Page 72 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
Beauvisage.
The eyes morphed into a lighter blue, compassion and kindness replacing the hatred. Eloise stood before him, her lips curled into a shy smile—that beautiful smile he longed to see, though he’d given her little reason to be happy. She reached out to him, but her image was obliterated in an explosion of red and black, as a spear thrust into her from behind. He raised his arms, screaming…
Blinking, he shook his head to dispel the dream.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pulled his tunic on. Damn her wishes—he had to see her.
He stumbled toward her chamber and opened the door. He held up the candle, then let out a sharp breath.
The bed was empty.
Where was she? Had she died in the night? His chest tightened at the thought. A chorus of birdsong heralded the dawn. Did it also mark her death? Was her body even now being carried to the chapel?
He looked out of the window. The sun had begun to peek over the horizon, the Norman tower stretching a long shadow across the garden. He followed the line of the shadow with his gaze, and spotted a white shape moving among the bushes.
Eloise…
He sprinted along the passageway, taking the stairs two at a time, then forced the outer door open.
The figure in the garden seemed to float in a haze of purple. Was it a ghost? As he approached, the apparition became more solid. It was Eloise.
She turned and gave a cry on seeing him before she pitched forward. He reached her before she fell and took in his arms.
“No!” she cried. “You cannot come near me!”
“You’re freezing,” he said. “You should be inside.”
Ignoring her protests, he carried his wife to her chamber, calling for Jeanette.
She began to cry as he placed her on the bed.
“Why don’t you want me?” he demanded.
She shook her head, and he spoke more gently.
“Did you not pledge to be honest?”
She nodded “Aye, I’ll always be honest with you, husband.” She coughed before resuming, her voice almost inaudible “’Tis the sickness.”
“I know—Collin spoke of it.”
“No, you don’t understand.” She gripped his arms, urgency in her voice. “I fell ill after tending to the sick,” she said. “Don’t you see? If you tend to me, you may also succumb. I would not have you riskyourlife.”
She sank back, exhausted and he drew a fur over her, and stroked her head.
“My life is mine to risk,” he said, “and I’ll take care of you as you took care of me.”
She gave him a watery smile, and he squeezed her hand.
“I ask only one thing of you, Eloise.”
“Anything, my Lord.”
“No more secrets,” he said. “Let us forget the past and begin anew. But from now on, we tell each other nothing but the truth.”
“Aye, my Lord,” she replied. “No more secrets, husband, you have my word.”
He kissed her forehead, and she drifted into sleep perhaps, at last, believing herself to be safe in his hands.
