Chapter 12

Sidra and the two knights watched with dismay as Darian strode off to his tent. The tears began anew with Sidra and with a sob she flew into Tilden's arms.
"Oh, Tilden, we cannot leave her there. There must be something we can do." she whimpered into his shoulder, wetting his tunic.
His arms came around her and he began a soothing motion on her back, fingers lacing through the golden silkiness of her long hair. "I will try, Sidra. But we will have to do it without Darian's knowledge. And it must be known between only us. There still is a traitor among us," he told her against her ear. It was pure agony standing with her like this and not being able to kiss her or touch her like he wanted.
He then remembered Vachel had been with them, but when he turned his head to look, he notice that the knight has discreetly taken his leave. A quick scan of the camp assured him that they were alone. Only the night watchmen stood about, but their eyes were ahead staring down the road.
He drew back and smoothed her hair from her face. "My Lady Sidra, I have missed you this last sennight. I have tried to stay away from you but I can longer hold myself back." His lips descended on hers.
The first touch of his mouth against her lips brought a low groan from her throat and she melted against him, arms tightening, bringing him closer to her.
"Oh Tilden, it was I who was in misery. " she murmured against his lips, after a long moment. "What are we going to do?" She brought a hand up to touch the side of his face, the love clearly shining in her crystal gray eyes.
He grasped her soft hand in his rough callused one. "I do not know. But I will find a way, my lady. That... I will pledge you with all my heart. I will find a way." he whispered insistently. Their lips met once more then they parted before they were found out, retiring to their prospective tents. One last glance into each other's eyes told them that they felt the same feelings. Both of their hearts heavy with despair, for themselves and for Darian and Kristy.
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It had been a full week and Darian had not come. But she really hadn't expected him to. Not after she had heard the message that Darian had relayed to Worthingham's page. And every day that passed, her heart grew bitter. Her pain turned to a dull ache.
The first two days she had tried to reason to herself that Darian had been betrayed before, that maybe it wasn't his fault he was so faithless. But when days three and four passed, she reminded herself that she'd never done not one thing to make him think she was unfaithful. She had given herself and her love completely to him.
And this was the thanks for all that uncompromising love. The more she thought about it——the madder she got. And the madder she got the more she contemplated escape. That seemed like an impossibility considering the sizable guard he had posted about the castle and grounds, but she was determined to find a weakness, a way to escape them and leave her plenty of time to escape before they began to search. It would come. She just hoped it wouldn't come to late.
Everyday Frederick Worthingham never cease to take the opportunity to remind her that he could kill her anytime he felt like it. And he had threatened more than once to throw her to his men and let them have their way with her. She had learned and learned quick to keep her opinions to herself. It was better to seem submissive than to gain his wrath against her.
She still found it odd that Worthingham had not tried to rape her. Often she would turn to find her eyes devouring her as if he wanted take her right on the floor. But always, he would quickly cover his emotions and look away. Apparently his hatred of Darian was greater than his lust for her.
She had a little freedom about the castle though she was never allowed to venture outdoors. Sometimes she felt more like a guest than a prisoner because a maid was given to her to look out for her needs. Meals were taken with the lord of the castle; he wouldn't allow her to take her meals in her chamber.
At those meals, Kristy had tried several times to pry him with questions about what he intended to do with her, but each time he refuse to answer her. Frankly, he chose not to talk to her much at all. He would sit at the other end of the immense table and give her brooding stares. Stares that never cease to bring a ripple of foreboding down her spine.
One mystery had already been cleared up for her, however. It was the reason that Darian and his brother had Sidra's betrothal called off. She wondered how they had found out. Had it been gossip or had they caught him in the act? However, their actions to end the betrothal were a wise move, despite bringing the wrath of Worthingham on their heads.
Kristy didn't know what they called it in the twelfth century but in the twentieth century it was known as 'sadism'. Never had anything so disturbed and sickened her when she had over heard the castle servants speaking of the matter.
He had a chamber in which he would bring young women and do 'unspeakable things to them,' as the maids put it. Kristy could only imagine what really went on.
But now it was day seven. She looked about the dreary bedchamber that had been her sleeping place for the last week. Another day. Another uneventful, dull day. Another day that she would have to face the reality that her husband of only a short time, no longer wanted her.
Gladys, the welsh chambermaid, came creeping into the room carrying fresh linens and water to wash with. She was a shy, skittish young girl. That way, no doubt, from being one of Worthingham's victims. Never once had she looked Kristy directly in the eye, or for even that matter, even spoken more than a few words. Kristy had at first ignored the girl who was probably around seventeen or eighteen. She had been so wrapped up in her bitterness and anger towards Darian and Worthingham that nothing else had mattered. But she thought if she could make a friend, gain an ally, it could profit her when the time come for her to escape.
"Gladys, have you worked for Worthingham long?" she queried in an offhandish way.
The girl looked at her mistress slightly startled that she had been spoken to. "Y—yes, milady. My mum, she worked for the old lord and then for the Lord Frederick until he....well…she became ill and since I was thirteen, he put me to work in her place," she told her, choosing her words carefully.
Kristy eyed her thoughtfully. Until he, what? No doubt his abuse had gone too far. She decided to risk asking a bolder question. "Are you happy working here?"
Gladys dropped her gaze and nervously clinched her hands together. "I got no choice. 'Tis my place in life, I suppose." Her voice sounded lost, without hope.
Kristy went over to the maid and gripped her shoulders lightly, making her look straight at her. "But what if you did. What if I could give you that choice?" her voice held an edge of challenge.
Gladys looked at her mistress blankly; not understanding what she was about. "I—I do not understand..."
"1 am being held prisoner her, Gladys. If you can help me, I may find a way to escape. And when I do I will take you with me. You can work at Greystone and be away from that monster that you work for now!"
Fear crept up into the girl's eyes and a tremble went through her thin body. "Oh no, milady. I cannot. If..if he thought I was trying to escape - he would kill me..." she whimpered. Shaking off Kristy's hands she backed away from her.
But Kristy was quick to reassure her. "No, you don't understand. All you need to do is simply listen and tell me things you hear around the castle. When Lord Worthingham will be away or anything that could help me make my escape!" Kristy was holding out her hand to the girl, her eyes begging her to trust her.
Gladys stood there for a good thirty seconds as she contemplated all that her mistress had told her. She wanted to be free of Worthingham. Only once had he raped her, but she knew her time was soon coming up again. And, by all that is holy, she could not let that happen to her once more. Remembering the feel of Worthingham's sweaty hands on her body helped her to make a decision. Risking death was preferable than waiting for him to take her. It would be worth it.
Quickly she nodded, "I will report to you what I hear, milady." And with that she bowed out of the room, leaving her mistress in a thoughtful pose, her mind already forming a plan.
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Kristy had been wrong. At least, partly wrong. It was true that Darian had not tried to come and get her out of Worthingham's clutches. But that did not mean that he had done nothing. No, he simply could not do it. No matter how bad he hurt, no matter how enraged he was at the mere thought of what she had done, he simply could not forget about her. Couldn't leave her to Worthingham without knowing that she was suffering no ill abuse. .. .or worse.
The moment he got home, he enlisted the help of one of his trusted servants – a man named Wiley that he knew he could trust. One that he also knew was excellent at finding out information. For he had always managed to know everything about everyone at Greystone. Darian had no idea how he accomplished this, he only knew that he did it we1l and that was enough.
The servant, all week long, had been reporting to him on the goings on at the Worthingham. He had infiltrated the castle, posing as a serf and managed to work in the kitchens. Darian knew it had something to do with the French cook that Worthingham had in his employ. Wiley seemed to also have a way with the ladies!
But what the servant had to report only confused the earl.
It seemed that his wife was being treated like a guest of the castle, servants at her disposal, could go where she liked around the castle. But, Wiley noted, she was not allowed outside the castle. Darian supposed THAT was for her protection against him.
The most confusing part, however, was that he had not taken Christiana to his bed. Wiley had been most adamant about that fact. But why? Hadn't that been the whole reason she had betrayed him, because she had been consorting with Worthingham? Why then did he no longer take what she apparently offered freely? It didn't make sense. None of it made sense.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought that maybe it did make sense. That maybe she hadn't betrayed him. Mayhaps... Good God! Was he a fool? Of course, she was a traitor. She was also a liar and a deceiver. He would do only to well to remember that.
But he found himself relieved that she was not sleeping with Worthingham. Relieved that that madman wasn't taken liberties that Darian knew, all too well, that he was capable of. That's why he could not forget about her. Why he could not just leave her to the baron's perverted devices.
And may his soul be damned forever, but he could not get her out of his mind. Aye, she was a betrayer, but he would be run through with a blunt sword before he would let anyone else claim her. She was still his. His property. But no longer would she be his life. Aye, he still intended to take her, but only to beget him a child. After that she would be set up in a manor of one of his other holdings. He wouldn't care if he ever saw her again. Then she could take all the lovers she pleased.
Tilden joined him in the small chamber off the great hall that was used to house the castle and village records that also served as an office of sorts for the current earl. Darian looked up from his desktop and then back down again.
"Have the men been alerted, Tilden?"
"Aye, just a moment ago. They were all completely surprised, so it 'twould seem like our secret was kept well guarded." he informed him promptly.
Darian rose from his chair and nodded curtly. "That is good. We best need to keep out a watchful eye for any that may try to alert Worthingham of our attack." A bitter look crossed his features fleetingly and he reached to pick up the map that he had been studying earlier. "Though, I doubt very much that we have cause to be wary."
"That it may be, my lord. But we must not take any undo chances if the rescue is to be a successful one."
The map was once again put back on the desk with a slam of Darian's hand. "I should not have let you talk me into this. I only hope that you do not get yourself killed in the process." He walked to the long narrow window and threw back the wooden shutter.
Tilden looked at his lord's back and sighed. "She is still your wife and Greystone's countess. 'Twould be a travesty to leave her to your enemy. And you know, as well as I, the king would be most unhappy.
"Our king cares little of the events happening in his native land!" he replied darkly.
"He cares that you beget an heir!"
"Then bring the deceitful wench back, and I will bed her and get her with child. But after that Tilden, she will be sent to Sedgwick and I will hear no more about it! Is that clear?" he roared over his shoulder at the knight.
Darian missed the sad shake of Tilden's head and the pitying look that his knight's eyes held for him. "Aye, that is clear, my lord." He crossed the threshold of the room then paused and asked him softly, "In case that Worthingham is aware of our attack, you will make sure he does not get to Sidra, will you not?"
