Winter's Bride

by Catherine Archer

  Sabina ran ahead, laughing at the antics of a stray puppy. Lily followed more slowly, feeling as if every eye in the courtyard must surely be upon her.

  Though she now realized that many of the castle folk were more than suspicious of her identity, she was unnerved. What mattered was that Tristan did not wish for Sabina to know the truth. That meant Lily would go on as before. It was her only opportunity to be so close to Sabina, her own daughter, whom she had come to love so very much in such a very short time.

  Even though she had not recovered the memory of bearing the child, she knew Sabina must be hers. Remembering how Tristan had touched her hair, and the tender and passionate emotions that gesture had aroused, made Lily realize there was little chance that he was not telling the truth about everything.

  Her yearning gaze fell upon that small dark head a few steps in front of her. Her child, her Sabina. The ache in her chest told Lily how greatly she would miss her.

  “Lily,” the little one called out, running back to her. She took her hand, bouncing in excitement. “I have something to show you.”

  Lily’s heart contracted as always when she looked into those ingenuous gray eyes. Such a love of life the child had! Tristan had given her that—Tristan and his family.

  Lily knew that if she was honest with herself, she had to admit that she would not want her with anyone else. Without even a memory of her own child, she would not have been a proper mother throughout the past three years.

  That Tristan had no patience or consideration for herself was another matter entirely. The ghost of the idealized love they had once shared was a hard taskmaster. It was impossible for him to accept Lily as she was now. And though that might hurt, she had no way to change the last three years, to be the girl he had known. She could be no one but herself, and she was just coming to know what ‘being herself’ meant.

  “Lily,” Sabina repeated, obviously growing impatient with her preoccupation. She tugged on her hand to get her attention.

  Lily put aside her painful thoughts to focus on the child. “What is it, dearest?”

  “I can show you something.” Those gray eyes sparkled like wet silver.

  Lily was awed by her beauty and the sheer wonder of just looking into those eyes, but she tried to behave as normally as possible. “Then show me, love.”

  Sabina peered about them, moving forward with stealthy intent. “Come, no one is looking.”

  Lily could not help laughing softly at this new game, though she did her best to disguise the sound with a cough. She knew that Sabina’s imaginings were very real to her.

  Sabina led her to a small stone shed at the far end of the castle grounds near the outer wall. All along the way the little one cast careful glances about them to see if anyone was watching. At the entrance she stopped and stole another look about the courtyard, putting her finger to her lips gleefully. Lily smiled and followed when she ducked inside the structure.

  It was no more than a storage shed. Along the walls were several narrow bins of different grains, and a stack of hay. More hay was strewn about the floor, but there was no obvious reason as to why this place would be their destination. Lily was just wondering what Sabina would do next when she went to the far end of the structure and squatted down to swipe at the hay covering the floor.

  Going over to her, Lily said, “What are you about now, poppet?”

  Sabina grinned up at her. “I am showing you the magic tunnel. You go down into it and come up on the outside.”

  With a frown Lily looked more closely and saw that the child had uncovered a portion of a door in the floor. Suddenly Lily realized just what it was she was being shown.

  It was a secret route out of the castle. Surely Sabina was not supposed to tell anyone of this, for it would be meant for use in only the direst of circumstances. As calmly as she could, Lily said, “How did you know about this, dearest?”

  Sabina grinned widely, her pink lips pursed with pride. “Da showed me. And I remembered.”

  “Did he say that you must keep it a secret?”

  Sabina nodded, frowning. “He says it is a family secret. You are family.” She beamed up at Lily again.

  Lily could not help being touched by this pronouncement, but she was not family. Gently she said, “Sabina, it would be best if you did as your father asked you and kept the secret. You really should not show this passage to anyone.”

  Sabina frowned once more, this time with puzzlement. “Even you, Lily?”

  Lily nodded emphatically. “Even me. You should not tell anyone unless you ask your father’s permission first.”

  Sabina shook her head. “Do not worry. I need not ask for you, Lily. Da loves you. He says it is good to share secrets with those you love. Just like he shared the secret with me.”

  Lily’s heart contracted with the unexpected pain these words brought. Quickly she said, “We must go from here now, Sabina, and we cannot come back. First, though, you must promise me that you will not tell anyone else about this without asking your da. Even if you think he…loves them.”

  Sabina seemed to sense Lily’s heightened emotion and take it seriously. She nodded her dark head. “I promise.”

  Hurriedly Lily led her back across the castle grounds. And all the while, she tried desperately to deny the misery she felt at Sabina’s mistaken assurances that Tristan loved her. But it did little good. For some reason she cared far too much about whom Tristan loved.

  “Tristan.”

  Hearing his name, he looked up from the drawing of the mount for the shield and saw Marcel standing in the doorway of the library. Tristan had been working on the drawing since speaking with Genevieve. He told himself that the work was pressing, that it must be finished soon. Yet in some part of himself, Tristan knew that he simply must find something besides his own painful thoughts of Lily and his hopeless love for her to fill his mind.

  But his welcoming smile died aborning when he noted the angry expression on his brother’s face. Having no clue what could have brought on such animosity, Tristan stood and moved toward him. “What has happened, Marcel?”

