In the Wake of the Wind (15 page)

She heard the sound of the door closing, a muffled thud. And then Adam’s hands turned her easily, deft hands, familiar hands, sliding her dress over her head, stripping her of her chemise just as easily. She thought she must be ill, for he touched her as gently as if she were a child, his deep voice murmuring soothing words she couldn’t make out.

Something else came over her head, a drift of cotton. Her hips raised naturally as the material smoothed around them, cool covers pulled back, her body lifted in strong arms and deposited beneath their comforting depths.
You have nothing to fear.

Then there was quiet, broken only by the sound of Adam moving about the room. A few minutes later a weight settled in next to her and arms came around her, holding her close, sheltering her.

She sighed in contentment. Home. She was finally home at last.

“Thank you, Adam,” she murmured, drifting off into blessed sleep, dreams already tugging at the corners of her mind.

Time will run back and fetch the age of
gold…

She sat in a great hall in the middle of a long table that stretched from one end of a dais to the other. Below her the hall was filled with gaily dressed people as
far
as the eye could see, the sounds of celebration booming around her in a great, happy d
in.

“Are you as pleased as your people seem to be, my love? I think that all of Kyrenia has turned out for our wedding party.”

She turned her attention from the scene of revelry to Adam, who held his gold goblet up toward her in a salute.

“I am well pleased for your sake, my lord,” she said, her heart filled with love for him. “It
is
not every day that a prince is married, and your people do you honor.”

“As they do honor to my bride. Look upon my parents’ faces, Sarah, and know they too are well pleased with you, although none
is
as pleased as I.”

She glanced down at the end of the dais where Adam’s father sat next to his mother, both of them smiling, although she didn’t think the queen looked quite as pleased with her as Adam would like to think.

Clio of Curium was a regal woman who took her aristocratic lineage
seriously,
and there had been much original dissent on her part to Adam’s proposal to marry Sarah, who was only of minor noble blood, and not even from the island but from Antioch on the mainland. But eventually an agreement had been reached, and Sarah’s considerable dowry had finally placated Clio, who was equally intent on refilling Kyrenia’s coffers.

Sarah had an uneasy feeling that she would have to tread carefully with Clio. The king, on the other hand, she liked enormously, and he had always been kind, if perhaps led a little too easily by his ambitious but beautiful wife. Sarah also had an uneasy
feeling about the way Clio’s gaze wandered a little too often to handsome Michael
Angelus,
who was a captain in the army and Adam’s closest friend.

Michael sat across the table, laughing and telling outrageous stories, his eyes flashing with sharp intelligence. Sarah had the impression that Michael didn’t miss much, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that he was oblivious to the queen’s close scrutiny.

There’s trouble in that direction,
she thought, then wished she could snatch the thought back as a chill of premonition ran down her spine. Sarah had always had an overdeveloped sixth sense, which rarely proved wrong, and she didn’t like the direction it led her in now.

Bishop Margolis, who sat on her right, turned to her. “What troubles you, Sarah? A cloud just passed over your face, a strange thing to see on this happy day.”

She shook her head. “Nothing, Father, Just a passing thought. But tell me; how long has Captain
Angelus
been back from the fighting?”

“Oh, only a month I believe. The last Arab raid was brilliantly rebuffed, and I don’t believe there will be trouble again from that direction. Were you fearful of an attack, my child? I know your city has been under constant pressure from the Seljuk
Muslims.”
He stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“No, I’m not afraid,”
she
said truthfully. “Adam believes that the constant raiding is over now, thanks to the efforts of the emperor.” She smiled. “And being Adam, he
is
pleased because peace
is
good for
business.”

“That many more ships to build and load for trade? And why not? The West is as hungry for our goods as we are for theirs, and despite the troubles, trade
is
strong with the East as well. More money for Kyrenia, which we will all applaud.”

Adam leaned over, having caught the tail end of the conversation. “Indeed, for the fighting has hurt us badly in terms of financial loss. But
it
shouldn’t be too long before everything normalizes and we can make up the damage. I thank God that this city-state is located in an inconvenient position for raiding—look at what Famagusta has had to endure, being a direct target on the southern
side.”

The
bishop nodded. ‘Yes, but then in times of peace Famagusta has considerable advantages over you. Tell me, Adam. Do you hold the same view that your parents do?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“Oh, do you mean my mother’s resentment of the killing harbor fees that the king imposes on every ship going out and coming in?” Adam grinned. “If
I
had the principal port on the island, I would probably do the same. In any case, there is nothing to be done.”

“I am pleased to hear you say it,” the bishop said quietly, lacing his fingers together.

“What else could I say?” he said with a shrug. “Famagusta has a stranglehold over us and we’d be
unwise
to object to their policy. All a protest would do
is
raise the tariffs even higher. We learned that lesson twenty years ago, and I have no intention of learning another one, no matter what—”

Sarah intercepted a subtle look of warning that Michael threw at Adam, and Adam’s instant curtailing of his response. A thrill of alarm ran through her, something reinforcing her sense that danger threatened. But the moment vanished as Adam took her hand and gently squeezed her fingers.