Darian turned to look at his friend with a curious look about him. "I will guard her with my life, Tilden." he assured with the same softness. And then watched his friend depart.
Looking back to the window he let out a long pent up breath. Tonight his wife would be returned to him. He wanted to be indifferent. He did not want her return to matter to him at all. But he was powerless to stop the onslaught of confusing emotions that were gripping him unmercifully right at the moment. He did not really understand what exactly he felt for her, or what he would do when he saw her. Except, mayhaps, the part of him that seemed to be relaxing, because she was coming home. And that realization only made him angry.
To break with his thoughts, he directed his attention towards the Great Hall. He had to check and make sure his castle guards were ready for an attack and that in case of one, that the enemy could not penetrate their walls.
Finally, his thoughts of Christiana were, if only temporarily, were push to the side.

Chapter 13

Greystone's betrayer had felt a moment of panic at Sir Tilden news of siege. God's truth! But he would not have time to reach Worthingham and tell him to prepare for attack!
He glanced around nervously as the knights and guard donned their armor and sheathed their weapons. Mayhaps if he left now, amongst all this rushed confusion, his absence would go unnoticed. After all, the earl would not be riding with them and it would likely be him that noticed him gone rather than anyone else. Mayhaps. .
"Do you dare dawdle whilst the others prepare for battle?" The barking voice belonging to Sir Vachel commanded from ahead. "Hasten and prepare the shields, or else prepare your self for lashes for your incompetence and laziness."
The Betrayer grimaced as the commanding figure retreated into the crowd of soldiers. There would, now, be no opportunity. Resentment built and festered within him. Informing Fredrick Worthingham would have insured him at least a little gold to warm his pocket! That, added to his other savings would have allowed him to leave this place and survived until he reached the forest beyond his father's keep. There he would join the band of thieves that had so fascinated him as a child. And in doing so, he would bring embarrassment and shame to his father's name. Aye, that day would come, when the old man would regret the beatings he had inflicted on his youngest son, during his drunken tirades of violence, and he would rue the day that during one of those tirades, he had killed his mother.
He picked up the shield that bore the Greystone crest with much animosity and mounted it upon a saddle. Now his dream of revenge would be put on hold. Mayhaps, forever, if they succeeded in doing away with Worthingham. The Betrayer, in his twisted irrational mind, thought to himself that it was all incredibly unfair.
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A quick knock sounded at Kristy's door and a timid voice
called from beyond the thick English oak. "My lady, 'tis I, Gladys."
Kristy opened the door and was instantly concerned at the nervous, excited look that was so evident in her maids face. "Gladys, what is it?"
She didn't come into the room but stayed out in the hallway.
"Milady, I have with me a serf from the kitchens. He says that he is a messenger from Greystone. He begs to have a word with you!" The girl glanced hesitantly to her side and then beside her appeared a young man with dark blond hair, his clothes were brown and woolen, the kind wore by all servants of Worthingham.
"Are you really from Greystone?" Kristy ask the man warily, wondering if this was some sort of trick.
"I am Wiley. I have been personally sent by Lord Greystone, milady." From under the layers of his tunic he pulled out a paper bearing a waxed seal. Kristy reached out for it and found no writing upon it, just the seal bearing the Greystone mark.
Excitement mixed with hope was bubbling up within her belly and she pulled the young man into the room, as well as Gladys. "You have a message?" she asked as soon as the door was soundly shut.
"Aye, milady. Sir Tilden and Sir Vachel are riding here to Worthingham for a surprise attack this night. I have been told to see that you are brought to the kitchens. There, there is a side entrance to the keep. You are to await one of the earl's knights to come for you there," Wiley told her with preciseness. He took his job seriously and would carry out his master's plan to the letter.
The tears of joy that threaten to surface were quickly squelched as she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. "How can I get to the kitchen? I will be noticed!"
Gladys quickly brought forward a bundle of cloth and presented it to her. "These some of my clothes, The tunic has a hood attached to it. You can use it to shield your face."
A thrilled smile spread across her features. She snatched up the clothes and ran to the small antechamber, dark shiny braids of hair flying out from behind her. "I'll be out in two seconds!" she promised with enthusiasm before slamming the door behind her.
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"ATTACK!" The cry sounded from without the castle. The huge double door of the Great Hall were propelled open with a gust of force. Three tall knightly figures rush in, anxiety sullied their faces as they sought their liege lord.
The initial cry had brought Worthingham from his small chamber into the hall. It was inconceivable that they could be caught by a surprise attack! That cursed spy at Greystone would have surely warned him of such a plan, for the baron knew he was so desperate for the money that he would be rewarded for leaking such news! Why had he failed? Once this was over, and he got his hands on that incompetent …
His thoughts came to a halt when he saw the three guards coming towards him. "My Lord! We are under attack!" His captain—of—the—guard announced apprehensively.
Fear and panic gripped Worthingham in the chest. "Greystone?"
"Aye, sir. And I do not know how they managed it, but they have surrounded us on all sides. And you know that it would be an easy feat for them to come over the bailey wall,,,."
"I know that!" he spat angrily. He hated to be reminded of the condition that he had allowed his castle to get in. You will have to make sure that they do not come over it, won't you!"
"Yes, my lord." He turned and left the castle.
A dread was spreading over Worthingham. Without advance warning, his castle, indeed, was not impenetrable. Half his guard were not on duty and would have to be found or awakened. By the time they got to their stations of defense they would, in most probabilities, be too late. Curses on Greystone! He hadn't counted on his nemesis coming for his wife. He had judged him wrongly, indeed! He had thought sure that he would have accepted forgetting about a betraying woman in exchange for his sister. And if he thought he would attack, just to exact revenge, he would have never believed it would be this soon! His lack of foresightedness had left him at a disadvantage. He had already planned to attack Greystone on the morrow.
Worthingham realized that he was one day too late. So bloody close to having what he wanted, and yet so blasted far!
His prisoner's face flashed in his mind at that moment and he let out a loud curse. Good God! He nearly forgot about the wench!
"Dewitt!" he bellowed at the fair-haired guard standing near the keep's doorway. "See that our lovely prisoner is locked soundly in the tower, And let no one - and I mean no one - come near her. Do I make myself clear?"
The young man nodded quickly and squared his shoulders proudly before scattering on up the stairs. This was his first important assignment ever been dealt him, since becoming a knight. He would see his lord made proud of him, he would.
Not two minutes later the same guard came sprinting down the stairway. "Milord! The girl is gone, as well as her maid. I fear she has escaped!"
"Then search the castle!" he grounded out between clenched teeth. "Take whatever guard to help you, just do it!"
The lad looked blankly at his lord for a strained second. "Mi…Milord, every available guard is holding off the enemy. 'Tis only I left," he informed Worthingham hesitantly.
"Then YOU find her, knight! GO!" He was loosing his control. The wench had to have been informed, That bloody well meant that Greystone had been spying on him this whole time! The devil take him! He thought in aggravation. The devil take them ALL!
He stalked to the double doors and opened them to find an attack, worse than he could have ever imagined, raging fiercely before him. Greystone's men had had come over the wall, just as he had feared, and doing a remarkable job at pushing back his men, weakening their defense. An assault of deadly arrows showered like lethal rain around him and one by one he saw his men falling from their blows. More Greystone soldiers scaled over the wall and the flashes of their swords as they slashed the air and meeting with their foe's, streakinglike lightening along the small bailey. Cries of mercy, moans of death, and screams of pain resounded all around him, as if closing in on him, suffocating the very breath from his lungs...
"God, NO! He yelled, pushing shut the castle doors with exceptional force, They were going to destroy him. It was the end. He could feel it - smell it. It was the time when all men must make a decision. To stand and fight, or to tuck tail and run. Fredrick of Worthingham, fourth baron of Worthingham....chose the latter.
Frantically his eyes searched the hall, landing on the door that lead to the kitchens. There was a side entrance to the keep there! Now, armed with a plan of escape he flew to door and upon opening it slowly and carefully found the passage way empty. A few hurried steps and he was inside the kitchen shutting the door firmly behind him.
"My eyes deceive me, else I would not see the mighty Fredrick Worthingham fleeing attack!" a low deadly voice sounded from within the room.
He spun around and found himself face to face with Greystone's captain of the guard, Sir Tilden. Behind the knight was Christiana, clothed in servant's rags as well as two other serfs that escape through the entrance before he could see their faces.
Tilden, without taking his eyes from the baron, pushed Kristy towards the door, "Go, my lady! There is a horse waiting for you outside.
She glance indecisively towards her capture. She wanted to run from this place, but hated leaving Tilden to deal with Worthingham. "But, Tilden…"
"Now, Kristy. Please!" he shouted at her and this time she left without pause.
Hatred burned like brimstone within the baron. His spy had told him of the growing closeness that this knight and his Sidra shared. Fleeing left his mind. Only vengeance coursed through his veins, now. This low-life whoreson meant to take what was rightfully his, and by God, he would fight to the end to see it rectified.
"Is this to be an outright slaughter or will you fight me like a man?" Worthingham sneered in disgust at Tilden,
"Unsheathe your sword, swine, and I will demonstrate just how much man I am." he countered, wearing a confident grin. Knowing this man had been out to harm his beloved only gave him more determination to see to his demise, Running his sword through this devil's heart would only bring him pleasure.
Like quicksilver, the blade slid from its scabbard and met his foe's blade with a reverberating ring of steel clashing.
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On the far side of the bailey, outside the kitchens, Kristy was met by a knight bearing the Greystone colors, leading a black mare in his wake. The battle was still waging but slowing a bit. The Greystone soldiers had nearly secured the whole of Worthingham keep, only a dozen or so of their enemy still fought, but slowly and tiredly. It was apparent that the battle was lost for Worthingham, though his men were reluctant to concede to defeat.
"Mount quickly, my lady. We must get you away from the danger of the arrows. I feel it is safe, here, but cannot be for certain." The knight told her as he helped her mount.
"Gladys, my maid…" she began, concerned about the promise she had made the girl.
"I will bring her also to safety, my lady. Now, stay close beside me. We will cross over where the men have knocked out the wall." He pointed to where the stones of the bailey wall, lay in ruin,
They were nearly to the opening when a biting sting of pain caught her under her shoulder blade, Her body flinched, then a throbbing, hot ache spread from the area of where the sting occurred then to the whole of her back, creeping rapidly around to her chest. Oh, dear Lord! I'Ve been hit! she realized in a moment of horror.
