Bride of the Isle (22 page)

“Sara…” he said when Charles dozed off. Adam drew her out of the chamber and stood in the shadowy gallery next to the hall. “Sara, you mus—”

“Please, my lord,” she replied, “don’t say it.”

Adam hesitated, but knew he had to speak up. “It grieves me to say it, but it’s time to prepare yourself. The fever may have abated, but you can see for yourself that he is not long for—”

She raised one hand and covered his lips as she burst into tears. Adam pulled her to him and held her.

“I know he cannot survive this, Adam,” she said, her voice choked by her tears.

Adam ran one hand up and down her back, then smoothed a lock of hair back from her forehead. It hurt to see his sister so distressed, to know her anguish was caused by the imminent death of his closest friend.

“I’ve loved him ever since I came to Bitterlee,” she said. “He was so kind to me, but he always said he was too old to take a wife, too old to sire the children he said I should have.”

Adam did not know what to say, so he remained silent and let Sara whisper her secrets, her sorrows.

And he held her, offering what little comfort he could.

Dark clouds hovered low over
the isle as Cristiane and Meg hurried up the path toward home. Cristiane wanted to be inside before the rain came. The white walls of the castle rose majestically ahead, and she was struck by the thought of this place as her home. This was where she belonged, where she would stay.

She was desperately in love with her husband and could only pray that he would soon come to love her. She vowed to do all in her power to be a good wife to him, so that he could not help but feel the same. She only needed to keep him from Sara for a time, and she would win his affections.

They entered the bailey through the gates and saw Gerard Sutton approaching on foot, a water skin slung over his arm, and a heavily laden satchel in his other hand. Cristiane’s eyes darted around, looking for a route of escape, but found none. She had no choice but to walk past him.

“Tending the simpleton again, I see,” he jeered.

Besides all the other emotions churning through her, anger boiled to the surface, and Cristiane decided she could no longer play the docile outcast. Adam had chosen her for his wife, even if his reason had been solely because of her talent with Meg. The child was her daughter now, and Cristiane would tolerate no more insults toward her.

“Meggie, love, run to the keep and go up to your chamber,” she said. “Wait for me there.”

The child did as she was told, and Cristiane turned to face the vile uncle of her husband. “You have berated my daughter once too many times, Sir Gerard,” she said. “I’ll not tolerate it again. Guard your tongue when you speak to her or—”

“Or what?” he scoffed. An evil light glittered in his eye as he spoke again. “You’ll tell your husband? The man who has Sara
Cole in his arms even now?”

The bottom fell out of Cristiane’s stomach. She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling, and braced herself against the wave of pain that threatened to overcome her. “You lie.”

He laughed, then shrugged as if it were inconsequential. “See for yourself. They’re hardly discreet—standing in the hall where anyone can see them.”

Cristiane pulled her cloak about her and strode purposefully toward the keep, blocking the sound of Gerard’s laughter from her ears. She entered through the door next to the chapel, just as Meg had done. Quietly, afraid of what she would see, yet certain that Gerard had lied only to hurt her, she walked down the gallery toward the great hall.

She stopped suddenly and felt the world shift under her feet. Gerard had not lied.

In the shadows across from her stood Adam and Sara, exactly as Gerard had described—locked in a tender embrace.

Pain hit hard, stealing her breath away. Tears welled in her eyes as the truth struck her, and Cristiane backed away from the sight of Adam holding his lover in his arms, caressing her, talking with her in low, intimate tones.

Cristiane found herself walking across the bailey again, hardly aware of her surroundings, propelled by some unconscious momentum. She stumbled out through the castle gate and continued on, half running along the path, oblivious to the darkening clouds or the increasing winds.

Eventually, she came to the break in the rocks, where she climbed down
the craggy cliff to the sea. With the wind whipping her clothes, she picked her way among the boulders, desperate to get as far from the castle as possible. She could not stay there. She had to get away and think!

Mayhap in time she could accustom herself to sharing her husband with the woman he loved, but today was not that day. Her emotions were raw after she’d spent a blissful night in his arms, only to discover it had meant naught to him.

She’d given all to Adam, her body as well as her heart. She had felt cherished and desired, and for the first time in ages, she’d felt as if she belonged.

She’d been wrong.

By the time she reached the water, big drops of rain had started to fall, but Cristiane did not care. She held her cloak around her and kept moving, farther than she’d gone before—losing herself in the wind and rain, heedless of the high waves and crashing surf. The storm pelted her now, soaking through her cloak, drenching her hair. She stumbled once and fell, scraping the heel of one hand on a rock.

She hardly noticed.

