told me to run away and fetch help while you fought them, but by the time the men looked for you it was too late. I have always blamed myself for not staying to help you fight them.’
‘You were a child. What could you have done against such men? Would you rather I had let them take you too? Can you imagine what might have been your fate—where you might be now had you lived?’
Kathryn turned her head away so that he should not see her eyes, should not see the hurt he inflicted. ‘Do not mock me, Lorenzo. I cannot bear it.’
‘You mistake me. I do not mean to hurt you—but I should not have wished such a fate for you, that is all.’
‘If you will excuse me, I should like to go to my chamber and rest.’
‘Of course.’ He inclined his head, respectful, cool—almost a stranger. ‘I have things I must do while we are here. My father left the business of the estate for me to order as I thought fit.’
Kathryn glanced at him. ‘Do you think of living here?’
‘Would that please you?’
‘I was happy in Rome.’ She raised her head proudly. ‘At least, I was happy for some of the time.’
‘What does that mean, Kathryn?’
‘Whatever you would like it to mean,’ she said, a flash of pride in her eyes. She was suddenly angry. She had mourned him sincerely and he had no right to treat her this way! ‘Since you think so ill of me I shall not try to explain.’
She turned and walked away from him, leaving the room. Her heart was racing wildly and she wondered if he would follow her, compel her to answer him, but he did not.
Why should he? He did not want her love. He found it a burden. In Rome he had told her that he had never wanted to love her. Somehow he had conquered his emotions. He had claimed her because she belonged to him, but he did not truly want her.
Alone in the room Kathryn had just vacated, Lorenzo was haunted by the scent of the perfume she had left behind her. Throughout his captivity the memory of her scent, her softness, her sweetness, had made him determined to live, and now that he was with her he could not break down this barrier between them—a barrier he knew was of his making.
Had his jealousy driven a wedge between them? He had noticed her silence on the journey, her pale face, the accusation in her beautiful eyes, and knew it was his fault. In his first anger at seeing her so close to Michael, he had been too harsh. He cursed his ill temper. He had learned to be harsh of necessity. Once, he had been a very different man. Could he be as he had once been again? Could he learn to laugh and be happy?
He must and would try to make Kathryn happy! He could not know if it was too late to recover the brief happiness they had known in Rome, but he would try to win her.
And if that was not possible? Lorenzo asked himself if he would be prepared to give her up.
No! His mind rejected the idea instantly. She was his! He would not give her up. Somehow he would make her love him again.
Kathryn was walking in the gardens when she heard her husband’s voice calling to her. She stopped, waiting for him to come to her. She had seen him only at mealtimes or a brief moment in the evenings, for he had seemed to be working ever since they had arrived at Mountfitchet.
‘Kathryn,’ he said as he joined her, ‘is it not too cold for you to be walking?’
‘It is a little chilly,’ she agreed. Her restless mood had driven her outside, but she would not tell him that.
‘Shall we return to the house?’ he said, offering her his arm. ‘I have some news. A letter has come from Queen Elizabeth of England. It seems that she has heard of us and some of what has befallen us. She wishes to know more about the battle of Lepanto.’
The letter had expressed curiosity about Lorenzo too, for the Queen had heard that Corsairs had captured him from her shores, and she always took an interest in such matters. Indeed, it was said that the Queen liked to have bold and handsome young men about her.
Kathryn felt a chill about her heart. Was he going to leave her once more? ‘Are you to visit the court, then?’
‘We shall go together, Kathryn. It is time that I gave a little time to my wife’s pleasure. We shall buy you some pretty things in London. Perhaps you would like a ring or a rope of pearls? I have given you few gifts. There was never time for such things.’
Kathryn gazed into his eyes, trying to understand this new mood. Did he not know that his love was the most precious gift he could give her? She wanted for little else.
‘You were always generous, Lorenzo. I never wanted for material things when I was in Rome.’
‘But I gave you nothing more. Is that what you are saying, Kathryn?’
‘Sometimes you gave me more.’
‘Kathryn…’ He was interrupted by the arrival of a servant who came hurrying towards them, clearly the bearer of an urgent message.
‘Yes, what is it?’ Lorenzo was impatient, for he had believed he was at last breaking through the barrier she had been keeping in place these past days.
‘A message for the lady Kathryn, sir,’ the servant said. ‘Sir John, her father, has been taken gravely ill and would fain speak with her once more before he dies.’
‘Before he dies?’ Kathryn looked at her husband in alarm. ‘What has happened? I did not think him ill before we left.’
‘We shall return at once,’ Lorenzo said as he saw her concern. ‘Do not worry, my love. I am sure this seems worse than it is.’
He had called her his love, and in such a voice! Kathryn’s heart beat wildly—but for the moment she could not think of herself. Her father was ill and she must go to him.
Tears were in her eyes as she let Lorenzo hurry her into the house. She had not been happy in her father’s house these past weeks for he had seemed unlike the loving father she had known and loved, but she could not bear that he should die with bad feeling between them.
Sir John was lying with his eyes closed when Kathryn entered the room. As she approached the bed, he opened them and looked at her.
‘Kathryn, my dearest child—forgive me.’
‘Father…’ The tears were very close though she struggled to hold them back. ‘There is nothing to forgive. I love you.’
‘I have been harsh with you,’ he said, his voice little more than a whisper as she went to his side, reaching for his hand to hold it gently in her own. ‘It was only because I wanted to make sure you were safe when I was gone. I was fearful for you if I should die before you were wed.’
‘You must not die, Father. I love you. I do not want you to die.’
‘I have known for some months that I could not live many years, my dearest child. It is the reason I made you come home with me. I could not leave you alone and defenceless in Rome and I believed if I could see you safely wed to a good man I could die in peace. You might have