"H—help... .m. .me. ." she whimpered, unable to speak it louder, for the pain was steadily paralyzing her entire body. A numbing sensation crept into her limbs and despite all her best efforts, the reins slid from her fingers. A strangled cry escaped her throat as her body slump onto the horses neck then fell in a unconscientious lump to the cold ground.
"Duncan! The lady!" Wiley cried from behind them,
"Dear God! NO!" The knight bellowed in a moment of panic. He flew from his mount and ran to Lady Kristy's still form. He lowered his ear to her chest and saged in relief to hear the thud of her heartbeat. She was still alive!
It was at that moment that Tilden exited the kitchens. He was breathing heavy and the surface cut on his arm, smarted, the blood from it soaking the cuff of his sleeve. But victory was singing though every pore of his battle weary body. Worthingham was dead, and now his Sidra was safe.
But his elation was short lived when his gaze fell to the lifeless body of his countess laying on the ground, Duncan hovering over her. "What has happen?" he yelled loudly, coming quickly to her side. "Is she…" he hesitated, his voice lowered.
"No. But we have to get the arrow out of her before it poison's her blood."
Tilden grimly nodded. He took his dagger from his belt and then told the still girl in a soft whisper. "Please forgive me, my lady..." With movements as quick as he could manage, he tore away the material surrounding the wound and then, carefully, cut the arrow free, her body jerking from the pain as Duncan held her still. Tilden ripped a long strip of linen from the hem of her under tunic and bound it tightly around her body and over the wound. But it was bleeding badly. Tilden realized if they did not get her Greystone within the next half-hour, she might not make it.
Tilden looked up to the serf, Wiley. "Inform the good people of Worthingham that their liege has fallen to his demise and that the castle and lands has been claimed in the name of Lord Darian Maxwell, Earl of Greystone. And Duncan, " he turned to the young knight, "Tell Vachel to remain and secure the keep. Make sure that we do not have the servants and villians running in fear of what will now happen to them, Tell him to insure them that they will be taken care of."
He lifted the dead weight of an unconscious Kristy in his arms and then mounted his horse placing her before him. "I must hasten to Greystone, ere our lady could die and to inform the earl of our victory." With that he left them. As he increased the speed of his horse and held on fast to his lady's blood soaked body, he began to pray. She could not die, Not when there was so much between she and Darian left unsaid, left unexplained, unforgiven.
"Hold on, my lady. Please, just hold on..."
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Whatever Darian had been prepared for upon his wife's arrival, it was not to see her gravely wounded and deathly pale as his knight carried her in his arms into the Great Hall. At that moment thoughts of her deception and betrayal left his mind. Instead alarm clutched at his heart and it took no more than a heartbeat for him to be before Tilden lifting his limp body into his own arms.
"My God! What happened, Tilden?" As he asked this he bent his head low and felt her faint breath upon his cheek.
"She was struck by a stray arrow, my lord. She has lost much of blood." Tilden's face was almost as pale as Kristy's.
"Worthingham?"
"Dead. Vachel stayed behind to secure the castle and lands."
Darian nodded. "Send for the leech. I will take her to my chamber." He wasted no more time as he turned and left the hail.
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Darian paced the chamber, nervously, stopping every other second to ask the old woman who served as the village medicinal person, how his wife fared. And very other second he received the same unsatisfying answer. "I cannot know yet, milord."
The wound had been carefully stitched together, and a compress made of an herbal paste had been spread over it, then bandaged. But it was no longer the wound that had them worried. It was the fever that burned her body that had them concerned. The old leech had managed to get a hot mixture of her medicinal brew, of God only knew what, down her throat and in her belly. She had told Darian that it was usually effective in breaking a fever.
The leech soon left Darian to attend to her, saying there was naught to do but pray now. He pulled a chair along side of the bed and stared down at the unconscious pale woman whom had caused him so much pain. If she were to die, then he would no longer have to be confronted day after day of her betrayal. He would no longer have to wonder if she would do it again. He would no longer....
A long ragged breath escaped him and his shoulders slumped as he rubbed his hands roughly over his face. If she were to die he would no longer see her beautiful, perfect smile, or the way her eyes lit up at the smallest pleasure dealt her. He would no longer be a party to her cunning wit or hear her strange fascinating tales she would dream up, of what the future held them. He would no longer - he would no longer know the feel of her soft curvy body pressing so willing and passionate against his own, or the feel of her velvety kisses as they drugged him into a passionate stupor beyond anything he had ever experienced.
He loved her. He hated her. But, my God, he did not want her to die. He reached and grasp her hand into his large palm and brought it to his lips. Please God, do not take her from me.
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Sidra stood outside the door of Darian's chamber. She had just been awaken by Tilden and told the news. Worthingham was dead! The words were like a key that unlocked and removed a heavy weight and burden off of her. But then he told her of Kristy. The very thought that her sister—in—law could be dying brought on worry and apprehension. She loved Kristy as if she were her own sister and now she might lose her.... Despairing tears had welled up within her eyes at the thought.
She heard no sounds coming from the chamber, so she opened the door softly and quietly peeking around the door to the bed. But what Sidra saw, caused her mouth to drop open in astonishment.
Her brother was sitting beside Kristy, with her hand in his own. He face was creased with anguish, his eyes shut tightly in pain.
Her first impulse was to run to him and put her arms around him. But she checked herself quickly. Nay, he would not want her to know he grieved over his injured wife. He would not want it known that he cared for her even though he still did not believe her innocence.
She backed out to the room as quietly as she had entered and pulled the door to.
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The tiny click came from the direction of the door and Darian stiffened, waiting for whomever it was to speak. After hearing no other sounds he turned towards the door to find no one there. He frowned and turned back to his wife. He could have sworn he had sensed eye's upon him, and he was rarely wrong about those feelings. He mentally shrugged it off.
He hated these lapses of weakness where Christiana was concerned. He hated that he ached with apprehension over whether she would live or die.
A dark lock of hair lay across her brow and he leaned over and gently brushed it back. Her skin was so hot. Ho caressed her cheek with two fingers. The same cheek that only a few days before had glowed with health, now looked so lifeless.
At that moment, he made the decision to stay be her side until her life no longer hung in the balance. He would care for her wound, and apply the cold compresses to try to reduce her fever. When she would awaken he would then deal with their marriage, but for now he would see her made well.
**************************
Sidra and Tilden sat in each other's arms, in the privacy of the castle gardens. The cold air went unnoticed as the pair created their own kind of warmth when their lips met hungrily in a frenzied state of wanting.
Sidra broke from his lips and planted soft quick kisses all over cheeks, brow and chin. "Oh, Tilden I was so worried that you would not return," she said in between kisses.
He pulled her back from him and gave her injured look. "Did you doubt my abilities, madam?"
She smiled at him and gave him another quick peck on the cheek. "Nay, I did not. But I fear that I will always worry for your safety when you are away from me." She threw her arms around his neck tightly. "Oh, Tilden, let us go away from here, I care not whether we have a proper wedding or whether or not you are titled. I just want us to be together. We can find a friar in some small village and…"
"NO!" he stopped her and pulled her back so he could look into her face. "I would not have us living like vagabonds, seeking work where I may find it, unsure of where our next meal will come from," he told her firmly.
"But I have some money, we can purchase a small manor. I know Darian would not object to our marriage. Mayhaps, would even grant me a large dowry..."
He let her go and jumped up. "My God, Sidra. Leave me my pride. I will not live off the riches of your family! 'Twould bring shame to my name, and that shame would be passed on to our sons.
She stood up on the stone bench so that she was eye level to him. Her eyes were glowing with indignation. "Will you allow your pride to throw away what we share? Because I swear to you, Tilden that I will not go on meeting in secret. I will not disgrace myself by becoming your mistress, just because your pride will not allow you to make your love known for me before God!"
"You will not have to become his mistress." The familiar voice came from beyond the shadows of the garden.
"Darian!" Sidra cried when her brother stepped where she could see him. "Kristy's not..."
He quickly shook his head. "Nay, that impertinent maid of hers, rushed me from the room so that she could dress her into a fresh nightshift." The worry could not be hidden from his features and he felt himself sigh. "She is still no better. I fear for her life." At that admission he not only surprised the couple, he had surprised himself at speaking it aloud.
Sidra jumped down from the bench and went over to him and took his hands into her small ones. "She will live, Darian. Do not give up on that belief."
He nodded distractedly, growing uneasy with the direction of the conversation. Changing the subject he asked, "Now, what was this talk of being Tilden's mistress?" He raised an eyebrow at Tilden over his sister's head.
Sidra let go of his hands and folded her arms about her chest. "You might as well know that, Tilden and I are in love with one another. I want him to marry me, yet he refuses. Its his foolish pride that stands in the way of our happiness." Her chin was thrust up, defying her brother to say aught against their relationship.
He reached over and smoothed his hand down her cheek, affectionately. "If a man's pride is taken away, my sister, then a man can know no happiness," he spoke quietly, his eyes holding the pain from knowing that truth from his own experience.
"Men!" she growled at Darian. Pushing his hand away she walked over to the bench and sat down hard upon it. She refused to look at either one of them.
"Ah, my sister. Do not look so despairing, for I have news that you both will like to hear." he announce, looking quiet please with himself.
A suspicious look crept into Sidra's eyes. "Wait a moment! Why did you not seemed surprised at our relationship?"
He gave her mocking look. "Surely you do not think that I was oblivious to those looks you two kept sending each other. Or those kisses, you thought were shared in private. Give me more credit than that!" he huff indignantly.
Both his friend and his sister grew red faced at that news. "You have something to tell us?" Sidra asked, trying to relieve her embarrassment.
"Yes, it concerns Worthingham keep." Darian began. "Since we were justified in the death of the baron of Worthingham and since he has no living relatives, then the lands fall into my possession. But I will need a vassal to look after it. So that and with the title that I am going to recommend that the king give you for your bravery, I would say that you can marry and have your pride, too."
Tilden stared with unbelief at Darian, then grinned widely. "It would seem so!" he exclaimed slapping his friend on the shoulders, then boldly hugging the man's sister and his future bride.

Chapter 14

Conscienceless slowly began to clear the thick blackness that Kristy had been immersed into off and on for days, now. Strange pieces of memory were floating around in her mind's eye as she struggled to open her eyes. Someone crying around her, the smooth rich voice belonging to her husband speaking softly, calling her name, women's voices conversing around her, a strong large hand holding hers,... it all didn't seemed to make sense. Surely it could not have been Darian who spoke her name so lovingly. It must have been a dream. A beautiful, precious dream.
Her heavy lids finally lifted to find soft morning light drifting in from the bedroom ************************************************************ **** She started to sit up, but then felt a stab of pain from her back, Wincing, she slowly relaxed back against the pillow.
