“Oh.”She brushed at the remainder of the tears on her cheeks, trying to hide the fact she’d been crying, yet knowing it was futile.Certainly he’d heard her sobs.
He laid a hand on her arm.She should shake it off, step away.This knight was a threat to her well-being in more ways than one, yet she couldn’t walk away from the kindness he offered.
“What has happened, Madelaine, to make you so sad?”
She huffed out a laugh and shook her head.Since entering the walls of this castle she had been nothing but sad.
Christien guided her to the bench and waited for her to settle onto it before sitting beside her.For months this man had invaded her thoughts and dreams, had been the bright light in a very dismal existence.When life had become too much, she’d think of him—where he was, the dangers he encountered.As time marched on and he did not return, she worried for him.She listened, aching for a word of his whereabouts, but the other knights said nothing and she could not ask, so she suffered in silence.
“Ah, Madelaine, do not cry,chérie.” With his thumb, he wiped the remainder of her tears away.“I wish I could take you away from this, to a place of laughter and light.”
The tears came harder at his soft words of kindness.She cried into her hands.
“Hush, my sweet.”His voice was so close to her ear his breath warmed her chilled skin.“Hush, Madelaine.Someone will hear,chérie.”
She hiccupped, sniffed.“I apologize.”
“Nay.There is no need.”His hand continued to stroke circles on her back, relaxing her to the point that she leaned into him and sighed in pleasure.It had been too long since she’d experienced the healing power of touch.For her, touch had come to signify pain and degradation.She shivered, but pushed those memories away.Not now.She didn’t want them intruding on the only peaceful time she’d found in this den of hell.
“Can you tell me what has you so upset?Has someone hurt you?”His voice started out soft, but hardened toward the end and it warmed her to think she might have one ally in the castle.However sporadic his appearances.
It also reminded her of what had sent her out here and fresh tears welled up, but she sniffed them back, willed them away and decided since she had no pride left and this man seemed to honestly care, she would tell him.
“I am not with child,” she said softly, looking down at her folded hands in shame.
Christien drew back, his hand dropped to his side and Madelaine ached for its comforting presence.“Pardonnez-moi?”
She took a fortifying breath and looked up at the full moon.“My husband.He will be angry to discover once again I am not with child.”She didn’t tell him how shattered she was to discover the same thing.Even though it was selfish, she so desperately wanted a child to love, who would love her in return.Someone to hold and care for.Something bright in the dismal dark of her existence.Yet month after month, even this pleasure was denied her.
Christien slid off the bench and knelt before her, one knee raised, his elbow resting on it as he stared up into her face.“What will he do when he discovers this?”
She blinked away another tear and shrugged.’Twas hard to tell what mood he would be in and how he would react to this news.He very much wanted an heir to carry on his name and ’twas forever her failing not to give him the one thing he so desired.He would be furious to be sure.He might take his anger out on her or he might not.She never knew.
Christien took her hands in his and squeezed.“Madelaine—” He stiffened, his head snapping to look over his shoulder.
Madelaine went still.Faintly she heard female laughter and a male voice—her husband’s voice.She bolted to her feet, her terrified gaze darting around the darkness, searching for escape.Her heart thundered in her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Christien rose silently, placing a staying hand on her arm.He pressed a finger to her lips in a bid to remain silent.Slowly, with his body, he moved her toward the deeper shadows of the garden, beneath an archway nearly covered in clinging vines.
The voices drew closer.
Madelaine’s heart beat so heavily she was positive her husband would hear it.
In the shadowed recess of the covered arch, Christien stood with his front pressed against hers, his back to the garden.He wore all black and with his black hair it would be almost impossible to see him.
“Breathe, Madelaine,” he whispered into her ear.
His warm breath caressed her, causing shivers to erupt down her spine and pucker her skin.Suddenly she was hot all over, her body straining toward his in a wantonness she’d never expected.She clutched his arms, needing to anchor herself.He steadied her, leaned closer until their bodies touched from the tips of their toes to her shoulders.To her mortification her nipples hardened into tiny points.
“Madelaine,” he whispered.
Oh, this was wrong.
His lips brushed against her cheek and she closed her eyes.
Suddenly the voice was behind Christien.Madelaine stiffened, the need to run so strong she moved her feet.Christien’s grasp on her tightened in warning.But like a rabbit caught in the sights of a prey, she knew she wouldn’t be able to remain still for long.The urge to run was too keen.
“Well, well, well,” her husband’s voice said.“What have we here?”
