Winter's Bride

by Catherine Archer

Sabina looked up at Lily with those large gray eyes, seeming somehow to sense her agitation, for she cocked her small dark head to the side and murmured, “Love you, too, Lily.”

  Lily’s heart turned over as a wave of indescribably sweet emotion swept through her, warming her from the inside out. For reasons she could not even begin to explain, she was more moved by this childlike utterance than she would have dreamed possible. Deliberately dragging her gaze away from those beguiling eyes, so like her own, she took in a deep breath, glad that the others seemed not to have taken note of her reaction.

  Then something, some inner knowing, made her look up. Tristan, who had taken a place on the other side of Sabina, was staring at her. She knew that he, too, had heard the babe’s words, for his face seemed pale in spite of his sun-darkened complexion. Lily raised her head high. Clearly he was disturbed by Sabina’s declaration.

  He might be willing for Lily to be here—to know her child—but he did not wish for the child to love her. His displeasure was hurtful. But that was ridiculous, because Lily had no care for what Tristan thought. Yet that did not ease her misery. She began to prepare a plate of soft white bread and porridge for Sabina, unable to make a reply to Sabina’s heartfelt words. It was not possible to do so past the lump of sorrow in her throat.

  When Lily turned back, the babe was smiling at her, her gray eyes soft with acceptance and compassion. Again, Lily was overwhelmed by the rise of gratitude and, she could not deny it, love inside herself.

  Pity the woman who had birthed this child and lost her.

  And what if she is yours? that irrepressible voice whispered.

  Dear God, if she was, then heaven help them all. For Lily was no longer sure she could walk away and never look back. Already the little one was getting beneath her skin, finding a place in her heart.

  No matter what happened, there was nothing she could do but walk away. The role of mother to Sabina had been filled by the woman Tristan was to marry, and clearly filled very well.

  As the others began to eat, Lily concentrated all of her attention on assisting her charge. Shame left her unable to look at any of the others.

  Until now, Genevieve had been no more than a name, a faceless woman who seemed disconnected from the strange attraction between Lily and Tristan. Now his fianceée was all too real. And even worse, she was as kind and gentle as anyone could be. Lily realized she had made a terrible mistake by coming here. She had wanted, needed, to find out what was behind her own strange feelings. She had not thought about the people who could be hurt by her own selfish desire.

  If only there were some way to turn back time, to alter her own reactions from the moment Tristan had kissed her. But she could not.

  Only her desperate need to know if this babe was indeed her own, however remote the possibility, kept her from walking out the door.

  Chapter Five

  Tristan knew he had to say something to Genevieve.

  But what?

  He would not tell her the truth of Lily’s identity. As Benedict had said, there could be no purpose in that. What he and Lily had had was now gone.

  He found Genevieve in the laundry instructing the maids about where to hang the linens to dry on such an overcast day. In spite of her youth when she had begun overseeing the household, Genevieve had always been a diligent housekeeper. She spent most of her time making sure the castle was run smoothly, with a care to the comfort of the family. She had done so since first coming to Brackenmoore some four years ago, at age fourteen.

  When her parents had died, leaving her the sole heir of their holdings, she had fallen to the care of Maxim, Earl of Harcourt.

  Genevieve had run away after only a matter of weeks. She had come directly to Brackenmoore, since the Ainsworths had been longtime friends of her parents. Though it had proved difficult, Benedict had become her guardian by applying to Richard of York, who was protector of the realm during one of King Henry’s periods of madness. He had managed to have her named Benedict’s ward. It had all been settled before Maxim had been able to determine her whereabouts.

  The arrangement had been a happy one for the four brothers and for Genevieve. She was accepted into their family effortlessly.

  Of her time with Maxim, Genevieve had spoken very little other than to say that he had attempted to force himself upon her, but she had escaped harm. They had wanted to avenge her, but she had begged them to leave be. She wanted only to put that time behind her, and Tristan was sure that his brothers agreed with his feeling that her wishes should be honored.

