed out.

It would require a lot less effort. If she, who had been forced to bed him when her whole being rebelled against the notion, could change her mind about him so spectacularly, ladies who held nothing more against him than their mistress’ misguided preconceptions would no doubt prove easier to convince.

“Is that what you think?” Siaspar asked in a low voice. “That I’m not a savage?” She could tell he was fighting a smile.

“It is. How could I think otherwise?”

“Ask Lady Malpas—or Lady Helen. They will tell you.”

“Yes, but they have not… They— You did not…” Katherine could not finish her sentence. Fortunately, it was dark, for she guessed she had gone red to the roots of her hair.