Page 63 of Katherine the Vixen

It was her, his Catrin!

She had come for him. He had not dared hope she would come so quickly but he should have trusted her, trusted in what they felt for one another. It was something rare, worth fighting for. And his little vixen had just proved that she was equal to the task.

Siaspar tore across the courtyard and ran to the barbican but no one was waiting for him outside the portcullis.

“Where did she go?” he barked at the man positioned by the entrance.

“Who? The beggar?”

“That was no beggar, you fool. Did she ask for me?”

“Why, yes, my lord, but I⁠—”

The man sounded utterly mortified, and so should he be. Siaspar could well imagine he had sent Katherine away none too gently if he had taken her for a beggar. The guard would pay for that, but later. For now, there was no time to waste.

He had to go to the woman he loved.

“Did she take the south road?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, man, open the dammed gate!”

Never had the lifting of a portcullis taken so long. Siaspar muttered Welsh curses under his breath all the while. As soon as he could slide underneath, he hurried after Katherine, confident that he would soon catch up with her. Her small strides were no match for those of a determined man. And he was determined to get back to her and never let her go again.

He ran.

“Katherine!”

Katherine stopped in her tracks. For a moment, she’d thought she’d heard Siaspar’s voice calling her, but what would he be doing here? He had abandoned her without a word. She shook her head and carried on.

A moment later, she heard footsteps behind her, heading her way. A man, judging from the heavy pounding. This time she knew she had not imagined it. She froze in panic. Who was running after her? An attacker? The guard at the gate, intent on having her despite her refusal? Or…

Dare she hope it was a Welshman she had thought never to see again?

“Katherine.”

The voice, so near to her, was soft. Familiar. Comforting. Painful.

She closed her eyes as pain slashed through her. Not until that moment had she realized how much his defection had hurt her. There had been no time to think; she’d had to act. But now she could not help but feel how deeply she had been wounded.

“What do you want?” she asked without turning around. Seeing him right now would be too hard. The wound was too raw.

“Why did you come to find me?” Siaspar asked instead of answering her.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. She was no closer to knowing what she wanted to tell him than she had been a moment ago. “Only I… I could not leave things like this between us.”

“Why not?”

Why not?

Katherine gave a snort of incredulity. Was he really asking her why she thought that what they had gone through together deserved more than a cold, impersonal ending? How could he even think something like that, never mind say it? Where was the sensitive man she had thought him to be? It seemed that her mother had been right, after all. She was nothing but a naïve servant, and he was a lord. He could dismiss or hire her at will, and think nothing of it, however unusual the situation between them had been.

Well, if he wanted to know why she had gone to him, she would tell him, make him see how humiliating his behavior had been, and how it had made her feel. Why not? It would not make her feel worse.

“In my world, if a man beds a woman and then gives her the impression that he cares about her, then she can expect at least a goodbye when they part ways.” Her tone was flat, her explanation more feeble than she would have liked. But she was too disappointed, too crushed to feel any anger. She just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. “I expect I came to find you because I needed to have that goodbye.”

More the fool she.