Then she remembered. She had been shot. It couldn't have been a bullet, since they weren't yet invented, so it had to be an arrow. A BIG arrow, from the feel of it.
But despite the pain, she smiled up at the top of the velvet canopy. She was back home. It really did feel like home. Home did not mean a lonely New York apartment anymore, nor did it mean the old farmhouse in Indiana. Home was now this big stone English castle, it was the place where her husband lived. Home was with him. And she never, ever wanted to leave him or it again.
She started when she heard a small snoring sound from the side of her bed. She turned her head on the pillow towards the sound. Letting out a breath, she smiled.
Darian. Her big hulk of a husband, sound asleep in that small cramped chair, His long legs stretched out before him, his arms folded against his large wool covered chest, his handsome head bent awkwardly against the back of the stiff wooden chair.
Maybe she hadn't been dreaming after all. He had obviously been seeing after her while she had been out. Hope began to birth in her heart, Maybe he hadn't believed Worthingham's note.
Then she frowned thoughtfully, while she studied his sleeping features. Why had he taken so long, then? He could not know she wasn't in grave danger around Fredrick Worthingham. And she was positive that he knew of his awful lifestyle. Why had it taken so long?
Slowly stretching out her arm. She could barely touch the dark hand that curled around the chair's wooden arm. Always the ready warrior, Darian jumped out of his chair, at the feel of her touch and grabbed for his sword. The sword that wasn't at the moment hanging ever ready at his side, this time.
She smiled at the fogged, confused expression he briefly wore on his face. "Darian...." she whispered hoarsely, not realizing, till now, that her throat felt like it had been scrapped by sandpaper.
He visibly relaxed and it seemed he breath a sigh of relief when he realized that she had awakened, but she was not sure. "You are awake."
Was that good or bad? she thought to herself. But what had she expected? Tears of joy? "I need…water..." She placed her
hand over her throat and winced.
Darian didn't moved for a moment, as if he couldn't believe that she was actually talking to him. "Oh…Aye, I will get you some." He snapped out of whatever thoughts had had him so transfixed at that moment and turned to a pitcher beside the bed.
He put his arm around her shoulders and gently lifted her up while putting the cup to her lips. After swallowing down a couple of sips she nodded her head and he lowered her back down. He was quick about moving his arm from her. Too, quick. And there was an awkwardness, a strain, between them that had not existed before.
It was, as she had feared from the first. He believed Worthingham's message. He believed she had been unfaithful to him.
She watched him replace the cup back on the small table, then straighten to look down back at her. There would be no guessing at what he was thinking by looking at his face. It was unreadable. A poker face, if she had ever seen one. He just stared. She felt as if he could see straight through to her heart. But, of course, if he could do that, he would see the truth. He would be holding her in his arms, now instead of standing here, fighting with himself over what he thought she did.
"How long have I been out?" she asked finally, trying to break the tension.
"Three nights and two days have past."
"Tilden. Is he alright?" She remembered that she had left him with Worthingham.
A bitter smile curved one side of his mouth. "Aye, Sir Tilden lives. But your Worthingham does not."
At that glorious news Kristy closed her eyes and let out a heavy ragged breath, A tear, stemming from pure joy escaped her lid. He was dead and she was free. Thank God.
But Darian took that tear's meaning for something else.
He clenched his hands at his side as he watched his wife weep over her dead lover. Part of him had hoped that it was not true. Part of him had wanted so desperately to believe that she loved him. That part hoped no longer. Her tears prove her quilt. Swearing softly under his breath he tore his gaze from her face and turned his back on her. He picked up the poker by the hearth and poked absently, blindly at the glowing logs.
He was, though, glad that she would live. The last two days she had teetered on the edge of death, too many times. He had been so afraid that he would lose her. But then again, hadn't he lost her already?
He had no idea what he was going to do about her. He should send her to Sedgewick Manor as soon as she was able travel. He should send her there and never think of her again. He should... He should——but he wouldn't. He didn't understand what kept him from doing it, but he knew he couldn't. Mayhaps he just like to suffer. Mayhaps he was but a fool for keeping her around.
A conspiring smile lit his mouth. Or mayhaps he wanted her to suffer, to pay for being so faithless. Mayhaps he would take up a mistress and put her up in this very castle.
"Darian?" The soft hoarse voice broke through his musings.
His fathomless gaze rested on her once again.
"Thank you for coming for me."
Darian eyes quickly turned dark gray. In three long strides he was beside the bed and glaring angrily down at her. "Thank me? What game do you now play. Christiana? You thank me, yet you weep for your dead lover! Do not take me for a fool, woman," he roared at her. He would like to put his hands around that skinny neck of hers and choke her, he was so mad.
She looked at him aghast. "I was not crying over…"
"Enough! I will not hear your lies!" he loudly interrupted, his hand slashing the air.
"Darian, I am not lying to you. It was Worthinqham who lied to you!" He was beginning to frighten her.
"Then how did he find out about our plan of attack? How could he have known when only a select few of my men and my family knew of it?" His eyes were accusing, his voice, harsh.
Her eyes clouded with tears at his lack of faith, "And you would trust your men over me." she said gravely, then lowered her gaze and looked down at her hands. The hurt that she had carried with her through this whole ordeal came back intensified.
She missed the raw show of emotion that crossed his face when she bent her head. He wanted so bad to take her in his arms and say he believed her. But…it would be a lie, He did not believe her.
He turned from her once again and started pacing the room. "My men have never given me reason to think them traitors."
"And I have?" she cried, bringing her eyes back to him, "I told you that I loved you, Darian."
"Your words mean naught to me, lady. You have tricked me and played me for a fool!"
"I have never lied to you, Darian," she said quietly, her eyes shut wearily. A helplessness was sweeping over her. He wasn't ever going to believe her. He didn't want to believe her.
He was so quiet for a long period of time that curiosity got the better of her and she opened them again. She wasn't surprised to find him looking at her. She was surprised about the look of pain that he managed to hide the moment she looked at him——but not before she had seen it,
"Darian..." She whispered softly, her hand held out to him.
He almost reached out for it. He almost gave into the feelings that her tender voice evoked within him. He almost believed her words, Almost.
"I will tell Sidra that you have awaken." He turned abruptly and fled towards the door, He was a fool to keep her, close to him. A bloody fool.
"Darian, please..." Kristy plead as he reached the door. Tears were coming down her cheeks once again. Tears that Darian didn't look up to see. Without no more than a split—second hesitation, he left the room.
****
The next time she opened her eyes, Sidra sat beside her. "Oh, Kristy! I have been so frightened for you. How do you feel?" she asked as she put a caring hand to Kristy's forehead.
Kristy smiled weakly at her sister—in—law. "As good as
a person can, I suppose, with a hole their back!" she quipped. "Actually I am so relieved that I am back home and this whole terrible ordeal is over."
"No more relieved than I am, I can assure you! I am so glad that that awful man is dead and that you are away from there!" She looked at Kristy with a flash of concern. "He didn't...I mean he..never..hurt you, did he?" she asked hesitantly.
Kristy shook her head, then grimaced as the pain that little movement evoked. "He never touched me. He said he wanted nothing that Greystone had already used. He wanted you. He seemed obsessed with the idea of having you for his wife." She paused, a look of uncertainty about her. "You know that I did not betray my husband, don't you? I could never..."
"I believe you," she assured her placing a hand over Kristy's. "I know how much that you love my brother. I just don't understand..." she stopped, horrified at what she was about to say.
"Understand why Darian does not believe me," she finished dejectedly.
"I'm sorry, Kristy."
Kristy blinked a couple of times to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall again. She focused of the gatherers of the canopy above her. "What can I do to make him believe me, Sidra? How can I make him see that I love him, that I could never want anyone else?"
Sidra squeezed her hand and told her, "That just it Kristy. You must show him your love. Only your love can make him see that he has been wrong. That you are not like Isabella."
She sighed and closed her eyes. "Maybe he'll never believe me. Maybe I'll try to convince Jubal to take me back to my time. It could be the real Christiana could make him happy. It is too obvious that I cannot."
Sidra was strangely quite, so Kristy turned and look at her. Sidra's face was completely pale, her mouth agape, her eyes staring at something beyond Kristy, on the other side of the bed. It looked as if she had seen a ghost.
Quickly (and painfully) she jerked her head around to where Sidra looked, afraid of who or what she would find there. But then she relaxed. It was only Jubal.
"Jubal, I think you have scared my poor sister—in—law to near death with your untimely appearance!" she admonished dryly.
"You...you know...him?" Sidra, still wide—eyed, asked breathlessly.
"Sidra, this is Jubal, my...er...guardian angel."
Jubal nodded her direction. "My child."
"My God...." Sidra murmured faintly. She really hadn't known if she believed the fantastic tale that Kristy had told her of. Part of her did, she supposed. The other part wasn't really sure. "You really are from another time and place!"
"Yes, she is," Jubal answered for her, "I granted her a wish, you see, as well as the real Christiana. She is from a time that is far more advanced than this culture. Their knowledge increases at such a high rate that their books are constantly outdated. But as far as matters of the heart go… things have changed very little," He shook his head sadly and sighed.
The shock was started to ebb and curiosity took over. "Do you grant wishes often?"
He smiled. "All the time. Yet, I must admit this has been, by far, the biggest wish and the most difficult I have ever granted!"
"Impossible would be a more exact word to use," Kristy told him bitterly. "So far, Jubal, I have been rushed through a wedding to a man I've never met, thrust into the possession of Countess for which I am terrible inept. Then I was kidnapped, thrown into a dungeon that was covered with filth and rats, made a prisoner of a sadistic madman while my husband just left me there to rot for a whole week. Now the faithless snake thinks that I betrayed him! Let me assure you, Jubal, this is NOT what I wished for." It was hard to make a point laying flat on one's back.
"It is not over yet, my child." Jubal sat down beside her and patted her arm. As always his touch was strangely comforting.
"To Darian, it is over," she said sadly.
Sidra looked over to Jubal, beseechingly, "Is there nothing you can do?"
Jubal shook his head. "I cannot change what is in someone's head or heart. But you, Kristy, can help him change."
"Oh, Jubal, don't you think I've tried. He cares nothing for me."
"I would not say that, Kristy," Sidra interjected. "My brother was at your side constantly during these last two days. I know he cares for you, it is just that he is afraid."
Kristy's breath caught. "He was with me the whole time?" she ask unbelieving.
Sidra nodded. "He was very frightened that you would die. Nan and Warrick had a hard time getting him to rest."
