that she suddenly knew for desire. This was how a woman felt about the man she loved, and Katherine could no longer deceive herself. She had for her folly fallen in love with Sir Alain de Banewulf!
She glanced aside, for she could not bear that her own expression should give her away. It was surely unmaidenly to have such desires. Besides, he had given no indication that he felt anything of the kind for her. He was kind and concerned for her welfare, but nothing more. To reveal her foolish passion would humiliate and shame her.
Fortunately for Katherine they had reached the shrine and, after some exclamations from Celestine, the small group fell silent. It was a beautiful spot in a small grove. The shrine was just a pile of stones that most would ignore, but it was surrounded by fragrant shrubs and vines that sheltered it from prying eyes, and there was a quietness about the place that touched the soul.
Katherine was very aware that this was a holy place. As a Christian she could not worship the deity that had been consecrated here, but she felt its power and its goodness. There was no evil here, just a benevolent kindness that seemed to reach out and envelop her—the feeling of love so strong that she found herself wishing for something so ridiculous and smiled to herself.
Foolish, foolish Katherine! Sir Alain would never love her as she loved him.
‘What must I do to please the goddess?’ Celestine asked of her companion and broke the feeling of reverence that had held them all until that moment. ‘Shall I give her my silver bangle?’
‘In ancient times women gave her gifts to learn the secrets she knew,’ Marcus Aurelius replied. ‘But I have been told that the gift must come from the heart—and a simple thing will find more favour than a rich jewel.’
‘Then I shall not give her my bangle,’ Celestine said. ‘For it is one of my most precious possessions. I shall think of something else and visit her another day—for I would not have you hear my demands of her.’ She gave him a mocking, inviting look.
Katherine turned away with a little shiver of disgust. It seemed that Celestine used her smiles indiscriminately on all men to get her way with them. She had seemed to entice Sir Alain with her inviting looks, but now she was more interested in their host.
Katherine noticed that Sir Alain was watching and frowning, and she felt her heart contract with pain for him. She was sorry if Celestine had hurt him, for he was a gentle and true knight and she did not want him to suffer a broken heart.
‘I shall take you back to the villa,’ he told her, turning his back on Celestine. ‘Come, lady, I would see you safe and the hour grows late. I shall not see you in the morning— I have some business I must attend before we leave Rome.’
Katherine made no reply, simply turning with him and allowing him to lead her back to her own room. He said good-night to her, made her a courtly bow and waited until she was inside the villa before turning away.
Would he return to the others—or would he prefer his own company? He seemed to spend much time in thought and she wondered what kind of a man he was inside. In truth she hardly knew him. Perhaps it had merely been the moonlight that had played such a trick on her? How could she love a man she did not know?
Smiling at her own impudence, she went to perch on a stool and sat dreaming as Maria came to free her hair of its covering and brush it so that it flowed over her shoulders in soft waves. Now, if she had but known it, with that look upon her face, a gentle smile curving her lips and her hair reflected in the moonlight, she was truly as attractive as Alain had told her. But she had no mirror to see her own reflection, nor would she have believed it had someone shown her. In her own mind she believed herself plain and nothing could change that long-held opinion.
The night was too beautiful to allow for sleep. Katherine was restless and rose from her bed, looking out at the moonlight. The scent of the wisteria that hung on the villa walls was strong and made her somehow wistful. Perhaps it was the full moon that kept her from sleeping—or was it something else?
There had been a sound… There it was again, the soft tinkle of a woman’s laughter. Celestine was in the garden. Now Katherine could hear the deeper laughter of a man. Two figures had come into view. They lingered for a moment in the moonlight, the man drawing the woman into his arms to kiss her.
Katherine watched as Celestine arched her head back, her manner that of surrender to his desire. It was an intimate moment and private. Withdrawing from her window, Katherine felt hot and ashamed of spying on the lovers.
She had not been able to see them clearly enough to know who the man was, but she suspected that it was their host. Celestine had been doing her best to tease him all evening. And now it seemed that they had an understanding of an intimate kind. Perhaps she would stay in Rome with him.
Feeling even more restless than before, Katherine returned to her bed and lay down. Seeing the lovers entwined in that passionate embrace had made her more aware of all that was missing in her life. Would she ever know that kind of intimacy? It was unlikely, for who would want to lie with her? She had thought that she could face a life without love, but that was before she had looked into a pair of blue eyes and seen a smile that made her heart beat faster.
She knew that once she had parted from Sir Alain her life would seem emptier than before—but there was nothing she could do but accept her fate. To sigh for the impossible would only bring her unhappiness.
‘Are you thinking of staying here for a while?’ Katherine asked Celestine as they walked in the villa gardens the next morning. ‘Our host has said that we are welcome and you have expressed doubts about returning to your dower lands.’
And she had seen that kiss in the garden the previous night!
‘It would suit me to live here as the wife of such a wealthy man,’ Celestine admitted. ‘But our host already has a wife. They live apart for much of the time, but there is no chance of another taking her place. I dare say I might be his mistress if I cared for it.’
‘I see…’ Katherine glanced at her curiously. Had that kiss meant nothing to Celestine? ‘Are you attracted to Marcus Aurelius?’
‘As much as I am to most men,’ she admitted and laughed as she saw Katherine’s look of inquiry. ‘Do not be shocked, my sweet Katherine. When you have been married you will understand that all men are much the same and desire only one thing of a woman. Understanding that is the key to getting what you need from them. For as long as you keep them wanting, they will do anything to please you. But their passion soon tires.’
Katherine was shocked at the cold calculation she saw in the other’s eyes. ‘But what of love?’ She echoed the question Sir Alain had asked of her the previous night. ‘Does that mean nothing?’
‘It is a myth,’ Celestine said mockingly. ‘Do not believe those sweet songs the bards sing, Katherine. They are meant to lure the unsuspecting woman into a trap. Men use courtship to gain what they most desire. Once they tire of their pleasure, they care not what becomes of the woman they once professed to love.’
Katherine was silent, though her mind denied Celestine’s words. She knew it was not true. How could it be? Her father had loved her mother until the day he died. Her memory had been as a shrine to him and he had never despoiled it. Perhaps such a love was rare, but it did exist and Katherine knew that she could never be satisfied with anything less.
‘No, no, I shall return to France,’ Celestine said as though making up her mind. She turned her coaxing smile on Katherine. ‘And I hope to persuade you to be my companion, dearest girl. Have you made up your mind?’
‘Not yet,’ Katherine confessed. ‘Whatever happens, I must see my uncle first, Celestine—and then who knows?’ In her heart she knew that she would never want to live with this woman, but it might be best to let her believe otherwise.
Celestine had as yet given her no reason to suspect her of treachery, and yet she could not trust her.
‘Why so pensive?’ Maria asked as she dressed Katherine’s hair that evening. ‘I hope you are not being foolish, my dove?’