“There is something we must talk about, something you must understand.” She lay back, silent, watching him, her gaze now unreadable in the shadows of the bed.
Christian heard the strain in his voice as he sought to speak around the tightness of regret in his throat. “I can offer you nothing more than what we have just had. I must go home to Bransbury. My father and I…we parted on uneasy terms when I left for the Holy Land many years ago. I have been back less than a year. In that time I have spent very little of it at home, where I am needed.”
She said nothing and Christian went on, trying to make her see reason. “My father has waited many years for my return.”
“So you would live your life now for your father?”
“He is not well. Can you not see that?”
Lord Greatham seemed to have recovered fairly well for a man who had just undertaken a long and worrisome journey. “I see that he has a limp, but he is far from being a cripple.”
Surely it was more than the state of his father’s health that drew Christian home. It was his own guilt over staying away, over not understanding that his father was grieving the loss of the woman he had loved with all his heart. He had not meant to treat Christian unfairly, but in his boy’s mind and heart Christian had not seen that.
He rubbed a hand over his face. “You will not even try to see it from my position. Jarrod and Aislynn leave for Bransbury come morning. That is not as things should be. Jarrod has his own duties, now that he has been named his brother’s heir.”
Rowena glared at him. “Why do you not go in their stead?” When he did not reply she cried, “It is only your determination to rid your conscience of another guilt that keeps you driving forward here.”
His lips tightened. He would not tell her how deeply he hurt at the thought of parting from her, of how it had kept him silent while others looked to his duties.
She held the cover about her. “Please turn around.”
He groaned in frustration, but did as she asked. He heard the soft rustlings as she donned her clothing. Yet he did not look, allowing her the armor of her garments if she required them.
The next sound he heard was the opening of his chamber door. As he swung about, it closed behind her. He raced to the door and jerked it open, coming to a halt as he saw Isabelle standing in the doorway of the chamber directly across the corridor.
She raised her brows even as a deeply troubled expression darkened her lavender eyes. He bowed to her as he stepped back to shield his lower half behind his door, saying softly, “Forgive me, Isabelle.” At the same time he scanned the hallway.
Empty.
Isabelle nodded, her gaze remaining troubled, but she did not go back inside. As she continued to watch him he realized that she wished for him to do so.
Again he bowed and did as he was expected. He wanted to go to Rowena, make her listen, but he dared not do that this night. He had no wish to cause more embarrassment to her or any others, for Christian could not but wonder if Isabelle had seen Rowena leave his chamber.
His answer was not long in coming after he left his chamber following a long and sleepless night. It seemed almost as if Isabelle had been awaiting him, for she emerged from the opposite door in a long warm cloak and said, “Would you do me the honor of taking a walk with me in the gardens, Christian?”
“It is I who would be honored.” He held out his arm, grateful that she was not too perturbed to take it.
Isabelle said nothing more until they were outside. There she paused beside him on the path and studied him closely. “I know not how to broach this subject other than to do so, my lord. I saw Rowena run from your room last night. I saw the state she was in.”
Christian frowned. “The state she was in?” At her impatient expression he sighed. “I wondered if you had.”
In spite of her obvious discomfort with the topic, Isabelle’s gaze held his as she added, “Aye, I have thought that there was something going on between you for some time. I know when a man wants a woman. After last night I wish to know what your intention toward her might be, for it seems to me that did you wish to court her, to offer her your heart, you would not make such a secret of your meeting or your feelings. Nor would Rowena be crying as she left your room.”
Christian watched her with a grimace of chagrin. “Are you asking me if I am considering taking her to wife?”
She nodded. “I am.”
Slowly he shook his head. “Nay, I wouldst not have her to wife. I—”
Isabelle’s expression hardened. “Then what, Christian, are you thinking?” Immediately she held up a hand. “Nay, tell me not, for I would save us both the embarrassment of hearing. Simply allow me to remind you that Rowena may very well be my sister, my only living kin, other than the madman who killed our father. Even if she were not, I would not have you offer her any less than the utmost honor. She is a good woman and has suffered much in her life.”
She paused for a moment, then continued. “Even if it were true that she was the bastard child of some unknown knight, have you forgotten that I myself am a bastard?”
Christian would not stand by and be accused of this. “That is as far from being a factor in my thoughts as anything could be, Isabelle. I only…” He took a deep breath. “I do not know what to say.”
Her fine black brows arched high. “I was afraid of that. Thus I must ask you to mind yourself where she is concerned. You will pursue her no more.”
Christian bowed stiffly. “I had not intended to do so. What happened last eve was a mistake that will not be repeated.”
With a jarring start, Rowena realized that their discussion was at an end, and she put her hands up to her burning cheeks. Dear God! That Isabelle and Christian would discuss her that way was mortifying, to say the least.
She had come down to the garden to think, to try to make some sense of the chaos of her life. Never had she expected to overhear this conversation when she had secluded herself behind a formal hedge. She had thought only of her privacy, of avoiding any chance meeting with Christian.
