Winter's Bride

by Catherine Archer

  Lily set the child down and leaped to her feet, as if the words had just reminded her of her assumed position here. She dipped a hurried curtsy. “Forgive me, my lord.” She tucked a heavy strand of black hair behind her right ear.

  For some reason the well-remembered gesture made his heart lurch. More than once he had leaned forward to pull that lock free and, lost in some animated conversation, she had put it back without thinking. This would go on until she realized what he was about, then they would laugh and tumble together in that big bed and…Frustrated with himself for thinking of the past, which was irretrievably lost, Tristan forced himself to concentrate on the present as Sabina cried, “Da!”

  He looked down at her, and Sabina reached out to him.

  Tristan picked her up and hugged her tightly. As always, his heart swelled with love for her. She was the physical manifestation of the infinite love he had borne her mother. Today he did not find as much comfort in this as he had. Lily was no longer an idealized and distant dream from the past, but a woman whole and well, yet as remote from him as the moon.

  He clasped their child even more tightly. She let him hold her like that for only a few moments before squirming to get down. At three, she was impatient with being still for long. Once on her feet, she raced back to the carpet before the hearth.

  He glanced at Lily, who stood with her hands folded before her in awkward submission. It was clear that she meant to play the role of servant before Sabina with all seriousness. It was equally clear that she was uneasy with the part. He could not help feeling some sympathy for her position though a devil of mischief danced through his eyes. He said with overt graciousness, “There is no need to stand on ceremony here, girl. We are quite lax about such things.”

  Those lovely gray eyes narrowed and flashed silver lightning as she replied with ill-disguised resentment, “You are too kind, my lord. You need not be so familiar with a mere nursemaid.”

  An unexpected smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Oh, I assure you, I am not too kind. I am only as kind as you would have me be. And make no mistake, I am quite prepared to afford you whatever familiarity you may request.”

  She flipped the heavy fall of her hair back over her shoulder, her hands going to slender hips. “You may rest assured, sir, that I will make no such request.”

  Tristan knew that he had pushed her hard enough. Not only for her sake, but for his own peace of mind. The mere thought of being familiar with her was enough to warm his blood.

  He knew that she did not wish for a repeat of what had happened in the hunting lodge. Lily had been most clear on that.

  Nor did he, Tristan reminded himself. Drat the sense of humor that had made him speak so foolishly. In the past he’d loved teasing Lily with such talk, seeing her blush…kissing her…

  Damn!

  His voice emerged with a sharper edge than he intended as he went on. “It is time to go down for the morning meal.”

  Sudden trepidation clouded Lily’s expression as she whispered, “The rest of your family—do they think I am the child’s mother, as Benedict does?”

  Tristan shook his head with a glance toward Sabina, who was paying them no heed. He replied quietly, “Nay, and I will not tell them. Benedict is the only member of my family who has seen you or even heard of you. He was the one who found us on the night we had the accident. He saw you for the first time that night, and was certain you had died. Your arrival here has come as a complete shock to him.”

  She grimaced. “Have you then informed your… family that a new maid has come to care for Sabina?”

  He noted the hesitation and knew that Lily was far more enervated than she need be. “I have had time to tell no one. You must not be so apprehensive, Lily. As long as we have a care they will not find anything amiss.”

  “What of your brother, Benedict?”

  “Benedict will treat you with civility, as he would any of the castle folk. He was most clear in his opinion that we should keep your identity secret from Genev—other family members for the present.”

  Her gray eyes grew round. “How many are there in the family?”

  Tristan spoke matter-of-factly, trying to act as though it were no great matter, though he did recall that her family consisted of no more than her and her parents. “Two more brothers, Marcel and Kendran, both younger than myself. And then there is Genevieve…” he faltered only briefly “…whom I have told you about.”

  Lily seemed not to note his difficulty in speaking of Genevieve, which he knew was caused by his own feelings of guilt. “None of them will know me?”

  “They will not know you.”

  She looked in no way mollified by his assurances. “Please, could we not take the meal here this morn?” He was well aware of how much the question cost her pride. Lily did not care to plead.

  But her doing so only illustrated how much things had changed. His heart ached for her, and he grew even more resolved to help her find the woman she had been, no matter how painful it might be for both of them.

  He shook his head with determination, though he spoke gently. “Sabina always takes her meals with the rest of the family. They would wonder at such an unexpected change. I know you do not wish for anyone to question your presence here. To deviate from the child’s routine in that way would cause comment. Morning is the time when her uncles have the best opportunity to see and spoil her. They have other duties to attend throughout the day, and she is often abed when they return in the evenings.”

  Lily nodded slowly, though he could see that she was still not at ease with the notion of going down and facing so many strangers. He was beset by a sudden wave of sympathy. He spoke with amusement, though his voice was comforting beneath that light tone. “Have no fear. My family is kind, if somewhat overwhelming for someone who does not know them.” He paused and reached out a hand to her. “And I will be with you.”

  Lily looked up at him, his manner obviously having moved her, for those gray eyes were suddenly misty with gratitude and another fiercer emotion that he was afraid to even name.