Awareness of her surroundings did not come until the wind was so strong that Cristiane could not catch her breath. She suddenly felt the chill through to her bones and realized that the heavy gusts might very well push her into the sea.

And she did not want to die. She wanted to make a life on Bitterlee with Adam and Meg. She was no coward. She had been a fool to run away from the challenge of winning her husband. Sara Cole might still have a hold on Adam’s heart, but ’twas a tenuous one. It
had
to be.

With a resurgence of hope in her heart, Cristiane started back toward the
cliff and began to look for shelter.

Rain battered the window of Cristiane’s empty chamber. Adam had looked for her everywhere in the castle, but she was nowhere to be found.

He looked down at his daughter, whose eyes were bright with fear, and asked again, “She told you she would come to you here?”

“I-in my chamber, Papa.”

“Let’s look again, then,” he said, though he had no real hope of finding her there. She had disappeared. Vanished.

And if he didn’t find her, his heart would never be the same.

Holding Meg’s hand, he returned to her chamber, where they both sat on the bed. Meg was distraught with the storm and the rumbles of thunder that were still far off in the distance. Adam wanted to shout questions at the child, but he knew he could not push her. “Tell me again, sweetheart,” he said, controlling his anxiety, “what did Cristy say to you?”

“She said I was to r-run along to the keep, and wait in my chamber. A-and she would come to me here.”

“How long ago?” he asked, though he doubted his daughter had any concept of time. “Was it this morn, after you broke your fast? Or—”

“’Twas not long ago, Papa,” she cried, tears now streaming down her face. The sight of them wrenched Adam’s heart, and he hugged her close. “We were at the p-pond, but it was going to rain, so we came back.”

“But Cristy sent you ahead?”

“So she could t-talk to…to Sir G-Gerard.”

Damnation!
He should have known there was more to it. “What did Sir Gerard say?” Adam asked, keeping his voice level and controlled as he held her.

“He was cruel, Papa, and he m-made Cristy angry.”

Adam moved away enough to be able to see his daughter’s face. “And you
have not seen her since?”

“No, Papa.”

A kind of rage that Adam had not felt in years welled up in him, and he felt as if he would burst. If Gerard had done aught to endanger Cristiane, Adam would have no qualms about dispensing due punishment. “Come on,” he said to Meg, taking her hand and helping her off the bed. He lifted her up and carried her out into the gallery and down the steps, quickly reaching the great hall.

He found Mathilde and put Meg in her care, with the admonishment that the child was not to be put on her knees for any reason. Then he suggested that the nursemaid locate the children of the kitchen maids, and help to supervise all the children in play.

Grabbing a thick oilcloth cloak from a peg by the door, Adam whistled for his dogs. Ren and Gray jumped up from their places on the hearth and circled him excitedly. As soon as Adam opened the door, they bounded out of the keep ahead of him.

The clouds were thick and low, and the rain came down in torrents, but the worst of the storm had yet to reach the isle. Adam pulled up his hood, tucked his head down and made his way through the castle gate.

He paid no attention to the ache in his thigh, but followed the muddy path, considering only where Gerard might have taken Cristiane. And why.

He could not imagine Cristiane going willingly with his uncle…nor could he understand why Gerard would take her away from the keep. It made no sense. Unless Cristiane had run away from Gerard and had been unable to get back to the castle.

That was the only explanation
possible.

Adam reached the point where they would have left the path to go down to the waterfall, but remembered that was not one of Gerard’s favored places. Nay, the man had a cave far down the beach, where he liked to go and drink himself into a stupor, and relive his past glories in the army of King Edward.

Adam was certain that was where he would find him.

C
ristiane watched as the storm
came closer. Long daggers of lightning flashed close by, striking the water and setting off earsplitting crashes of thunder.

She felt minimally protected under an overhang of the cliff, but knew it would do her no good if the storm came closer and lightning struck. She wished she’d kept her wits about her when she’d run from the castle, but the shock of seeing Adam with Sara had overwhelmed her good sense.

Cristiane didn’t realize how much she had counted on Adam breaking off with the townswoman, how much she needed his loyalty and devotion. She did not know how she was going to live here on Bitterlee as his wife, knowing that, in truth, she was no more than a nursemaid for his daughter.

She’d thought, after the previous night, that she was more to him…that perhaps he felt as she did, that there could be no one else, that—

A streak of lightning struck close, the shock of it knocking Cristiane to her knees. More frightened now, she could not decide whether to quickly move away from her little shelter, or stay and wait out the tempest. Remembering what her father had
taught her about storms, she decided to stay here, under cover of the overhang.

