She heard the rushing water of a river nearby, and assumed she would come to it soon. Instead, the path changed direction, and Cristiane found herself walking along a high, craggy escarpment, across from a magnificent waterfall.
She held her breath in awe and watched as the water dropped majestically from a high ledge to a rocky chasm below. ’Twas an amazing sight. She’d never seen anything like it near St. Oln.
Cristiane began to search for a path that led down to the base of the falls, where a pool of clear, blue water fairly beckoned her. She loved to swim, but had only been able to do so in the ocean, where the waters were often very rough, and in the icy river south of St. Oln.
She found no clear path to the bottom of the waterfall, but ’twas not difficult to find her way down the rocky incline. A child could have done it. With the falls roaring in her ears, Cristiane walked across the smooth rock floor and stepped behind the wall of falling water. Crouching down to take off her shoes, she wished she were not so alone. ’Twould be a joy to share this wonderful place with someone.
Fiercely tamping down her sudden spate of loneliness, Cristiane walked barefoot all ’round the base of the falls, letting the mist spray her. ’Twas cool and refreshing, and she let it cleanse her of the ridiculous longings she would never allow to take form in her mind.
Anyone could see that Sara suited Adam. She was beautiful, and well-dressed, and Cristiane could not doubt that she was a gently bred lady.
Cristiane was merely a breach in the rhythm of Adam’s life. He’d had some reason for going all the way to St. Oln to take her away, and now his duty was completed. He would send her to York and his life would return to normal. She had been a fool to think there could be anything more…not that she ever had, not really.
She stepped over to the pool, which was carved out of the rock. It seemed to take only the overflow from the base of the falls, so ’twas an ideal place for swimming—deep and calm, and warmed by the sun.
Crouching, she cupped her hands in the water and drank deeply, then settled on a long, flat rock just outside the spray of the falls. If anything could bring her peace, this place ought to do it.
She calmed her thoughts and forced herself to relax, letting her body go limp as she listened to the roar of the falls. As she watched, a small red fox picked its way down the rocks to the pool. It, too, took a long drink, stopping frequently to look up at her. Feeling no threat, it continued to drink, then scrambled around the site, its natural curiosity driving it to examine every little nook in the rocks.
Without warning, the fox suddenly dashed up the rocky wall opposite Cristiane, leaving no sign it had ever been there.
With a somewhat lightened heart, Cristiane walked back to put on her shoes, then climbed up to the path, promising herself she’d return for a swim on the morrow.
Mayhap she would bring wee Meg, if she could pry her away from Mathilde for a while.
Adam stepped off the path. He’d reached the place where he could see the waterfall from above, and thought he’d try to catch sight of Cristiane before going all the way down. He wedged himself between two trees that served as a convenient perch, and trained his eyes on the base of the waterfall.
All his breath rushed out of his lungs when he saw her there. Her fresh, young beauty struck him once again, and his body reacted predictably. Pushing himself away from the trees, he could hardly wait to go to her and take her in his arms. He could think of naught but her impassioned response to his kiss.
He’d never encountered anything like it, and he’d been married more than three years. He did not doubt that Cristiane’s untamed appearance would be matched by her responses if he took her to his bed.
One taste of her was not enough. One touch of her silken hair and soft skin had only inflamed him to desire more. He longed to spend hours learning the secrets of her body, sharing the delights he knew were possible, but had never experienced.
Halfway down to the path, he stopped himself. He had no business thinking of Cristiane Mac Dhiubh in this way. She was not the woman he would wed, and she was a nobly bred lady who deserved better than having a ruttish male pawing her.
She would not have to put up with him or Gerard much longer. As soon as Adam’s knights had done their duty helping to clean up the isle after the storm, he would send a few of them with Cristiane to York. ’Twould be only a few days more.
Then he would be finally rid of this constant state of agitation.
Chapter Twelve
“’Tis a mess, is it not, my lord?” Sara Cole said to Adam as he stood in front of her house on the hillside just above the harbor. ’Twas already dusk, and he’d known better than to ride to town at this time of night. He would be lucky to get back before dark.
Yet his restlessness had forced him to act. Every pore of his body demanded that he go to Cristiane and satisfy the lust she aroused in him. Luckily, good sense ruled. He would not violate her innocence while she resided here at Bitterlee, no matter how strong the urge.
“And the fields…” Sara continued. “The women and children have been working to clear the brush and debris.”
“Aye,” Adam said distractedly. “’Twill take everyone’s help to clear the mess.”
He turned away and led his horse down the hill toward the cottage that had sustained the most damage.
Sara was not mistaken about the conditions here. Fortunately, no one had been hurt in the storm, and all the ships had survived. Losing a fishing vessel would have been even more devastating than the damage to the cottages, especially at this time of year. Until the harvest, grain would be short. Bitterlee would depend primarily upon fish for its sustenance.
Still, the repairs that were needed would seriously tax the manpower on the island. ’Twould be several days before he could spare anyone to take Cristiane to York.
Adam helped the men finish stacking the logs they had cut from one of the downed trees, then walked to the tavern to share a few mugs, glad for a respite from his thoughts.
