hurt. “Everything is going to be all right.”
Damned if she almost didn’t make him believe it, until she added, “I am sure the Lady will be here soon.”
What lady? he almost demanded. But as his mind cleared, he knew his mermaid had to be speaking of only one woman. The Lady of Faire Isle. The thought of
her
tightened the knot in his gut. He had to get the devil out of here.
He grated his teeth against the pain as he tried to rise, a feeble effort at best. The mermaid easily restrained him by pressing her hand on his left shoulder.
“No. Please, monsieur. You must lie still lest—” Her warning was cut off when someone else burst into the room in a flurry of faded gray skirts and flapping apron. An elderly woman with a cloud of white hair and vague blue eyes clapped her hand to her mouth at the sight of him.
Xavier regarded her blearily The old woman burst into tears and cried. “Oh, my dear master, is that really you?”
Master?
Now what the devil? Xavier thought. Island ofwitches, hell. He’d fetched up on an isle peopled by madwomen.
“Is it really you after all these years?” The woman beamed through her tears. “The sea took you away and now brought you back to us.”
With another mighty sob, she flung herself upon his chest, jarring his right arm. She might as well have stabbed him. Xavier choked off a cry at the fresh spasm of pain that spiked through him.
“Mistress please!” His mermaid dragged the sobbing woman away from him. “I fear you are distressing our guest.”
“Distressing me?” Xavier grated, letting fly a volley of oaths that would have blistered their ears if either woman had been paying any attention to him.
The old lady was clinging to his mermaid, half weeping, half laughing. “Oh, you don’t understand. You don’t know who he is. This is a great day for Faire Isle, Jane.”
Jane?
Xavier thought as he blew out a succession of quick breaths in an effort to gain some mastery over his pain. That was a ridiculously staid name for a mermaid or even a witch.
Jane struggled to calm the mad old woman, keep her from flinging herself at Xavier again. As she eased her toward the door, Xavier became aware of another presence, another pair of hands gripping the old lady’s arms, reinforcing Jane’s efforts.
“Agnes, my dear. What is all this?”
Xavier could not see who spoke, but the voice penetrated his haze of pain, cool, calm, and authoritative.
The old woman turned from Jane to embrace the newcomer.“Oh, milady. The joyous day we have prayed for is here. The chevalier has returned to us.”
Xavier froze, even his pain forgotten as he realized for whom he had been mistaken. It should have come as no surprise to him. Closing his eyes, he could hear the echo of his mother’s voice.
“You are the very image of your father, Louis.”
Even now Xavier was not sure if his mother had been proud of that resemblance or hated him for it.
The old woman’s cries faded into the distance and silence descended over the room. Xavier became aware of someone returning to his side. Somehow he sensed it wasn’t Jane.
He kept his eyes closed as though he could avoid the confrontation he’d dreaded most of his life and yet had been unable to stop from imagining as well. But he had never pictured it like this, with him flat on his back, wounded and helpless before her.
No matter how he had resisted this moment, a part of him had regarded it as inevitable. He expelled a deep breath. Feeling strangely resigned, he opened his eyes and gazed up at the Lady of Faire Isle.
Tall, slender, she possessed a stately grace despite the simple brown frock she wore. Her chestnut-colored hair crowned her head in a circle of tightly woven braids, the strands threaded with hints of silver. Her countenance was more striking than beautiful. He fancied that it was usually serene, but she paled at the sight of him, her brown eyes wide.
So this was his father’s beloved Evangeline. She was very like
Damned if she almost didn’t make him believe it, until she added, “I am sure the Lady will be here soon.”
What lady? he almost demanded. But as his mind cleared, he knew his mermaid had to be speaking of only one woman. The Lady of Faire Isle. The thought of
her
tightened the knot in his gut. He had to get the devil out of here.
He grated his teeth against the pain as he tried to rise, a feeble effort at best. The mermaid easily restrained him by pressing her hand on his left shoulder.
“No. Please, monsieur. You must lie still lest—” Her warning was cut off when someone else burst into the room in a flurry of faded gray skirts and flapping apron. An elderly woman with a cloud of white hair and vague blue eyes clapped her hand to her mouth at the sight of him.
Xavier regarded her blearily The old woman burst into tears and cried. “Oh, my dear master, is that really you?”
Master?
Now what the devil? Xavier thought. Island ofwitches, hell. He’d fetched up on an isle peopled by madwomen.
“Is it really you after all these years?” The woman beamed through her tears. “The sea took you away and now brought you back to us.”
With another mighty sob, she flung herself upon his chest, jarring his right arm. She might as well have stabbed him. Xavier choked off a cry at the fresh spasm of pain that spiked through him.
“Mistress please!” His mermaid dragged the sobbing woman away from him. “I fear you are distressing our guest.”
“Distressing me?” Xavier grated, letting fly a volley of oaths that would have blistered their ears if either woman had been paying any attention to him.
The old lady was clinging to his mermaid, half weeping, half laughing. “Oh, you don’t understand. You don’t know who he is. This is a great day for Faire Isle, Jane.”
Jane?
Xavier thought as he blew out a succession of quick breaths in an effort to gain some mastery over his pain. That was a ridiculously staid name for a mermaid or even a witch.
Jane struggled to calm the mad old woman, keep her from flinging herself at Xavier again. As she eased her toward the door, Xavier became aware of another presence, another pair of hands gripping the old lady’s arms, reinforcing Jane’s efforts.
“Agnes, my dear. What is all this?”
Xavier could not see who spoke, but the voice penetrated his haze of pain, cool, calm, and authoritative.
The old woman turned from Jane to embrace the newcomer.“Oh, milady. The joyous day we have prayed for is here. The chevalier has returned to us.”
Xavier froze, even his pain forgotten as he realized for whom he had been mistaken. It should have come as no surprise to him. Closing his eyes, he could hear the echo of his mother’s voice.
“You are the very image of your father, Louis.”
Even now Xavier was not sure if his mother had been proud of that resemblance or hated him for it.
The old woman’s cries faded into the distance and silence descended over the room. Xavier became aware of someone returning to his side. Somehow he sensed it wasn’t Jane.
He kept his eyes closed as though he could avoid the confrontation he’d dreaded most of his life and yet had been unable to stop from imagining as well. But he had never pictured it like this, with him flat on his back, wounded and helpless before her.
No matter how he had resisted this moment, a part of him had regarded it as inevitable. He expelled a deep breath. Feeling strangely resigned, he opened his eyes and gazed up at the Lady of Faire Isle.
Tall, slender, she possessed a stately grace despite the simple brown frock she wore. Her chestnut-colored hair crowned her head in a circle of tightly woven braids, the strands threaded with hints of silver. Her countenance was more striking than beautiful. He fancied that it was usually serene, but she paled at the sight of him, her brown eyes wide.
So this was his father’s beloved Evangeline. She was very like
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