Captive Heart (53 page)

Aghast that she would describe the lives of her captors as if they should be admired, André stuttered nervously, “But you are a Frenchwoman, how can you even think such things?”

“Thinking is not the difficult part, André; living as I wish to is what will provide the challenge.” She looked away then, unable to accept the fact that she would have to spend even one more day of her life without Mylan at her side.

The elderly servant watched his companion’s expression change to one of such abject sorrow that he was moved to tears himself. Drying his eyes upon his sleeve, he attempted to offer the only encouragement that came to mind. “I cannot believe your husband has left you here like this; surely he means to return soon. I must have misunderstood his meaning this morning, for I cannot believe any man would be so great a fool as to leave you.”

Celiese reached out to pat his hand lightly. “My husband is a proud man, André, and a determined one. Everything continually went wrong for us, and, while I did not think I was to blame, he did.”

“Then he is a fool!” André criticized sharply.

“No, he is no fool.” Celiese gathered up the remains of their meal and packed it away into the man’s basket. “Thank you for this wonderful supper. I was more hungry than I realized, but I’d worked all afternoon without once thinking of food.”

André was wise enough to know Celiese had changed the subject for a reason and he did not make any further comments about her husband, but he had meant precisely what he’d said about the man. “If you would not mind, I would like to bring you something each day. I have no skill as a farmer after spending my life raising horses, but I manage to trade for what I need. Our numbers are so few that we take care of one another, and all will want to see you have to neither hunt nor fish to live among us.”

She knew she had shocked the man with ideas she thought only reasonable, but rather than argue Celiese thanked him for his generosity. “I will be delighted to share your meals whenever you wish, and as soon as I am able I will contribute something too.”

André bid her good night and started down the path to the village, then recalled something he’d not thought to offer and walked back to speak with Celiese once more. “Whenever you wish to visit your mother, I will escort you. Simply tell me the day before, and I will have the horses ready at dawn.”

Not knowing what to say to that suggestion, Celiese thought it best to smile warmly, as though she were pleased. “Why thank you, but I think I will be busy here for the next few weeks, and another visit to her will have to wait.”

“Whatever you wish.” Thinking he had pleased her, André smiled to himself as he walked home, but he was afraid Lady Marie would not approve of the life her daughter planned to lead now that she had returned home.

Once the sun had set, Celiese’s courage deserted her. With Mylan, sleeping under the stars had been an adventure; alone it was misery, an oppressive reminder of the vastness of the heavens and her own pitiful insignificance. She rolled over upon her stomach and propped her chin in her hands and closed her eyes to shut out the brightness of the nighttime sky. If only Mylan had given her an opportunity to speak with him that morning. There must have been some way for them to reach a compromise, but they had had no chance to talk over their situation, and it had changed greatly since their arrival in France. They were again husband and wife, but not friends; lovers whose passion for each other was insatiable, but two proud people who could not seem to agree on how their lives should be lived. “Together,” she whispered softly to herself. That Mylan had deserted her, left her sound asleep dreaming only of him, had been unspeakably cruel, but she knew someday he would have to return. If only because Robert demanded to speak to both of them together, but eventually he would come back, and she wanted him to be astonished by how successfully she’d managed to live without him. She’d see their house was completed, the gardens replanted, the fields sewn with grain. She’d do it all by herself if she had to, but do it she would, simply to make him realize the chance for happiness he’d thrown away when he’d left her with little more than the earth upon which she lay. Sleep was a long time in coming, but she was too tired to dream that night, and Mylan’s taunting smile no longer haunted her as it had when she had been held prisoner. His presence had left her dreams as suddenly as he had left her life, but that did not lessen the aching need she still felt for him, nor ease her sorrow in the slightest.

When she awakened the next morning, a thick blanket of fog hovered over the land, shutting out the light of the rising sun and covering the ground with a damp mist. She shivered and wrapped her now damp blanket tightly around herself as she wished she had some way to light a fire. Knowing André would have one burning and thinking how cozy and warm his small cottage would be, she quickly got dressed, donned her long cloak, and made her way to his home.

Hearing the knock at his door, André rushed to admit his visitor. “I was just coming to get you! Come in and warm yourself by the fire.” The elderly man moved one of his benches in front of the hearth and gestured for her to be seated. “I had awakened to find the day a poor one for venturing out, but I knew you could not be allowed to remain out in the elements.”

“I want to thank you again for your hospitality, André. This fire is delightful. I will gather wood today so I can have my own fire tomorrow.” Celiese held out her hands to warm them in the fire’s glow.

Looking askance, André decided not to comment upon what he thought of her gathering her own firewood. He was certain there were several young boys who would be grateful for the opportunity to be of service and decided he’d send for one later to spare her that labor. “You must have some breakfast, for you ate little last night.” He busied himself preparing a thin porridge, apologizing that he had so little talent as a cook.

“Please do not trouble yourself for me. I have not felt well enough to eat for several mornings, and today is no exception.” Indeed, her stomach lurched as she spoke of her problem, and she feared she might again become ill.

“I will brew some herb tea for you, then, as you must take no chances with your health. If the weather permits travel later in the day, will you not consider making another visit to your mother? We can accomplish little if there is rain, and nothing at all should you fall ill.” André was greatly worried, for Celiese’s fair complexion had grown pale, making her green eyes appear enormous, and her hair, which fell in damp ringlets about her shoulders, gave her the appearance of a neglected waif. A sorry image he had hoped to change for the better with a warm meal.

“I am not ready to visit her yet, truly I am not.” Celiese could think of no way to please her mother other than by staying away.

“I am merely being practical.” He explained. “You could reside with her while a portion of your home is made ready for you to occupy.” Seeing another important point, he offered helpfully, “A place such as the Convent of Saint Valery would afford you the solitude in which to consider those problems you mentioned yesterday.”

