Page 89 of Rebellion's Fire

A new guesthouse might also be in order, although he had not yet had time to speak to Cairistiona about that. She had already made the arrangements for his mother and sister to sleep in her women’s house, while the women themselves would have to spend a cramped night in the house which had once been hers.

Such plans and calculations of the necessary wood occupied his mind while refreshments were brought to the travelers. Whatever else, Cairistiona ran her household well. And his mother seemed disposed to kindness. Which was a relief, because she’d seemed to like the idea of Cairistiona marrying Donald, although she’d insisted they wait until the earl himself expressed an opinion. There was, after all, still a Galloway marriage to arrange.

Through all these plans, Adam was aware his mother wished to speak to him alone. She made no obvious sign of it, but still he knew. He always had, and generally, it was because he’d displeased her. He hoped to avoid this discussion until after the wedding or, preferably, altogether, although he knew his parent too well to hold out much hope for that particular outcome.

In the end, she stymied him by insisting he show her to her sleeping quarters, and then fondly bidding Gormflaith to keep her hostess company until she returned. Cairistiona gave an almost imperceptible, rueful little smile at that. She’d wanted time alone with Symeon, clearly, though whether to confess her sins or plead his help in avoiding the marriage, Adam was unsure.

He wished he’d stayed with her until she’d woken that morning. He wished he’d wakened her in the way he’d wanted so that she’d know…know what exactly, he wasn’t sure. He was just aware that he’d woken at dawn curved around her warm, naked body, and more than ready to make it his once more. Raising himself on his elbow, he’d gazed down on her sleeping face, and something had constricted his throat. Perhaps her beauty, maskless and open to his gaze.

He’d brought her pleasure and wanted to again. Not while she slept. The next time, surely, she would come to him willingly. Most certainly not while she slept. She’d been through too much, and she needed to sleep.

And so, after a tense moment, he conquered his lust and forced himself away from her soft warmth and onto the cold floor, where he hastily dressed and quietly left the chamber.

“Adam.” He knew by the way his mother said it and the fact that she had hold of his face that it wasn’t the first time she’d spoken to him.

“Sorry,” he said, focusing on her. “I was thinking.”

“Not dreaming?”

“Thinking,” he repeated. In truth, despite the deluge of visions when he’d first encountered Cairistiona, he didn’t seem to see much at all around her now, apart from an insistent image of intimacy that was more than half memory. The rest of his mind was fully taken up with the present.

Although his mother didn’t release him, his attention would have been caught without her grip, because her eyes looked almost…frightened. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her frightened before, except on that distant day when they’d told her his father was taken.

“Adam, did you hurt that girl?”

Adam was aware of the carelessness with which women were often regarded. Especially to soldiers, they could become mere commodities, like wine or gold, to be stolen or consumed. He and Donald, however, had been brought up by their mother, who had more than counteracted other influences until they were old enough to think for themselves. He was no saint, but he’d never taken an unwilling woman.

There were, of course, other hurts. She hadn’t wanted to be willing.

Adam said, “I seduced her.”

A moment longer, his mother searched his face. “Oh, Adam,” she said softly. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but at least she didn’t appear to be angry. She gave his cheek a last caress and released him.

“It was Donald’s idea thatImarry her,” Adam said. “And since we haven’t consulted my father, this is probably best.”

“Donald’s idea. Yes.” His mother nodded gravely, although he was fairly sure she was laughing at him. He didn’t mind.

“I’ll send the women,” he said, turning away from her.

Without warning, the door in front of him tilted into another that obscured it. A woman, his mother, stepped over a quite different threshold. She was hazy. He couldn’t tell if she was old or young, but he knew the shadowy figure beside her was his father.

When he blinked, the vision was gone. He glanced back over his shoulder in sudden curiosity. “Did you care for my father when you married him?”

She didn’t answer. He knew she wouldn’t. Instead, she said, “Be kind to Cairistiona, and she will be kind to you.”

He went out, closing the door behind him. It wasn’t Cairistiona’s kindness he wanted.

Chapter Twenty-Two

She should haveknown that the Lady of Ross wouldn’t bring just any priest to marry her son. Christian had been prepared for the family chaplain, but somehow the bishop had never entered her head. For some reason, the sight of his familiar, kindly, humorous face had almost undone her, and not because she was so overwhelmed by his dignity. Rather, his was a face she couldn’t hide her own from.

By the time the lady dragged Adam away with her, Christian knew that Bishop Symeon was the only one who could advise or absolve her. Both. Either.

And yet somehow, she found herself alone not with him but with Gormflaith, in the bedchamber she’d so recently shared with Gormflaith’s brother. While Cairistiona sat on the bed trying not to remember what had happened to her there, the other woman rifled the chest containing her clothes.

“You have nothing terribly…festive,” Gormflaith complained.

“Well, I wasn’t really planning a wedding.”

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