“Nay.” Cristiana drew back, her dark eyes imploring him to understand. “The bishop knew my mother, yet he denies it. I believe I now have proof.”
“What sort of proof?”
“My mother gave Branwen a crosier ring before she died and told her to give it to me. She only recently remembered, when the brass crosier was installed at the cathedral. I need to find something that links that exact ring to the bishop.”
“And how do you intend to do that?” William asked. “Do you think you can simply ask? He’s already lied to you.”
“Which is another strike against him. He had no reason to lie unless he was hiding something.”
“Cristiana, I am asking you to stop this madness. He is not one to be trifled with. The more time you spend with him, the more I worry he’ll do something to hurt you.”
She bit her lip, making him realize the bishop already had.
“You know he’s going to test you again, most likely far worse than what he’s already put you through.”
“I won’t subject myself to anything more.”
He shook his head. “You won’t be able to resist. He’ll bring sick children again. Then what?”
“Somehow, I’ll have to refuse. Don’t you see? I am closer each day to discovering his secrets. And one of those secrets has to do with my mother. How can I leave now?”
The desire to pick her up and carry her away surged through him. He was bigger. Stronger. He could take her with him at this very moment. Eventually she would see the wisdom of his decision.
Even as he shifted to lift her, she laid her hand on his cheek, making him pause.
“William, I must see what else I can discover. I have to know what happened to my mother, and the only new information I have so far is from here. She deserves justice. Wouldn’t you do the same if it were your mother?”
He put his hand over hers, his resolve weakening. “If you find the bishop was involved, what will you do?” He could tell she hadn’t truly considered. He pressed his point, hoping she would see reason. “Revenge will not give you what you seek. It will not give her back to you.”
“I know, but I can’t let it rest. Her soul will not be at peace until I discover who killed her and why. I’m convinced it wasn’t a random bunch of thieves.”
His heart heavy, he realized how committed she was. But that was something he’d known since he’d met her. Before he could try further to convince her, she put her finger on his lips.
“Please understand. I have to see this through.”
Longing pierced him, deep and sharp. How had she come to mean so much to him in such a short time? The arch of her brow, that upturned nose, her husky voice. His gaze dropped to her lips and all else fell away. He bent his head and captured her lips, unprepared for the desire that swept through him. She returned his kiss with heated fervor. His tongue met hers in a sweet dance. He held her tighter as she leaned into him. Her form was warm and soft against his.
All his thoughts fled. He eased back to press kisses along her delicate jaw and the softness of her neck, her sigh all the urging he needed. His hands roamed lower to her hips, pulling her against him. The rounded curves of her bottom fit his hands perfectly.
Her fingers twined in his hair as she captured his lips with hers. Nothing had ever felt this good, this right. He’d desired women before but this was different. She was different. The rest paled in comparison. His passion rose quickly, set aflame by her response.
A horse in the stables snorted, breaking the spell that bound them. He broke the kiss and eased Cristiana into the shadows of the building. The muttering of a stable boy could be heard, then all fell silent once again.
“I’d better return to the manor,” Cristiana whispered.
“I’d rather you come with me.” William couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go. The idea of taking her away was difficult to resist, yet he knew she wouldn’t thank him for it.
She smiled. “Don’t worry. I will send word if I have need of you. I can’t tell you what a comfort it is to know you’re nearby.”
“I’ll never be far.”
She reached up to kiss him, her lips lingering on his. “Good night,” she whispered.
“Rest, Cristiana, and be on guard against his next request.”
She nodded, then with one last smile, melted into the shadows, making her way back into the manor.
William watched until she entered the building, leaving his sight, but not so his heart.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cristiana glanced around nervously as she walked toward the bishop’s private chamber the next morn. Speaking with William the previous night had increased her urgency to find the proof she needed. The longer she remained here, the greater the risk. She well knew the bishop would put her in another impossible situation and she’d feel obligated to heal.
The entire manor was quiet. Nearly everyone had attended mass since the bishop was leading it, something she’d learned he rarely did.
Her mouth dry, heart thudding, she tried the door.
Locked. Just as she’d feared.
Murmuring a prayer asking for forgiveness, she used the key she’d managed to take from Father Daniel that morn when he’d visited her. Seeing it dangling from his belt had proved too great of a temptation. She’d told the priest she was too weak to attend mass, which wasn’t a complete lie. Though she felt better, lingering tiredness still plagued her.
With Father Markus roaming the manor at night, this was her best opportunity to search the bishop’s desk. Perhaps her only opportunity.
The lock opened easily and she breathed a sigh of relief. She pushed on the door with caution, prepared to lie and say she’d found the key in the door if someone was inside, but the room stood empty.
Quickly closing the door behind her, she hurried to the bishop’s large wooden desk. The ring glinted on her thumb. She wanted to see if she could match the crosier to anything the bishop had. Perhaps he’d used it to seal letters. Though many bishops had such a ring, each was slightly different, at least that was what Father Daniel had told her when she’d raised the subject. Bishop Duval wore a ring similar to the one in her possession but it had a red stone in it.
