Bride of the Isle (20 page)

Cristiane did not think that would be possible for her, even though her mother had prepared her for the practice that seemed to be so common among English lords. With very little provocation, she was consumed with envy over Sara’s long relationship with Adam, and there was a very good chance that her feelings would only worsen.

If only she had the nerve to question Adam directly.

But alas, she did not. She was the new wife, a stranger to the isle, really, whose only distinction was her ability to handle wee Meg.

Gerard stood up and swayed for a moment, then picked up his cup and ambled over to the fireplace. He glared at Cristiane.

“So now you’re a bloody heroine, I hear.”

Refusing to be goaded, Cristiane did not answer him. She bit her tongue to keep from entering into an argument with him, then stood up and strode from the hall. She left the keep by way of the door near the chapel, and walked to the garden, replying to the greetings of everyone she passed.

She felt heartened by the people’s reaction to her. While still not entirely accepting, they were at least respectful now, and did not seem to despise her as they had before, when she’d first arrived on Bitterlee.

The day was overcast again and threatened rain, but Cristiane continued walking until she
reached the bench on the far side of the pond. She hoped someone would tell Adam that she’d left the keep, but she had no doubt that he’d eventually find her here. After all, she was his wife now, and ’twas his duty to see to her, even if Sara Cole’s company was preferable.

No one was in the great hall when Adam came looking for Cristiane.

“My lord, she was just here,” a footman said from the hallway. “With your uncle.”

Adam ran one hand across his mouth and jaw. He knew the kind of hurt his uncle was capable of inflicting with one word here, another there. The man was a master at disrupting the peace, and Adam did not know why he allowed Gerard to continue on Bitterlee.

It occurred to him that it might be wise to send his uncle elsewhere, as he had threatened.

“Mayhap she returned to her chamber?” the footman asked.

Adam doubted it. If he knew Cristiane at all, she would be outdoors somewhere. Considering her weakened state, she had likely gone no farther than the pond.

He headed out of the keep, taking the dogs and following the garden path to the water.

’Twas a relief to leave the confines of Penyngton’s chamber. Bitterlee’s seneschal—Adam’s closest friend—was dying. And there was naught that he or Sara Cole could do about it.

Adam suspected that Sara had deeper feelings for Charles than she’d previously let on, and he finally understood the sadness and futility she had expressed when they’d spoken after his wedding to Cristiane. There was a quiet desperation
about the way Sara attended Charles now, and an underlying despair that she was not doing enough.

Adam well knew the feeling of futility. He’d neglected Cristiane and kept a vigil all night in Charles’s room so that Sara could get some much-needed sleep. He had helped Charles through far too many violent coughing spells during the night. Yet there was naught he could do about the blood that his friend brought up each time.

Adam was weary, his emotions on edge. He’d been out of his mind with worry over Cristiane, and then Charles’s condition had worsened. At least Meg was in good health and seemed content.

He arrived at the edge of the pond and saw Cristiane sitting on the bench on the far side. Circling the water, he saw that her complexion was still pale and drawn, and it startled him for an instant. He had no doubt she would recover fully, however. Sara had assured him of that, and he had complete faith in her knowledge of the healing arts.

Cristiane’s attention was occupied by the ducklings, which had swum over to beg for food. Adam heard her make her apologies to them, saying that she’d come without bringing any bread.

They were unforgiving, and all seven of them stepped out of the water, waddling up to the bench to surround her. He smiled at the sight they made.

“’Tis sorry I am,” she said, amidst all their quacking, “but surely you’re old enough now to find your own food. Meggie and I—” She suddenly heard him. “Adam!”

“’Tis a treat to see you up and about, my lady wife,” he said, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it. More than a treat, ’twas pure relief to see her here in this natural setting. “I was
beginning to think you’d be abed forever.”

“Nay, Adam,” she replied, as a bit of color came into her cheeks. “I feel much better.”

“I’m glad to see it. Have you had food, drink?”

“Nay,” she replied. “I…I am not hungry.”