“Yes, both your points are well taken.” However, the memory of the austere atmosphere of the convent sent a chill up her spine and she drew her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. “I do not want to leave the rebuilding of my home entirely up to others, though. I think I should be here to help in whatever manner I may.”

André chuckled at her determination. “You are a very proud young woman, my dear, and while that is an admirable quality, you must not allow it to cloud that fine mind of yours and prevent you from observing what must be seen.”

“That is the way you used to speak to me when I was a child, André. When I’d come to the stable to give our horses treats, you always had some word of advice for me.” She’d found his instruction useful then, but she was reluctant to accept it now.

“That was not so many years ago, although it seems like a lifetime to me now.” André placed two bowls of steaming porridge upon the table and invited Celiese to join him. They ate quietly, both far more hungry than they cared to admit.

When they had finished, Celiese sipped the herb tea and asked skeptically, “What is it you think I do not see?”

André leaned forward as he whispered, “The secrets you have hidden in your own heart.”

Confused, Celiese nevertheless began to argue. “I’ve no secrets of any kind, André, not hidden from myself or anyone else.” That he seemed to think her so devious a creature as Mylan did hurt her badly, for she was quite fond of him.

Frustrated that she did not see his point, André spoke more harshly, “Of course not, but are you certain the fact your husband chose to leave without bidding you good-bye was as unexpected a shock as it appeared?”

Blushing brightly with embarrassment, Celiese looked away, unable to think of any way to express how she felt about that betrayal other than what he’d observed the previous day upon the beach. “I would rather discuss the plans to rebuild my house, if you don’t mind. That is what matters most to me now.”

“You cannot mean that!” André responded angrily. “It is obvious to me it is Mylan who matters most to you, but if you will not admit that truth to yourself, how could you have communicated that important point to him?”

Stunned by the clarity of his observation, Celiese realized that the depth of her feeling was not something she’d ever attempted to put into words. She’d tried only to express those tender emotions with all the imagination and devotion she possessed. “You do not understand how things were between us, André, there is no way that you can.”

“It is not necessary that I understand anything, it is only you and Mylan who must seek that accord.”

“The man is gone, André, there is nothing I can do now to make him see what he refused to accept when we were together. It was hopeless from the beginning, for my love was never returned. He did not even want a wife when we first met, and most especially he did not want me!” Celiese fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her again, tears of anger as well as sorrow. She had no desire to put on another pathetic display. She lifted her cup to her lips instead, and finished her tea, grateful to have that distraction.

André waited until he was certain Celiese again had her emotions under control, for he had not meant to upset her, only to assist her in finding her own truth. “If your husband were to return today, what would you tell him?”

Puzzled by that question, Celiese refused to speculate on so unlikely an eventuality. “He will not return for a very long time, if ever, André.”

“Indulge me then, for I am an old man, and should I not live until his return, what will you tell him?” André smiled in his most charming fashion, hoping she would play his game.

Celiese frowned, remembering only how she’d wanted to show Mylan how well she could live without him. “I am afraid I would say all the wrong things, André. He’d become angry with me as he always does, and then he would probably just leave me again.”

“I am pleased to see you understand far more than I thought you did. You are correct when you say you have many questions without answers, but you will gain nothing by avoiding them. I think the fog has begun to lift. I will saddle the horses while you gather your belongings, for surely your own inner peace must be found before you can devote your attentions to supervising your estate. I will take you to the convent for the time being, while we begin work on your home, and perhaps when I come for you, you will have thought of a thousand ways in which to greet your husband without angering him. What do you say? Is that idea not a fine one?”

“Do not saddle the horses as yet, André. Let me think about this a while longer, please.” Celiese tried to smile, for she knew he was being kind. He was as fond of her as she was of him. She left his home to wander slowly back to the ruins of her own, choosing this time to walk down the overgrown paths that had once been part of her mother’s beautifully tended garden. Here and there a flower remained, growing wild now amongst the weeds, and she bent down to pick up a handful of soil as she’d done on her first visit there with Mylan. It had only been dirt, he had said, no more or less than the rich soil that covered his farmlands. “It is not a question of land, though, but of what a person loves as his home.” She knew that, even if he had not, but was her loyalty to the place where she’d been born and surrounded with love no more than pride of the most foolish sort? She was more confused than she had ever been, but if the answers to her problems lay within her own heart, as André had said, then she knew she would be a fool not to seek them. Gathering up the few things she owned, she made her way back to his cottage, ready to join her mother in the Convent of Saint Valery for however many weeks or years it took her to find the secrets she’d hidden even from herself.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mylan spent the day forcing himself to concentrate solely upon maintaining a firm grasp upon the tiller, giving his full attention to successfully making the voyage home, but his thoughts betrayed him time and again. “Home.” He spoke the word softly to himself as if it were a curse, for he wanted only to put France far behind him, rather than having any great desire to return to his native shores. Winter was coming, its chill already in the air, and he knew he would merely be marking time until spring when he could again set sail in the Raven. He’d go to his farm and hunt when he could, but the weeks he’d spent alone there after Celiese had gone had not provided him with the peaceful solitude he’d expected. He’d been far too restless, and none of the activities that had consumed his time as he’d prepared for the harvest had held his interest. He had no qualms about facing his father after taking a voyage the man had forbidden. He’d tell him the truth of why he had left so hastily, but he still shuddered to think how close Celiese had come to falling victim to the Torgvalds’ lust for revenge. His anger rekindled at that memory, his handsome features set in a deep frown. No, he had no apologies to make to his father, but the man he had once respected so completely owed him an apology he was uncertain he would ever accept.