Adam had not returned to the castle the night before, and Cristiane learned that he’d stayed the night in town. In spite of herself, she wondered how much Sara had had to do with his decision not to return home.
’Twas not her concern, Cristiane told herself as she climbed out of bed. Adam Sutton could be naught to her, even though he made chaos of her senses. His life here on the isle would go on without her once she left for York, and she would hardly be remembered, if at all.
Except, perhaps, by Gerard, who would think of her with disdain.
She swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself, tamping down a wave of emotion so unexpected it took her off balance. If only she still had her mother…Cristiane had never needed her more than now, when everything about her life had changed, and was about to change again. She needed Elizabeth’s wise advice. She missed her desperately.
Blinking away the foolish moisture that welled in her eyes, Cristiane opened the window of her chamber. Once again, a beautiful day had dawned. Determined to avoid Adam’s nasty uncle, she dressed quickly and slipped down the stairs, only to be confronted by the very man she’d hoped to elude.
“At least we were not all murdered in our beds as we slept,” he said, sneering.
“Wh-what?” Cristiane asked, alarmed by Gerard’s remark. “Are there—”
“If I were lord of the isle, I would certainly not allow a bloody Scot under my roof…unguarded.”
His meaning suddenly became clear, and Cristiane bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She spun away from the hateful man and ran outside, closing her ears to the jeering remarks that followed her.
She had done naught to him, or any other Englishman, yet he hated her as if she herself had wielded a sword in William Wallace’s army.
Rushing blindly, Cristiane once again found herself on the path that led to the waterfall. Instead of heading inland, she kept walking along the escarpment that overlooked the sea, searching for a likely place to climb down.
/> Before long, she came upon a break in the edge, where there appeared to be good footholds and a few sturdy bushes that she could hold onto if necessary. Still shaking from her confrontation with Gerard, she picked her way down.
Cristiane was surprised to discover that the descent to the beach posed no more difficulty than the rocky slopes at St. Oln. She had expected much worse, after Adam’s warning that there was no way down to the water.
Had he wanted to keep her away from here for some reason?
She made it all the way down to the beach, where a narrow strip of sand, broken by huge, black boulders, met the sea. Carefully choosing the right pillar of rock, she stepped onto it and sat down, leaning back to take refuge in the beauty of the clear blue sky.
For a few short moments, she was able to keep her mind carefully blank. As the breeze ruffled her hair and tossed her skirts, she did not think of her mother or father, or of Sir Gerard’s meanness. She did not allow thoughts of Adam to cross her mind. She just lay quietly on the rough surface of the rock and watched absently as herring gulls circled in the air, their screeches echoing over the water.
But her troubles soon returned.
Cristiane took off her shoes and stepped down to walk aimlessly along the edge of the water, occasionally glancing up at the rocky slope she’d scaled. This spot was so isolated, she could easily believe herself to be the only person in the world.
She did not doubt she was the loneliest person in the world. At least at St. Oln, she’d had her mother and father. Here, she had no one.
Suddenly there was a lump the size of a duck’s egg in her throat, and the pain of grief welled in her chest. She missed her father’s great belly laugh and her mother’s quiet counsel. They may have been an odd little family, but her parents had enjoyed a deep affection for one another, and they’d loved their daughter.
How would she ever go on without them?
Tears had never been Cristiane’s solution to a problem. Yet she felt them welling in her eyes as she thought of her parents, cold in their graves. Her vision blurred as she gazed out over the sea and considered her future, and the bleakness that was sure to follow her to York.
She would not belong there any more than she belonged in St. Oln…or on the Isle of Bitterlee. She was a misfit, a lost soul. She would be lucky if she were met with indifference in York, rather than outright abhorrence.
Many a time had Adam spent the night in town, accepting the reeve’s hospitality, and his best bed. Adam had been anxious to return home last night, but he’d had one—mayhap three or four—too many cups of good Bitterlee ale to make the ride up to the castle in the dark.
He’d done naught but think of Cristiane Mac Dhiubh all night—while he was awake, and in the restless dreams that had plagued him hour after hour. He’d awakened in an agitated state, anxious to act, but unsure what to do.
’Twas barely daybreak when Adam returned to the keep. He checked on his daughter and found her fast asleep, then discovered that Cristiane was nowhere in the castle.
He had not intended to seek her out, but was powerless to resist the pull. Only a few servants were about when he walked out to the duck pond, but Cristiane was not there. Suspecting that she’d gone wandering beyond the castle walls again, Adam started up the path, looking for her.
He doubted she would come to any harm on the isle, but he was responsible for her. He did not want any mishap to befall her while she was under his protection.
Besides, those dreams of the previous night haunted him. He’d seen her soft curves again, and had tasted her mouth, but in the dreams, they had not stopped with one kiss. He had touched her, had run his tongue across the pebbled tips of her breasts, his hands down the soft curves of her buttocks.
And that was naught compared to the way she had touched him. He’d been ready to explode upon awakening.
Adam quickly reached the waterfall, finding it deserted. He stripped off his clothes and slipped into the pool, once again cooling the heat that had simmered within him since he’d met Cristiane Mac Dhiubh.
