be to another.”
“You bitch,” Joanna said furiously, turning on Blanche, “she is but a whore! She will be gone soon, and forever! My father will not allow her to remain!”
Kassia was not deaf. A whore! She turned angry eyes toward the women, but no words came to mind. Her husband still had said nothing. She felt herself again begin to tremble. What was going to happen to her? The light seemed to grow dimmer. The terrible women seemed to weave before her eyes.
“I . . . I am sorry,” she gasped, her frantic eyes going to her husband’s face. For the first time in her life, she welcomed the blessed darkness that was welling up within her, letting her escape from this nightmare. For the second time in her life, Kassia collapsed where she stood.
Kassia felt great weariness, but the blackness that had engulfed her was receding, forcing her back to consciousness. Slowly, fearfully, she opened her eyes. For many moments everything was a blur. Then she saw a man—her husband—beside her, his dark eyes expressionless on her face. She made a small gasping sound and tried to pull herself up. She felt covered with shame that she had fainted like a silly sheep in front of all those people.
“Nay,” Graelam said, “lie still.”
She obeyed, heeding more his tone than his words. His voice was gentle, unlike his roaring, mocking laughter.
“Where am I?” she asked, hating herself for her pitifully wavering voice.
“In my chamber, or rather I should say, our chamber. Are you still ill?”
His voice was still gentle and she managed to meet his eyes. She could read nothing. His face was impassive, giving her no clue.
“I am sorry. I am not given to fainting. The journey was long.”
She felt his fingers lightly touch her arm and she tensed. He released her, a slight frown marring his forehead. “There is much we have to say to each other, my lady. Your arrival was . . . unexpected. But first, I will leave you to rest and regain your strength.”
“I am sorry,” Kassia said again. “There was no time to give you warning. Please do not blame my father. He sought only to protect me.”
“Doubtless he did,” Graelam said dryly. He picked up her hand and gently slid his ring back on her third finger. “Your nurse, Etta, is squawking loudly outside for her baby. Shall I bring her to you?”
Kassia’s head throbbed, and she blinked rapidly to keep his face in focus. “What will you do?” she asked.
“That, my lady,” Graelam said, standing to stare down at her, “will be most interesting to see. I but hope that you will not become a widow just as I believed myself a widower.”
He turned with those words and strode across the chamber to the thick oak door. He did not look back at her.
Kassia was aware of Etta bending over her, gently soothing her brow with a damp cloth. “Rest, my baby,” she heard her nurse croon softly, and she willingly obliged.
Graelam left his chamber thoughtfully. Lord, what an ungodly mess! Never, he thought, for as long as hebreathed, would he forget his first sight of Kassia, standing beside Guy, holding herself so straight, fear dilating her huge eyes. Yet she had come, bravely. Nor would he ever forget the sight of her quietly crumbling, all life gone from her. Nor the feel of her slight body in his arms as he carried her to his chamber. His wife, he thought, shaking his head. A scrawny girl, no larger than a child, and now she was his responsibility. He gave another spurt of laughter. He had, after all, succumbed to Maurice’s arguments, and done himself in! He pictured her face again, so quiet in repose, for he had studied her carefully before she had regained consciousness. He had wanted to feel anger, to rage at her, but when she had finally awakened and he saw the deep uncertainty in her eyes, he had felt compelled to treat her gently. He was a fool. What in God’s name was he to do? He had ignored his gloating sister-in-law and the moaning Joanna, and
“You bitch,” Joanna said furiously, turning on Blanche, “she is but a whore! She will be gone soon, and forever! My father will not allow her to remain!”
Kassia was not deaf. A whore! She turned angry eyes toward the women, but no words came to mind. Her husband still had said nothing. She felt herself again begin to tremble. What was going to happen to her? The light seemed to grow dimmer. The terrible women seemed to weave before her eyes.
“I . . . I am sorry,” she gasped, her frantic eyes going to her husband’s face. For the first time in her life, she welcomed the blessed darkness that was welling up within her, letting her escape from this nightmare. For the second time in her life, Kassia collapsed where she stood.
Kassia felt great weariness, but the blackness that had engulfed her was receding, forcing her back to consciousness. Slowly, fearfully, she opened her eyes. For many moments everything was a blur. Then she saw a man—her husband—beside her, his dark eyes expressionless on her face. She made a small gasping sound and tried to pull herself up. She felt covered with shame that she had fainted like a silly sheep in front of all those people.
“Nay,” Graelam said, “lie still.”
She obeyed, heeding more his tone than his words. His voice was gentle, unlike his roaring, mocking laughter.
“Where am I?” she asked, hating herself for her pitifully wavering voice.
“In my chamber, or rather I should say, our chamber. Are you still ill?”
His voice was still gentle and she managed to meet his eyes. She could read nothing. His face was impassive, giving her no clue.
“I am sorry. I am not given to fainting. The journey was long.”
She felt his fingers lightly touch her arm and she tensed. He released her, a slight frown marring his forehead. “There is much we have to say to each other, my lady. Your arrival was . . . unexpected. But first, I will leave you to rest and regain your strength.”
“I am sorry,” Kassia said again. “There was no time to give you warning. Please do not blame my father. He sought only to protect me.”
“Doubtless he did,” Graelam said dryly. He picked up her hand and gently slid his ring back on her third finger. “Your nurse, Etta, is squawking loudly outside for her baby. Shall I bring her to you?”
Kassia’s head throbbed, and she blinked rapidly to keep his face in focus. “What will you do?” she asked.
“That, my lady,” Graelam said, standing to stare down at her, “will be most interesting to see. I but hope that you will not become a widow just as I believed myself a widower.”
He turned with those words and strode across the chamber to the thick oak door. He did not look back at her.
Kassia was aware of Etta bending over her, gently soothing her brow with a damp cloth. “Rest, my baby,” she heard her nurse croon softly, and she willingly obliged.
Graelam left his chamber thoughtfully. Lord, what an ungodly mess! Never, he thought, for as long as hebreathed, would he forget his first sight of Kassia, standing beside Guy, holding herself so straight, fear dilating her huge eyes. Yet she had come, bravely. Nor would he ever forget the sight of her quietly crumbling, all life gone from her. Nor the feel of her slight body in his arms as he carried her to his chamber. His wife, he thought, shaking his head. A scrawny girl, no larger than a child, and now she was his responsibility. He gave another spurt of laughter. He had, after all, succumbed to Maurice’s arguments, and done himself in! He pictured her face again, so quiet in repose, for he had studied her carefully before she had regained consciousness. He had wanted to feel anger, to rage at her, but when she had finally awakened and he saw the deep uncertainty in her eyes, he had felt compelled to treat her gently. He was a fool. What in God’s name was he to do? He had ignored his gloating sister-in-law and the moaning Joanna, and
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