Once they had gone on she rose and hurried back into the keep, keeping a careful eye out for Christian and Isabelle. She would not have them see her coming in from the gardens.
Even as she hurried through the door of her own chamber she kept hearing Christian say, “Nay, I wouldst not have her to wife.” Though he had said as much that day when he had carried her from the pond, the words hurt.
The fact that she would now not have him if he were the last man alive in no way lessened the tight, aching pain she felt in her chest. For Rowena did know that if things had been different, if he had wanted her, she would have gladly gifted him with her heart, her mind and her soul.
He simply did not want them.
She wanted to throw herself down upon the bed and sob out all the pain and loneliness inside her. She could not do that. She must hold herself together, must decide what to do.
For one thing she did know for certain was that she could no longer abide here. Nothing had been gained by her coming to England, not by her or by anyone else.
She must go home, back to Ashcroft and the life she knew. It was the only hope she had of finding any semblance of peace in her life again.
However, Rowena knew that the last weeks had changed her. They had made the thought of living without Christian, no matter how much he had hurt her, so painful that it took her breath away.
Yet that was what she would—must—do.
She realized that one of the very things Christian held most dear in life, helping her to attain her father’s land, was what made her untenable to him. He was convinced that he owed his future, his life, to his own father.
Thus he had nothing to give to her, even if he had wanted to.
Unfortunately, she had no way of leaving Avington without telling them. This would mean speaking to Christian, and to Isabelle, who clearly knew that she and Christian had…
Rowena drew herself up. It would simply have to be faced
, and without delay. They would all be at table this morn. Telling them then would be easiest. She would not need to face either of them alone.
Holding her head high, she went down to the hall. Christian, Isabelle and Simon were already there.
She felt Isabelle’s and Christian’s close attention upon her as she seated herself next to the former.
While attempting to eat the meal that was placed before her, she cast a quick glance at their faces. They had become more dear to her than she would have imagined possible in such a short time, and she felt a deep ache of regret in her chest. Thus it was with a slight trace of huskiness in her voice that she said, “Your pardon. I would beg a moment of your time.”
An expectant silence fell.
She especially felt the weight of Christian’s blue eyes, eyes that had looked at her with such naked desire, but were now guarded.
Feeling even more uncertain with them watching her, Rowena took a deep breath. “I wish to tell you all that I have decided to go back to Ashcroft.”
For a long moment the silence deepened. Then Simon said, “What has brought this about?”
Rowena dared not allow herself to even glance in Christian’s direction as she replied, “I…it seems there is nothing more to be gained by my remaining here. No one has said a word of what was revealed by the man who arrived during the meal last eve. We are at a stalemate.”
It was Isabelle who said, “But have you not been told? Christian’s father has gone to a place called Brillington, to bring back a lady who knew Rosalind.”
Rowena felt her eyes widen. “Truly?” Then she flushed, deliberately avoiding looking at Christian as she realized that he had said nothing of this when he had told her the previous night about Jarrod and Aislynn’s leaving.
The shame of remembering their conversation and all that had led up to it made her shake her head. “But this may not prove of any help, at any rate.”
Isabelle’s lovely eyes pleaded with her to yield. “That need not mean anything. Even if we find out nothing more I would have you live here with us, Simon and me. Would we not welcome her, my love?”
He nodded, his gaze troubled as he took in his wife’s sadness. Then he turned to Rowena. “Aye, we would be glad of your presence here.”
Rowena was aware of that ache of regret in her chest again as she said, “Please, Isabelle, allow me to choose for myself. I do have another life, folk who love me and whom I love.” Though she would miss this woman greatly, Rowena could not bear to be so near Christian even if she were willing to give up her other life.
Again silence descended.
Finally Simon said, “We must accept your wishes in this.”
Rowena looked to him with gratitude. “Thank you.”
Isabelle spoke softly, and Rowena saw that her lavender eyes were now damp. “I will not say anything more other than that I shall miss you.”
“As I will you,” Rowena whispered around the lump in her throat.
“When do you wish to go?” Isabelle asked.
“As soon as it can be arranged.”
Isabelle sighed. “We must pack your belongings and ready an escort.”
Rowena stopped her, shaking her head. “I shall take no more than I brought. Anything else I have attained here was given to the woman you hoped to learn was your sister.”
Isabelle held her gaze. “And has been, be it only in my heart. I beg you not to cast my love back at me by returning my gifts.”
Realizing that she could not hurt this dear woman, who had given so much more than garments, she nodded. “I—” Rowena could say no more, for her throat would not let go of the words without a sob.
Into the silence that fell came Christian’s voice. “You will at least await my father’s return.”
She could avoid him no longer, but she was glad to see that that closed and unreadable visage helped her to hold her composure. “How long might that be?”
He spoke coolly. “Some four or five days.”
Four or five days. It seemed an eternity.
The other faces about the table held expectation. How could she refuse? These people had been very kind to her, accepted her, wanted to believe in her, even if it were for the love of a man long dead.
“I will await his return.”
There were sighs of relief and happiness from Isabelle. But only silence from Christian.
