“Thank you, Sara,” she replied. “’Tis a fine day for such a fête.”
“I hope your ducklings do not miss you over much,” Sara said to Meg. Then she looked up at Cristiane. “Lord Bitterlee told me that was a concern.”
“Aye,” Cristiane said weakly. Again she realized how much closer Sara was to Adam.
And all the while he seemed to want to keep his distance from her.
“Some of the children are playing by the river, Margaret,” Sara said. “Mayhap Cristiane will take you down there and you can join them.”
“Swimming?” Meg asked.
“Likely not,” Sara said with a friendly smile. “Unless it warms up a bit.”
After a while, since Adam was still occupied with the townsmen, Cristiane and Meg walked with a couple of the other women to the riverbank at the edge of town.
“The older boys like to swim here, my lady,” said one of them, “because the sea is too rough.”
“And too cold!”
“But the river is running swift these days with all the rain we’ve had,” said another. “They’d best watch the current, or they’ll be dragged out to sea.”
“Aye, they’ll be careful.”
“They always are.”
Cristiane urged Meg to join some of the smaller children, who were tossing small stones into the water at the river’s edge. But Meg would not go without Cristiane.
The change suited Cristiane, who had grown tired of the veiled, and not-so-veiled, insults to her Scottish blood. She walked on to where a group of children were playing together. Meg was shy with them, but Gemette approached her right away.
“Hello!” she said. She handed Meg one of the smooth rocks she held in her hand. “I’ve been saving this one, but you can throw it.”
Meg looked at her with eyes wide with pleasure, and took the stone. “What do I do?”
“Don’t you know how to throw?” Gemette asked.
“I do,” Meg said, though Cristiane had her doubts.
“Watch me first,” Gemette said, apparently with her own doubts about Meg’s abilities.
Cristiane smiled as she watched them, satisfied that Meg was content.
Lots of children were playing all along the riverbank. Some older boys were fairly far upriver, playing a daring game on a high branch that hung over the water. Their mothers did not seem concerned. None of them were watching too closely, even though the boys’ play seemed rather unruly and dangerous to Cristiane.
“Chris-ty!” Meg called. “Watch me!”
Cristiane turned her attention to Meg and Gemette and the other little lasses who’d joined them. Each one was trying to outdo the other, throwing farther, or higher, or into the exact same place in the water. Cristiane had to laugh at their giggles and antics, as well as at the fun Meg was having. She wished Adam were nearby so he could witness his daughter’s delight.
She stepped away from the river for a few minutes, glancing back toward the center of town to see if she could get his attention, but he was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, she returned to the water, just as screams broke the tranquillity of the afternoon.
“’Tis Gil!” the boys screamed.
“He’s fallen!”
“He’ll be carried away!”
Everyone who heard the panicked screams rushed to the riverbank to see what was amiss. Cristiane was closest to the water, and saw what appeared to be a limp mass of rags being tossed about in the rough current.
Without thinking, she ran into the water.
Chapter Twenty
The sound of shrieking voices carried into town. Adam, along with everyone else who stood milling about, hurried to the riverside. He searched the crowd for Cristiane and Margaret, but did not see either of them.
“My lord!” the reeve cried.
Distracted, Adam gave him his attention.
“’Tis your lady,” he said urgently.
Adam grabbed the man by his shoulders. “What about her?” he demanded as a wave of alarm ran through him. “Explain!”
“One of the boys—Gilbert Raven—fell into the river,” Morton said breathlessly. “Lady Cristiane went in after him.”
“No!” Adam said, pushing his way through the crowd.
Filled with dread, he rushed to the riverbank, then ran alongside, following the surging flow down toward the sea. Cristiane would have to be an incredible swimmer to fight the current and save the lad. With his heart in his throat, he knew ’twould be a miracle if they were not washed out to sea.
He saw her then, a mass of bright blue rags, being tossed about in the frothing white water. No one could survive the beating she was taking, not with the current so strong after the heavy rains.