She moved slightly, into a crouch, with her head down and her arms about her knees. The storm raged all around her, but Cristiane could not move. Fear of the violent weather and misery over Adam’s duplicity paralyzed her. ’Twas foolish, she knew, to be so affected by Adam’s actions, for her mother had prepared her for the likelihood of her husband keeping a mistress.

Yet, at their wedding, Adam had promised to love and honor her, to guard her and to forsake all others. Had he lied? Did all English husbands lie when they married?

Cristiane’s brain hurt with all her ruminations. She’d gone from thinking that Adam
must
care for her as she did for him, to believing him capable of going to his mistress mere hours after sharing the most intimate of experiences with her.

She did not know what to think anymore.

After a time, it seemed that the lightning no longer struck so close, and the thunder was not as earthshaking. Yet the rain continued to pour down, and the wind was still fierce. Somewhere in the distance, Cristiane thought she heard a different sound. She raised her head from her arms and listened.

Barking!

Adam’s dogs were out in this tempest. Surely someone would have brought them inside rather than allowing them to run free during a storm like this. They were suddenly upon her, barking and baying, as if they’d discovered the most delectable prey.

“Cristiane!”

Adam had never seen a more pitiful sight. She looked half-drowned and miserable. Gerard was nowhere in sight. “Are you all right?” he shouted over the combined noise of the dogs and the storm.

She began to speak, but then shook her head, as if unable to form the words to answer him.

“Where is Gerard?” he asked as he helped her to her feet.

He saw her shrug before he pulled her
into his arms to hold her shivering body against him. They had to get out of this rain. He would not have her fall ill again.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her farther down the beach. “We have to get to shelter. This rain will last for hours.”

They stayed close to the overhang, but the rain pelted them as they moved down the beach. Cristiane said naught, and Adam wondered what had happened to her. She had no visible injuries, but if Gerard had hurt her, Adam would not merely banish him from Bitterlee.

He would kill him.

Gerard’s cave was not much farther. The dogs ran ahead, seemingly oblivious to the rain, while Adam strained his eyes, looking for the niche in the cliff where Gerard liked to go to brood. Adam put his arm around Cristiane and drew her close as they walked, but neither of them spoke.

“Up there!” he said when he saw the place. Let Gerard try to refuse them entry, he thought as he helped Cristiane up the rocks. He would haul his uncle’s sorry arse to the sea and throw him in.

They clambered over loose rock to get to the entrance, but still Adam could see no sign of Gerard. “Just a few steps more, Cristiane,” he urged.

They finally made it, and Adam drew her inside with him. ’Twas dark, but there was no indication of another occupant. He had not been here since he was a lad, and would
have forgotten the place, except that Gerard had mentioned it once or twice in passing. Adam wondered where his uncle had gone.

“Come inside,” he said. “’Tis safe here.”

Still quiet, Cristiane followed him.

Adam knew Gerard would not spend so much time here without a few comforts. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark, then looked around to discover a lamp sitting on a table formed from rocks. He lit it, then turned back to Cristiane.

“I’ll get a fire going and then you’ll have to get out of those wet clothes,” he said.

When she still did not speak, he said, “Cristy, what is it? What happened? Did Gerard bring you out here?”

“Nay, ’twas not your uncle,” she replied.

“What then? Why are you out here in this tempest?”

“I…” She sniffed once and wiped the rain from her face.

“You what?”

She did not reply for a long time. Finally, she shook her head in a derisive manner. “I was just f-foolish, Adam,” she said. “I thought…I believed that…” Crossing her arms, she rubbed them with her hands and turned away from him.

He took hold of one arm and turned her back. He would not let her withdraw from him. Whatever had happened could be redressed. “What?
What
did you think?”

“’Twas stupid really…”

“Cristy, tell me.”

Her brows quivered and her nostrils flared as she forced back her tears. Adam looked into her eyes and saw pain there. He felt powerless. All he could do was run his hands up and down her arms.

“’Twas just as Gerard said when I came into the k-keep and saw you with Sara,” she said, her voice trembling as she strove to maintain control. “I knew then that he was r-right. You l-love her, but only married me bec—”

“God’s Cross, Cristy!”
Adam said,
pulling her into his arms as understanding dawned. All the cruel remarks his uncle had made, all his outrageous insinuations…”
Never
listen to Gerard. He is a bitter old man who loves naught more than to stir up trouble.”

“But I saw y—”

“You saw me comforting my sister,” he said as he leaned away to look at her. “Sara is my father’s bastard daughter. I should have told you before, but I…With Charles so ill, and you coming down with the fever, I just…”

Confusion clouded her eyes. Her chin trembled and she bit the corner of her lower lip.

“Sara cares deeply for Charles,” Adam said. “And it pains her to see him suffer.”