He sat down next to her, keeping her hand in his. One day—soon—she would welcome his touch, he promised himself. She was becoming accustomed to him. He’d been heartened by her response to him on their wedding night when he’d helped to undress her, and when he’d slept with her, holding her through the night while she was ill.

He’d missed that last night.

“Are you still feverish?” he asked, touching her cheek and then her forehead with the palm of his hand.

Her eyelids lowered at his touch, and he felt her lean slightly toward him. He had the urge to pull her into his arms, but refrained. For now.

Instead, he let his thumb caress her cheek. “You must take care for the next few days,” he said. “Sara said you would feel weak—”

Cristiane stood abruptly. “Nay, I do not feel weak at all, my lord. I feel perfectly—”

“There is no shame in your illness, Cristiane,” he said as he rose to his feet next to her. “’Twas likely caused by your heroic venture into the river the other day.”

She shrugged.

“Are you ready to return to the keep?”

“Aye,” she said with a quick nod.

He did not understand what had come over her. The warmth she’d shown was gone
now, and a chilly demeanor had taken its place.

Regardless, he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow. Her changeable mood was likely a lingering effect of the illness, and no cause for worry.

“Meg has been playing in your room these last few days while you slept,” he said. “She’s been worried about you.”

“
Meg,
my lord?” Cristiane asked, glancing up at him. “I thought she would always be Margaret to you.”

“Your pet name suits her,” he replied. “As does the way you treat her. She’s grown so healthy, so much more…
normal
since you’ve come to Bitterlee.”

“I’ll come back here and feed the ducks with her later,” she said.

“Do not overtax yourself, Cristiane,” he countered, stopping in the path.

“’Twill not overtax me, my lord,” Cristiane replied. “’Tis a short walk, and I want Meg to know I am all right. That everything is as it was. She worries…”

She seemed determined to do this, so Adam would not say her nay. But he would come along, and see that Cristiane suffered no untoward effect from her exertions.

Cristiane felt him watching her closely—for signs of infirmity. ’Twas frustrating to be laid so low, so soon after her marriage, and unable to establish herself as Adam’s wife.

That was going to change. Tonight.

She was not quite sure what to do. She’d only been kissed once…well, twice, if she counted the fleeting touching of lips that had taken place at the church after Father Beaupré had declared them husband and wife.

But when Adam had touched her on their wedding night, kissing her shoulders, her neck, her ear, she had experienced
exquisite pleasure. She had only to develop enough nerve to do the same to Adam, and she was certain he would have the same reaction she’d had.

Tonight, she was confident that all would go well. She would follow his lead, and touch him as he had touched her on their wedding night. She would kiss him the same way he’d kissed her the first time.

Cristiane quivered at the thought of the night ahead. She sensed that intimacy between them would solidify their marriage, and she was anxious for that. Besides, from the first time Cristiane had seen him, Adam was everything she’d ever imagined her husband should be—strong and powerful, yet gentle and kind. And Meggie was a sweet and loving daughter. The isle, with its waterfall, its intriguing coastline and all its birds was her idea of paradise.

It would have been perfect if not for Sara Cole.

“My lord!” a page called out as he approached them on the path.

“Yes, Jon?” Adam said.

“Mistress Cole needs you,” the boy replied. “Sir Charles worsens…”

Adam raised one hand and cupped Cristiane’s jaw. “I must go,” he said.

“Adam, is there aught that I can do for Charles?”

“Nay, Sara has matters well in hand.” He kissed her cheek. “Jon will see you back to the keep.”

I
n spite of his limp,
Adam trotted rather quickly back to the keep ahead of them, while Cristiane took Jon’s arm and walked the rest of the way. She actually did feel rather fatigued, but she would never admit it to Adam—or Sara.

It bothered Cristiane to have such feelings of animosity toward the woman, for Sara had done a great deal of good in town, as well as for Charles, Cristiane’s cousin. But ’twas difficult for her to feel charitable toward the woman who was competing for her husband’s affections.