  “What Genevieve told me about you and Lily—is it true?”

  Tristan looked at him closely. “Genevieve did not come to you in complaint, of that I am sure. She would never do so.”

  Marcel looked at the floor. “Nay, she did not. I…we are friends.” His angry gaze then met his brother’s. “Genevieve and I have spent much time together since Lily arrived. She never said to me that she was unhappy, but I thought that she must be. How could it be otherwise? Today her distraction was even more apparent. I guessed that Lily had something to do with it and pressed for an explanation. Genevieve admitted very little and even that little grudgingly.” His eyes softened. “Genevieve would say nothing ill of you. It is I who am furious on her behalf. Why would you hurt her for this Lily?”

  Tristan frowned, studying Marcel, who seemed almost too protective of Genevieve. The thought that suddenly entered his mind was too preposterous. He pushed it aside. Marcel was the most excitable of them all, the most apt to erupt in anger or pleasure. Tristan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I acted rashly, yes, without thinking, but I did not intend to hurt her, though that has been the outcome.”

  “You are right to take the responsibility upon yourself.” Marcel added, “So it is true about Lily then.”

  Tristan shrugged. “You want to hear me say that Lily is Sabina’s mother. Very well, Lily is Sabina’s mother.”

  “No, Tristan, that much I had seen some time ago. I mean is it true that she is nobly born, that none of us must know of her identity because she is leaving Brackenmoore and wishes to keep her ever having been here secret?”

  So Marcel had been aware of Sabina being Lily’s daughter, too. Just hearing his brother say the words was difficult for Tristan, for he realized how very foolish he had been to think no one would know. He nodded as he replied, “Yes, it is true. Lily is nobly born and yes…she is leaving…” He looked do
wn at his hands, fighting an overwhelming wave of sorrow. “And yes, she does wish to keep the fact that she has been here secret.”

  Marcel rushed on, seeming oblivious to his pain. “And is it true that Benedict knew the whole time?”

  Again Tristan nodded, and Marcel exploded in anger anew. “How could either of you have done that to Genevieve? She is the most beautiful, loyal, loving woman. What could have possessed either of you to shame her so?”

  Once more Tristan was shocked at the vehemence with which the words were spoken, surprised at Marcel’s accurate, but undeniably idyllic description of Genevieve. He tried to answer with sensitivity, to concentrate on calming his brother. “Has Genevieve told you that she is shamed? She said nothing of such to me, but led me to believe that she understood what we had done.”

  Marcel blushed. “Nay, she did not say as much, but how could it be otherwise? She is just so good and decent that she does not wish for you to feel you have hurt her.” He put his palm to his chest. “It is I who cannot sit idly by and allow this to go on.”

  Tristan turned away so that Marcel would not see the pain in his face as he replied, “It will not go on. As I said, Lily is leaving. She has written to her father, and the letter has been sent this very afternoon.”

  Marcel seemed somewhat mollified by this, though there was still a trace of something that Tristan did not recognize in his dark blue gaze. The words Marcel spoke, “It is for the best,” brought him enough anguish that he could not even bring himself to try to understand why his brother was acting so strangely.

  Tristan answered despite the tightness in his throat, “Aye, I suppose you are right.”

  Finally some of Tristan’s pain must have penetrated Marcel’s outrage, for he came close to the table, his gaze darkening with a hint of sympathy. “I…I am sorry, Tristan, for whatever happened between you. We all thought that she was dead. To learn that she is not is, well, shocking, to say the least. If only it had turned out differently, then you and Genevieve would not have become engaged…” He had a faraway look in his eyes, then drew himself up. “But there is no way to turn back time.”

  Looking away, Tristan replied in a whisper, “Yes, and there is no point in bemoaning it. We must all go on as we can.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Tristan had not had a good morning. He had realized after speaking to Marcel the previous afternoon that he must also talk with his other brothers. Marcel should not have had to come to him. It was up to Tristan to face what he had done.

  Thankfully, Kendran had taken the news about Lily much better than Marcel. Though he was young, he also had suspected that she was Sabina’s mother.

  Tristan had hoped that the astounding resemblance between mother and daughter would help Lily to see the truth. Not to have realized that others would see it seemed ridiculous now.

  Once the interview with Kendran was over, Tristan had gone to Benedict, who was working in the library. His brother seemed not in the least surprised by anything that had occurred, yet he did not chide his brother. Instead he leaned back and propped his fingers together, saying, “Well, this is what you wanted—for all the secrets to be out—and mayhap it is for the best.”

  Tristan sat wearily across from him. “Aye, it is what I wanted. But to what end?”

  Benedict looked at him closely. “I see how much this has affected you, brother. I hope you will no longer try to deny that you love her. And I believe, no matter what she might say, that Lily is also in love with you.”

  Tristan shook his head. “On that score you are wrong. She does not love me. She would never leave us of her own free will if she did. Even to aid her family.”

  Benedict shrugged. “Believe what you will, Tristan. The fact that she is willing to go is a mark of her love, in my estimation.”