  It had not been until six months past that Genevieve had come to Tristan to say that she wished to remain a member of the family for always. She already felt as if she was a mother to Sabina. Tristan could not disagree with the latter. She cared for the little one as deeply as any mother could, had done so since the child arrived at Brackenmoore, though Genevieve had been only fifteen at the time.

  He had felt honor-bound to tell her truthfully that he did not love her in that way. He did not bother to add that he felt he would never love another woman as he had Lily.

  Genevieve was unmoved by this declaration, assuring him that she did not expect as much. It was apparent to her that he would not love again. That was why she had chosen him—that and Sabina. She felt the other three Ainsworth men still had hearts to give elsewhere.

  Though he had been somewhat taken aback, Tristan had been so affected by her forthright manner that he had replied that he would proudly be her husband. He had then asked when she would like to seal the bond.

  She had kissed him on the cheek with a gentle smile and said there was no rush. She felt he must have his own time to become accustomed to the notion. With that she had simply gone on about her work, seeming to be content as things were.

  As was he.

  Now, looking at her, Tristan wondered at his own perfidy. Surely he could not keep such a lovely, gentle woman waiting for him indefinitely.

  And he would not. Once Lily had satisfied herself enough to return to her new life, he would ask Genevieve to set a date for their marriage. He did love her, in a way that was likely more good for him than the overwhelming passion he had known for Lily.

  His newly realized resolution made him say her name with more than his usual care. “Genevieve.”

  She swung around to face him with a smile. “Tristan. Did you wish to speak with me?”

  He reached out to take her hand as she came forward. “Yes, sweet, I did.” He looked at the serving women. “I would do so privately if you are not too busy.”

  She squeezed his fingers with her own small ones. “I am never too busy to speak to you. Let us go out into the courtyard.” Genevieve released his hand to take up her cape from where she had laid it on a bench near the door.

  Tristan took it from her and placed it over her shoulders, then drew her outside. He watched as Genevieve pulled her wrap close around her in deference to the coolness of the day. She looked up into the cloudy sky overhead. “Do you think there will be snow?”

  He shrugged. “It may come. The air has that crispness to it. But not before night, I think.”

  Genevieve nodded, continuing to look up at the sky as she walked beside him.

  Tristan stopped her, putting a gentle hand on her arm and meeting her gaze. “I should have told you that I was going to bring home a maid for Sabina. I meant no slight to you in that.”

  She nodded. “Have no concern for me on that score. I understand. You are her father and need not answer to me for every action.”

  He frowned gently. “I want you to know that I respect and care for you greatly, Genevieve. I wish only to treat you with the honor you deserve. At no time would I deliberately hurt you.”

  She smiled. “Of course you would not.” She looked at him then, and he had the feeling she was seeing far more than he would have wished. But all she said was, “You are a good man, Tristan. Of that I have no question. You will do what is right.”

  Far from reassuring him, as he kne
w her words were meant to, they only served to make him feel more the knave. Tristan had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her all. Only the memory of Benedict’s advice not to reveal Lily’s identity for the moment kept him from doing so.

  He spoke with rough emotion. “You give me too much credit.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then turned and walked away before he lost the tight rein he had on his tongue, resolving as he did so to attempt to be worthy of her trust in the future.

  * * *

  Lily had not expected Genevieve to put in an appearance in Sabina’s chambers so soon after the morning meal. Yet there she was, standing in the doorway, her arms ladened with cloth.

  She seemed to almost hesitate there as Lily looked up from where she was searching for Sabina’s wrap in the chest at the end of the bed. Lily was surprised at this. She was a servant here, Genevieve the lady of the castle.

  Lily stood quickly. “My lady.”

  Genevieve nodded graciously. “How are you settling in?”