She felt useless. While Sara was well loved, and helpful, Cristiane could do naught for anyone. She’d been warned away from Charles, in case the miasma that had caused her illness should spread to him, so she could not even sit with him.

She had no idea how to assert herself as chatelaine here, or what such duties would entail.

Mayhap Sara would know, she thought sourly.

She reached the bailey and saw Gerard approaching, his expression sour and forbidding. Cristiane flinched inwardly when he flashed her a scathing look, but he turned away and headed down the
path toward the waterfall.

Cristiane gave a short prayer of thanks that she had never run into him there, only to have the peace of the place disturbed by his forbidding presence. She just wished there was some way to avoid him in the keep.

She was truly tired by the time she reached the hall, so she decided to climb to her chamber and lie down for a while. It would not do for her to be overtired tonight, when Adam came to her.

Movement in the room woke her.

“I’m so sorry, my lady,” Bea said, straightening up. The night was chill, and she had laid a fire to warm the chamber. “I did not mean to wake you.”

“’Tis all right, Bea,” Cristiane said, noting that it was completely dark except for the fire and one small lamp. “I’ve slept too long already.”

“Are you hungry?” the maid asked. “I’ll bring you some supper if—”

“Nay, I’ll wait for Lord Bitterlee,” Cristiane replied.

“Oh, my lady,” Bea said, “he has already dined. He sent me up to see how you fared, and to tell you that he is needed again with Sir Charles tonight.”

“Oh.” Cristiane did not intend to sound so weak or so petulant, but she was unable to mask her feelings. Her husband was spending another night in Sara’s company.

Cristiane chastised herself for being so petty. Poor Charles was in need of Sara’s care, and Cristiane did not begrudge him that. Nor did she resent Charles’s need for Adam. She’d seen with her own eyes what close friends the two men were.

“There’s a young lady at the far end of the gallery who could use your attention,” Bea said. “That is, if you’re up to it.”

“Oh, yes,”
Cristiane replied, allowing herself to be distracted from her dismal thoughts. Her own trivial feelings of neglect were naught compared to what Meg must feel.

“I’ll get her,” Bea said, “and bring you some supper.”

Within the hour, Cristiane was sitting before the fire with Meg, and the two were sharing a meal. Meg spoke little and kept her eyes downcast, but Cristiane was not going to allow her stepdaughter to withdraw again, just because she herself had been ill for a few days. She thought a bit of teasing might bring the lass out.

“’Twas too bad it rained so hard on my wedding day and spoiled the feast,” she said to Meg.

The little girl frowned and looked up sharply. “Rain?”

“Aye. Buckets and buckets of the stuff,” she said, slicing a piece of cheese and handing it to Meg. “I’d hoped for sunshine.”

“Sunshine?” Her brows came together in a puzzled frown.

“Aye,” Cristiane replied, refraining from laughing. “This isle must have a rain cloud hovering over it all—”

“But there
was
sunshine, Cristy!” Meg protested. “’Twas a beautiful day!”

“Are you sure, lass?” Cristiane teased. “I remember my gown getting soaked—”

“Nay,” Meg said, coming ’round to put her hand on Cristiane’s cheek. “That happened the day you went into the river to save Gilbert!”

“Oh, aye. I remember now,” Cristiane said. “But I wish we could have had music for dancing. I was so sorry the jongleurs from the castle could not—”

“They were there!” Meg said. She suddenly caught on to the jest,
and was giggling now, ready to argue every one of Cristiane’s untruths, and to add some of her own. “But ’twas too bad those eli-phaunts had to come and eat up all the food!”

Cristiane laughed and pulled Meg to her breast, hugging her tightly. “Oh, Meggie lass…ye know I only had a wee touch of the ague, love. I willna leave ye,” she promised, “not ever, my wee sweet Meggie.”

Meg just held on.

Adam watched Sara take Charles’s hand in her own. “I’ll be back in the morning,” she said to him. “You know I would not leave if Margery Smyth’s babe were not breech.”

“Aye, Sara,” Charles said weakly. “Go and deliver the child. You’re needed in town.”