"I don't understand.." Her brow lowered in confusion.
"He needs time and he needs your love, my child. Only love can make him believe." Jubal stood up after giving her arm another reassuring pat, "Never give up, my child. Never give up." With that, he was gone.
"Sweet Mary!" Sidra swore, wide—eyed once again. "Does he always appear and disappear without so much as a warning?"
Absently Kristy nodded her head. Her thoughts were elsewhere at the moment. She couldn't understand why, if Darian cared so for her while she was ill, why did he leave her in Worthingham's clutches for so long? It did not make sense, at all. She was so deep in her musing that she did not realize that Sidra was still talking to her.
"Kristy. Kristy!"
"What…Oh! I'm sorry Sidra! What were you saying?" she looked at her sister-in-law, feeling a little guilty for ignoring her.
"I said that you will have to help me with my wedding. There is so much to prepare for. The announcements, my dress, the food…"
Kristy interrupted. "Wait a minute! You're getting married? Oh, Sidra I'm so sorry! Who did Darian betroth you to?"
A sheepish smile curved her pretty lips. "I would not feel
so sorry for me, for I am to marry the man I love."
"You mean..."
"Aye. I marry Tilden!" she exclaimed with laughter, seeing Kristy's shocked face.
"But how? I thought…"
"Tilden brought down Worthingham and captured the keep. It is his liege lord's decision to put a vassal in the keep. Darian gave that privilege to Tilden, and the king has given Tilden a barony for his bravery! He is now Lord Tilden!" Sidra beamed proudly.
Kristy clasped Sidra's hand. "That is wonderful. Of course, I will help you prepare. I'm so happy for you two!" I am also extremely jealous! she thought to herself. Well, at least someone in the family could find happiness. Maybe some of that love would rub off her husband.
A week passed and finally Kristy was able to get up out of bed without hurting too terribly bad. The wound was healing nicely. She was still a little stiff and it pained her still with certain movements, but she felt worlds better.
Nan chattered away as she helped Kristy dress. But Kristy heard none of what she was saying. Her thoughts were bordering on the brink of hopelessness. Darian had not come to her room since that first day she had awakened. The small bit of hope that she had harbored over the fact that he had stayed with her while she was fevered was getting smaller by the day. How could she win him with love if she never got to see him?
"Will you be coming down to the hall, milady?" Nan queried as she began to brush out Kristy's long tresses.
"No, not right now. I will take some of that tea of yours. though." Somehow that strange tasting brew of Nan's was starting to grow on her.
After Nan left the room, she took the tea and went to stand by the ************************************************************ **** She pushed the glass pain open and let the cool air wash over her. A clash of ********************************l caught her ear, and she looked below to see the knights sparring against one another, honing their sword skills. But something in their realm begin to catch their attention and slowly they stopped what they were doing and began to look over near the castle wall. Her eyes followed theirs curiously and she frowned at what she saw,
Her husband was sparring against Tilden, but the look on Darian's face and the strength he put behind his blows, it appeared he was doing much more than just practicing. It looked as if he was trying to hurt Tilden.
Tilden met his lord's sword blow by blow and he was starting to get angry. What was eating at him? He had been steadily getting worse as the week progressed. He yelled at his men for no reason, he frightened the servants so much that they were now drawing straws to see who was to be the unlucky one who got to serve him. Good God! His enemy was dead, and yet he took no comfort from it. Instead he acted as if the whole world had suddenly become his enemy.
Finally, Tilden felt his sword being wrench from his grip. The impact from it caused him to stumble backward and fall on his backside. He started to get up and dust himself off when he felt the sharp point of a sword pressed against his throat. He brought his incredulous gaze up to Darian' s.
"What the devil are you trying to do, Darian! Would it ease your torment to run your friend through?" Tilden demanded.
He could see the working of Darian's jaw as he stared down at him. Then with a growl he threw his sword down with a brute force and stomped off towards the keep's doors. Tilden shook his head and stood up as he watched him retreat. He loved him like a brother and wondered helplessly what he could do to ease his pain. At this rate he was going to kill himself. But what could he do?
Then a thought struck him. The traitor. They had never found the real traitor. If he could find the person who was Worthingham's spy, then he could dispel all of Darian's doubts and fears where his wife was concerned. And mayhaps, just mayhaps, their could once again be peace and happiness in the household. Aye, He had to find the traitor.
***
Kristy grip the wood edging of the windowsill as she watched the whole troubling scene below. So the rumors were true. She had overheard the castle servants speaking of their masters foul mood. They had said he stayed angry all the time, exploding over the littlest things. And now she had watch with horror as he nearly killed his best friend.
And it was all because of her. She had to do something. It would cost her pride, but she had to do everything she could to change his mind, to make him believe in her again. He had to be made to see the truth.
But...if he didn't…then she would leave him.
And go back home.
Wherever that was, now.

Chapter 15

The wedding would be in four weeks. Sidra and Kristy sat before the hearth busily embroidering gold thread into the edges of the emerald silk gown that the tiny blond woman would be wearing for the event. Kristy still wasn't an expert at the task, but if she worked a little slow, it would look quite good. The seamstresses within the castle had really outdone themselves with the design of the gown. Kristy had told them of little secrets with tucks and pleats she had seen designers use with their creations and they had applied it to the workings of the tunic and blaint. The effect of it was to accent every curve of her petite body. Tilden would be knocked off his feet, when he saw her join him at the altar!
"'Twill be a double celebration, with our getting married the day before Christmas! I want this to be the most beautiful wedding that England has ever seen!" Sidra exclaimed.
Kristy smiled at her. "Of course it will be the most beautiful. How can it not be? Tilden and you are two of the most beautiful people that I have ever seen!" She watched Sidra blush at the compliment.
"Oh, by the way, how is the renovation of Worthingham castle going? I haven't seen much of Tilden lately." Kristy commented.
A comical pained look wrinkled her features. "It still needs a lot of work, I'm afraid. Tilden has been their everyday trying to bring it back to some semblance of decency." Then she sighed *******ly and smiled. "But I will not care if it's falling all around me. I will be with my Tilden."
Kristy raised a dark brow, as she pushed her needle through the silky material, "You say that now, but after a month or two when you two break out of the honeymoon haze, and you find that you are freezing because of all the cracks in the walls, your hungry because the garden grew up, and your afraid that someone will attack you while your walls are down, THEN you'll care!" Her mock serious face could not stay straight any longer and she burst out laughing, Sidra joining right in with her.
"Your a cynic!" Sidra declared and then immediately wished she'd thought before she spoke when she saw Kristy grow quiet. "Oh, Kristy, I didn't mean.,,"
Kristy made herself smile and gently patted her sister—in— law on the hand. "It's alright. You shouldn't have to watch everything you say just because of what's going on between Darian and I."
They sat in mutual silence for a while, concentrating on their work and Kristy's thoughts caused her to chuckle aloud. She saw Sidra's questioning look and explained, "I was just imagining what your children will look like. In a few years I bet we'll see little gold heads bobbing around everywhere!"
Sidra gasp, "Oh, Kristy! You embarrass me!"
Kristy laughed at her but then suddenly grew quite and thoughtful. "Oh, no..." she mumbled as she started counting on her fingers. Oh, no, no...
Sidra looked at her curiously. "Kristy, for heaven's sake, what is wrong?"
She looked up at her friend. Her face was pale. "I haven't had a period since I've been here."
"A what?"
"A period. You know, my monthly flow." She covered her forehead with her hand. "My God, Sidra! I think I'm pregnant!"
Sidra leaped up and hugged her. "That is marvelous news! Darian will be so pleased!"
"Pleased?" She pulled Sidra back and looked into her face. "Sidra, my husband has not talked to me in two weeks. He doesn't even sleep in the same bed as me."
Sidra sat back down but kept a hold on Kristy's hand. "Kristy, Darian will be overjoyed! Mayhaps this is what he needs, He has been such a grouch, lately. This will pull him out of it, I am sure!
Kristy wasn't convinced, but knew she would have to tell him. She was already about two months along. Another month or two and everyone would figure it out for themselves. Yes, she had to tell him.
"Sidra, I guess I had better let your brother know, and the sooner the better. Have you seen him?" she asked, clearly reluctant to having to do this,
"I saw him go into the study off the hall. Would you like me to go along?"
"No, I had better do it alone." she said with a sigh. She walked across the hall to the narrow door that led to his office. After taking a deep breath she knocked softly.
"Come in. " she heard the voice boom clearly through the thick door. It didn't sound like it was a good time to bother him, But then again, what time was good with him?
She pushed open the door and walked on in. She saw that he had not lifted his head from his work. He didn't know it was she.
"What is it?" he commanded in an impatient tone. A tone that was used with serf and knight alike, and that probably extended to mistrustful wives, too.
"We need to talk, Darian," she said quietly.
His head jerked up, his eyes cold. "What is it?" he repeated. She was right about the tone.
She went and sat down in the chair facing the desk. "Yes, I believe I will have a sit. Thank you, dear husband." He remained remote and silent so she went on. "I believe I have some big news.
"Christiana, I have not time to play word games, so would you please say what you have to say, then leave me,"
She jumped up and glared at him. "Darian, stop it! Stop treating me like I'm the scourge of the earth. I have not spoken with you for two weeks. I know you think I betrayed you, but couldn't we at least be civil?" Her hands were raised, palms upturned.
Darian's jaw clenched visibly. It had been pure hell trying to avoid her these weeks, when what he wanted to do was to crawl back in her bed. He knew he need not deny himself from taking what was his right to take, but he did not trust himself with her, Not yet. Mayhaps not ever.
But now, here she was, looking even more beautiful than ever. Her voice and actions still so innocent and soft. He forced himself to lower his voice this time. "You said you have news?"
Kristy saw that he was making an effort so she sat back down and looked at him steadily. "We're going to have a baby."
A myrade of emotions crossed Darian ' s features before they turned hard once again. "Whose is it?" he asked with dead calm.
"What?" she gasp. "How could you...What do you mean 'Who's is it?'
He stood this time. Leaning over the desk he gripped her arm in a death hold and jerk her up. "Is it mine, or Worthingham's bastard?"
Before he saw it coming, she slapped him across the face with the hand that was free of his grip. "I told you that Fredrick Worthingham lied. You. .you. .CREEP! The only man I have ever been with is YOU!"
He brought her closer to his face, the edge of the desk cutting into her thighs. "Do not ever hit me again, woman, or I will be glad to return like for like!" He released her, pushing her back from him, non-to-gently. She sank back into the chair. "You had better pray that the child is born a female! I'll not have Worhtingham's bastard being heir to Greystone!" On his face was rage, as the words were pushed out through gritted teeth.