  Lily glanced over at where Sabina was playing on the carpet, then indicated the open trunk. “I was looking for a cloak so that I could take Sabina out for a while. Lord Tristan had said I might before he left.” Tristan had said precious little else, seeming more than eager to be away from Lily when he brought them back here after the morning meal.

  Sabina smiled at the golden-brown-haired woman over her doll’s head. “Lily and me are going outside?”

  Genevieve smiled in return. “Of course, moppet. Your da has said as much. But would you mind if I talked to Lily for a few moments first?”

  Sabina nodded. She held up the doll. “I will play with my baby. Lily lets me bring her outside.”

  Genevieve’s expression was openly admiring. “She’s lovely. Lily will be very good to you.”

  Sabina smiled happily, her full attention going back to the toy.

  Genevieve then turned back to Lily. “A walk in the fresh air will suit her well. Like her father, she does appreciate the outdoors.”

  Lily looked at the floor at the mention of Tristan. She wished to give no hint of familiarity toward him.

  Genevieve fell silent for a moment, then raised the bundle of cloth as she came forward. “I thought you might have need of some things. Maeve did not think you had any belongings with you when you arrived last night.”

  Lily blushed. Of course the head woman would think that odd. A gently reared maid turned servant would have some possessions. Hers had all been left behind when Tristan abducted her. Her fingers twisted in the rough wool of her skirt as her thoughts went longingly to all the lovely new gowns in the trunks that had been left behind at the inn.

  “Lily?” Genevieve prodded.

  She blushed again, realizing that the other woman was still awaiting a reply. Stiffly, she said, “They were correct. I brought nothing save what I am wearing.” Her embarrassment at the admission was acute. She then said the first words that came to her mind. “There was a fire.” Immediately she felt like a fool. It was a poor excuse at best.

  Yet Genevieve seemed to accept the lie as fact, coming toward her with a kind smile as if sensing her discomfort. “Then these might be of some use to you.” She laid the bundle of fabric on the bed, smoothing it out. Now Lily could see that what she had taken to be cloth was in fact several gowns. There was one of a dark blue, one of black and another of gray. Without thinking, Lily reached out and ran a hand over the fine wool. From beneath these also peeked the edges of softer colors and fabrics that must be undergowns. Though of somber hues, the garments would be much more comfortable against her skin, and could not help being more attractive than the one she now wore.

  Her throat constricted with emotion at this woman’s thoughtfulness. Now more than ever she felt guilt at what she had done with Tristan.

  Lily spoke softly, without looking at the other woman, afraid she would give away too much of what she was feeling. “There was no need for you to go to any trouble on my behalf, my lady.”

  Genevieve answered hurriedly, “I have gone to no trouble, beyond taking them from the bottom of my trunk. The gowns were not in use and only gathering dust. Besides, you are Sabina’s companion and should be garbed as befits your position.”

  Of course, Genevieve was correct. Lily nodded. She was not a scullery maid and must dress in a manner suitable for the honor of their household. How could she refuse under the circumstances? Genevieve was her mistress, a nobleman’s daughter her charge.

  “I thank you, my lady. You are very kind.” And as she said this, Lily knew that it was true. Genevieve had offered her these garments because of her gentle heart, not because of appearances. And in spite of the fact that she must wonder at the strange manner of Lily’s arriving here with Tristan. Kendran’s remarks could not have helped that.

  Lily was not sure she would have been as quick to heed Tristan’s assurances that all was well. Yet Genevieve had believed him without question.

  And well she should, Lily told herself quickly. There was nothing else to tell. That one disastrous mistake would not be repeated.

  Genevieve was speaking again. “I am not of your height, thus you may have need to lengthen the gowns. I believe that will not prove difficult, as there should be sufficient fabric at the hems.”

  Lily nodded. “Thank you. I shall manage very well.”

  “I will send one of the women with a needle and thread, as well as some undergarments. She will also help you with the alterations.”

  Lily could only nod. There were no words that would come close to her feelings of gratitude and unworthiness at such kindness.

