A growing sense of dread rippled through Kat. To Luc, she nodded and threaded her arm through his. “We are in agreement. Knave, indeed.”
He laughed, his gaze once more bright with anticipation, and led her towards those gathered around King Edward. When they drew near several courtiers looked back at them. Their expressions were very disturbing—stunned and maliciously gleeful at the same time. Then the crowd parted before them like a herd of titillated sheep. Kat faltered, full-blown trepidation dogging her steps.
Standing beside King Edward, the cloaked stranger turned as Kat approached on Luc’s arm. Almost as tall as the king, the man removed the hood of his dirt-begrimed cloak. The first thing she noticed was his long, shaggy black hair and beard. He should have looked completely out of place among the richly garbed court. But his bearing was as proud, arrogant, and unapologetic as that of the noblest noble. Then his penetrating gaze locked on hers.
Kat froze in disbelief, while her blood slowed and thickened as though time reversed. Her gaze was snared by the blue, blue eyes of a dead man. But a fierce inner light glowing within them belied his state. Blazing heat speared her core.
“Alex,” she breathed. She would recognize his distinctive eyes anywhere, no matter how different he looked, for she had dreamed of those eyes for six long years. Suddenly, her heart jolted with joy—Alex was alive! He had not died in the attack four years ago while on Crusade.
Vaguely, she realized Luc went rigid beside her. Alex shifted his gaze to Luc, glowering at his arm around her shoulders. Alex took a threatening step forward, his voice chill. “Unhand my wife, Sir Luc. Now.”
Kat stiffened at Alex’s command, the full implications of his return registering at last. Alex was alive. She was no longer a widow, apparently had never been one, and she could not marry Sir Luc. Her euphoria plummeted as quickly as it came upon her.
Nay, I am dreaming, this cannot be true. Her vision blurred. Everything was happening too fast, her thoughts were a jumble. She could not think or move or feel.
Then the king motioned to her, breaking the expectant silence. “Come, Cousin, your husband has returned to you after six years, four of which he spent in captivity when we all believed him dead. Will you not greet him like a good, dutiful wife?”
Someone nudged Kat from behind. Rose, she thought, Alex’s sister, and she stumbled forward. Frantic, she turned back to Luc. Her heart thundering, her eyes beseeched him. Luc reached out to her, as though he intended to pull her back, his face twisted with anguish and disbelief.
From behind her, a rough hand clutched hers and drew her around, not ungentle. Kat was surprised at the uncertainty flickering in Alex’s eyes, though his voice was sure and steady when he spoke. “Greetings, wife.” Alex pulled her to him and bussed her cheek, his beard scratching her tender skin, before he whispered into her ear so none but her could hear, “I have missed you, Kit-Kat.”
Kat flinched away. Finally, his combined touch and careless words woke her from her stupor. A flash of pure rage struck her like a bolt of lightning. She slapped him with all her strength, his head pivoting to the side from the impact.
His shoulders tensed. Then slowly, Alex turned his face back to her. The vulnerability she glimpsed earlier in his eyes was gone. Cold menace crystallized his blue depths, promising retribution. She shivered, but ire overrode caution.
“I give you good greeting, husband,” she said with biting mockery. “The likes of which you so richly deserve.”
Alex, his face rigid with anger, kept his back to Kat while the last of the guests filed out of the chapel. His temper was a fierce beast he fought to keep silent, lest it rage out of control. He was not fit company for civilized folk anymore. Prison strips a man of moral compunction, down to the basest of primal instincts; survival at all costs.
And Kat was his salvation, though he felt unworthy of such a prize.
Tasting the tang of blood, he pressed his tongue against the split skin where his teeth had cut his inner cheek when Kat slapped him.
With difficulty, he drew his gaze back to her. She was more beautiful than the day he married her—with her long slender nose, high cheekbones, almond-shaped gray eyes, and full ruby lips wet, as though she had recently licked them. She wore a barbette and fillet headdress—the barbette a linen band going under the chin and pinned on top of her head and the fillet a crown of stiffened linen. Beneath the headdress, her luxurious straight black hair hung down to her waist, glinting with blue streaks where candlelight struck.
He continued his perusal. Her dark blue gown fell in graceful folds over her girdle and to the floor. Underneath her light blue cloak, lined with the same dark silk as her gown, he noticed her body was fuller, curvier than he remembered, her breasts in particular. He wanted to test them, weigh and measure them with his calloused hands, then taste their soft fullness with his lips and tongue. But her eyes, the ever-changing silver orbs that fascinated him, no longer looked at him with adoration.
He touched his throbbing cheek, then spoke, his voice rough from disuse. “I grant I deserved that, but never show me such disrespect again.”
Her gaze incredulous, Kat pushed away from the column she was leaning against. She crossed her arms under her heaving chest and glared at him. “Is there any reason why I should respect you after what you did to me? A man who abandoned his wife like a heartless coward?” her voice rose sharply. “I deserved more than that pathetic note you left me.”
He could not deny her accusation.
Though he had resigned himself to his marriage all those years ago, in his heart he never accepted it. So when Edward, not yet king of England, announced his Crusade, Alex jumped at the chance to escape his marriage. Like a coward, he slunk away in the wee hours of the morning, his bride of less than a day sleeping blissfully unaware in their marriage bed.
But Alex was not the same man. He had suffered trials and torture such that ordinary men could never conceive of, and survived where others had not. The shrill screams and pitiful cries of the men who died in the bowels of the fortress still echoed in Alex’s dreams at night.
Too late, he had realized that Kat was like no other woman he had ever met. That he had thrown away something unique and precious: her love. But how was he going to convince his wife to give him a chance to prove he was a changed man?
Kat watched Alex throw back his shoulders. His chest muscles flexed like a sleek black leopard beneath his faded surcoate, then he approached with long determined strides. Feeling as though she had awakened a sleeping beast, apprehension fluttered in her chest.
Alex stopped a foot away and raised her chin with his knuckle. His blue gaze seared her as he proclaimed, “You’re still my wife. Surely you have not forgotten the night I claimed you. When my body became one with yours, my name upon your lips as you cried out in ecstasy. I assure you, I have not forgotten one blissful moment of it.” His voice ended on a husky whisper. His breath a warm caress on her lips.
She had not forgotten one blissful moment, either. Never forgot his touch, his taste, his musky scent. Nay, she would never forget. Memory was a powerful curse.
Kat gasped, appalled. “We’re in the Lord’s house, Alex. Have you no shame?”
He smiled without humor, his gaze bitter. “Nay, Kat. There is little shame left in a man who has experienced the humiliating debasement of slavery.” His voice was different, deeper and almost raw.
Alex ran his thumb over her lower lip. She thawed as warmth spread through her, her lip tingling. She batted his hand away and moved to lean against one of the side altars to distance herself from him.
“What happened to you, Alex? That night after you were attacked and you disappeared, we waited months for a ransom demand. Then they discovered your body buried in a shallow grave and the authorities declared you dead. Obviously it wasn’t you. So where were you all this time?”
A palpable