Captive Heart (54 page)

Despite Mylan’s preoccupation with his problems, the Falcon’s progress was swift, but when they went ashore to make camp for the night he found himself the object of many curious stares. He had no explanation he cared to give as to why he’d left his lovely bride behind, and so he offered none. The men of the crew were strangely silent, none wishing to begin the lively exchange of jokes and laughter that usually filled their evenings. Knowing his solemn mood was the cause of their discomfort, Mylan finished his supper in a few hasty bites and excused himself, leaving their midst to search out a place where he could be alone with his thoughts.

Finding a small clearing nearby, he stretched out on his back and propped his head upon his hands as he looked up at the shimmering stars. He knew their patterns well, and how to use them to plot an accurate course, but it was not a question of navigation that plagued his mind that night. He’d made his decision to leave Celiese in the heat of anger, but he had given her the choice. It was better to end their marriage after no more than one day than to continue to bear the agony she’d made him endure in the months since they’d first met. He hated her in that instant, despised her for twisting his emotions until they were no more than tangled shreds. Yet even as he lay surrounded by the peace of the night, finally rid of her maddening presence, he missed her so terribly he could scarcely stand the pain that pierced his heart with an unbearable loneliness. No matter how fierce their perpetual arguments might have been, she had made a paradise of his nights, and it was the memory of that sweet pleasure that tormented him unmercifully now. He knew he would never find her equal, nor did he even wish to begin a search. He was exhausted both mentally and physically, his courageous spirit as well as his powerful body drained of energy, and he began to repeat the prayers Father Bernard had taught him in hopes of lulling himself to sleep but each word reminded him of Celiese and how desperately he’d tried to win her love and how miserably he had failed.

The next morning they had done little more than make their way through the surf and head out into the open sea when the fog overtook them. The thick mist obscured the horizon as well as the coastline, sealing them in a blanket of gray, shutting them off from all contact with the physical world as surely as if they’d been wrapped in a giant cocoon. Mylan slackened their pace until they were barely moving, taking them close enough to the shore so they could hear the waves breaking upon the rocks. It was a difficult task, requiring the utmost precision, for should they venture too close the Surf Falcon would be dashed to bits upon the jagged rocks, and if he held their course at too great a distance they would miss the curve of the coastline and find themselves far out at sea.
Hafvilla
would be the word for their situation then: lost at sea. He was not overly concerned with that dire possibility, as he’d always had good luck using a
solarstein
. The sunstone was a dull gray until the invisible rays of the sun were focused upon it, then it glowed a bright blue, making navigation as simple a matter under an overcast sky as it was on a cloudless day.

They were all tired; worn out from the strain of trying to maintain their course, but finding a good spot for the night was nearly impossible without the benefit of sight to assess the shoreline. They had made such little progress that Mylan hesitated to stop, hoping for a clear night in which they could make up for lost time, but the fog became increasingly dense, until they were all drenched to the skin. He had to continue to depend upon his skill at listening to the force of the sea as it met the land to judge where a safe harbor might lie. He took the Falcon in close, and two men swam ashore, searching for signs of a settlement they’d not wish to disturb, but finding none they shouted for the others to drop anchor and come ashore.

Mylan stayed near the fire that night, not wanting to stray from its warmth after having spent such a cold and fruitless day. The men belonged to his brothers’ crew rather than his own, but he knew them well enough now to sense their mood, and the chill of their apprehension was a tangible force, despite the comforting warmth of the fire. “If this is the worst day you have ever spent on board the Surf Falcon, you are fortunate men indeed,” he told them. Then, with the most vivid description he could summon to mind, he proceeded to relate a spellbinding tale of a fearful storm he’d encountered off the coast of Iceland in his own ship, the Raven. The tempest had raged for more than two torturous days, the waves cresting at heights above their mast, and only by furious bailing had they managed to remain afloat. The fascinated men listened with mouths agape. Knowing by his very presence among them that Mylan had survived the horrid ordeal, they wanted to hear every agonizing detail of how he had succeeded in escaping so harsh a fate as had nearly overtaken him. By the time he finished his story, a day or two of fog seemed so minor a hazard that they yawned lazily and went to sleep without the slightest fear their captain would not see them safely home, regardless of how uncooperative the weather.