Margery’s nephew had come up to the castle to fetch her. There was no midwife in town, but over the years, the women had come to rely upon Sara for her help with difficult births.

“’Tis after dark, Sara,” Adam said. “I’ll send one of my men with you, but you must still be careful on the path.”

“I will, my lord,” she said, then turned back to Charles. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

She gave instructions to Adam, instructions that were unneeded, since Adam had seen everything that Sara had done over the last few days, and knew all the medicines that she had used for Charles. Not that any of them helped his condition.

Sara took her leave, and Adam sat in a chair near the fire, turning it so he had a better view of his old friend. Charles had dozed off, which was a blessing, Adam supposed, for he was
not coughing now, nor was his breathing quite so labored.

All was quiet for the moment, though Charles’s situation was dire. He was burning up with fever again and had little awareness of his surroundings. His coughing spells were probably no worse than they’d been before, but in his weakened condition, they seemed to rattle him even more.

Adam closed his eyes and imagined Cristiane sleeping soundly in her chamber. He deeply regretted that he was not able to join her in her bed, but his responsibility as lord—and as Charles’s friend—was clear. He could not leave Penyngton alone, no matter how much he wished he could go to his wife.

He dozed until Charles’s coughing woke him, sometime during the night. He held him upright, supporting him so that he could catch his breath, then washed the flecks of blood from his mouth and chin. When Charles slept again, Adam returned to his chair, only to repeat these activities several times throughout the night.

“Adam…” A harsh whisper woke him once again.

Adam opened his eyes to the light of dawn and saw that Charles was awake. Adam sat up in his chair, rubbed his hand over his eyes and face, then went to him.

The patient’s eyes were no longer bright with fever. Adam took his hand and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at him intently. “How do you fare this morn?” he asked.

Charles’s hand was cool, as was his face when Adam touched it.

“I…I think I’m somewhat better, my lord,” Charles rasped.

Adam was afraid to count on it, but it did seem as if Charles had improved. His fever had broken once more, and he was
no longer delirious. But the cough…

“Drink this,” Adam said, holding a cup of water to Charles’s lips. He grew even more hopeful. He was anxious for Sara to return and see the change in Charles. Even his color seemed better, and Adam did not think it was due to the rosy light of dawn.

Mayhap his friend would survive this consumption of the lung.

“Thank you for your concern, Mathilde,” Cristiane said, “but I’ll be taking Meg with me today. You are free to do with the day as you like.”

Mathilde bristled at the dismissal, even though Cristiane tried to be kind and turn the situation to the woman’s advantage. Cristiane would have thought Mathilde would appreciate having the day to herself.

“Come, Meg,” Cristiane said, “and bring a wrap. ’Tis chilly outside today, and we’ve lots of places to explore.”

“With Papa?” Meg replied, pulling on a woolen over-kirtle.

“Nay,” Cristiane answered, keeping her voice light and unconcerned as she tied the kirtle in place. “He is with Sir Charles, who is not well. Get a cloak now, with a hood.”

The child followed her directions and soon they were off, carrying a satchel with food for their noon meal. They left the keep and walked across the bailey to the castle wall without meeting anyone. Cristiane was especially glad not to have encountered Gerard, but she’d been braced for another nasty confrontation.

Pleasantly surprised that her
preparation had not been necessary, she led the little girl out onto the path.

“Will we go to the waterfall, Cristy?”

“Not today,” Cristiane replied. “There’s a lovely place down by the sea.”

“But—but you cannot go down to the sea here by the castle,” Meg said. “There are cliffs all ’round.”

“Ah, but you can,” Cristiane said, “but only when you’re with me or your papa.”

She found the break in the rocks where ’twas possible to climb down, and carefully led Meg to the narrow sandy beach. There was a breeze down near the water, but they were adequately dressed, and it felt good to be outdoors.

They set their satchel of food and water on one of the big black rocks that jutted up from the sandy beach, and went exploring. Cristiane pointed out all the seabirds to Meg, the puffins and fulmars, and the great skua flying high overhead, then swooping to steal the catch of the smaller kittiwakes and herring gulls below.

