Married By Morning (The Hathaways #4)(15)

“I would guess no more than eight feet where it cuts into the higher ground.” Leo shielded his eyes as he surveyed their surroundings. “They must have diverted one of the streams to fill it. You see those mounds over there? They were probably farm buildings and serf quarters, made of clay and stud.”

“What was the manor home like?”

“The central keep was almost certainly made of stone, with the rest a combination of materials. And it was likely crowded with sheep, goats, dogs, and serfs.”

“Do you know the history of the original overlord?” Catherine sat on a portion of the exposed wall and arranged her skirts.

“You mean the first Viscount Ramsay?” Leo stopped at the edge of the circular depression that had once been the moat. His gaze traveled across the broken landscape. “He started as Thomas of Blackmere, known for his lack of mercy. Apparently he had a talent for pillaging and burning villages. He was regarded as the left arm of Edward the Black Prince. Between them, they virtually destroyed the practice of chivalry.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled at the sight of Catherine’s wrinkled nose. She sat with schoolgirl straightness, the sketchbook in her lap. He would have liked to snatch her off the wall and do some pillaging of his own. Reflecting that it was a good thing she couldn’t read his thoughts, he continued the story.

“After fighting in France and being held prisoner for four years, Thomas was released and returned to England. I suppose he thought it was time to settle down, because he subsequently rode on this keep, killed the baron who had built it, seized his lands and ravished his widow.”

Her eyes were wide. “Poor lady.”

Leo shrugged. “She must have had some influence on him. He married her afterward and sired six children by her.”

“Did they live to a peaceful old age?”

Leo shook his head, approaching her leisurely. “Thomas went back to France, where they put an end to him at Castillon. But the French were quite civilized about it and raised a monument to him on the field.”

“I don’t think he deserved any kind of tribute.”

“Don’t be too hard on the fellow—he was only doing what the times demanded.”

“He was a barbarian,” she said indignantly. “Regardless of the times.” The wind had teased a lock of light golden hair loose from her tight chignon, and sent it straying over her cheek.

Unable to resist, Leo reached out and stroked the tendril back behind her ear. Her skin was baby-fine and smooth. “Most men are,” he said. “It’s only that they have more rules now.” He removed his hat, set it on the wall, and stared into her upturned face. “You may put a man in a cravat, teach him manners, and make him attend a soiree, but hardly any of us are truly civilized.”

“From what I know of men,” she said, “I agree.”

He gave her a mocking glance. “What do you know of men?”

She looked solemn, the clear gray irises now tinged with ocean green. “I know not to trust them.”

“I would say the same of women.” He shed his coat, tossed it over the wall, and went to the hill at the center of the ruins. Surveying the surrounding land, Leo couldn’t help wondering if Thomas of Blackmere had stood on this exact spot, looking over his property. And now, centuries later, the estate was Leo’s to make of what he would, his to shape and order. Everyone and everything on it was his responsibility.

“How is the view from up there?” he heard Catherine’s voice from below.

“Exceptional. Come see it, if you like.”

She left the sketchbook on the fence and began up the slope of the mound, lifting her skirts as she climbed.

Turning to watch Catherine, Leo let his gaze linger on her slender, pretty figure. She was fortunate that medieval times were long past, he thought with a private smile, or she would have found herself snapped up and devoured by some marauding lord. But the touch of amusement faded quickly as he imagined the primitive satisfaction of claiming her, picking her up and carrying her to a soft patch of ground.

For just a moment he let himself dwell on the idea … lowering himself to her writhing body, tearing her dress, kissing her br**sts’

Leo shook his head to clear it, troubled by the direction of his thoughts. Whatever else he was, he was not a man to force himself on a woman. And yet the fantasy was too potent to ignore. With an effort, he bludgeoned the barbaric impulses back into submission.

Catherine was halfway up the slope when she gave a low cry and seemed to stumble.

Concerned, Leo started for her immediately. “Did you trip? Are you’bloody hell.” He stopped in place as he saw that the ground had partially given way beneath her. “Stop, Cat. Don’t move. Wait.”

“What’s happening?” she asked, her face bleached of color. “Is it a sinkhole?”

“More like a bloody architectural miracle. We seem to be standing on a portion of a roof that should have caved in at least two centuries ago.”

They were approximately five yards apart, with Leo on higher ground.

“Cat,” he said with great care, “slowly lower yourself to the ground to redistribute your weight over a greater surface. Easy. Yes, like that. Now you’re going to crawl back down the slope.”

“Can you help me?” she asked, and the tremor in her voice wrenched his heart.