“Forgive me, beloved. This no time to be discussing politics,” he said smoothly. “Drink with me to our future, for
this is
the beginning of our life together, and
it will
be one filled with joy from
this
day forth, I swear
it
to you, even if
it has
taken three long years to reach this point”

She laughed. “If I have even one more sip of wine I shall
fall
off my chair. All these
toasts
are enough to make my head
swim
as it is.”

“It
is true, you have never been able to hold your wine in all the time I’ve known you. But then if you swoon, I will be able to carry you
off
to our marriage bed that much sooner.”

“Much
good I
will
be to you then,” she said with a chuckle. “Oh, Adam, this is the happiest day of my life.”

“And will be the happiest night as well, I hope,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eye. He cupped her face
in his
hand and gave her a lingering kiss that sent another
thrill
through her,
this
time of pleasure. “But you can tell me yourself come morning.”

“My lady? My lady, rise and shine. It’s nearly gone ten.”

Serafina
was about to tell the annoying voice to go away so that she could resume her conversation with Adam, but it came again, pulling her up and up, the image before her eyes wavering and finally, to her heartbroken disappointment, disappearing altogether.

It was the nicest dream she’d had so far and the longest, and she wanted nothing more than to be back with Adam, even if she knew now that he was nothing more than a fantasy.

And yet she couldn’t help feeling a terrible surge of grief at having to relinquish him, relinquish the beautiful dream that had sustained her for so long. Fantasies might be exactly that, but they had so much more appeal than reality. She already missed Adam acutely, knowing he was lost to her, gone back to that imaginary place where he and she had existed so happily. And loved so fully.

Serafina
reluctantly opened her eyes, squinting against the bright light as the draperies opened and let in a flood of sunshine. She sat up in bed, disoriented, not sure of where she was, sure only that she was back, and she didn’t like it.

And then a rush of panic swept over her as memory came flooding back. She was married to awful Aiden, and he was as different from Adam as could be. And sadly, she couldn’t wake up from Aiden.

She looked around the room, her panic only increasing. She was in Aiden’s bed, and she didn’t even know how she’d arrived there. But at least Aiden was nowhere to be seen. Only Janie moved around the room.

“Oh, Janie,” she said hazily. “What happened?”

“You were lost deep in dreamland, and a happy place it must have been if the smile on your face was any telling. I thought you were never going to wake up. I called and shook you and called and shook you, and you just turned over and ignored me.” She grinned. “But then you probably had a long night.”

Serafina
rubbed her eyes, wishing she could remember anything at all about the night. One minute she’d been talking to Aiden about … about Tinkerby, that was it. And the next she was here with the morning light pouring into the room. She looked over at the other side of the bed.

The pillows were indented, the sheets tousled and thrown back, and her blood ran cold.

Had it happened after all? Had Aiden done that terrible thing to her while she slept, without her even knowing? Or had a veil truly been drawn over her eyes so that she wouldn’t remember?

She quickly did a mental assessment of her body. She wore a nightdress. That was a good sign, although she couldn’t think how she’d come to change into it. And she felt no pain, no bruises, no soreness anywhere. She waited until Janie turned away to pour hot water into the basin, then slid over and pulled the covers back. No rivers of blood either.

Serafina
breathed a deep sigh of relief. So he had kept his word. But then why couldn’t she remember anything?

A knock sounded at the door, and Janie smiled knowingly and opened it, disappearing.
Serafina
started as Aiden came through, carrying a tray, and she quickly snatched the covers up to her chest as if that could protect her from him.

“Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep well?” He walked over to the bed and placed the tray down, then sat down next to it. “I thought I’d bring you breakfast up here this morning as it’s so late, and I have to leave for London shortly. Tea?”

She nodded, her lip caught between her teeth, wishing he’d vanish.

“Milk? Sugar?”

She shook her head.

“Has the cat got your tongue, or is your head hurting too badly to allow for speech?” he asked wryly, handing her a cup and pouring one for himself. “I would have ordered you chocolate, but I don’t know if you drink it.”

“Tea is perfect,” she said, gulping the hot liquid, her throat parched.

He leaned back and gave her a long, assessing look. “So,
Titania.
I think perhaps you’d better stick to drinking dewdrops after all. How is your head? Sore?”

“Why should my head be sore?” she asked suspiciously, thinking that would be the last thing she’d expect to hurt.

“Only, my dear innocent wife, because that’s generally where one feels the effects of overindulgence. You were three sheets in the wind last night. Don’t you remember?”

Serafina
stared at him. “Are you saying that I drank myself into a stupor?” she said, horrified that she might have done such a thing. “I—I don’t remember. Oh,
Aiden,
I don’t remember anything!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing? You remember nothing at all? Do you mean to say all my spectacular talents went for nothing?”

“Oh … oh, no,” she moaned, nearly dropping her cup in her lap. ‘You wicked, evil man! You took advantage of my inebriated state, didn’t you? Oh, I should have known.” She bowed her head, a flush of embarrassment and dismay covering her from head to foot.

Aiden laughed. “You really don’t remember, do you? Actually, I was merely referring to picking you up and carrying you to bed.”