She couldn't remember feeling so hurt. She was having his baby. A baby that they had created, together. A baby that she already loved, and he was claiming it as someone else's. Tears, that she was unable to stop, flowed down her satiny cheek. She buried her head down into one of her hands, while the other curled about her waist.
"How could you. How could you deny your own flesh. When this baby was conceived, it was done out of my love for you." Her word's tumbled out in between teary gulps.
He sat back down and rubbed a hand wearily over his forehead. "How can I be sure?" he asked quietly.
She raised her head and looked at him with hurt-filled eyes. "You can be sure by trusting in me. But if that is not good enough you can ask my maid whether I had my monthly flow during your absence. You know as well as I that I did not have it while we were together. That was a whole month. I would have started, sometime during that month if I had not been with child." She looked away from him as she could see that he was mentally counting up the days they were together.
"Worthingham had said you were meeting him, when I thought you were down in the village. " He was still accusing.
She got up from the chair, unable to bear his accusing glare and walked to the small slit of a window, "I wasn't meeting him. I didn't sleep with him, Darian. All the while he had me in his castle, I kept thinking that he might rape me, but he told me he wanted nothing that you had already used," she told him dully, tiredly.
That certainly rang with some truth. His spy had told him that Worthingham had stayed away from her chamber. He could well believe that Worthingham would not have touched anyone he had already taken. The man was mad in his thinking. He sighed and drew a hand through his dark brown locks. Then why would she do it? Why would she betray him? Did he make promises to her that he never intended on keeping? Mayhaps, that was it. Mayhaps, she thought that he would take her as his mistress, only to find out that Worthingham was telling her falsehoods once she had betrayed him and was brought to his castle, In that case, the child was his, It had to be.
He stood and came to stand behind her. "I will accept the child as mine."
"That's big of you," she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear. "You accept the child, but you won't believe that I am telling you the truth."
"That is all I can give you, now. I told you that I believe the child is mine, that is enough."
"No, that is not enough, Darian. For me that will never be enough," she whispered, the hurt in her voice clearly heard. She turned around to face him. He was standing much closer to her than she had thought. Her eyes met his. "What happens after the child is born."
He studied her dispassionately a few, quite moments. "If he is a boy, then you may do anything you like. I have several keeps that are being cared for by my vassals. You may go to one of them, or you can go to your own lands with your father. I care not." He dropped his gaze from her intense stare. He could not let her see that his words were half—truths.
She wondered why he couldn't look her in the eye. "And if I want to stay here?"
He glanced up at her and then turned and walked back towards the desk. "That is up to you."
It suddenly struck her that she had no idea what rights she had as a mother. Could he take her child from her, where she would never see him again? Could he banish her to some castle, forever? Just as she had in Worthingham's dungeon, she felt herself cold with fear. Fear of the unknown, in this uncivilized world.
"Darian, you wouldn't....you wouldn't take our child from me, would you? I mean...would you send me somewhere and separate me from my own baby?" Her face was a ghostly white, and her hands, clenched tightly in front of her, were trembling as much as her voice.
Darian looked over to her as she spoke and saw that she was worried. He could hear her fear and concern. No. He was a hard man, dealing with many things, but taking a baby away from it's mother, no matter how much he distrusted her, was not something he could do.
But of course, she didn't have to know that, yet.
"When the baby is born, then we shall see what I shall do," was all he said.
She lowered her gaze to her hands and nodded. Tears were forming in her eyes. Tears that she wasn't about to let him see. She picked up her skirt and breezed past him towards the door. She wanted to get away from him, away from this castle, away from this century and their horrid, primitive ways.
But it was very clear that she wasn't going to get what she wanted in this area, either. As she opened the door, his large hand came from over her over her shoulder and shut it back.
"You wanted something else?" she pronounced through gritted teeth, refusing to turn around,
"I'm moving back into my room." He had not until that instance decided that, and without any contemplation or thought, he spoke it.
"Then I'll move out."
He leaned closer to her stiff shoulders and said in her ear, "You will stay."
This time she whirled away to look him in the eye. Indignity replaced the tears. "For what purpose? I'm already expecting your child. Isn't that what you wanted a wife for in the first place?"
"You're my wife. A wife sees to her husbands needs." he said with no trace of emotion. It was if he was merely spouting off facts.
"Do what you did before I was your wife. Find a whore!" She turned back towards the door and tried to open it again, but he wasn't going to allow her to leave, yet.
He leaned dangerously close, almost nuzzling her ear. Just as it always did, his closeness affected her, deeply. Tremors of suppressed desire ran to her very core. It had been so long since she had touched him. So very long since their body's had found sweet oneness with the other. So very, very long....
"Would you really want me to seek another? Would it really matter so little," His voice was low and sensual, his breath hot and alluring.
It was on the tip of her to say 'yes', but she couldn't do it. No matter how much she knew he hated her, she couldn't bear to think that he would sleep with someone else. The only thing he was offering of himself at the moment was his body. Right now, that would have to be enough.
When she didn't answer, he let go a low knowing laugh. "I take it that is a 'no'?" He took his hand off the door and leaned back from her.
"Don't look so smug, husband. Didn't you know that it is dangerous to sleep with the enemy? That is how you see me, isn't it? As the enemy?" She opened the door then paused and looked back at him. "You could discover that maybe I'm not the enemy after all. Then who will you blame for your unhappiness?" The last question was spoken softly, almost with a touch a pity, then she left him and shut the door soundly behind her,
Darian had to stop himself from flinging open the door and hauling her bodily back in the room and punishing her for such impertinence. The saucy wench! The only thing that stopped him had been that a small part of him wondered if she spoke the truth. It could BE dangerous sharing her bed. God's blood! He would have to be bloody careful, else he would find himself falling beneath her spell once again.
*****
News of her delicate state spread quickly thought the castle. The servants, who doted on her every whim anyway, were even more attentive to her. They were all overjoyed that she was carrying Greystone's heir and they wanted her to be as comfortable as possible, not even allowing her to do the smallest task herself,
She walked with Sidra to her chamber and gave a little laugh. "I swear! You would think that I were the only woman alive that has ever gone through this, the way they are all carrying on! I'm not even having morning sickness. As a matter of fact, I've never felt better!"
Sidra smiled as she opened the chamber door and escorted her sister—in—law inside. "They are just excited that a baby will soon be part of the castle, again. And it is rather dangerous to birth a child. They just want you to be safe."
Dangerous? Never had she thought of having a baby as dangerous! Her face paled and she sank down on the edge of the bed. "Dear Lord! Sidra, I had completely forgotten where I was! It is dangerous to have a baby in this time.
Sidra sat down beside her and grasp her hand. "Is it not so where you are from?"
"No. In the twentieth century, when you have a baby you go to a hospital where a doctor delivers your baby. If there are complications, then a cesarean …an operation where they open up your stomach and take the child out, is performed," she explained. She didn't notice the horrified expression that was on Sidra's face as she spoke, but she heard it in her voice.
"They do what?"
Kristy looked up at her and realized what she spoke of was like science fiction to her friend. "We are very advanced in my time. Hardly any women dies in childbirth. It is such a normal thing. Not an event to conjure fear." But as she spoke she realized that she would not have those modern conveniences. She would be having a baby in a medieval land. If the baby happened to be breech, then she would be in trouble. If the slightest problem happened, she just might be fighting for her life. All because she was having a baby! It was an upsetting thought.
She looked up at Sidra with worried eyes. "I'm scared, Sidra."
"Do not be. I shall pray every day for your safety and that of my unborn nephew. God would not bring you here, only to see you die so young. Do like your angel said, sister, do not give up!"
She embraced the girl who was now so much like a sister to her and a little later, watched her leave to retire to her own chamber. She stripped down and donned a robe, then went to the large bowl of warm water that rested on the dressing table and took the linen rag to wash her face. Everything that had happened today seemed to come to the forefront of her thoughts, full force. With a sob, she sank to her knees and let the body shaking tears overtake her. As she cried she felt an intense pain in her chest, almost as if her very heart was trying to break into. She didn't want it to be like this. She wanted her husband to trust her again. She wanted her child to be born in a safe environment, to have excellent medical care at her disposal. But most of all she wanted the pain to stop. She wanted once again to feel happy.
This was how Darian found his wife when he entered the chamber. He immediately became concerned. Was something wrong with the baby?
Quietly he knelt down and smoothed a hand down her back. "Christiana?" he asked hesitantly, unsure of what to do or say.
She felt his gentle touch, and for the moment, forgot that he hated her, forgot that he mistrusted her. When a strangle cry she spoke his name then threw herself into his arms and wept against his chest.
For a stunned second, Darian hesitated, then wrapped his arms around her moving her to sit upon his lap on the floor. "Shhhh." he soothed against her hair. He gently brushed the hair from her face and after a while asked her, "What is wrong, Kristy?"
Her tears were subsiding but her speak was still halted. "I'm..I'm just so..tired..and a little..scared," she confessed,
Darian pulled her back and tilted her face to meet his. "Scared of what?" he asked looked deep into her eyes.
"A lot of things. I'm scared for us, the baby." Her voice was softly anxious, her eyes echoing the same.
Confusion coursed through Darian as he studied his wife's ravaged features. She seemed so lost, so hurt. Was it because of him or her disappointment over Worthingham. He didn't know, but he wished to God that he did. He wished that this whole thing could be put behind them and that they could find happiness as they had before. He wanted to say something, but he had no idea what words he could say.
His wife solved that dilemma. "Darian, tonight could we pretend that this never happened between us? Could we just be two people who need each other and forget everything else? Just for tonight..." Her plea was cut short by his answer. And that answer was evident as his mouth covered hers. Her arms linked around his neck as she pressed into him, craving his closeness, needing his warmth,
He groaned as he felt her surrender and with a reckless impatience, he pulled her up from the floor and carried her to their bed. He laid her down and with agile quickness shed his tunic and hose. He then crawled in beside her and sought her soft lips in a kiss that left them both breathless and wanting.
"I know not what comes over me when I touch you, my lady. What magic do you weave over my mind that I can think of naught but having your beautiful body beneath me," he whispered softly in her ear, his voice filled with unconcealed wonder,
She started to say something, what, she couldn't remember, but stopped when his lips trailed down her throat to the ties of her thin robe. Liquid heat ran through her veins as she arched her back, wanting his kisses to never stop. He paused a moment, having no luck unlacing the ties,
"These ties are a hindrance!" he swore, clearly impatient. Finally, he was able to pull them apart, then removed her gown.
