Bride of the Isle by Margo Maguire Read Free Book Online

they had on their first night out.
    She also wondered if they would meet up with Adam before nightfall.
    Though Elwin and Raynauld were good company, Cristiane found herself wishing for Adam’s presence. She sighed quietly as she thought of his strong, capable hands, lacing the shoes he’d acquired for her. She’d never noticed any other man’s hands before, but something about Adam’s caught her eye.
    They were large, but well formed, with dark hair on the backs and thick blue veins prominent under smooth skin. His clean nails were neatly trimmed. Cristiane would feel safe in those hands, if he ever chose to touch her again.
    Which he would not. She was certain of that.
    She’d seen something in his eyes that morning while she dressed, something that even now brought a blush to her cheeks. But he’d withdrawn from her. He’d made a point of staying away—other than during those few short moments when he’d fastened the shoes on her feet. Clearly, he had not experienced the same rush of heat she had. Whatever had been in his eyes, it had not been a wave of lust.
    More likely embarrassment.
    ’Twas foolish to ruminate over it now. Adam’s lack of interest was of no consequence to her. She would not tarry long at Bitterlee. ’Twould be a mere fortnight or less, she guessed, before she continued her southward journey to her uncle in York.
    She felt fortunatethat she at least had shoes for her arrival in York, but wished she owned something to trade for better clothes. Her belongings were meager, and of them, the only possessions of value were her two books, which she’d managed to hide away in her cave. Cristiane did not think she could part with them, even for the finest of kirtles. For they’d belonged to her father and she’d learned so much from them.
    Nay, she would just have to arrive looking a pauper…as she truly was.
    “Not much farther to go, yer ladyship,” Sir Elwin said. “We’ll meet Lord Bitterlee just over that rise.”
    Cristiane was surprised by that news. She’d had no idea where Lord Bitterlee had gone off to, but her heart beat a bit faster, knowing she’d soon see him again.
    “He stayed ahead of us all day,” Raynauld remarked.
    “Why?” she wondered aloud.
    “For safety’s sake,” Elwin replied. “After our encounter with last night’s raiders, he did not want us to be riding headlong into another ugly situation.”
    Cristiane had not thought of that, but she was glad Adam had. The idea of running into those English marauders again made her blood run cold. She did not care to repeat her reaction to the violence on the stair the previous night. She’d been incapacitated, and her mind had taken her back to the battle in which her father had been killed.
    Prior to this, she’d only seen his violent death in her worst nightmares. Never while she was awake.
    “We’ve kept up a good pace,” Sir Elwin said, turning her mind from the possibility of danger, “so we’ll be reaching the Isle of Bitterlee before nightfall on the morrow.”
    “The isle?”
    “Aye,” Raynauldreplied. “Bitterlee is an island in the North Sea.”
    “Oh!” Cristiane said with wonder. “No one told me that Bitterlee was an isle.” She could hardly imagine standing in a place where she would be surrounded by water. What a wonderful thought. There would be birds, and tide pools and wee sea creatures…
    “Aye,” the knight continued. “With Lord Bitterlee’s castle perched high on the cliffs overlooking the sea.”
    “’Tis a fair wondrous place in summer,” Sir Elwin added. Then he frowned. “But our winters are harsh. ’Tis not a clime for the fainthearted.”
    Cristiane thought Elwin would have said more, but he stopped himself, and Raynauld took up the discussion.
    “Besides our lovely summers,” he said, “we’ve always got food to spare, even when the grain harvest is sparse….”
    “Aye, Bitterlee’s fishermen are England’s best.”
    “We feast on codfish and whitynge