  The other woman seemed to understand some of Lily’s uneasiness, though certainly not the cause of it, for she went to Sabina, gave her a quick kiss on the head, then said, “I have much to do now, so I will leave you two to make ready for your outing.”

  Again, Lily found herself unable to make any reply. She curtsied deeply.

  When Genevieve was gone, Lily picked up the gray gown and held it before her. It was a bit too short, but the bodice had been decorated with carefully stitched pink rosebuds and delicate leaves, strung together with a chain of the same green thread. It was also fashioned more in the manner of her own lost gowns, with a high waistline, wide skirt and long train. Searching through the pile, Lily found an underdress of the same color of soft green as the stitching that decorated the bodice of the gray gown.

  Eagerly she held up the other gowns. The sleeves and bodice of the black were stitched with rows of white fleurs-de-lis. There was a snow-white underdress to wear with it. The dark blue gown, though not adorned with embroidery, had a wide V-shaped collar and could only be meant to compliment the sky blue underdress and sash of the same fabric.

  Lily could hardly believe her eyes. Not until this moment had she realized how very much she disliked wearing the ill-fitting brown sack. How good it would be to change out of it.

  Unnoticed, Sabina had gotten up and wandered over to stand beside her. Lily looked down as the child said, “Lily has pretty dresses now.”

  Yes, they were pretty, but admiring them would have to wait. Lily was determined to repay Genevieve’s kindness as conscientiously as possible. First, she had to fulfill her duties as Sabina’s caretaker.

  She ruffled the child’s hair. “Aye, very pretty. But let us not think about dresses. Let us go outside.”

  Her reward was a beaming smile that made her heart twist with the sweetness of it. As she left the chamber with Sabina’s tiny hand in hers, Lily reminded herself anew that she had no intention of betraying Genevieve. This child and her father belonged to her.

  Later, at the evening meal, Lily tried not to care that Tristan cast her no more than one brief and expressionless glance on her arrival in the hall. He seemed not to even notice the black gown, which the servant Maggie had helped her to alter during the afternoon, while Sabina slept.

  Once they were all seated, Benedict’s assessing gaze, however, weighed heavily on Lily, where she sat
beside Sabina. “I spoke with our neighbor, Henry Langley, this morning,” he announced. “He tells me that there is a rumor that the Earl of Harcourt is scouring the countryside for his missing bride. It seems the young woman disappeared from an inn even as she was on her way to marry him. Word has it that he will kill anyone who had a hand in her disappearance.”

  Lily felt the blood drain from her face in a sickening rush. Her horrified gaze flew to Tristan, who was looking at his brother closely. He spoke casually, but she was not unaware of the intensity in his gaze. “Really, Benedict. Have you any personal concern in this matter?”

  “Not I.” Benedict shrugged. “With what is known of the man, I wish him no luck in finding the poor girl. She could not fare worse than with her own fiancé.” Lily looked at him in shock, sure she must have somehow misunderstood him. Benedict was watching Genevieve, who, though normally fair of complexion, was now white as bleached linen. Lily could not help wondering what had caused her such obvious fear. Benedict spoke to her gently. “Maxim Harcourt is no longer a threat to you, my dear. He would not dare trespass here.”

  Even further shocked, and wondering what he could be talking about, Lily sat stunned as Genevieve nodded. There was still anxiety in her eyes as she said, “I am not afraid. I but feel pity for the young woman who might find herself wed to such a man.”

  Stranger and stranger indeed, Lily thought in confusion. She glanced to Tristan, who was watching her carefully, his gaze assessing.

  Lily looked away. What reaction did he expect from her? That they seemed to hold Maxim in such low esteem was more than surprising, but meant nothing to her. She had no notion of what he might have done to make them believe thus. She knew no ill of him. Her own parents had carefully chosen him for her.

  Her father had made it clear that he felt the older and more mature man would make a good and dependable husband. If he were such a poor character as to warrant the reactions seen here, her father would not have chosen him.