‘If you allowed me to become your lover.’
‘Yes. That is what I meant.’ I kept my gaze on my fingers, still clutching my ill-treated missal. ‘When it was discovered it would bring Gloucester’s wrath down on us. And that would mean dismissal for you, even punishment.’
‘To Hell with Gloucester too. Do you not rule your own household? I could give you happiness.’
‘And I could bring disaster down on your head.’
‘Do we deny each other because of what others want for us?’
It all seemed so simple when he spoke it. But it wasn’t simple at all. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We must deny each other.’
His hand touched my arm. ‘I say no. Where is your spirit?’
‘I have none.’ Self-pity washed over me like a wave. ‘I don’t believe myself to be worthy of love.’
‘Look at me, Katherine.’
I did, wishing my face was not ravaged by tears, but still I looked, to discover all the anger and condemnation in his face had quite gone. I was caught up in such understanding, such compassion, such a tenderness of care that I could not look away.
‘Use my name,’ he said gently.
‘Owen,’ I said with a watery smile.
‘Good. You have given me a hard task, have you not? To prove to you that my love is sure? Now, listen to me. Here is how I see it,’ Owen stated solemnly. ‘I see a woman of extraordinary courage. You came to a strange country as a young girl, to make a new life alone since your husband left you for the demands of war. You bore the loss of widowhood, and you have stood by your young son. Do you think I have not seen how you behave? Never has there been a Queen Dowager as gracious as Katherine of France. You have escaped from the toils of Edmund Beaufort, God rot his soul. And not before time—he was not the man for you. I say that you are a woman of spirit. And I say that that you should not accept a life of solitude and loneliness because your brother-by-marriage thinks it would be good for the Crown. Do you not deserve a life of your own, on your own terms?’
There was a little silence.
‘Look at me, Katherine. Answer me.’
‘I…’
‘My lady?’
Father Benedict, who had approached, was looking from me to Owen in some perturbation. ‘Is there a difficulty?’ His eyes were fixed on my tear-stained cheeks.
‘No, Father.’
‘Are you troubled, my daughter?’ He was frowning.
‘No, Father. Unless it’s the troublesome matter of finance for St Winifred’s festival. Master Owen was reminding me.’
‘Money! Always a matter for discussion. Master Owen will solve it, I’m sure. He solves all our problems.’ Reassured, with a smile he made the sign of the cross and blessed us both before leaving us.
‘Is that an omen?’ I asked, momentarily distracted. ‘He blessed us both.’
‘He would not have done it if he knew what was in my mind,’ Owen replied, the unmistakable heat of desire like rich velvet in his eyes, making my heart bound. ‘I have a longing for you. Even in sleep I know no respite.’
‘And I long for you,’ I said. I scrubbed at my cheeks, wincing at the abrasion. ‘I wish I had not wept.’
‘You are beautiful even when you weep.’
‘You are beautiful too.’
Owen Tudor laughed and held out both hands. ‘And practical, so your priest says. I can deal with St Winifred. I can handle the money. Will you allow me to solve your problems too? To give you happiness?’
He was smiling at me, and I knew that this was a moment of vast consequence. Whatever decision I made now would set my feet on a different road. Would Owen Tudor give me the strength, the audacity to take hold of the happiness he offered? If I took that step it would be irrevocable, but I would not be travelling along that road alone. I looked at the hands held out to me, broad-palmed, long-fingered, eminently persuasive.
I closed my eyes, allowing the silence to sink into my mind, my heart, bringing me its peace. And I made my decision.
‘Yes. Oh, yes.’ Abandoning the missal, I placed my hands in his. Warm and firm, they closed around mine as if they would never release me. ‘I want to be with you, Owen Tudor,’ I said.
‘So it shall be,’ he promised. ‘We shall be together. You will be my love for all eternity. In this place I make it a sacred vow. I will never allow us to be parted, this side of the grave.’
And there in that holy place, the grace of Father Benedict’s blessing lingering in the air, I had no qualms. I gripped his hands tightly as he drew me towards him and touched his lips to my damaged cheek.
‘Forgive me, forgive me,’ he murmured.
‘I do,’ I whispered back. ‘I will go to the ends of the earth with you, Owen Tudor.’
‘And I will guard you well.’
For a moment I leaned into his embrace, my head resting on his shoulder. ‘But I have another sin to confess if I am to bare my soul.’
‘Another one? How many sins can the beautiful Katherine have committed?’
His face was alight with laughter as I freed my hand from his and sought the recesses of my sleeve.
‘I kept this.’ And I lifted the silver dragon on my palm.