He would not lose her now. Cristiane meant so much more to him than he’d ever thought possible. And Margaret—she was so attached, he could not bear to think what it would do to his daughter if something happened to Cristiane.
Adam pulled off his shoes and unlaced his tunic, fully intending to go in after her. But then the river tossed her again and she was thrown toward the far bank.
“Get me a boat!” he shouted. “A small gig…quickly!”
Men scrambled to do Adam’s bidding, while he resisted the urge to jump in after her. He suddenly realized how futile that would be.
Damnation! She had to be all right!
The crowd behind Adam was frantic. Gilbert’s mother wailed in anguish over her son, whom she presumed was drowned. Her neighbors commiserated loudly.
No tears were shed, however, for Cristiane Mac Dhiubh.
Men arrived carrying two boats between them. As awkward as it was, they managed to lower them to the bank without damaging them, and push them into the water. Suddenly, someone shouted, “There they are!”
Adam looked downriver and saw something blue nearing the river’s edge. He started running, ignoring the spears of pain jabbing through his leg. The whole town, it seemed, followed.
“Someone get blankets!” he shouted as he neared the place where he thought he’d seen her.
’Twas an area with no beach, only a rocky shoreline. There was no place for Cristiane to climb up out of the water, even if she were able to do so. He kept one eye on the water as he ran, watching for any sign of her or the boy. When he suddenly saw a flash of blue among the rocks, he made straight for it.
She’d managed to pull the boy to the rocky bank, but no farther. Her body was draped across one of the rocks near the river’s edge, one arm still holding on to the youth, whose face was barely above water. The entire episode had lasted merely a few moments, but Adam felt he’d aged years.
“Cristiane!” he called, scrambling down the rocks to get to her. Two or three men followed him into the water, helping to drag her and the boy out.
They took her from him so that he could climb out of the river, and when they had her on the ground, she began to cough and sputter. The boy she had rescued was lying in his mother’s embrace, vomiting violently.
Adam knelt next to Cristiane, wrapped her poor, shivering body in a blanket and took her in his arms. He put his lips to her forehead, thanking God she was alive.
“Chris-ty!” he heard Margaret cry out. Suddenly, his little daughter was next to him, weeping and cradling Cristiane’s face between her small hands. “Papa?”
“She will be all right, Margaret,” he said, as if he could control her fate.
She continued to shiver, and Adam knew he needed to get her inside, to a fire. He stood up, then lifted her unconscious body in his arms. Margaret followed as he walked toward Sara’s cottage, unmindful of the quiet chatter and whispers behind him.
“Drink, Lady Cristiane,” said a soothing feminine voice.
Someone lifted her head and brought a strong, warm drink to her lips. She sipped.
“Adam?” she said weakly.
“Aye, Cristiane,” he said. “I’m here.”
She opened her eyes. She was in a cozy room where light came from one small window and a hear
ty fire blazing on the hearth. “Where is Meggie?” she asked.
“She fell asleep awhile ago,” he said. “She’s here in Sara’s cottage.”
“And the boy?” she asked. She had to know if the boy she’d dragged from the river had survived.
“He’ll live,” Adam said, “no thanks to his lack of common sense.”
“His father carried him home,” Sara added more gently. “He’s battered and bruised, but he’ll recover.”
Cristiane did not seem to have the energy to say or do more, though she wondered how she had managed to get out of the water. The last thing she remembered was hanging on to the lad, and being tossed so hard she lost her breath and all sense of direction.
“Rest now, Cristiane,” Adam said. “When you’re up to it, I’ll take you home.”
She closed her eyes and drifted off again, thinking of the welcoming walls of Castle Bitterlee. Home.
Cristiane awoke to the sound of low voices speaking in the distance. She opened her eyes and saw that there was no longer any light coming through the window. Night had fallen.
Adam stood next to the fire with Sara, their heads close together, talking quietly. Cristiane pushed herself up onto her elbows. She must have made some sound, for the two broke apart and came to her side immediately.
