Free Bride of the Isle by Margo Maguire Page B

floor as she crossed the hall, shocked by her reaction to what she’d heard. A wife and a child? She was truly damned for coveting this man. Yet her heart did not feel damned.
    It merelyfelt shattered.
    The rain came with a vengeance as they climbed the steps to the second level and walked down a long gallery. A crash of thunder rattled the walls, and Cristiane knew that if they’d been anywhere near a window, she would have seen the flash of lightning.
    At the far end of the gallery was another set of stone steps, a spiral staircase in a circular tower. Fortunately, Stephan held a lamp to light the way, and Adam carried another behind her, else Cristiane would not have been able to see at all.
    ’Twas not surprising that Lady Margaret had not met them in the great hall. After all, the castle was huge, and they’d started up the stairs before a servant would have had an opportunity to summon Adam’s wife.
    Cristiane could not bring herself to regret the delay in meeting Lady Margaret. In fact, the longer ’twas put off, the better she felt about it. Truly, she needed some time to settle in and put on her most gracious demeanor.
    She could not help but wish she had something more suitable to wear when she met Adam’s countess.
    A door swung out at the top of the stairs, and they filed into another dark corridor, with a multitude of closed doors on each side. Cristiane did not know if she would ever be able to find her way back here without an escort. “This way, my…lady,” Stephan said as he led her to a large, open chamber.
    Cristiane pressed her lips tightly together and followed. She would not allow a servant’s attitude to rattle her.
    ’Twas dark within the chamber, even though there were two windows. While Stephan lit the candle of a large iron lamp that sat on a table between the two windows, Cristiane opened the latch of one window, pulling the heavy framed glass inside. She laughed when the rain sprayed her, then turned to see Stephan and Adam gaping at her. Quickly, she closed the window and wiped her wet hands on her kirtle.
    “’Tis fortunatewe reached the castle in time, is it not, my lord?” she asked, embarrassed to appear so foolish. Cristiane loved rainstorms, even when they came with terrible thunder and fierce lightning, but she knew full well that her passion for the weather was not shared by many.
    Stephan went out of the chamber and disappeared, while Adam lingered. “Aye. ’Tis indeed fortunate,” he said. “Lady Cristiane…” he said, reverting to the formality he’d shown when he’d first met her, “have you any skill with a needle?”
    Cristiane quirked her brows. “Some, my lord.”
    “I am quite sure that my wife left some good cloth hereabouts,” he said. “If I were to find it, would you be able to sew—”
    A clap of thunder drowned out his words.
    “Sew, my lord?”
    The lamp in his hand cast a flickering light on his face. The fine stubble of a beard darkened his jaw, but did naught to detract from his fierce good looks. Cristiane forced herself to think of needlework and thunder and cool rain on her face…
    “Yes,” he said. “You’re in need of some new gowns before you go to York. There is a woman in the village who can help you tailor them.”
    “But, m’lord,” Cristiane said, “your wife…she must have her own purpose for the cloth.”
    In the wavering light, Cristiane could not be sure, but she thought a muscle clenched in his jaw before he spoke. “My wife has been dead nearly two years, Lady Cristiane,” he said. “She has no further use of any earthly goods.”
    Then heturned and left her.

Chapter Seven
    C ristiane knewshe should not feel the kind of elation that filled her heart now. The man’s wife was dead, and she could only feel glad of it.
    Ashamed, she turned to look at the room that would be her home for the next few days. ’Twas nicer than any she’d ever had before, even in her father’s keep. A large bed, heavily curtained,