Knight of Desire by Margaret Mallory Page B

time, even Jamie picked up the somber mood and grew quiet. Finally, Ross Castle came into sight. The ordeal was almost over.
    As soon as they were within the protective watch of the sentries on the walls, William sent the others ahead.
    “There is something I must ask you,” he said to her.
    William lifted her down from her horse. He took her elbow and began walking with her, slowly and without direction. The ground
     was rough, and she had to watch her step.
    Suddenly, he stopped and pulled her around to face him. “I want to know the nature of your relationship with the prince.”
    She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What is it you wish to know?”
    “I can think of no other way to say it, except bluntly.” William looked off in the distance and then back at her, as if expecting
     her to discern his question without his asking it.
    When she continued to look at him blankly, he said in a strained voice, “I must know if you have lain with him yet.”
    She did not immediately respond, because she simply
could not
.
    “If you have,” he said in a gruff voice, “it must stop.”
    Her hand went to her mouth, and she stepped back from him. “You would say such a thing to me!” she said, torn between shock
     and outrage. It was unthinkable. She turned on her heel to walk away from him, but he grabbed her arm.
    “You betrayed your first husband while you shared his bed—a favor you have yet to grant me.” His voice was caustic. “Why should
     I believe you would not betray me as well?”
    Before now, the intensity of his desire for her had so overwhelmed her that she had failed to perceive the depth of his distrust
     of her. Why had he chosen to marry her?
    “I see what you think of my character, husband,” she said, spitting out the word
husband
. “But how could you believe it of Harry? He is selfless and righteous and honorable.” She was ranting now, and she did not
     care whether her defense of Harry was helping her case or not. “How could you think he would be a guest in your home and bed
     your wife?”
    She jerked her arm from his grasp but remained facing him, defiant and angry.
    “If you have not yet acted upon what is between you,” he said, his eyes spitting fire, “then I am telling you now that you
     shall not.”
    She slapped him so hard that the stinging of her hand brought tears to her eyes. Seeing her handprint on his face brought
     visions of the marks Rayburn had left on her.
    She covered her face and crumpled to the ground. She was both startled by her own uncontrolled rage and humiliated by William’s
     accusations.
    The future seemed very bleak, indeed.
    Eventually her raging emotions receded, leaving a heavy tiredness that weighed down every bone and muscle. William knelt beside
     her, but she did not look at him. Staring, unseeing, into the distance, she made one last attempt to make him understand the
     impossibility of what he was suggesting.
    “Harry does not think of me that way,” she said. “He is like a younger brother to me and I an older sister to him.”
    William put his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “My mother gave herself to whomever she pleased,
     regardless of the consequences to anyone else. I will not tolerate such behavior in my wife.
    “We must have this understood between us.” His eyes held hers with a burning intensity. “I will not share my wife with another
     man, whether he be prince or king or commoner. I keep what is mine.”

    As they remounted their horses and rode in silence to the gate, Catherine was grateful he had not asked the one question she
     could not answer honestly. She had one secret she would keep from him, no matter what his threats or her promises.
    One secret she would never tell.

Chapter Nine
    T he tension was thick at the table. News of her flight had spread through the castle—and likely to everyone in the village
     below as well. William’s men were restless. The servants gave her worried