Haith looked at Nick’s proffered hem with wide eyes and then brought a hand to her mouth to hide her smile.
Tristan’s mouth also twitched. “Nick, why would my wife have understanding of your troubles? She has already spoken to Lady Simone—surely we do not need to school you as well about what is to take place on your wedding night.”
Nick growled and thought briefly how he would relish twisting his brother’s head from his shoulders. But Haith intervened once more, drawing near to Nick and placing a hand on his forearm.
“I can only assume you’ve met Didier.”
Tristan frowned. “Who is Didier?”
“So she has dragged you into this farce as well, has she?” Nick shook his head. “And I thought you to be a sensible woman, Lady Haith.”
“Oh, but I am,” Haith said. “Highly sensible.”
“Who is Didier?” Tristan demanded once more.
Nick snorted. “No one.”
“Simone’s younger brother.”
Tristan’s gaze flew between his wife and brother. “Lady Simone has a sibling?”
“Nay.”
“Yea. But he’s dead, I’m afraid.” Haith’s words were so matter-of-fact that Nick growled again.
Tristan threw up his hands. “NowI’mconfused.” He walked to a table holding a wine jug and chalices. “Drink, Nick?”
“Yea.” Nick kept his gaze on the calm redhead. “Are you saying you believe this drivel?”
“Of course.” Haith passed a filled chalice from her husband to Nick. “In truth, she did not wish to confide in me. Would not have, I’m certain, had I not heard the boy myself.”
Nick felt the bottom of his stomach give way. He shook his head to clear it. Surely he could not have heard his sister-in-law correctly. “You mean to tell me that, at this very moment, a ghostly presence resides in my chamber, conversing normally with my wife.”
“I do.”
Tristan chuckled and claimed Haith’s vacated armchair. His chuckle grew into a hearty laugh, and he threw back his head in obvious glee.
“I fail to see the humor in this situation,” Nick muttered before taking a healthy gulp of wine. His whole bloody family had apparently gone mad.
“Forgive me, Brother.” Tristan chuckled, wiping at the corners of his eyes. “’Tis just so reminiscent of my initial disbelief of my own lovely wife’s…er,talents.”
“Nicholas,” Haith said, tossing her husband a private smile, “I know this must be very difficult for you to accept, but accept it you must. Doing otherwise would ruin Simone.”
“What do I care for that viper’s welfare?” Nick asked. “’Twas her machinations that led us to this night—let her suffer the consequences of her duplicity. The king will see reason, if you do not.”
Haith let loose a feline growl and tugged at her hair in a mockery of frustration. “Have you no feelings at all? Should you have the marriage dissolved, none would dare wed her after the rumors of her madness are confirmed by your charges.”
“What of it?” Nick was trying to retain his indignation, but the image of a gamine face with wide, pleading eyes plagued him. “She brought her troubles on herself.”
Haith shook her head. “I think not. Spirits of the departed do not linger except for a purpose, and it seems odd that the boy’s spirit is attached solely to Simone. I think Didier has a mission.”
“This is ridiculous.” Nick drained his chalice and walked to the hearth to stare into the flames. The room fell silent as his pride warred with his conscience.
She had lied and manipulated her way into becoming his wife. She had struck him and then tried to set him ablaze! ’Twas quite possible she was mad as a privy rat.
But she was lovely. And quick. And she had appeared so very forlorn at the wedding feast, when any other woman in her position should have been triumphant. Something about the distorted tale of her and Armand du Roche’s exodus from France had left a foul taste in Nick’s mouth from the start.
“’Tis too fantastic to easily believe, you must admit,” Nick said, and then glanced over his shoulder. “And if—if,I say—you could hear him, Lady Haith, why cannot I?”