His arm wrapped underneath her and then rolled them both over to where she was on top. His lips moved up to her mouth as his hands caressed her back and buttocks. She raised her hands to lace through his hair and opened her mouth atop his, moving her tongue along his bottom lip. A wondrous passion seized them. It was if they couldn't get enough, couldn't get close enough. .
The air, itself, seem to ignite when at last their bodies met. There was urgency - a built up fervor that overtook them, as it never had before.
After their passion was spent, Darian held her close, despite himself. But he thought himself a fool. A fool to think that he could bed her and still hate her, What had she said before about it being dangerous sleeping with the enemy? She could very well be right for he was hating himself, right now, for his weakness where she was concerned. Good Lord! But she had gotten under his skin! So much so that he realized tonight that his need for her had not been just physically, his need went much deeper than that, Before she had betrayed him he had begun to feel alive again, in her he had found peace and fulfillment. She had brought to the surface all those suppressed dreams and longings that he hadn't thought of since he was a child. Dear God, why did she leave him, why did she run to Worthingham when he had given her everything. And why, oh why, did her treachery hurt him so bad. Indeed, what a fool he was. SHE was playing him for a fool!
In his anger, he lashed out at the object of his annoyance. "Was it me who made your body burn, Christiana, or were you thinking about your friend, Worthingham." he purred coolly in her ear and he felt her body stiffen against him,
His words were meant to hurt and that's just what they accomplished. How dare he! How dare he accuse her of thinking of someone else when it was only he that filled her heart and thoughts. So that's all she was to him. A body. Someone to do a quick roll with but nothing more. She had thought....well, she had thought that maybe he would see how much she loved him, she thought that he would realize that he loved her back, that she could have never betrayed him.
But her unyielding husband wasn't going to allow himself to feel. He ruled himself by his head and never by his heart.
"Darian, how can someone of your obvious intelligence be so utterly STUPID where I am concerned?" she asked, then pushed away from him and rolled over to the other side of the bed, her back to him.
I will not cry. I will NOT cry! she told herself over and over as she huddled beneath the furs. How could one person, hurt another so badly? How could he not see that she loved him more than anything? How could he be so blind?
It took every last drop of willpower from Darian not to reach for her, take her back in his arms, and tell her he was sorry for his rough words. He kept telling himself that it was better this way. She would know that she no longer had the power to hurt him. She would know that he cared nothing for her. She would know that she couldn't just walk back into his life and heart after betraying him with another. She would know that although he made use of her body that emotionally it meant naught.
And she would NEVER know that it was all lies, lies, lies. .

Chapter 16

The next morning, when Kristy awoke to find that she was alone in the great bed, she breathed a sigh of relief. She could only take so much bitterness from Darian and after last night, she really wasn't in the mood to deal with him. If anyone mentioned the Worthingham name to her just once today, she was going to go completely berserk! And as far as Darian was concerned, if he was in a mind to use her body when he was in the mood and the rest of the time treat her like dirt, then he had another thing coming.
After dressing and eating breakfast with Sidra, she decided to venture down to the village. She hadn't been since she'd returned and realized that she had missed seeing and talking with the common people of Greystone
With the threat of Worthingham behind them, Kristy no longer would need an escort to walk with her, so she made her way down the hill to the village below, Once there, the children spotted her right off and ran over to her, their faces eager for a story.
"We have missed ya, milady," a small voice cried, that belonging to a carrot topped little boy of about ten years.
Kristy smiled and ruffled his hair. "Well, I am back! Would you guys like to hear a story?" she asked, her arms spread wide.
"AYE!" the children chorused together as they gathered closer and sat around her.
She sat down on her old log that she always used and had started telling them the story of Snow White, when she was then noticed by a couple of the children's parents.
Her greeting to them died on her lips. "Children! Do not bother our lady. There's work to be done and there is no time to play." A loud voice belonging to one of thc village wives admonished.
Kristy's face showed her puzzlement. "Oh, but I don't...."
None of the villagers would look her in the eye as another interrupted, "We will be getting them out of yer way, milady. " And they pulled the reluctant children up and away from where she stood.
Kristy watched as they left her and she couldn't understand what happened. Before, they hadn't minded. The villagers had even stopped and listened themselves. She walked on and tried to speak with to the others but they only mumbled a few answering words and then excused themselves.
It was all too evident that she was being given a brush off. True, they treated her with respect, but cold respect.
Something was wrong. And she knew exactly what it was. They believed that she had betrayed their lord and they were showing their disapproval.
Fury boiled up within her body. This was all so insane! She had not betrayed anyone. She had been an innocent victim of a madman's schemes. How dare they judge her like that!
With that in mind she went storming back up to the castle. She found Darian in the bailey talking with Sir Will and walked right up to him.
"Can I talk to you for a minute, Darian?" she asked as calmly as she could.
He looked at her with not just a little irritation, as if she was some unwanted aggravation that he wished would just disappear. "Can it wait, Christiana?" he asked harshly.
At his tone Kristy grew embarrassed of his treatment in front of one of his men. She glanced at Sir Will and he lowered his eyes, looking uncomfortable. She looked back up to Darian. "No, it cannot wait," she told him stubbornly, her arms crossed over her chest.
He looked off beyond her and sighed impatiently, then turned to Will and excused himself. Grabbing her arm roughly, he pulled her into the privacy of the herb garden.
"For goodness sakes, Darian!" she cried wrenching her arm from his grasp, then rubbing it's soreness. "Do you have to be so rough?"
He ignored her question. "What did you want?"
She hated his coldness. She hated that his contempt of her hurt so much. She could feel the tears stinging behind her lids and she blinked them back while looking down at her hands.
"Why are they villagers treating me so coldly. I went down there this morning and they wouldn't even allow their children near me." Her voice was low, tired.
He stared down at her dispassionately. Inside, his emotions were at war, once again, as they usually were when she was around him. He looked away. "They are loyal to me, just as they were my father and his father before him. When you betrayed me, you betrayed them also."
She looked back up to him. "I did not betray you, Darian," she defended, exasperated. "Wake up and smell the coffee, for Goodness sakes! Your stubbornness is the problem. You want to believe the worst of me, so therefore you do." She expressed each word with a poke in his chest with her finger.
"Wake up and smell what?" he asked slightly puzzled at her words, But without waiting for an answer he growled as he shook his head and pushed her hand away from his chest. He walked to the bench beside where she stood and stared blindly down at it. He was thoughtful for a few moment and then turned back to her speaking calmly. "I am as tired of this as you are. It only makes it worst when you deny your involvement with Worthingham. If you would just be truthful with me, wife, then mayhaps we can try to come to some sort of truce between us. But I cannot abide by your lies."
She laughed incredulously. "See? That's the whole point, Darian. I am not lying to you. And your crazy if you think I am going to admit to a sin that I, darn well, did not commit!"
His features hardened. "So be it."
"No, Darian, I will not just let it be. I am going to fight and fight till you realize just what the 'truth' is," She walked to him and gripped his arms. "I love you, Darian, and I'm going to tell you that every single day until you start believing it."
Without taking his eyes from hers, he reached up and one at a time removed her hands from his arms. Then, after a slight hesitation, he walked away from her and back towards his men.
She watched his back as he walked away. The thick ebony hair curling around his neck, the definite shape of his muscular frame was evident despite the layers of clothes he wore. His long corded legs taking those lengthy steps were so sure, so in command. Everything about him seemed so confident, as if he thought himself incapable of nothing. But Kristy knew better, for though he seemed so confident, she was sure he was not. Sure, he believed himself nearly invincible in the field of battle or when he was commanding his people, his confidence knew no bounds in that area of his life. But when it got more personal, that's where he was insecure, for Darian felt he was incapable of being loved,
Tears welled up in her eyes as she pictured him as a young boy, trying to vie for his father's attention but receiving none. He didn't know what it was like to have a father take him in his arms and to tell him he loves him, to have him boast of some accomplishment his son had just won. He wanted it, but never received it. And Kristy knew that he never got over it.
"Oh, Darian, will you let me give that love to you, or will you keep rejecting it?" she whispered softly when he was out of hearing range.
The wind blowing through the bailey caused a shiver to go through her. Wrapping her arms tightly around her she went on back into the castle.
Two weeks passed and nothing had really changed. Darian continued to treat her as if she didn't exist, and other than a couple of passionate encounters when he couldn't seem to hold himself from her, he was the same at night. He usually came to bed after she had already gone to sleep, but what he didn't know was that in his sleep he would turn to her and hold her against him so tight that it would often wake her up. Clutching her as if he was afraid to lose her. She doubted that he was aware of what he would do, if he did he would never acknowledge it to her. When she would awaken, he would be gone. Just a dent in the mattress, where he had lain.
Nothing had changed in the village either. The villagers still treated her with cool politeness, but nothing more. The children no longer ran up to her, the women no longer smiled her way, and the men no longer rushed out to show off their new wares. It was getting so tedious with everyone treating her like this, so disheartening. Never would she be treated like this in America just because of a man! People in her time adored her, rushed to buy the magazines on which she was pictured, bought the products which she endorsed. THEY didn't treat her like she suddenly caught a contagious disease!
And she had tried everything to gain their trust again. But unless Darian changed his mind about her, they were going to remain the same. She had also tried everything to change Darian's mind. THAT was about the *****alent of convincing these uncivilized people that the earth was round. Near to impossible! True to her word she had told him everyday that she loved him. Everyday he acted as though he didn't hear her. She would do special things for him, make sure his favorite meals were made, that his clothes were all mended and on and on. But it did no good. Nothing was working. And Kristy found herself growing a little depressed.
Sidra had been her saving grace. She was endlessly encouraging her, trying to keep her spirits up. She simply would not let Kristy give up on her marriage or her husband. And it did keep Kristy's mind occupied as they worked on getting the wedding prepared. It was only a week till the couple would be married and Kristy was so happy that at least somebody around here would be happy.
As she walked down the hill to the village, her thoughts turned to the holidays that they would be celebrating. She smiled when she remembered the Christmases past in Indiana with her parents and sister. They had always, done the season up big. A big dinner, caroling, trimming the tree, exchanging gifts… Kristy sighed and sat near the bottom of the hill, staring out at the village before her.
The thought of having to endure the villager's aloofness to her dispelled her happy thoughts. What was the use of going anyway?
She brought up her knees and rested her chin on them. As her thoughts lingered on the Christmas season, she suddenly was struck with an idea. A Christmas gift! She would have something special made for Darian for Christmas! But what could she get him? What would be the perfect gift for him?