Facing him directly, Rowena said, “No matter what he might have discovered, I feel that I must go home. This life is yours, not mine, and I wish you well in your efforts to best Lord Kelsey, but I have no heart for it.”
His lips tightened to a grim line. “As you will, Rowena. I did vow to return you home when you bade me. I will not break that vow.”
“Thank you,” she murmured amidst another heavy silence.
Without another word she rose and hurried from the hall. Her eyes stung with the tears she had not wished to shed before an audience. Tears that continued to run down her cheeks and spill onto her bodice as she slammed her door behind her, leaning against it for support as she sank to the cold stone floor.
Christian heard the hushed talk that followed Rowena’s leaving the table. Yet it was as if he were listening to folk who spoke a language he did not understand. None of it penetrated one overwhelming thought.
Rowena was leaving.
Christian wanted to go after her to tell her she couldn’t go. But he could not. It was as if he were riveted to his seat.
The ache he felt in his belly could only be caused by regret that he had failed. He had not proved Rowena’s parentage. He had not avenged his foster father.
Yet as he watched her go, it was not The Dragon’s face that came to mind, but Rowena’s.
Christian looked up to see Isabelle watching him, her gaze dark with sadness.
After their earlier conversation he could not but think she was blaming him for this miserable turn of events. Truth to tell, he could not find it in him to think her wrong.
He also was certain that Rowena’s decision was very likely brought on by what had happened between the two of them.
Simon asked, “Do you not think she will change her mind if Lady Jannelle can help to affirm her parentage?”
Again Christian felt Isabelle’s gaze on him as she replied, “I think not.”
Simon sighed. “We will ready an escort to take her back to her village with all honor.”
Isabelle rested a hand upon her stomach. “Would that I could accompany her.”
Christian frowned. “I brought Rowena here. I will be the one to take her home.”
He felt Isabelle watching him closely once more. Again he knew she was thinking of their talk.
Given what had been said, he was not surprised, for she must wonder why he would wish to put himself to the test after saying that he would not make the mistake of being with her again.
Still, he knew he must accompany Rowena. He told himself that it was the right thing to do. He would not shirk his responsibility.
Chapter Twelve
It had been four days since Christian had spoken to Rowena, having avoided her as determinedly as she had him. He’d spent his time riding out with Simon, who, despite all that was going on, had his own responsibilities.
Christian sighed as he stroked the comb over Gideon’s back. Though it had been a long day, which he had spent in delivering a message to one of Simon’s smaller keeps some distance away, he did not wish to go into the castle. The only time he had seen Rowena in the last days had been at mealtime, and it was the most difficult hour of the day, in spite of, or perhaps because of, the fact that she had never once spoken to him.
So occupied was he with his thoughts that it was some time before the sound of raised voices penetrated. Yet as soon as the commotion did register, Christian knew without being told his father had arrived.
Even as a wave of unrest passed through him, he squared his shoulders with resolve. Either his father would have the lady with him and she would have some inform
ation for them, or she would not. What was done was done.
Truth to tell, unless the unknown Lady Jannelle had definitive proof for the maddening Rowena, whatever she had to say would likely make little difference. Rowena was determined to return to Scotland and her life there.
Was that not in great part his own fault?
Knowing there was naught to be gained in any of this, Christian left the stable. Determinedly he strode across the courtyard, meeting his father as he rode toward the keep. Beside him was a woman mounted on a white mare. Simon’s men followed close behind.
So she had come. He could not forestall a momentary rise of hope, which he quickly tamped down.
They would see what she had to tell.
Rowena halted at the entrance to the small audience chamber. Although it was Christian whom she was most aware of, as always, it was his father she focused her attention upon. Her gaze swung from him to the slender, dark-haired woman of perhaps thirty years who hovered beside him, her gaze going often to his.
This could only be the woman Lord Greatham had gone to fetch. A quiver of nervousness passed through Rowena as she moved forward into the room, but she refused to acknowledge it. She could not allow herself to hope too greatly that this woman would be able to tell her who she was.
It was Christian who stood and motioned toward the stranger. “Rowena, this is the Lady Jannelle. She tells us that she did indeed have occasion to visit the keep at Dragonwick when you were a child.” She could read nothing in his emotionless blue eyes.
Rowena bowed. “Lady Jannelle.”
The woman frowned, moving toward her, her heavily lashed brown eyes assessing each feature of Rowena’s face. “Lady Rosalind?”
Rowena shook her head. “If they brought you here by telling you that I am indeed she, then I am sorry, for I have no memory of ever living at Dragonwick and have been told a different tale of my beginnings. Pray forgive me for being a part of your leaving your home and husband.”
Lady Jannelle’s brown eyes softened and she placed a comforting hand upon Rowena’s arm. “Dear lady, worry not for my husband. I have been widowed these many months. And forgive me for seeming to question you, for all has been explained to me by a very kind Lord Greatham.” She cast what seemed to Rowena a fond glance toward Christian’s father. “I was but questioning myself and my own recollection just now.”
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