Mary Reed McCall Read Free Page B

children.”
    Catherine hid her reaction to his threat behind her wine goblet, swallowing some of the tart liquid before attempting to answer. “If you’d have bothered to fully warn me about my husband beforehand, I might feel more prepared.”
    But even as she spoke, she knew that nothing he could have said would have readied her for the impressive sight of Grayson de Camville. Still, she’d touch hot coals before she’d admit that or any other truth to Eduard.
    He shrugged. “I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t expect you to react like all of the other wenches who go aflutter with lust upon seeing him.” Pausing, he glanced across the hall. “But alas, poor Catherine. Your husband is quick approaching, and he doesn’t seem likewise affected by your charms.”
    Catherine pretended to ignore the jab. After almost eight years of marriage to Eduard’s brother, such remarks were to be expected. Every time Geoffrey de Montford had insulted her excessive height and peasant build, every time he’d cursed her like her father before him because she wasn’t dainty and pale like a true beauty, she’d told herself that it didn’t matter. But it had. The constant debasement had hurt in a way that went as deep as the bruises he’d periodically inflicted on her flesh; it had lodged an ache in her heart that refused to go away.
    Taking a breath, she raised her gaze just in time to see her new husband halt directly in front of her;she struggled to adjust her expression, to appear pleased, as befit the bride of a successful man. It was an effort made possible only by thoughts of Isabel and Ian’s safety.
    “My lord,” she managed to murmur, tilting her head with what she hoped was polite grace.
    “Lady,” Gray responded, gazing at her for a brief moment. A shadow darkened his sea-mist eyes, and it sent a renewed stab into her heart. Eduard was right. Her lack of beauty disappointed her husband, and that meant she would be beaten for it later. She shuddered as she imagined the damage that this man’s hands could inflict on her.
    “I trust that the feast meets your favor, lady?”
    His solicitous question startled her. Geoffrey had never cared if she enjoyed a meal. He’d usually been too drunk to notice. Twisting her fingers in her lap, Catherine murmured, “It looks superb, my lord. But I—I haven’t tasted of it yet.”
    Gray scowled. “Why not?”
    Catherine felt herself flush. “I thought it only fitting to wait for you, my lord.” She decided not to add that she possessed absolutely no appetite. Not with Eduard sitting at her elbow like one of hell’s gargoyles.
    Her husband’s face revealed no change, though the shadow deepened in his eyes. He looked away. Finally he said, “’Tis not my custom to dine with women, and I cannot be expected to remember the niceties of such occasions.”
    Waving his hand almost angrily, he gestured for someone to fill his goblet. A page darted forwardwith a cider pitcher, his young face stiff. The boy filled his master’s cup with a trembling hand, and Catherine felt a prick of sympathy. It seemed she wasn’t the only person who feared the presence of Ravenslock’s Lord.
    And so when her husband quaffed the contents of his cup and reached out to affectionately ruffle the boy’s hair, it sent a thrill of shock through her. The feeling intensified when the boy grinned, his chest puffing out with pride and his grip steady as he refilled his lord’s cup again. Then he bowed and retreated to his place along the wall.
    Without comment, Grayson stalked around the end of the banquet table, making his way to the dais. It was all she could do not to stare. How strange that the man who seemed every inch the hardened warrior had just treated a boy with kindness.
    She allowed herself to study Grayson as he strode nearer to his place next to her at the table. She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on much more than his face during their wedding, but now she could see that his form