They sat in the sun and laughed at the antics of the birds, and never heard Adam until he and the dogs were right upon them.

“My ladies,” he said as the dogs ran ahead, darting in and out of the water to chase Cuddy ducks, “good morn to you.”

Cristiane jumped up and Meg squealed with delight, wrapping her arms around her father’s legs.

“Papa!”

He lifted her high in the air, then brought her down and kissed her. Then he took Cristiane’s hand in his own and leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Cristiane blushed, and her heart pounded madly.

“How fares Sir Charles?” she asked.

“Much better today, I am pleased to say,” Adam said as they resumed their walk along the beach together. He held Meg’s
hand and put one arm about Cristiane’s waist.

Cristiane’s insides were all aflutter at his touch and his news. Mayhap he would come to her tonight if Sir Charles was so improved. She could only hope he—

“Sara believes he might be over the worst,” Adam added. “His fever broke this morn, and his cough is not so violent.”

“That is good news, indeed,” Cristiane said, though she could have done without mention of Sara Cole.

“Come,” Adam said. “There is something I want to show you.”

They walked on, until they reached a wide patch of sand and Adam bade them to stop. “Look out there,” he said, pointing to a rocky island.

“’Tis another isle!” Meg cried. “Look, Papa!”

“Seals,” Cristiane said excitedly. “They’re sunning themselves, just like we were doing, Meg.”

Delighted, they watched for a while as the seals dived into the water and swam, playing together, then returning to their warm places in the sun.

Adam stepped behind Cristiane and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “I have missed you these last few nights, my lady wife,” he said into her ear.

“As I have missed you, Adam,” she replied, placing her hands over his. She pressed her back against him, relishing the solid wall of his chest behind her, oblivious to Meg’s presence beside them.

“Tonight,” he said, turning her in his arms. He dipped his head and touched his lips to hers.

She sighed and raised her arms so that they rested upon the thick muscles of his
upper arms. He gazed into her eyes for a moment, then dipped again, taking her mouth in a kiss that seared Cristiane to her toes.

Her heart fluttered as his tongue passed across her parted lips, then slipped inside. Heat built deep in her core as their mouths mated, and he slid his arms ’round her, pulling her body against his.

Suddenly, he made a quiet sound and pulled away, leaving Cristiane breathless and aching for more.

“Tonight,” he repeated, then took her hand and continued up the beach.

“Pull the laces tighter, Bea,” Cristiane said as Bea helped her with the gown she’d worn for her wedding. “I want it to be just as it was on my wedding day.”

“Yes, my lady,” Bea said, making it tighter. “’Tis a lovely gown, and the color suits you so. Madam Williamson outdid herself when she sewed this gown for you.”

“Has Cook prepared all that I asked?”

“Yes, my lady,” Bea replied. “’Twill be ready soon and—”

“What about wine?” Cristiane asked. “Did you find any?”

“Cook had some saved from a shipment Lord Adam brought in before he left for Scotland.”

“Is it still good?”

“I’ll tell Cook he’s to taste it before he sends it up.”

“Thank you, Bea,” Cristiane said, turning to take the maid’s hands in her own. She was nervous about the night ahead, and Bea had helped her with all her plans. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

“’Twas my pleasure, my lady,” Bea said, with a twinkle in her eye. “After all, you were robbed of your wedding night. ’Tis only right that you have it back…even if it is a few days late.”

Soon after it was fully dark,
footmen arrived with platters of food and a bottle of wine, along with goblets and dishes. Bea quickly shooed them out of Cristiane’s chamber, sending one of the men to go and ask Lord Bitterlee to attend his wife in her chamber. She and Cristiane arranged everything upon the table near the fireplace, then Bea took her leave.

It seemed to Cristiane that she checked her appearance in the small mirror a hundred times before she heard Adam’s footsteps in the gallery outside her room. She very deliberately quit wringing her hands, and dropped them to her sides. At Adam’s knock, she mustered all her nerve and replied calmly, “Come in, Husband.”