“Perhaps. But ’tis also a husband’s duty to ensure his wife’s comfort and happiness, in so far as he may,” Gray answered, even as he questioned her explanation in his own mind.
She seemed not to breathe as he walked over and picked up the portrait, running his finger over it. As before he was struck by the likeness these children shared with her. Of course, that was explained easily enough; they were of her blood—her brother’s offspring.
He suppressed the twisting in his gut and handed the portrait back. “Why is it that you feel the absence of these children more keenly than any other person from your life before we wed?”
Her gaze remained steady on him. “There is no one else for me to miss. I was never close to Eduard. And Geoffrey and…and his wife I but saw infrequently these past years. As I told you whilst I stitched you after themélée, the twins often came to visit, and I grew close to them. I cared for them,” she said, clenching her jaw and looking away, “as if they were my own babes.”
“And that is why you were weeping just now?”
She nodded, her lips trembling.
“Then ’tis simple enough. If it distresses you so to be parted from them, I will arrange a visit to Faegerliegh Keep, so that you may see them and put your heart at ease.”
“Nay!” Elise gasped, blanching as her gaze snapped back to him. “’Tis not possible, or at least ’tis not wise to do that.”
“Why not?” he asked quietly, studying her.
“Because the twins do not reside at Faegerliegh Keep any longer.” Her fingers squeezed tight round the gilded frame. “For the past year they’ve fostered at Denton, another three days ride beyond Faegerliegh. Too far to go for the sake of my foolishness.” Abruptly, she walked over to the chest and deposited the portrait beneath its lid. “’Tis of no matter, my lord. I’m sure that I will see them soon enough, without a special trip.”
Her back was to him as she spoke the last bit, but he saw the stiffness of her spine and the way her hands clenched down on the trunk until her knuckles turned white. Yet when she spun to face him again, she’d wiped all signs of sadness from her face. All except for the haunted look in her eyes.
Gray frowned. “’Twould be no hardship, lady, to arrange such a journey, even to Denton, should you wish it. Do not hold back for fear of cost or time.”
She only shook her head and struggled to fix a heartbreaking, wobbly smile on her face. “I’m only being silly. I must learn to govern myself better as your wife, not as a childish maiden. The past must be left behind to live in the present, is that not so?”
Another pang cut through him, inciting him to action. He crossed the room and, reaching up, brushed a golden-brown curl from her cheek. He fought the same helplessness that had overwhelmed him two nights ago, wanting more than anything to take away this sadness that seemed to fill her.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping her face and leaning closer to brush his lips over her brow. “Ah, Elise. I only wish—I would only that I could make you happy, lady.”
She sucked in her breath, her eyelids fluttering down. “I am, my lord,” she whispered, finally. “In truth when you are near me, I am happy in a way that I have never known.”
He pulled her to him, then, pressing her cheek to his chest, and she wrapped her arms around his waist with a deep sigh. He held her there for a long while, uncertain what else to do or say.
In the end, action seemed better than words. After a few moments more, he released her gently and said, “Then be it as you will, lady, concerning your niece and nephew. For now, I ask that you meet me in the clearing after you break your fast. We should begin your training early today.”
“Aye, my lord.”
He nodded and walked from their chamber. But her sadness seemed to follow him, filling him with shadows that he knew would be difficult to shake. Once again he’d failed to assuage her pain, and it bothered him. He’d wanted to soothe her. To make her happy, as she made him.
He descended the rest of the steps to his solar and pushed aside the tapestry on the wall. Using the key, he strode out of the castle, into the lists and the clear light of day, resolving to put thoughts of Elise and her pensiveness out of his mind for now. After all, ’twas but a small matter, really. Not something he should spend overmuch time trying to understand. He had offered to make the trip to see the twins with her, and if she chose not to go, there wasn’t much he could do about it.
And yet as he strode toward the stable, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about his wife’s sad eyes. Or wondering if he’d ever learn to understand the workings of her enigmatic heart.
Catherine pressed her hand to her breast, trying to still the thundering there. That had been close. How stupid of her, to allow herself those moments of grief for her children. But she’d had that horrible dream about them. About Eduard closing them away in a dark, cold place. Their little faces had been twisted in pain as they cried out to her, reaching out and calling her to save them…
Sucking in a ragged breath, she ran her hand over her eyes and shook her head. She wouldn’t think about it anymore. She couldn’t. ’Twas too dangerous. It left her feeling exposed, vulnerable. She’d almost blurted the truth to Gray when he’d asked her why she was crying over them, and that might have been a terrible mistake. Anyone might have been listening.
“My lady? I’ve brought you some warmed cloths and water for the morn—and this jar of salve from out in the hall.”
Catherine jumped at the brusque voice, whirling to face its owner. Mariah came in the door without waiting for acknowledgement, one strong arm piled high with folded squares of creamy linens and the salve pot, the other gripping the handle of a steaming pitcher. She glanced sideways at Catherine with a penetrating, almost knowing look, as she set down the towels and pot to pour the scented water into the washbowl. Threads of doubt wound up Catherine’s back at the attention.
“Can I get you anything else, milady?” Mariah asked, straightening and placing her hands on her hips.
“Nay, thank you,” Catherine answered, reaching to pick up the jar of salve, glad to have it for some of the blisters that already reddened her palms from yesterday’s training. Perhaps Gray had anticipated her needs and sent it up. But then why hadn’t he just given it to her himself when he came to their chamber?
She frowned. “Where did you say you’d gotten this ointment?”
Mariah scowled. “I didn’t get it anywhere, milady—’twas forgotten in the hallway, on the little table outside your door.” Mariah shook her head and mumbled something about it not seeming meet for the lady of a castle to leave her things carelessly here and there. Then she glared once more at Catherine before sweeping through the door and shutting it behind her.
