Page 67 of Feathers in the Wind
The pain welled up in her and she buried her face in her hands.
‘Perdita.’ Her name came on an exhaled breath as he knelt before her and took her in his arms.
She leaned her head against the reassuring solidity of his jacket and he stroked her hair and hushed her like a child. When her grief had subsided, he sat back on his heels and put his hand to her face, ineffectually wiping the tears away with his thumb
‘You’re exhausted, Perdita.’
She sniffed. ‘It’s been a hard winter,’ she said. ‘So much death.’
‘For both of us.’ He cupped her face in his hand and smiled. ‘I owe you an apology for my behaviour last night.’
She shook her head. ‘I cannot even begin to imagine what a shock it must have been to read Joan’s words.’
‘But you didn’t deserve to take the blame.’
He rose to his feet and picked up a paper from the table. Perdita recognised Joan’s letter, now much crumpled. He scanned the page and shook his head.
‘For over thirty years I’ve been to the world, and to myself, the bastard son of Lord Marchant and a dead woman called Ann Coulter. I had two half-brothers, at least one of whom would see me dead, and an aunt,’ he swallowed, ‘an aunt who was as close as any mother could have been.’ He tapped the page. ‘In a few short words she took all that from me, leaving me only with questions that no one can now answer.’ He tossed the paper back on the table. ‘Now what do I do, Perdita Gray?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
He frowned. ‘Why couldn’t she tell me this when we had the opportunity, when I could have asked her?’
‘Probably for exactly that reason, Adam. She couldn’t face your anger or your questions.’
He strode back to the window, and stood for a long moment looking out into the gloaming.
‘Whatever my past, it must wait. In the meantime, I have the more immediate problem of Rupert’s imminent arrival at the gates of York and,’ he turned to look at her again, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, ‘a hitherto unknown wife who has inconveniently landed upon me.’
Perdita stood up and looked around the comfortable room. ‘Maybe I could just stay here until matters settle.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t leave you in an inn in Fulford. Nowhere is safe.’ He paced the floor again before coming to stop in front of her. He laid his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. She expected to see anger in their grey depths but when he spoke it was without rancour. ‘God’s death, Perdita. I don’t need this but it seems I have no choice but to carry on your charade.’
Perdita looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry, Adam. It truly began as a misunderstanding that I could not remedy.’
He shook his head and gave a hollow laugh. ‘These are godly people. They are not going to understand or countenance this arrangement if they were to know the truth. You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.’ When she protested, he said, ‘It’s not the first time in my life I’ve had hard boards for a mattress. Now,Mistress Coulter, we had best make ourselves respectable. My officers will be expecting us to join them for dinner.’
* * *
Perdita had retired earlyto bed, swaying on her feet with exhaustion, and she did not stir as Adam returned to the chamber. He stood for a long moment looking down at her. She lay curled on her side, her hair spread out on the bolsters. By the light of the candle, all the care had gone from the face and his heart ached at the sight of her. It would be so easy to slip into the bed beside her and take her in his arms. The knowledge she had never become Simon Clifford’s wife did not make her his. He had to win her love and in the circumstances neither of them needed, or had the time for, the niceties of courtship.
The thought of even sleeping on the floor in the same bedchamber as Perdita Gray provoked a reaction in him that made the alternative of the oak settle in the parlour look like the safer course of action.
Trying to make as little noise as possible, he retrieved a blanket and bolster and made a bed for himself in the parlour, which was where his general’s galloper, Richard Ashley found him in the morning with the news that Rupert was on the move and Fairfax wanted all his officers to assemble.
He left a note for Perdita and, taking Hewitson, rode to the General’s headquarters. They did not return until long past nightfall and, rather than disturb Perdita, Adam chose to pass another night in the parlour, which raised a questioning eyebrow from his second in command.
‘She needs her sleep,’ he mumbled in excuse.
And so do I,he could have added.
But he was on the march in the morning and he had to pack his few belongings and be ready to leave by daybreak. Long before first light, he returned to the bedchamber and woke her. She sat up in bed.
‘Where did you sleep these last two nights?’ she asked.
‘Downstairs. You need to be up and dressed Mistress Gray. We march within the hour.’
‘Why?’