“Poor Sara!” Cristiane cried. “I never realized…Oh, Adam, I feel terrible. Gerard’s been saying things ever since I came here…about Sara, and how well suited she is to the isle. He intimated how much better a wife she would make you, so much better than a loathsome Scot. I tried not to heed him, but ’twas impossible. He seemed to always be there, ready to prey on all my—”

“—on all your uncertainties.” Adam frowned. Gerard had deliberately worked to undermine Cristiane’s confidence and comfort. If he’d been at it ever since her arrival on Bitterlee, ’twas no wonder she had believed the worst when she’d seen him with Sara. “Cristy,” he said, pulling her close, “there is no other woman in my life. There is you, and only you.”

He lowered his head and kissed her while cupping her face in his hands. There were fresh tears on her cheeks, and he rubbed them away with his thumbs. “Do not weep, love,” he murmured, kissing her again and again. “’Twas only
Gerard tormenting you. Naught that he said was real, or true.”

She nodded and took a deep, quavering breath.

Reluctantly, he let her go. “Let me get a fire started,” he said. “We must warm you and get you dry.”

There were no spare clothes, nor any blankets in the cave. The oilcloth cloak had kept Adam reasonably dry, and so Cristiane lay wrapped up in it next to him, on a primitive pallet that Gerard had set up deep inside the cave. A fire, made from driftwood that Gerard must have dragged in, burned near the mouth of the cave, and the dogs lay nearby, guarding the entrance. Cristiane’s clothes were draped over some rocks near the fire in the hope that they would dry.

She doubted they would. The rain was still coming down in sheets, and showed no sign of letting up.

Not that she cared. She was content to stay here, safe and warm in the arms of her husband, with all her worries about him—and his lover—untrue.

“Why did you not talk to me about Sara?” Adam asked. He held her close, caressing her back as they lay together.

“I was embarrassed,” she said, lowering her eyelids so she would not have to look at him. “I…thought if I…if you…” She shook her head and frowned, still uncomfortable speaking of it. “Was I to ask you outright about your lover?”

“Cristy…” he said, tipping her chin up and forcing her to look at him. “I love you.” He kissed her deeply, slipping his hands inside the oilcloth, caressing the bare flesh beneath. “There could be no one
else for me.”

“Oh, Adam,” she whispered, “I love you, too. I could not bear it, thinking you cared for Sara, and I did not know what to do. I ran from the castle without thinking.”

“Promise me you’ll never run away again,” he said huskily. His hand slipped down to trace tantalizing patterns over her buttocks. “Come to me if aught troubles you, Cristy. We must talk to one another…”

“Aye, in future, I will,” she whispered as goose bumps rose on her skin.

Then Adam’s hand stilled. He was silent, pensive for a moment. “I wonder if Gerard drove Rosamund to her death with his insinuations.”

“Drove her?” Cristiane asked.

“She caused her own death,” he said grimly, “by jumping from one of the castle parapets.”

Cristiane took in a sharp breath. “Oh, Adam,” she said. “I am so sorry. I cannot imagine what you went through.”

“She died a week before I was carried back to the isle from the battle at Falkirk,” he continued. “If he taunted and goaded her with untruths just as he’s done to you…”

Cristiane felt sickened, and covered her mouth with one hand. Gerard had succeeded in manipulating her to a point near utter despair. ’Twas not difficult to believe that he’d done the same to Rosamund.

“Sir Gerard’s tenure on the isle is finished. When I see him next, I intend to banish him,” Adam said, tucking Cristiane firmly against him once again. “He can return to King Edward’s court or fend for himself elsewhere. I’ll not have him disrupting my family.”

Cristiane swallowed the lump in her throat. Her fears were for naught, and Adam would see
to it that Gerard caused neither her nor Meg any problems in the future.

She could ask for no more.

“Oh!
Meg!
” Cristiane cried. “I told her to wait for me in her chamber and—”

“She is fine,” Adam said. He began to nuzzle Cristiane’s neck. “Playing with the servants’ children.”

“Oh,” she replied, relieved. “Ooh…” She closed her eyes, and her breath came quick and fast as Adam’s lips moved lower, his hands spreading the oilcloth apart. His mouth sought the hard peaks of her breasts, then he teased each one with his tongue and teeth as his hands slid down her body.

“Teach me, Adam,” Cristiane said, boldly unfastening his belt. “I want to please you.”

“Ah, Cristy,” Adam replied, already exquisitely aroused. “To please me, you have naught to do but touch me, love me. Hunger for my touch.”

She moved his chausses and braes aside and grazed his most sensitive flesh with her hands. “I do, m’lord,” she breathed. “I do.”