“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.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Adam’s eyes were fixed upon Cristiane. If he’d thought her beautiful at their wedding ceremony, she was doubly so now. The green gown enhanced the color of her eyes, which shone brightly against her fair skin. Her hair fell in soft curls to frame her face, dropping to her shoulders and down her back.
His hands itched to touch it.
“I—I’ve had a meal prepared for us, my lord,” she said. She held herself stiffly, nervously. She bit one corner of her lower lip. “Are you h-hungry?”
His voice left him when he realized that she had recreated their wedding night.
He nodded and stepped over to the table, where plates had been set, along with a few platters of food. He spied a bottle of wine and had the truly inspired notion of getting Cristiane to drink some…and perhaps relax.
He cleared his throat, then uncorked the wine as he kept his eyes on his wife. “You are lovely in your wedding gown,” he said. “Did I tell you that before?”
“Aye, my lord,” she replied quietly. “Madam Williamson did a fine job—”
“She did,” he interrupted, “but ’tis you who makes the gown so lovely.”
He poured two goblets, then handed one to Cristiane. He lifted his cup and said, “I drink to you, my lady wife, and to many long years together.”
Cristiane blushed and drank from her cup.
While they sat together on the settle and merely picked at their food, they spoke quietly of their wedding, of Meg and the isle, and of Cristiane’s life in St. Oln. As Cristiane relaxed, Adam moved closer. His hands ached to touch her, but he did not want to move precipitously.
Casually, he lay one arm across the back of the settle and lightly ran his fingers over her shoulder.
“Our birds here on Bitterlee must be the same as the ones up in St. Oln,” he said.
“Oh, aye,” Cristiane replied, “but I’ve never seen a seal before.”
“Meg never saw them before, either.” He took a tendril of fiery hair between his fingers.
“I’m glad she was with us today, then,” Cristiane said breathlessly. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, and the pulse at the base of her throat fluttered like the wing of a tiny bird.
Desire raged through him, and he struggled to maintain control. Cristiane was sensitive to his touch, but moving too fast could be disastrous. Adam intended to have many years with her, enjoying every aspect of their marriage.
He touched the shell of her ear, then caressed her jaw. A shiver ran through her. Using one thumb, he feathered a soft touch across her lips.
“Adam…” She sighed.
He lowered his head and kissed the pulse at her throat.
“Adam.” She turned slightly and lifted one hand to his shoulder. Her movements were shy and tentative, but encouraging.
He moved his lips to the edge of her jaw near her ear, breathing in her scent, tasting her. His hand slid from her shoulder to caress the upper curve of her breast. She made a small sound that caused him to think of one of the small birds on the beach.
He felt her hand on the back of his neck, stroking,
teasing the hair with her fingers.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Please, Adam, kiss me.”
Adam was certain he’d misheard her. He raised his head and looked into her eyes, and found them shimmering with desire.
She wanted him.
With a groan, he slipped both arms around her and brought his lips to hers, kissing her fully, demanding as much as he gave. Her mouth was soft and sweet, and her body trembled, enticing him to seek more.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips and gained entry, her tongue shyly meeting his. He deepened the kiss, and his breath caught as her tongue grew bolder. He was unaware of having moved, but somehow she was beneath him on the settle. He pressed against her, nestling his hard body into the welcoming softness of hers.
Their heads moved and they changed angles, increasing the contact between them. His hands briefly rested upon her shoulders, then traced the outline of the delicate bones at her throat. A moment later, her breasts swelled beneath his palms, the tips beading against his fingers.
All at once, he stood and lifted Cristiane from the settle. He carried her to the bed, then set her on her feet next to it. Time stood still as he took her mouth again, caressing her shoulders and the curves of her breasts. He located the ties that held her bodice together, and released them, then pulled the gown off her shoulders.
Cristiane quivered under his touch, though ’twas clearly from arousal, and not from distaste.
He made quick work of his own clothes, pulling away from Cristiane only long enough to drag his tunic over his shoulders and head. ’Twas long enough for Cristiane to feel embarrassed by her near nakedness, and attempt to cover her breasts with her hands.
Adam covered her hands with his own, then raised them to his chest, where she threaded her fingers through the thick mat of hair. He closed his eyes for a moment and relished the sensation of her fingers on his tight nipples.
“Yes,” he breathed.
He loosened the skirt of her gown and divested her of it, then ran his hands up to her shoulders and down again to cup the fullness of her breasts. As his thumbs teased the taut peaks, Cristiane’s head fell back.
Adam pressed his lips to the base of her throat, then rained kisses down to her breasts, laving attention on each one in turn, rejoicing in the arousal that made her sigh with pleasure. He slid his hands back to her naked hips, pulling her lower body close while Cristiane held his head at her breast.
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