The Raven's Revenge by Gina Black Page A

sack-posset up w’yer meal. ’Twill help ye sleep well this night.” Then she left, closing the door behind her. Katherine was alone with Nicholas.
    “Wife?” she said sharply.
    He pulled off his hat and walked toward her, managing to look apologetic and predatory at the same time. “It was the only way.”
    Katherine took a step back. “I thought I was your sister, or your cousin.” She was unable to control the trembling in her voice. “I’ll not stay here with you. ’Tis not right.”
    “We have no choice, lass. You cannot stay in a room by yourself. ’Tis too dangerous. You haven’t a maidservant to attend you. If ’tis thought we are married you will come to no harm.”
    “I have entrusted my safety to you, Nicholas. Not my reason.” She raised a finger to her lips. She did not trust him—or his kisses. Katherine frowned as a new thought came to her. “Do you have a wife?”
    He looked at her as if puzzled by the question. “No.”
    “Good.” Katherine nodded. She knew so little about him. This lack of knowledge hadn’t prevented her from asking his help. But now, it bothered her.
    “If you had a wife how would you treat her? Would you demand her obedience?”
    “I would expect her to comply with my wishes,” Nicholas frowned. He shook his head. “I do not see—“
    “Would you beat her if she did not do as you say?”
    “Katherine, I have not thought to have a wife. I have no use for one. I have no wish for one.”
    Katherine sighed. “I have always thought to have a husband, whether I wished one or no.” She looked directly at him. “And it seems this is no different. But you are not my husband, Nicholas. You will spend this night on the floor.”
    “I look forward to it,” Nicholas answered dryly.
    “And you will leave while I bathe.”
    “’Twas always my intention.” He nodded and put on his hat. “I ordered the bath for you. I shall wash with Henry.”
    “Oh,” she said feeling foolish for having thought otherwise.
    Turning to the fire, he added a bit more kindling, and prodded it with the poker. Finally, a rap on the door announced the arrival of the bath. Ushering the servants in, he supervised the placement of the tub, and followed them out.
    Katherine experienced a wave of relief as she shut the door and latched it behind him. She took off her dusty cloak, shoes, and stockings. Letting out a long sigh, she wriggled her bare toes on the cold wood floor.
    Montford jumped out from under the bed and attacked. Rolling onto her back, the kitten bit and kicked Katherine’s foot while she jiggled it.
    “Ouch!” She pulled her foot away when a sharp tooth bit into her ankle. “That’s enough, puss.”
    Divesting herself of her clothing, even the Chinese coin on its green ribbon, Katherine walked naked to the tub and eased herself into the hot steamy water. The innkeeper’s wife had provided a new bar of Castile soap. Wistfully, Katherine thought of the lavender soap back at Ashfield, made just this autumn, each bar wrapped and stored away.
    She splashed her face with hot water. There was no going back, so there would be no looking back.  
    Submerging to her chin, Katherine closed her eyes. The hot water soothed her aching muscles and lulled the tension from her mind. She drifted on the visions she’d seen earlier that day of the countryside: farmers working in the fields, sheep grazing, the small thatched cottages they had passed. But then the image of Nicholas’s face appeared before her, his eyes searching hers and his lips moving closer, closer…
    Katherine opened her eyes and sat up sending a wave of water sloshing onto the floor. She took a guilty look around the room, but there was no one to see her discomfiture, no one to be aware of her thoughts. She was still alone but for Montford, who now slept on the center of the bed.
    Resolving to set her mind on other things, she picked up the bar of soap, dunked it in the water, and worked up a lather with her hands. But