  Her slender white hands, the ones that had run so hungrily over his heated flesh, reached toward him…

  “My lord?” A voice intruded from behind him.

  Barely restraining a guilty start, Tristan spun around. “Yes, Maggie?” he said, addressing the serving woman whom he had sent from the room the previous night.

  She dipped a respectful curtsy. “I came to see if the new girl had need of any aid this morn. It bein’ her first day.”

  Tristan waved toward his freshly washed and neatly dressed daughter. “I believe that all is fine here, though I thank you for your concern. Lily is doing quite well. You may go down to the hall.”

  The serving woman nodded and curtsied again, then went on her way. Tristan knew how fond all the servants were of Sabina, how they watched over her. He should not be surprised that Maggie would wish to make sure the newcomer was performing her duties properly.

  When he looked back at Lily, he could see that the moment of communication between them was gone. Her lovely face now wore that distant expression he was beginning to dread.

  How had they come to this? When his searching gaze swept her face, she would not meet it, and he knew he must stop thinking this way.

  What they had once had was no more.

  He walked across the room and reached down, picking up his babe from where she played on the carpet, oblivious to the tension between the two adults. Immediately she wrapped her chubby little arms around his neck. “I love you, Da.”

  He hugged her tightly against him for a moment, realizing just how many times he had done this while wishing Lily were here with them, sharing their love. Well, Lily was here, but she did not share their love, and it was shockingly more painful than being without her had been. Then he had had the dream of her as comfort.

  Tristan was determined not to let reality destroy what he did have, his daughter’s love. “I love you, too, moppet.” He nuzzled her warm
neck, then tickled her gently, making her squirm and giggle even as he turned and led the way from the chamber.

  Unfortunately, Tristan could not summon his usual feelings of happiness. He found he had none to draw on in this moment.

  His heart was heavy as a stone inside his chest, aching with what might have been. He was completely aware of Lily as she followed behind them— the rustling of her heavy woolen skirts, the ragged rhythm of her breathing, which indicated that she was agitated.

  Tristan forced himself to concentrate on the coming ordeal of introducing her to his family—Genevieve— without giving away the turbulent state of his own feelings.

  Lily held her head high as they entered the hall. She felt a slight amount of relief at seeing the state of controlled pandemonium that existed there. No one paid the least attention to her.

  She was emboldened to look about. The enormous chamber was filled to overflowing, and the sound of many voices engaged in cheery conversation created even more of an impression of chaos in her mind, giving her many things to think about besides her feelings about Tristan. Long, well-scrubbed tables had been set up along the length of the room, and many of the folk seated there had already begun to break their fast. It seemed they did not stand on ceremony by awaiting the nobler members of the household.

  It was a far cry from the quiet order of mornings at Lakeland Park, her family’s home. Yet rather than feeling out of place, Lily found herself drawn toward the activity.

  Glancing to the far end of the room, she could see that the head table was not yet full, though there were two young men seated there. She could only assume that they must be the two younger of Tristan’s brothers. Perhaps, she thought with no small degree of hope, Benedict would not make his imposing presence known this morn.

  Lily paused at this last thought. She had seen the man for only the briefest of moments. Was it fair to characterize him as imposing?

  She could not help admitting to herself that her desire to avoid seeing Benedict had something to do with the disconcerting fact that he, too, claimed to recognize her. Lily had as yet thought of no reason for either Benedict or Tristan to try to fool her into believing she was known to them, and the notion of seeing recognition in those blue eyes was daunting. The acknowledgment did not come without irritation toward herself.

  She raised her chin, determined to face this situation with courage despite the fact that her parents had protected her from any unpleasantness or difficulty at Lakeland. She still felt slightly out of her depth here. Oddly enough it made her feel stronger to know that she had to confront this on her own.

  As they made their way through the throng, Tristan was greeted by many. No one did more than glance in her direction with casual curiosity.

  The anonymity of being a servant would stand her in good stead. She was accustomed to being the only daughter in a noble house. Obviously, fine gowns and adorned hair earned their own respect. For the first time in her life Lily was less finely garbed than the people she was with. She eyed Tristan’s knee-length, dark brown houppelande with its fur-trimmed sleeves and neck. The long tan boots he wore had been cleaned and polished since the previous day and were a sharp contrast to the sturdy but much scuffed shoes upon her own feet. Yet she was more amused by this than annoyed.

  Except in the case of being subservient to Tristan.

  Of course, he had said that he would do all he could to ease her difficulty. He did not understand that it was he who made her situation even more difficult by displaying concern for her.

  For a moment, when he had reached out to her in Sabina’s chamber, Lily had felt almost as if he cared for her feelings. But that could only be a misperception on her part. If Tristan was telling the truth, his interest in her was about nothing more than proving he was right. He had been clear that he wished to maintain a distance between them.

  Her gaze went to his wide back as a frown of uncertainty marred her brow. He had made other remarks that made her less certain as to his motives. If he only wanted her here to acknowledge the past, why had he indulged in the sexual innuendo that not even she could fail to recognize?

  As she found her gaze lingering on the narrow curve of his hips in front of her, Lily was aware of an odd fluttering in her belly.