Which was why this risky search was a poor idea. The bishop had a ring already, making it unlikely that this one was his. But she had to take action soon—before the bishop came up with a new plan that endangered her even more than the last one.
She tried the top right drawer first. It held nothing but sheets of blank parchment. The next drawer contained a few letters addressed to the bishop, but the topics seemed to be regarding negotiations of rents for various properties. From what she read, apparently his tenants didn’t appreciate his suggested increases.
The center drawer was locked, so she continued searching the other drawers but found nothing of interest. With a sigh, she returned to the locked drawer. She didn’t have much time left. Mass would soon end.
Her knees shook as she tried to think of some way to open the drawer. The key she had certainly wouldn’t fit. After studying it closer, she realized it might not require a key after all. Her uncle, God rest his soul, had had a desk where if the drawer was lifted and then opened, it unlatched, like some sort of puzzle.
She knelt before the desk, then lifted and pulled. Nothing. But after staring at it, she realized it wasn’t in the proper position. She evened the drawer with the front of the desk and tried again.
Still nothing.
Frustrated, she examined it carefully and caught sight of a small lever along the left-hand side. Excitement filled her as she ran her fingers along the narrow crevice. She pushed the lever and tugged on the drawer. The latch clicked—a very satisfying sound.
The drawer slid open smoothly. She sifted through the correspondence, checking to see if any bore a wax seal. The very bottom letter had one. It looked much like the ring in her hand. She pressed the ring into the hardened wax and found it fit perfectly.
She no long
er had any doubt that this was Bishop Duval’s ring. Her heart thudded with the discovery. Now she need only find out why had her mother had it, but that seemed an impossible task.
A door closing somewhere in the manor made her realize her time had come to an end. She started to return the letter to its place and came upon another.
The handwriting was achingly familiar. A lump formed in her throat as she traced the words with her finger. The letter began, My Dearest Thomas, It pains me deeply to...
Muffled voices from outside the door broke through her shock. Hands shaking, she quickly folded the letter and tucked it and the ring into the bodice of her gown, then pushed the drawer back in place.
The door latch rattled. She was about to be caught! She glanced around the room for a hiding spot, but other than under the desk, there were none to be found.
Panic set in as the door swung open.
Cristiana sank onto the bench as Bishop Duval strode into the room, her hands shaking. She drew a slow breath, hoping to appear calm and unruffled, as though she’d been sitting there waiting patiently for some time.
“Why isn’t this door locked? I have told you time and again how important that is,” the bishop complained as he and Father Daniel entered the room. He stopped in surprise when he caught sight of her. “Cristiana? What are you doing in here?”
She raised a brow at his suspicious tone. “Waiting to speak with you.”
He quickly masked his scowl with a smile. “I’m delighted you’re feeling well enough to come to see me.”
“I’m still recovering, but gaining strength each day.”
A corner of the letter poked her skin with each breath she took. More than anything, she wanted to run to her chamber and read what her mother had written. Why had she called the bishop her ‘dearest Thomas’ when she’d warned Cristiana to stay away from him?
“I’m pleased to hear that.” He sat beside her on the bench, sending her heart pounding again.
It was all she could do not to glance down to make certain he couldn’t see the letter in the top of her kirtle.
“I must say I am surprised at how weak you are. I thought you’d be much stronger.”
Anger flashed hot. An infuriated retort came to her lips, but she bit it back. During her recovery, she’d realized he would never understand her gift. He would constantly try to push her into doing more than she could. Even if she healed ten people each day, it wouldn’t be enough.
“Healing takes much of my strength.” To hide her resentment, she bowed her head. “As I mentioned before, I am very limited as to what I can do. That is one of the reasons I prefer to keep my ability a secret.”
“I forgive you, my dear.” The bishop gingerly patted her hand. She pressed her nails into her palm to prevent herself from shoving it away.
How dare he! She hadn’t asked for his forgiveness nor did she intend to. He was the one who had put her in that terrible position. She bit her lip to keep her resentment hidden.
“’Tis all right, Cristiana. I am here to aid you.” He looked up at Father Daniel who stood nearby. “Leave us.”
Without a word, the man bowed slightly and left the chamber, shutting the door behind him.
“Now then.” The bishop took her hand in his. “I want to share with you my vision for our future.”
“Oh?” Cristiana met his gaze, her thoughts racing. She knew she wouldn’t like what he was about to say.
“With your ability at my side, I intend to make Longsbury Cathedral the largest church in all of England. People will come from far away to have the opportunity to meet us.”
“Us?”
“With your weakness, I will need to use my powers to aid you. I will lend you strength. We will do this together.”
“But—”
He held up his hand, palm out, to stop her. “There is no need to thank me. It is my duty. God has brought us together for this purpose.”
Indeed, she thought. God has brought us together, but I believe it is so that I may discover how you knew my mother.