Mylan closed his eyes too, an amused smile curving his lips as he recalled the storm, which had been anything but entertaining when he’d been caught in its midst. It was a memorable adventure, however, when seen in retrospect. With a stab of guilt he recalled that Celiese had once asked him to recount some of his adventures and he’d refused her request as a ridiculous one for a man to grant on his wedding night. She had never inquired about his past again, and he was saddened to think how many opportunities he’d missed to relate stories of his life and travels to her. Andrick had chided him for not courting Celiese, but surely no man need court his own wife! As he lay there in the darkness he could see her face so clearly in his mind, her delicate features filled with concern on their wedding night as she’d cautioned him that they were strangers who had to be patient with each other, that misunderstandings were inevitable between them. Rolling over on his side to get more comfortable and to shut out her tantalizing image, he realized her advice had been sound. Unfortunately their second wedding night had ended no better than their first. “Misunderstandings” was an understatement of gigantic proportions. Frowning unhappily, he fell into a troubled sleep, his whole body aching not only with fatigue, but with want of her.

When they found the fog had not lifted the next morning, the men awakened reluctantly. Mylan had gotten up first, added wood to the fire, building the gleaming coals to a cheery blaze, but he was no happier than they with the challenge the weather continued to present. While the fog was no worse, its very presence had such an ominous quality that it took considerable courage to face another day of sailing when their sense of sight would be so useless. Far from being discouraged, however, Mylan was merely resigned to their continuing difficulties, and with a few well-placed slaps had his crew up and ready to begin the day as if it were going to be a most splendid one.

Thinking the fog might be hugging the coastline, Mylan set their course for the open seas. But it was soon clear to him that if the dense mist had an outer boundary, he could not find it. Returning to skirt the shoreline, they made no better progress than they had the previous day, and by late afternoon they had all grown weary with the effort. With extra rations of ale, the crew’s mood improved somewhat, but Mylan felt as though he were battling an enemy who could neither be seen nor heard, and, frustrated by his own inability to proceed with his customary swiftness, he strode off down the beach, trying to walk off the nervous tension that he knew would never permit him to sleep.

Once alone he admitted to himself that he had been completely unsuccessful in keeping thoughts of Celiese out of his mind that day. Her delightful presence seemed to swirl about him with the persistence of the mist, until it seemed she had created the fog herself simply to torment him. “Lady Celiese d’Loganville,” he whispered softly, and, letting his thoughts come freely without restraint, he began to wonder what their life would have been had he never discovered her true identity. Would the sweetness she’d shown him upon their first meeting have continued? She had told him that that was her true self—the one in which he had believed for all too few hours before Raktor and his sons had plunged his life into chaos. What if that dear creature were the wife he should have had? Would she ever have told him who she really was, or asked for his help in returning home? Somehow he thought not, for when she’d first told him of her past, her home and family had seemed lost to her, gone forever, and she’d had no hope of returning to the land of her birth. It was much later, only after he’d sent her away, that she began to dream of her homeland, and with Hagen’s encouragement had sought a way to return to it. He scuffed his toe in the sand, finally digging a hole with vicious kicks as he acknowledged that he’d seen from the behavior of André and the others that she was exactly who she’d claimed to be. Indeed, Robert’s fear of her influence confirmed her bloodline, as well.

Certain he had discovered an important truth, Mylan continued to walk slowly along the damp sand, remembering each gesture she had made, each nuance of expression he’d seen and loved. It still hurt to remember that she had heard him shout to Andrick that he did not love her, for that had been his pride not his heart speaking, and yet that was a cruelty she’d endured without comment.