“How do you feel?” Adam asked.
“So tired,” she said. “And…muddled. I canna seem to remember what happened.”
She began to sit up, and realized she was naked under the blankets. Adam grabbed at the coverings and held them in place. Cristiane did not have the energy to blush appropriately. “Your wet things are still drying near the fire,” he said. “One of the maids brought some fresh clothes from the castle.”
’Twas likely Bea, the only one who seemed to have any regard for her.
“When can we go home?” Cristiane asked.
“Not until morning,” Adam replied. “’Tis too dark to attempt a ride on the path. Besides, you need to rest.”
“Aye,” she replied. “The lad who fell into the river?” she asked, not remembering that she’d asked about him before.
“He’s fine,” Sara replied. “I saw him myself not an hour ago.”
“I’m verra glad to know it.”
“The boy’s mother has been here several times to see how you fare,” Adam said.
“That was good of her,” she replied. “Is wee Meg still asleep?”
“Aye,” he said. “I made up a pallet for her near the hearth. She’ll sleep there all night.”
“And what about you?”
“Don’t worry,” he replied, glancing up at Sara. “We’ll make do.”
Cristiane was alone when she awoke in the cottage the next morning. As she levered herself out of the bed, she discovered exactly how bruised and scraped she was. She had been foolhardy to jump into the river after the boy.
Yet he’d have drowned had she not. A bit of soreness was little price to pay for his life and well-being.
Her yellow gown was lying across the foot of the bed, and next to it her newly made chemise, clean and dry. The blue gown she’d worn the day before was nowhere to be seen. Most likely ruined, Cristiane thought sadly.
She wondered where Adam and Meg were. She assumed they had spent the night here in the cottage, hadn’t they? And Sara, too, she thought dismally. Sara was so much more a part of their lives than Cristiane could ever be. Sara was a part of Bitterlee, accepted by the people here.
And she probably would have had more sense than to jump into the river, risking her own life as well as the lad’s. Adam likely thought Cristiane half-witted for her actions.
Ah, well, ’twas too late for regrets.
She only hoped Meg hadn’t been too terrified. She hadn’t thought of the child’s reaction to seeing her jump into the river and disappear. She hoped she hadn’t frightened her back into silence.
Cristiane climbed out of bed and began to dress, carefully pulling her chemise over one bruised shoulder and taking care with her skinned knee. She’d barely gotten the yellow gown up over her shoulders when someone rapped lightly on the door.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
“Adam,” he replied as the door opened. “And Margaret.”
“Cristy!” Meg ran to her and wrapped her arms around her as Cristiane tried awkwardly to hold her gown in place.
“Margaret was worried about you last night. We had a devil of a time getting her to sleep,” he said, coming closer. “And she’s been after me to let her wake you all morning.” He stood directly in front of Cristiane, reaching for the laces that tied her bodice, while Meg hung on quietly.
He did not seem angry at all, but his eyes were stormy this morn. Cristiane saw their expression only fleetingly, before he’d had a chance to hide it.
He cupped her face in his hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid as when they told me you’d jumped into the river,” he said, his thumbs tracing circles on her cheeks. She could feel his breath on her lips, and she was certain he was going to kiss her. Her heart sped in anticipation of his intimate touch. She had yearned for this. “Promise me you’ll be more caref—”
The door opened abruptly, and Adam and Cristiane broke apart. Sara stepped in, only to stop in her tracks when she saw them. “I…I beg your pardon, Lady Cristiane, I thought—”
She turned to leave as abruptly as she came in. “Gilbert Raven’s mother awaits you outside.”
“I meant to tell you that,” Adam said, when Sara had gone.
Rattled by the interruption, Cristiane had trouble clearing her thoughts. “Who is Gilbert Raven’s mo—Oh, the boy in the river.”
Adam nodded as his hands returned to the laces of Cristiane’s gown. “She has something for you. A gift.” He began tightening the cords from her waist up, working to a point directly between her breasts.