He’d obviously lied to her about not knowing her mother. He seemed interested in healing only to the extent that it aided him and his master plan. He held little, if any, compassion for the people he wanted her to heal. Never mind that he had already tried to aid her to no avail.
A renewed determination filled her.
She had to control her anger and act cautiously, manipulating him as much as he tried to do so with her. She needed to find a balance between what he asked of her and protecting herself. If she could remain here until she had a chance to learn more, then she might have the chance to seek justice for her mother.
Yet she feared the bishop would present her with another situation where she’d be hard pressed to resist helping. She still had Father Robert to heal, the young priest among the three the bishop had brought her.
Perhaps the letter from her mother would explain everything and help solve the mystery of her death.
Perhaps soon, she’d be able to accept William’s offer to leave. The thought brought a lump to her throat.
With hope rising, she pulled her hand out of the bishop’s grasp. Delaying her recovery was her best option to give her some time to do what she needed to do. “I fear we will have to continue this discussion later. I am still very tired.”
He shook his head, his disapproval obvious. “I have to say that I’m disappointed in you, Cristiana. You are so weak. Your gift is an important one. You must find strength and press on.”
She rose, more determined than ever to make certain this man did not rule her life. Not now. Not ever. Surely she could petition the king to have someone else appointed as her guardian. She would worry about those details after she’d fulfilled her vow to her mother.
“I have lived with this gift all of my life. The one thing I’ve learned is that it is not something I can use to suit my whims or anyone else’s. I cannot heal someone each day, nor each week. I have to stay healthy and rested in order to help others.”
Bishop Duval rose slowly as though stiff. “Your well being is of the utmost concern to me, but surely you don’t intend to keep your ability to yourself and heal no one.”
Guilt filled her at his words even as she knew he was maneuvering her. But he was right. “I’d like to help Father Robert on the morrow if he is still unwell.”
The bishop waved his hand in dismissal. “He will be fine. I have someone far more important who requires your attention but it must be now.”
Cristiana shook her head, amazed at his audacity. “I’ve just told you I cannot help anyone. I am not yet strong enough.”
“Nonsense. This man needs your help as quickly as possible. You seem fine and he is willing to give a significant donation to the building of the new cathedral in exchange for your services.”
“You’re selling my ability to heal to the highest bidder?” Cristiana asked, incredulous.
“You make it sound like I’m some sort of mercenary when everything I do is for the benefit of the entire diocese. The larger cathedral will serve the community and aid all the people who live here.”
“I appreciate your desire to help others, but I will not be used in this way.”
“You are far too fragile. The more often you heal, the more stamina you will have. Trust me in this.”
“That is not true. You know nothing of my ability. I cannot heal until I rest more.”
“I need you to try. This is very important to me and to the cathedral. Can you not see that the entire city is already dependent on the success of the cathedral? If you refuse to heal this man, then construction will stop. The chapter has not approved the additional funds I’ve requested. But with this donation, they will see the wisdom of my plan.”
Apparently her expression told him her thoughts on the matter.
“Without the cathedral, many will be out of work,” he continued. “Rebecca’s father and Mary’s husband are among those building the cathedral. If more money is not approved
soon, they will have no work for the winter.”
“That is hardly my fault,” Cristiana protested.
“I will be sure to tell them that when they have no food or shelter. I’m certain it will bring them comfort.”
“Is that why you brought me here? To pay for your cathedral?”
“Of course.” He appeared amazed at her question. “What other purpose does your gift serve? You can’t be so selfish as to want to only use it when you see fit. It is God’s gift. Not yours.”
“God gave it to me for a reason. Not anyone else. Me. That means I decide when and where to use it.” His emphatic attitude was frightening her but she would not back down. Her life depended on it.
“You stupid, selfish woman.” He moved closer, the anger clear in his blue eyes. “How dare you defy me!”
She swallowed hard, trying to keep in mind her plan to remain in his good graces for a while longer. “I am not trying to be disobedient, but I must rest.”
He grabbed her wrist and squeezed tight. “You will do what I say or know the consequences.”
Fear washed through her as she thought of William’s story of those the bishop had injured. With weakness still blanketing her, she didn’t feel strong enough to fight him but healing now would prove too great of risk. She had to find a way to appease the bishop so she could continue looking for information on her mother.
“Surely you would rather I recover so that I might heal this person completely. If I am not at my best, my efforts will be unsuccessful. Then he will doubt my ability and think you are only after his money.”
Her wrist hurt where he continued to squeeze it but she held still, waiting to see if her words sunk in past his anger.
“This is far from over. Your attitude is unacceptable, just like your—” He stopped abruptly.
“Like who?” she asked, her heart stuttering.
He pursed his lips then pulled her toward the door. “You will remain in your chamber until I say differently. Do I make myself clear?”
“I am not a child—”
“Then stop acting like one. Father Markus!” he called out.
Vengeance 03 - Believe In Me Page 19