He decided she must have walked farther along the path, mayhap down to the beach. She had seemed quite determined about that, and of course there was a safe route down the rocky escarpment. He had not told her about it because he hadn’t wanted her going down there alone.
’Twas his mistake.
He climbed out of the pool, refreshed and without the headache that had annoyed him since awakening an hour earlier in the strange bed. He dressed and went up to the path, following it to the only place where Cristiane could have climbed down to the beach.
He did not see her, but scrambled down the rocky face of the escarpment anyway, withstanding the ache it caused in his injured thigh, certain that she must be here somewhere. He made it to the sand and stopped to lean against one of the huge rocks that stood upright out of the water. Glancing first one way and the other, he finally saw a patch of color in the distance.
Cristiane.
He let his throbbing leg rest a moment before setting off down the rock-strewn beach, toward her perch.
She had chosen one of his favorite spots, near a small inlet where the Cuddy ducks liked to come in and feed. She was sitting on a flat-topped boulder, her knees drawn up and her head resting upon them. Her red curls trailed wildly down her back.
She did not hear him as he approached, and he called out so he wouldn’t startle her.
Her head jerked up as if she’d been slapped. Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear what she said. Even from a distance, Adam could see that her eyes were red and swollen, and her face covered with tears.
The most enticing face he’d seen since he’d watched her at the waterfall the day before…
Frowning with concern, he increased his pace, even as she turned away. She rubbed away her tears with the skirt of her gown, then slid off the rock and onto her feet to meet him, smiling shakily.
“Y-your leg, m-m’lord,” she said, determined to speak first. “Should you have climbed—”
He took hold of her upper arms. The sight of her distress infuriated him, and it bothered him even more that she attempted to keep her anguish from him.
He’d made a solemn vow to keep her safe, to prevent any further cruelties. Yet he’d failed. He’d spent the night carousing and lusting after her, while something must have occurred to make her miserable. “What is it?” he demanded. “What’s happened?”
Her chin quivered, but she swallowed hard, searching for control. “Naught, m’lord. ’Tis naught.”
“Has my uncle—”
“Nay,” she replied. “I only…” She tugged herself out of his grasp and moved a few paces away. Turning to face the sea, Cristiane crossed her arms over her breasts. “’T-tis beautiful here.”
Adam did not know how to respond. Clearly, something had upset her, yet she would not speak of it. He would take her in his arms if he thought she would permit it, but her stance all but screamed for him to keep his distance.
“When d’ye suppose ye’ll be able to t-take me to York?”
He was dumbfounded by her question. “I thought you would stay a few days,” he said carefully. Just as he was about to speak of the gowns he thought she’d make, he stopped himself, realizing ’twould only serve to remind her of her shabby appearance. She was upset enough without adding aught more.
“I’d hoped you’d…spend some time with my daughter,” he said instead. “You’ve had more effect on her than anyone since my wife’s death.”
Margaret ate barely enough to survive, and she shunned normal childish activities.
Yet Cristiane Mac Dhiubh had been on Bitterlee less than a full day before she’d managed to get Margaret to eat. She’d drawn Margaret out of her silence, if only to speak one word. ’Twas naught less than amazing. Adam could not let her leave before seeing how Margaret would react to her today.
He would deal with any wrong done her, if only she would consent to stay a few days and see what further effect she might have
on his daughter.
Luckily, Cristiane was not unaffected by Margaret’s plight. Adam could see that the notion of staying to help Margaret was compelling.
“You managed to get her to eat yesterday,” he said, approaching her cautiously. “Would you try again today?”
The muscles in her throat moved convulsively, then she brushed away another tear from her face. “Aye, m’lord,” she replied shakily. She raised her chin and sniffed once. “I’ll sit with her at mealtimes and take her to feed the ducklings.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Adam said. “And as to whatever upset you—”
“’Twas naught,” Cristiane said. “Just a wee bit of foolishness.”
Adam doubted that, but kept his counsel. Mayhap she would speak of it another time.
Chapter Thirteen
The sky was overcast when Cristiane led Meg to the duck pond. The old nurse had resisted allowing the child out for the afternoon, but Adam prevailed. Cristiane could feel him walking behind, carrying extra bread and a couple of linen towels, trying his best to be unobtrusive.
As if such a thing were possible. She felt his presence with every fiber of her being.
She’d have thrown herself into his arms earlier that morn, if only it would not have been wholly inappropriate to do so. She knew the warmth and security of his embrace would have comforted her, but she also knew it would have led to more.
“Do you think the ducklings will still be here?” Cristiane asked Meg. She already knew the answer, because she’d brought food for them earlier.
But Meg didn’t reply.
“Have you still got your loaf?” Cristiane asked.
The lass held up her hand for Cristiane to see the bread she carried. She did not acknowledge her father walking behind them, nor did she speak. But Cristiane detected a hum of excitement in the child’s bearing, the light of interest in her eyes.
When they reached the edge of the pond, Margaret sat down on the ground and removed her shoes without being prompted. The two adults exchanged an astonished glance over her head, and Cristiane felt an odd sensation unfurl in the region of her heart.
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