He suddenly saw it all then, with a clarity that astonished him. Celiese was, most significantly, a young woman who had in the worst of circumstances been forced to learn how to survive on her own. A dear and pampered child, she’d seen the home she loved put to the torch, while all around her the bodies of those she’d adored lay in bloody heaps. As if that horror were not enough to endure, she’d been kidnapped and cruelly abused, and yet she had lost neither her sense of her own identity nor her pride. Time and again he had seen that very pride that made her so magnificent a creature as being the cause of all their problems, but it was suddenly plain to him that it was her very determination to live her life to the fullest that he admired most. She had accepted him as he was; knowing little of his past, she’d wanted to share his future, not as the slave he’d made of her, but as the equal she demanded and had every right to be. Appalled by the enormity of his countless errors, he knew without question that whatever happiness the fates had planned for them to share had been thrown away by him when he’d left her. All he deserved was to sail on forever surrounded by an impenetrable fog, for truly even when the skies were clear he saw nothing. As he turned to walk back to his camp, he saw no way to right the many wrongs he’d done his beautiful bride, none at all, but he hid his depression from his crew just as he’d hidden his love from Celiese. He was too proud a man to show any sign of emotion in front of them, but he knew that the price he’d paid for that pride had not been worth the pain.

Celiese waited anxiously in the small parlor of the Convent of Saint Valery, uncertain what her mother’s reaction would be to her this time. The fire upon the, hearth was most welcome, but while it provided an outer warmth, her heart still held an unshakable chill. When, after a long wait, her mother appeared, she rose to meet her, her smile wavering as she greeted her. “It is good of you to see me again, Mama. I am sorry I had no way to tell you I was coming.”

“You are alone this time?” Marie asked suspiciously. In her long gray habit she appeared to float across the distance that separated them, but her green eyes were cold, devoid of any welcoming sparkle.

“If you are referring to my husband, he has left me, so I am quite alone,” Celiese explained calmly, none of her intense sorrow evident in either her tone of voice or her expression.

Intrigued, Marie came closer. “You have come to join us then, as I asked you to?”

“No, that is impossible, for Mylan has become a Christian and we were married again. I doubt that this order or any other would accept a woman whose husband is still living.” At least she had never heard of such a thing.

Frowning, Marie took a place upon the bench opposite the fire and patted the cushion beside her. When Celiese sat down, she laced her fingers in hers. “If the man has deserted you, perhaps an annulment can be arranged.”

“No, I’ll not ask for one.” Making every effort to gain her mother’s understanding once again, Celiese asked only that she might be permitted to stay at the convent for a brief visit. “I need time to collect my thoughts, for so much has happened since we last spoke together that I have had great difficulty placing it all in its proper perspective. I will work at whatever chores you wish to assign me; all I ask is that I be given some time each day to be alone with my own thoughts.”

Marie was puzzled, for her daughter’s mood was too subdued. “Our door is open to those who wish to seek God, Celiese, not to women searching for an easy escape from a life they find too difficult to live. The challenges presented here are far greater than any you will ever confront in the outside world.”

“You are speaking of understanding the mysteries that lie hidden within the human heart?” Celiese asked softly.

“Why, yes, that is one way to state our quest,” Marie replied with surprise.

Celiese responded with an enchanting smile. “That is precisely why I have come.”

The changeless routine of the convent was soothing in itself, for Celiese found the choices as to how she’d spend her days had already been made for her. The sisters were either in the chapel or working at their assigned tasks. An introspective group, they were silent during meals, but their food was plentiful, providing a variety of vegetables and grains, butter and cheese, if little meat. She had her own room, a tiny one, so the nausea that continued to plague her mornings went unnoticed, but it worried her greatly. For the rest of the day she found her appetite voracious and was embarrassed to think she might be eating more than her share, but the sisters were generous and did not seem to mind, if in fact they had even noticed.