  Their small party came to the head table, and Lily told herself that she must concentrate her energy on keeping up her pose of servant before Tristan’s family. Even without his elder brother being present, the thought of playing her part before them was daunting. Surely that was what accounted for her extreme uneasiness. It was not caused by her thoughts of Tristan.

  It was only when the other two brothers—one a man, the other a lanky but handsome lad in his adolescence—looked up in surprise as they came to a halt at the table that she really took more note of them. Lily tried not to stare as Tristan motioned for her to sit next to Sabina.

  The two had very dark hair, like Tristan. Now that she saw them all together in the light she realized that Tristan’s hair was not black as she had first thought, but a rich sable. The others had darker locks, and though he was not present, she was sure Benedict’s was the deepest black, a shade that devoured light.

  They, like Tristan, seemed to prefer a longer version of the houppelande than the ones she had heard were favored by many at court. Their garments were rich in color and trimmed in fur.

  The elder of the two fixed her with two very blue eyes and said, “What have we here, Tristan?” Lily took note that those eyes were very like Tristan’s, as were the boy’s. In fact, both were quite handsome.

  Though not as handsome as their brother. The thought entered her mind before she could stop it.

  Her unwilling gaze went to Tristan as he replied matter-of-factly, “Marcel, Kendran, this is Lily. I have engaged her to act as maid to Sabina. She will, of course, take her meals with us in order to fulfill her duties.”

  Both young men nodded. She had no notion which was which until the younger of the two spoke. “I am Kendran. Welcome to Brackenmoore, Lily.” There was no mistaking the flirtatious gleam in his blue eyes as they slid over her.

  Tristan drew her attention to his scowling face by saying, “There will be none of that, Kendran. Lily is here to look after Sabina—that and nothing more.”

  Even Lily could see that Kendran was jesting as he arched a randy brow. “Saving her for yourself then, are you, Tristan? I wonder what Genevieve will say to that.”

  Even as he said the words, Lily felt that now familiar tightening in her abdomen at the very idea of Tristan keeping her for himself. And even worse, she knew an unwanted sense of resentment at the thought of the other woman’s claim on him.

  She was wrenched from her own disturbing musings by Tristan, who seemed oblivious to the fact that he was being teased. “I am not—”

  Kendran interrupted him by saying, “And here is that fair damsel now. What say you, Genevieve?”

  Lily swung around to face a fair young woman of no more than eighteen years. That she was beautiful was undeniable, with her gold-streaked brown curls and wide, ingenuous green eyes. The gown she wore was made of rich ivory satin, high-waisted in the latest fashion, with a wide, gem-studded collar. Her headdress was a dainty gold cap with a soft ivory veil that only drew more attention to the soft curls at her nape.

  Lily found herself fiddling with the bit of string she had used to secure her own heavy braid.

  When this vision spoke, it was in a sweetly modulated voice. “What say I to what, Kendran?” There was no mistaking the familial indulgence in her tone.

  “Why, to Tristan’s bringing such a lovely woman home to act as personal servant to Sabina?”

  For a moment there was surprise on her delicate face as she looked to Tristan. “I had not realized that you meant to engage a personal maid. I had thought you were going to Molson in order to see how work on the metal shield for the signal tower was progressing.”

  He shrugged. “That is why I went, and I can report that it is going very wel
l. It is true that I had not expected to engage a maid. But the opportunity to do so arose, what with Lily needing a position, being gently reared and well-disposed toward children. Sabina is getting of an age to need someone to begin to teach her, spend constant time with her. I hope you will welcome Lily into our home.”

  “Is that all you are going to tell us about how this came about then, Tristan?” Marcel asked, eyeing his brother mockingly.

  “There is nothing more to tell.”

  Genevieve watched him for a moment, then her sea green gaze focused on Lily. She felt it move over her entire length, clearly taking in the poor garments she wore, then come back to rest on her face. For a brief moment, Lily thought she saw uneasiness in the younger woman’s expression, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. If it had indeed ever been there.

  “Why, then I would say welcome, Lily.” There was not the least hint of anything but trust in those eyes—trust and the welcome Genevieve had extended with her words.

  Immediately Lily knew a sweeping sensation of guilt. She had betrayed this woman with the man she loved. Her own gaze dropped to the floor.

  Tristan addressed Lily, sounding somewhat strained to her own ears. “Lily, this is the lady Genevieve. She is to be my bride and thus Sabina’s mother and your mistress.”

  Hurriedly, Lily remembered to dip a curtsy. “I thank you for your kind welcome, my lady.”

  Genevieve waved a delicate white hand toward the laden table. “Shall we all begin then? Benedict will not be joining us this morn. I am quite famished, as I am sure is our Sabina.” The child smiled widely as Genevieve ran an affectionate hand over her dark hair.

  “Love you, Evie.” Her tiny fingers reached toward the gentlewoman.

  Genevieve bent and placed a quick kiss on her forehead before taking her place at table. “I love you, too, sweeting,” she replied.

  Lily felt an unexpected sense of loneliness, of yearning that brought an ache to her breast as she watched this simple exchange.