She sighed deeply, raising her chest, inadvertently increasing the contact between them. His eyes held hers for a moment, and Cristiane thought they were tinged with regret. He quickly finished tying her gown, and drew Meggie back from her fierce grip on Cristiane’s legs.
“Shall we go?” he asked.
Cristiane nodded, raised her chin, straightened her backbone and started for the door.
Adam stopped her with one hand on her arm.
“You took an enormous risk yesterday,” he said. “And even though you frightened the wits out of me—and Meg—I could not have been prouder. You prevented the day from turning into a tragedy.”
“I…I did not think, Adam,” she said quietly, pleased by his declaration. “I just acted.”
“I was afraid, Cristy,” Meggie said. “I couldn’t see you in the water.”
Cristiane crouched down to the child’s level and looked into her eyes. “I know, Meg,” she said, “and I’m sorry I frightened you. But the lad’s life was in danger, and I had to do something.”
Meg nodded as if she understood.
“You know I’m a good swimmer, lass,” she continued. “I hope someone would have done the same for you if you had fallen in.”
“Cristiane,” Adam said, “promise me you’ll think twice before doing something so dangerous again.”
“Aye, Adam,” she replied. “But I cannot promise that I won’t do the same thing again. If there is no other way—”
“Just be careful,” he said.
“I will.”
Adam opened the door, holding it for Cristiane and Meg. Cristiane stepped outside, keeping Meg’s hand in her own. The arrangement suited Meg, who was not about to let Cristiane go.
Gilbert’s mother was not the only person awaiting her. Adam estimated a good three dozen men and women quietly milled about outside Sara’s cottage, though Sara was nowhere to be seen.
“My lady,” the boy’s mother said, taking Cristiane’s free hand and kissing it. “I cannot thank you enough for saving my boy. Without you, he’d have drowned for sure. He’s not a good swimmer….”
“I’m glad I was t
here to do it,” she answered, plainly embarrassed by the woman’s frank adulation. Cristiane’s speech was as English as Adam had ever heard it. “Please, say no more about it—”
The crowd surrounded her, and Adam detected a look of alarm in her eyes. She hugged Meg to her side and looked frantically about. Adam hoped she was looking for him.
He made his way through the crowd to her side. After picking Meg up, he slipped his other arm around Cristiane’s waist, possessively, yet protectively, sensing she needed the reassurance of his presence.
He’d come so close to losing her. ’Twas not until the moment he realized she was in the river that he’d known how desperately he loved her, how devastating ’twould be to lose her.
He pulled her closer.
“My lady,” Gilbert’s mother continued, “please take this.” She pressed a small, worn wooden box into Cristiane’s hands. “’Tis a bone of St. Cuthbert. Been in my family a hundred years.”
“Oh, but—”
“Please take it,” she continued. “You are more deserving—”
“My lady!” Others added their voices, vying for Cristiane’s attention. She was given gifts from all the women who were gathered—bits of ribbon, a newly sewn gown from Madam Williamson, food for their table at the castle. By the time Sir Elwin made his way through the crowd with their horses, both Cristiane’s and Adam’s arms were full.
Elwin took what he could carry as Adam lifted Cristiane atop his horse.
“Cristy!” Meg called, raising her arms to be lifted onto Cristiane’s lap.
“Nay, Meg,” Adam said. “You’ll ride with Sir Elwin.”
“I want Cristy!” the child insisted.
“Meggie!” Cristiane said from atop the horse. “Listen to me. If you ride with Sir Elwin, and I ride with your papa, we’ll each have our own knight to protect us on the way home.”
“But—”
“No ‘but’,” Cristiane said firmly. “Let Sir Elwin help you up.”
Adam could hardly believe that Meg was arguing, and was further astonished when his daughter actually agreed to Cristiane’s demand. He watched as Elwin lifted Meg into the saddle, then mounted behind her. Then Adam did the same, keeping Cristiane in front of him. Elwin led the way.
Bride of the Isle Page 19
