“Why did you do it?” he asked, his grip tightening on her hand.
“I wanted to make you admire me as you do Lady Chandra,” she said simply. “I thought if I won you would be pleased.”
“I do not want my wife aping men!”
His words cut through her, and she stared up at him, hopelessness in her eyes. “I wanted only to gain your approval, to make you proud of me. I could think of nothing else to make you
care for me, to make you forget that you so dislike me.”
Graelam said nothing. Guilt flooded him. “I do not dislike you,” he said finally. “But what you did was foolish beyond permission.”
“Please do not blame Rolfe,” she whispered. “Nor any of the men. They could not have known that Bran’s stallion would attack Ganfred.”
He wanted to bash all their heads in, but he saw the pleading in her eyes and said, “Very well.” He gently unfastened the brooch and pulled off her mantle. ‘You will likely be sore for a while from your fall.” He fell silent, then smiled at her ruefully. “Compared to the dolts in the competition, you did very well indeed. This was my surprise?”
She nodded. “They were not real competition,” she said, rallying. “Rolfe did not believe I could gain your attention if I went against the better men. He did not want me to look bad.”
“You did not look bad. Did Lady Chandra give you this idea?”
“Nay, not really, though she showed me how to handle a bow. She is so beautiful.”
“Kassia,” he said very gently, “I wanted her, I told you that. But I did not love her. There was no reason for you to be jealous of her skills.” He lightly touched his palm to her forehead, and relaxed. She felt cool to the touch. “Kassia,” he continued after a moment, “does it matter so much to you what I think?”
She gazed at him, remembering that she had once told him she loved him. Had he simply disregarded her words? Believed that she was telling but another lie? And now, of course, since she had admitted that she had lied to him, he would likely believe nothing she said. She said only, “Aye, it matters to me.”
“There has been much between us,” he bagan, only to break off as Etta came into the bedchamber. He moved aside and watched her give Kassia the vile smelling potion.
Etta straightened. “She will sleep now, my lord. I did not know what she planned, else I would never have allowed her to do it. I pray that she will be all right.”
“I will stay with her until she sleeps,” he said. “I will call you if she worsens, Etta.”
He took her hand in his and stroked his fingers over her soft flesh. Her lashes fluttered and closed. He listened to her breathing as it evened into a drugged sleep.
He undressed her, smiling whimsically at the boy’s clothes. Gently he eased her beneath the covers, pulling them to her chin. He found himself studying her, comparing her to Chandra. There was, he decided, no comparison at all, and he was pleased.
Kassia slept the afternoon away, awakening briefly in the evening. She felt oddly heavy, and dull.
“It is the potion Etta gave you,” Graelam told her. “I fear that you must rest a few days before you again take up your bow and arrow.”
“You do not mind?”
“Nay,” he said, smiling at her. “In fact, I will give you better competition than poor Bran. The fellow is frantic with worry. You must get well and reassure him.”
“Aye, I will.” She fell asleep again, hope filling her at his words.
She awoke to darkness, her throat dry and scratchy. She slipped from the bed and made her way slowly to the carafe of water on the table. She reached for the water, only to whip her hand to her belly at a sudden fierce pain. She felt wet stickiness gushing from her body. She looked at herself, not understanding, then doubled over as another cramping pain ripped through her. She cried out.
Graelam heard her cry and bounded out of the bed. He quickly lit a candle and strode toward her.
“Kassia, what is it?”
“Graelam, help me! I’m bleeding!” She gasped as another pain clutched at her.
He saw the streaks of crimson on her white chemise, the rivulets of blood flowing down her legs. Her monthly flow, he thought blankly. No, it was not that. He felt a searing fear turn his guts cold.
He grabbed her to him. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and she stiffenend with another cramp. “Help me,” she whimpered. “What is happening to me?”
He knew then that she was miscarrying a babe. He heard himself saying to her quite calmly, “You will be all right, Kassia. Let me help you into bed. I will get Etta.”