She stood up. Sidra would know. Feeling much better she started to turned and go back up the hill when she heard a scream.
Alerted, she search the around the village with her eyes trying to figure out where the cry came from. She picked up her skirts and ran down to the small village road and that's when she saw a man carrying a limp wet child in his arms, followed by a plump peasant crying relentlessly coming from the direction of the pond.
"What is wrong?" she called out, running out to meet them.
The man was breathing hard and looked scared. "The boy, milady. He fell into the pond." He laid the boy down on the ground and put his head to the lad's heart. Sadly, he shook his head and looked up at the woman, who was evidently the boy's mother.
"NO!" She screamed and fell upon the boy's chest, weeping loudly.
"Wait!" Kristy cried, and pushed the woman back away from him. "I might can help..." She looked over at the man and pleaded. "Please, sir, pull the woman back. I might can save him."
The man looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, but since she was his countess he did her bidding. Quickly, Kristy checked his mouth for foreign objects. Then pushing his head back and grasping his nose, she clasp her mouth to his and blew five short breaths in his mouth, then checked for a response. Nothing. She then pumped five times on his chest and then proceded with three quick breaths and the same amount of pumps to his chest, Over and over she repeated the steps.
She was unaware as she administered CPR to the young boy that she had drawn a curious crowd. A crowd that had no idea what she was doing. Was it some sort of pagan ritual, some thought. Was the Earl's wife mad?
Kristy was about to give up when all the sudden the boy started sputtering, then coughing. Water pumped out of his mouth and she breath a sigh of relief as she rolled him to his side to spit out the water,
An awed hush fell over the crowd as they stared wide—eyed with wonder and disbelief, "It's a miracle!" someone exclaimed in a hoarse voice. "A bloody miracle!"
"My baby, oh, my baby," the boys mother cried and she bent down beside Kristy, picking the boys shoulders up and laying his head in her lap. She smoothed his brow as the lad began to catch his breath. She looked over to Kristy with tear—filled eyes and expressed, "Thank you, milady. You must truly be an angel from heaven, for you've given life back to my son."
Kristy smiled and shook her head. "I just knew what to do, I am just glad I was able to save him,
Darian had heard the scream inside the smith's workshop where he was looking over a new kind of horse shoe that the man had designed for the guard's destriers. He stepped out to see a man lowering a boy to the ground and a woman crying after them. Then he saw his wife pull the woman back from the boy and then bend over him, herself. He couldn't exactly see what it was that she was doing, for her back was to him, but what ever she was doing, it was starting to draw a crowd.
He made his way over, curiously and cautiously, as to not draw attention to himself. He need not to have bothered, for the spectacle that the countess was providing, had their total attention. They would not have noticed if the king himself would have walked in their midst.
Standing at least a head over most of the peasants, he was able to finally see what she was doing. He was unaware that his mouth fell agape or that his brow furrowed with bewilderment.
His wife was breathing into the boy's mouth, for God's sake! Then she pushed on the lad's chest. For what purpose, he knew not. It was obvious the boy must have drowned, he was completely wet and looked completely...well...dead! What in the name of Heaven, was she doing?
He glanced around and realized what a complete fool his wife was making of herself and he was stepping forward to stop her madness, when the most incredible thing occurred. The boy started sputtering up water and coughing.
Darian, paled with unbelief. My God! He froze, He couldn't seemed to do anything but stare with incredulously as the boys mother cradled the lad's head in her arms, then thanked Christiana over and over for what she had done.
One by one the villagers came over to her and bowed with respect and awe, telling her that surely she was blessed of God to have been bestowed such a gift of healing. After awhile she gave up trying to argue about that. They wanted to believe her a miracle worker, and if that would make them start treating her as they had before she had been kidnapped, then so be it!
As they cleared away from her, Darian stayed where he was. The villagers noticed him standing about them as they walked back and nodded to him murmuring their greetings.
When Kristy heard his voice greeting the villagers, she took a deep breath,stood up and then helped the mother get the boy on his feet. From the corner of her eye she noticed his tall frame beside her.
"I suppose you are wondering what it was that I just did?" she asked without turning or looking his direction.
He walked closer to her, coming to her side, "How did you know what to do? Where would you learn such a method?"
She finally turned towards him and look up. "Darian, if I told you, you would not believe me. There are a lot of things that I know that you couldn't even begin to understand."
He looked at her warily. "Since I have known you, Christiana, you have done and said many things that continue to confuse me. Your speech is strange, your mannerisms are unfamiliar. I had learned from the servants that you had known nothing of running an estate, yet your father assured me that you had been thoroughly schooled with such tasks. You can write, and though when you write you spell words strangely. I've seen your numbers that you have scribbled down when looking over the castle accounts and could not figure them out. Your stories amuse us all when you tell us of the future, yet I have the distinct feeling that when you are telling them, you believe every word that you utter. And now I see you give back life to a boy that had been already pronounced dead." He put a couple of fingers underneath her chin and searched her eyes. "Who are you Christiana? Are you a seer? Do you practice witchcraft?"
She slowly moved his hand away from her and look away. "No, I'm not a witch or a seer, Darian. Nor am I an angel from heaven. I am a human just as you are. Red blood flows through these veins. I need air to breath, and food to live." She looked back to him, her face set determinedly. "I also hurt like you, Darian. Especially when accused of something that I had no part in. You see, I am a little different than you. I am from a place that people are innocent until proven guilty. A place where a fair person would give someone else the benefit of the doubt. Especially when they loved that person.
"I do not love you, Christiana!" he grounded out between gritted teeth. His hands were clenched tightly as his side.
"Yes, you do Darian!" she fired back, her blue eyes flashing. "You do love me. You do, Just as I love you." She had grabbed his tunic in both fist, pulling him to her.
"Do not." He tried to pull her hands away, but she clutched it tighter.
"I won't stop, Darian. I will keep on and keep on, till I convince you that I love you and no one else." She went to tip toes and pressed her mouth to his. Her arms wrapped around his neck in a death hold that even Darian was unable to break.
He remained like stone and she pulled back from his mouth. "Don't hold yourself from me. I can feel that you want me." Her eyes were wet with tears as she unashamedly looked at him, pleading with him to surrender. Then she covered her mouth onto his again.
Despite what the world seemed to think, Darian Maxwell was not made of stone. The feel of her body molded against his, the feel of her soft, sweet mouth moving, caressing his own was heating his flesh faster than if he had step directly into a raging fire.
He groaned in defeat and with one hand clutched the back of her head, with the other wrapped around her tightly bringing her even closer (if that was possible) to him. His kiss was rough and demanding, but Kristy met him head on and returned with the same emotion and passion.
His kiss had meant to punish, him or her or both, it didn't matter. But it did not end up that way. It turned into something beautiful and wonderful. What they created, when they touched, was something so rare, that few people ever experienced it.
God, but he wanted her. So much that it defied logic or reason. He supposed that he had felt it the first time he had laid eyes on her in that forest when she was talking to that horse of hers. She had looked at him and for a brief moment he felt a quickening with in his breast. He had dismissed it, but now he understood. He had wanted her even then, before even knowing her. Even though it was him she was fleeing from. He had wanted her, And this obsession that he had with her wasn't going away. It only intensified. She had continually lied to him and evidently had wanted another man. But it did not dampen what he felt for her, Was it love? Surely it could not be that. How could he give his love to one that would throw it back in his face. Surely he could not be that foolish, again. Could he?
He pulled back from her and placed his hands on either side of her face. He saw a tear escape the side of his brilliant blue eyes and he stiffened. Why did she still weep? It didn't make sense. Why had she goaded him into kissing her? Was she using him to try to make herself forget her passion that she held for another?
Doubts, Doubts, Would he forever be plagued with doubts where she was concerned?
He swore and pulled her back from him. Her brow lowered with confusion, "What.,."
"Say no more, Christiana. Just please, say no more." he told her in a weary voice and turned to walk away.
She let out a protesting whimper when she realized he was walking away. Tears that had fallen earlier, because of her profound love that she felt for him, now fell because of her broken heart. For the first time she wanted to give up. For the first time she felt her hopes of being happily married, were utterly hopeless. She simply could take no more rejections. Kristy had reached her limit and for sanity reasons, could go on no longer with these silly hopes of him believing her.
With her mind set, she started back up to the castle, then paused. She suddenly thought of what she would give Darian for Christmas. It would be something that he could keep and remember her by when she was gone.
Because, she was going to go. Hopefully soon.
She all but ran back down to the village and to a tiny hut that sat near the bakery. After a few knocks she was bade to come in and she entered the drafty dwelling.
The pungent smell of oils and paint hit her when she stepped in and nodded to short little old man sitting before a stretched canvass. When he realized just who it was Kristy who had entered his house, he quickly stood up and bowed, "Milady! What can I do for you?" he asked nervously,
She smiled at him, "Please, sit down. I wanted to ask a favor of you."
The man sat back down and his wrinkled face creased even more as he grinned at her. "After seeing the miracle that Milady performed in the village today I would grant you anything."
His praise of her "miracle" made her a little uneasy but she dismissed his words and got to the matter on her mind. "I want you to paint a small picture of me. I wanted to give it to my husband for Christmas."
The old painter's eyebrows shot up. "But that is next week, milady, I'm not sure I can do this!"
She smiled apologetically. "I realize that, but it is really important. Could you do it for me? I would greatly appreciate it," she pleaded.
He thought for a moment. "Aye, a small portrait might not be so difficult to complete within the week." He slapped his knee with his brush, spattering blue paint all over his tunic and hose, "I will do it, milady. It would be my most profound pleasure in putting your image to canvass. But I must warn you, such beauty as you possess is not easily captured on a canvass, but I shall do my best."
"Oh thank you, sir. Thank you so much!" She stayed and worked out the details on when she would sit before him and then left the cottage.
The old man leaned on the entrance of his door and watched her walk towards the castle. He shook his head sadly. The earl, it was well known, no longer cared for his lovely wife. He still believed her to be a traitor to him. He, as well as the entire village, had had their doubts, But after seeing the look in her eyes when she mentioned her husband, he knew that she could never have betrayed him. She was in love with him. But there had also been much sadness there. He would have to be careful not to show that in his painting of her. He wanted to portray her as something different. He wanted Lord Greystone to see happiness and love when he looked at the painting. Aye, that was how his lord should see his beautiful wife."
He sighed and went on back into his cottage and sat back down at his painting. He never would have imaged the old earl's youngest son to be a fool, but if he could not see that his wife loved him, that was exactly what he was…
A fool.