Winter's Bride. Catherine Archer
he spoke, she told herself his distant tone caused her no sense of regret whatsoever. “I will say that I have engaged you as a maid for Sabina. That way you will have just cause to spend time with her without drawing comment. Then, when you are ready to leave Brackenmoore, you can do so with as little disruption as possible.”
She nodded again, calling pride to the fore in the face of his indifference. “That would be for the best. I do not know what is going on here. In the remote possibility that I am wrong—” she met his gaze directly “—and it is remote, I will do what I can to discover the truth. But make no mistake, should you wish me harm, you will face retribution for your acts. If you know of my family as you claim, you know they are not without the resources to repay you in kind.”
In spite of his own reaction of ire, Tristan could not help the feelings of admiration for her as he took in her proudly tilted head and determined face. As fragile as she appeared on the outside, there were still some signs of that unshakable will that had once been so much a part of her. It was one of the things he had most loved about her.
Tristan felt an urge to warn her about Harcourt, to tell her just the kind of man he was. That her loyalty was indeed misplaced in such as he. Yet Tristan knew she would not heed him. What he had told her of her family had already been too great a stress on the locked doors in her mind. Perhaps, if things changed, if she began to recall…But he would place no hope in that. He had no hope left.
He took a deep breath and turned away, for just looking at her made him long for a time that was gone, never to return. If she had been a different woman, not the Lily he had loved from the first day they met, none of this would ever have happened. He would not be faced with losing her once more.
He told himself that he would not regret it when she returned to Maxim Harcourt. Her loyalty to her family was absolute and unlikely to change. Things were as they must be.
He drew himself up stiffly, resolutely. “I will send one of the serving women with something for you to wear. Please make ready for the journey as quickly as you can.”
Rigidly, she nodded. “I will give you no cause for displeasure, my lord.” She paused then for a long moment, and he saw the heat that rose in her cheeks as she took a deep breath. “I…there is one more thing. What happened here was a terrible mistake. I can only imagine that my relief at discovering that you did not mean to kill me left me completely vulnerable to my baser emotions. You must understand that I cannot allow this to occur again. Such behavior is quite unlike me, I can assure you.”
Tristan watched her with both respect and consternation. He did admire her ability to overcome her own obvious aversion to even mentioning the event. Yet on another level, he was annoyed that she could so coolly explain away what had taken place between them. He could tell her that such behavior had indeed been quite like her, as far as the two of them were concerned.
But what did it matter what she thought?
He also knew they could not allow it to happen again. Though theirs was no true romantic liaison, he loved Genevieve as a sister, and she deserved better from him. He replied simply, “I agree most heartily. I also overreacted to seeing you so unexpectedly. You are the Lily I once knew. However, no matter what might happen at Brackenmoore as far as your memory is concerned, you are no longer she. I also have a new life. I must tell you that I, too, am engaged to be married—to my brother’s ward, Genevieve Redgreaves. We will never speak of what occurred here again.”
Her eyes widened as he finished, then she nodded very quickly, turning her back to him. Her voice seemed bright with satisfaction as she replied, “That is very well then. We will never speak of it again.”
Her obvious relief was unexpectedly disturbing. She did not face him as he said, “I will have some things brought up to you so you may make ready for our journey.”
She gave a brief nod and spoke with cool indifference. “Thank you, my lord.”
Unaccountably frustrated with her demeanor, he bowed briefly and strode from the chamber without a backward glance.
Brackenmoore.
Lily’s hands felt like they were carved from ice as she peered through the evening gloom toward the very dark and imposing edifice of the castle. It seemed to fairly loom over the curtain wall like an enormous coiled dragon, and the salty tang of the nearby sea aided her imagination in the creation of reptilian scales for the beast. Her numb fingers fumbled as the white mare Tristan had given her to ride seemed to balk at the sight as well.
In one of their few and extremely brief exchanges of the day, Tristan had explained that he lived here with his family. He had said that he felt it was of benefit to Sabina to be near them—and his intended bride, Genevieve.
Dear God, the name had the power to bring an ache to her chest. When Tristan had so calmly, so coolly told her of his engagement, she had felt as if he’d run her through with a dull blade. Lily told herself it was because of the fact that she, Lily, had betrayed Genevieve by lying with the man she was to marry. How would Lily face this unknown woman?
Her troubled gaze ran over Tristan’s back as she thought about the note she had written for Maxim. It had said simply that she was not in danger, that he should have no concern for finding her and that she would return to him before long. Tristan had taken the missive, ensuring her that it would be delivered, and in such a way that it would not be traced.
Now she could not help asking herself how she could have had the temerity to do such a thing. What would Maxim think of her undeniably extraordinary request for him to simply await her eventual arrival?
What had come over her? Why had she come here? Why worry her future husband by listening to the wild talk of a man she did not even know?
Surely it was because she had to see the child, as she had told him. And perhaps try to learn why Tristan would fabricate such a story. Yet in the darkest part of her mind she also knew it was because she could not dismiss her own unrestrained reactions to him. Something must account for the fact that he seemed so familiar, for the fact that she had allowed him to touch her, make love to her as if he had some right.
Allowed him? an inner voice chimed mockingly. Lily knew she had done far more than allow. She had encouraged, entreated, rejoiced in him.
No matter how difficult it might be, she simply had to find out what was going on. It did not seem possible that she could have had a child, that she could have loved Tristan enough to betray her own father and mother by running away with him.
Still, he knew so much about her.
She told herself again that his story simply could not be true. Her mother and father had cared for her so tenderly since her illness. They would never do anything to harm her.
It was possible for her to come here seeking the truth without damning her own family, to discover that it was Tristan Ainsworth who lied. She would do so without a repeat of the events of that morning. She was promised to Maxim and would not again reveal her attraction to this man.
That was the only way she might eventually forgive herself for what she had done with Tristan.
“Lily.”
“Yes?” she replied, looking up in surprise at hearing Tristan speak her name. Immediately she realized that, while her mind wandered unchecked, they had reached the castle gates. Drawing herself up in her saddle, she nodded. She would attend to her surroundings more fully. All in this keep, and even Tristan, were strangers to her.
“Are you feeling well?” he asked, his dark eyes studying her closely.
She nodded again quickly, her own gaze dropping to the horse’s white neck. It continued to be difficult to meet that gaze after what they had done together in that big soft bed back at Molson Lodge.
She was not sorry when he turned without further comment and led the way