  There was no way Tristan could make his elder brother understand the way it was between him and Lily. He would not even try.

  Benedict spoke again. “What will you do now?”

  “Wait for her father to come for her. What else is possible?” He was aware of the defeat in his own voice, but could not summon the energy to hide it.

  Benedict watched him closely as he stated, “I have but one bit of advice, and it is yours to take or leave. Do not avoid her. Face your feelings so that you can come to terms with them before Lily is gone. For both your sakes, try to understand why she is doing this, however misguided you believe her to be.”

  Tristan returned his searching look. “You have never been in love, Benedict, do not know how it would feel to have the woman you love choose to follow the will of others rather than be with you.”

  “That is true enough, and it is unlikely that I shall ever love that way. When I marry it will be to provide the best mistress for Brackenmoore, the best mother for its heir.” There was resignation in his tone, and Tristan realized anew what a burden the lands and title must be.

  Yet mayhap ‘twas better never to have loved the way he loved Lily. The loss of that love caused more pain than any man should have to endure.

  Tristan did not wish to accept it, but he could not help wondering if there was some value in Benedict’s advice. His brother was not one to offer such without due consideration.

  Could it be true that Lily was not as wrong here as he believed? Could it be his own misery that made him see the situation as he did?

  Perhaps he must face her, spend time with her, to discover just what the truth might be.

  Thus it was that he entered the kitchens some time later. He stopped upon the threshold, a fond smile curving his lips in spite of his pain as he heard the trill of childish laughter. He followed the sound to find Sabina and Lily seated at a table near the hearth.

  Maggie had told him that they would be here.

  Both Lily and Sabina had their hands buried in dough. The bowl of spiced apples nearby made it obvious that the two of them were in the midst of making a sweet pie.

  He stood there for a long moment, enjoying the sight of his daughter and her mother, their black hair mingling as they bent close. If things had been different, if he and Lily were together, such a sight would be common.

  But they were not together. Lily was leaving.

  At that moment she looked up, as if sensing his presence, and her easy smile died. An expression of wariness replaced it.

  Tristan tried to repress the regret that rose inside him. He had not wanted her to feel wary of him.

  Luckily Sabina also glanced up at the moment, her face beaming as she saw him. “Da, come and see. Lily is helping me to learn to make a pie.”

  Tristan smiled, albeit stiffly, and moved toward them. He looked down at his daughter’s doughy fingers as she held them up for his inspection. “Where is Genevieve? Did she not wish to help?” he asked. He had not fully accepted that Genevieve had not been hurt by what had gone on, especially after she had ended their engagement. He wanted her to feel that her relationship with Sabina was to continue as it had always been. He had made an effort to speak easily when mentioning Genevieve. He saw that he had failed miserably when he saw Lily’s face take on a pained expression.

  Maeve was the one who replied. “Lady Genevieve has gone down to the village to call upon master mason Jack and his family.”

  Tristan could think of nothing more to say about Genevieve. All he could think of was that it was difficult to see Lily, after all they had done and said. One moment they had been making love as if they two were the only ones in all the world. And in what seemed the next instant, all hope of their ever being together was gone like so much dust.

  He did not know if he would be able to do as Benedict had advised. How could he be near her and know she could not be his?

  Yet that was exactly what he knew he must attempt to do—until she was gone. The thought was even more disturbing than the previous one.

  * * *

  Lily could feel Tristan standing there, his blue eyes fixed upon her. She could not have failed to note his deliberate mention of Gen
evieve.

  He could have saved his breath. She needed no reminder that Tristan was bound to another woman— another life.

  What other reason could he have for coming near her? All that could be said had been, and still he refused to understand her.

  When Sabina turned to her and said, “What is next, Lily?” it took a moment for the words to penetrate her agonized thoughts.

  “Lily?” The child’s tone was insistent.

  Shaking her head to clear it, Lily forced herself to attend what she was doing. Remaining too aware of Tristan’s dark scrutiny, Lily showed the little one how to roll the dough out to create a pocket for the filling.

  Even though her hands quivered more than Lily would like, no one else seemed to take note and the pastry was soon finished. Lily turned to Maeve with a fixed smile. “Could you please see that this is baked now?”

  Maeve came forward quickly. “Certainly.”

  Sabina eyed her closely. “You will bring it back?”

  Maeve ruffled the little one’s black locks. “I will do you one better than that, my young lady. You shall have it with your dinner.”

  Sabina settled back, appeased. She turned to her father. “You shall have a bite.”

  He came toward them, and Lily felt the heat of him as he bent to give Sabina a kiss on the forehead, saying, “What a generous girl you are.”

  Sabina’s smile widened farther.

  He smiled back at Sabina and Lily’s heart pounded in her chest. She gave a silent sigh. It had ever been that way when he smiled at her, even the first time. And immediately as that thought entered her mind, so did a vision—a vision of a slightly younger and more carefree looking Tristan. More images bombarded her—a green meadow, brightly colored banners, stalls filled with food and merchandise, young folk from all walks of life. A beribboned maypole, the sound of laughter, including her own…the strange but wonderful touch of lips on her own for the first time…