“Dammit, Katrine.” His fist crashed against the papered wall. “Scotland is in the midst of civil war. It will be a bloodbath. The French have not come out for Charles, and half of Scotland opposes him. Only the clans remain faithful.”
“It doesn’t sound as if my country wants war,” she said coldly. “We merely want our rightful king. It is the English that persist in this folly.”
Richard did not miss the fact that she had allied herself against him. “The result is the same,” he insisted stubbornly. “It is too dangerous to consider a journey into Scotland.”
“That is only your opinion.”
“I am your husband, therefore, it is the only opinion that matters.”
She whitened, and her eyes blazed like twin diamonds in her angry face. Not trusting herself to speak, she left the room without a word.
Leaving the glass on the table, Richard picked up the bottle of claret, threw himself into the nearest chair, and proceeded to drink himself into oblivion.
***
Katrine sat on a low stool before her dressing table and stared into the glass. She closed her eyes, enjoying the gentle tug of the hairbrush as the maid ministered to the black curtain of silken hair that fell across her shoulders. The woman was very skilled and agreeably silent. For the first time, Katrine was grateful for her reticence. It would have been beyond endurance for anyone to expect conversation from her this night. Her marriage was over, and she felt nothing more than a curious numbness. She knew the strange lethargy wouldn’t last. Soon, there would be pain and then anger and finally grief. She would let the depth of her despair wash over her, bleeding her of all emotion. Then she would plan her escape.
Katrine had known from the beginning that this day was inevitable. Richard had known it as well, but he was a man, and with a man’s arrogant disregard for forces beyond his control, he had assumed that upon their marriage, Katrine’s loyalty would belong only to him. Her smile was tender as she thought of her husband. She loved him so much, and their time together hadn’t been nearly long enough. She would live on the magic and the memories for the rest of her life.
Later, when he came to her, she was reminded of their wedding night, when his hunger had been so great there was nothing left of control. He took her suddenly, quickly, without the skill to which she had grown accustomed. Katrine welcomed his passion. Desperate times demanded forceful measures. It was a primitive thing, this raging tidal wave of desire that had run through all men since the dawn of time. It was an act committed out of fear and for only one reason—to claim possession.
“I love you, Katrine,” he said much later when her head was pillowed against his shoulder. “I couldn’t bear it if you left me.”
Her lips were cool against his skin. “It is you who will leave me,” she whispered. “England will call you to lead her troops in battle, and I will be left alone.”
“It isn’t the same thing at all.”
She smiled sadly. “Of course not. Go to sleep, my love.”
***
Katrine’s first London ball was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Carriages were lined up for blocks, the wait over an hour as elegantly groomed guests stepped out on to the marble steps. Although it was after ten, the candles at the entrance to the duchess of Langley’s gracious townhouse gave off enough light to make the time seem closer to noon than midnight. Katrine smoothed her skirts and allowed her husband to help her out of their carriage. She looked around, surveying the enormous crowd with pleasure. Katrine loved parties.
“What a miserable crush,” he groaned, shaking his head at the noise. “Come, Katrine.” He tucked her hand beneath his arm. “We are obligated to stay until midnight at least.”
She stared at him in surprise. “Is it this ball you dislike in particular?” she asked. “Or do you despise entertainment altogether?”
“I hate crowds,” he confessed. “All this milling about and pretending to feel pleasure toward those one would rather ignore. Everyone I care to see I visit on a regular basis.”
He grinned suddenly, and the muscles in Katrine’s stomach tightened. Richard’s smile lit his entire face. It was one of the things she must learn to live without.
“I sound like a pompous ass, don’t I?” he admitted sheepishly.