The Lady of the Sea (24 page)

chapter 33

T
ristan . . .

She slipped from the horse and fell into his arms. Inside the cloak he was warm and dry, and she felt the riotous thudding of his heart. She groped for his hand and pressed it to her lips. “Oh, Tristan . . .”

Like a westering bird, she flew into his embrace. His kiss was all she had been dreaming of, and more. They clung to each other like children lost in a wood. There was no need for words.

A rain of kisses fell on top of her head. She shivered with shock and could not hold back her tears. He stroked her face and pulled back in concern. “Oh—you’re so cold.”

She laughed, half delirious with joy. “Not anymore.” She clutched onto him, suddenly afraid. “Hold me.”

He folded her into his cloak. “Lady, I shall never let you go.”

How long they stood together she could not tell. At last an owl cried out and Tristan stirred.

“It’s late,” he said urgently. “I must get you to shelter, or you’ll catch your death of cold.”

Swiftly, he unsaddled her horse and tethered it loosely to graze. Then he took her hand and drew her toward the grange. “This way, lady. We’ll be safe in here.”

A welcoming candle bloomed in the wide, low hall. He led her straight to the little chamber at the rear of the house where they used to sit when the household was asleep. With a pleasure too deep for words, she saw the room had been made ready to receive her, and there was a merry fire blazing on the hearth.

She looked at him, marveling. “How did you know I was here in the wood?”

“I heard you near the forester’s, and I guessed you’d be coming back here.” As he spoke, he swiftly relieved her of her sodden cloak and wrapped her in a rug that had been warmed before the fire. “So I hurried back to make ready, so that you’d have somewhere warm and safe to sleep.”

“Oh Tristan . . .”

She feasted her eyes on his face. His gaze was full of anxious concern for her, but he had a good color and his eyes were clear. He had lost the tormented air he had had in Dubh Lein, and the weeks in the forest had given him a new calm and strength.

He read her thought. “So will it be for you, away from the court,” he said gently. “Here in the woodland—”

“Darath has gone,” she interrupted fiercely. “I sent him away.”

He did not reply. She was startled to see tears standing in his eyes.

“I always meant to,” she stammered, “surely you knew that.”

“You sent him away? Without bloodshed?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“We offered them cattle for their byres and the chance to win brides for their beds. That was what they had come for after all.”

She could see Tristan struggling with himself. “Then you were right,” he said at last, “and I was wrong. I was sure you’d have to fight them to drive them out.”

“I was wrong, too,” she said slowly. “I should have tried harder to explain what I was trying to do. I got angry with you instead. I thought you were trying to spoil my negotiations with Darath because you wanted to do battle with him yourself.”

“I did,” he said awkwardly. “I thought he was taking you away from me.”

“Oh, my love . . .”

“I thought you were only drawing out the discussions so you could be with him. I was afraid you planned to take him as your knight instead of me.”

An ugly flush of unhappiness crept up her neck. “I should never have made you think that. I was only trying to capture his interest and make it harder for him to attack Dubh Lein.”

She hesitated, conscious of Tristan’s eyes closely searching her face. Should she tell him that Darath had wanted to take her to his bed? That she had been attracted to him in return? That she had kissed him on the mouth when he demanded a price for agreeing to go away?

She drew a deep breath. “Tristan,” she began.

“Ah, lady—” He put a finger to her lips. “Let’s talk about this another time.”

But not now.
Isolde nodded, and a great tear of weariness rolled down her cheek. The next moment she was weeping in his arms. “Oh, Tristan . . .”

“No tears, my love,” he said tenderly. The kiss he gave her healed her very soul. He stroked the length of her body, and she felt herself reviving at his touch. After a while she was no longer tired and cold but floating on the tender wings of bliss.

“Come to me—”

She reached up and pulled him down to her side. Suddenly, she was starving for his love, longing to possess him, blind to all thoughts but one.

It came to her with a gasp of delight that they were closer to freedom than they had ever been. Both Igraine and Cormac had confirmed that her marriage with Mark was dead. Give it an honest burial, Cormac had said. That is the last duty that you owe to him. Now she could go back to Mark without fear and dissolve the marriage in person, face-to-face. Afterward she could live life on her own terms.

They should go back to Castle Dore soon.

But not tonight.

Tonight she would sleep like a child in Tristan’s arms. Together they would climb softly upstairs by candlelight to the moonlit attic at the top of the house. There they would heal all the sorrows that had kept them apart, and with tears and kisses they would be reconciled. Afterward, she would lie and watch his sleeping face for hours until, overflowing with love and joy beyond words, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

And will tonight be the beginning of new life? Not Tristan’s and mine, but the child of our love?

She smiled dreamily.
Who knows? But we shall find out.

From Tristan’s face, she could tell he was thinking the same. She gave him a glimmering smile. An answering smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, and a look of infinite sweetness swept over his face. Never had he looked so dear to her, so fine.

His spirits soaring, he took her by the hand. As long as the world was asleep, they were safe. Then a thought of pure joy burst in his thankful brain. There was no need for secrecy any more. He threw back his head and laughed aloud with delight. By breaking his oath to Mark, he had earned the right to take his beloved in his arms. Their love was open, he could shout it from the hills.

“Lady, lady,” he whispered. He caught his breath. How long had he waited to say these words to her?

“Come, my love. Let me take you to bed.”

T
HAT WAS THE FIRST NIGHT
they spent in the chamber above the trees. The next morning she woke to the first sweet breath of spring. Looking out of the window, she saw fresh green shoots sprouting merrily on all the tops of the trees. Had winter been slipping away unnoticed while they’d been apart? Or had the dark days fled as soon as Tristan appeared?

In the days to come, she had time to puzzle it out.

That, and so much else.

“Why did you leave me like that?” she asked him one day in a low, unhappy voice. “Sailing away without a word of farewell.”

He flinched. “It was time for me to go.”

“Why?”

He lifted his head, and his eyes were full of pain. “I was jealous of Darath, which a knight should never be. I was breaking my oath of chivalry and wronging him, but above all, I was making things worse for you.”

“Yes, you were.” She could not hold back a flash of bitterness. “It was hard to deal with Darath when you came back.”

“I know. He could see how much I hated him, and he was able to use that against you. I knew if I stayed, you’d never get the better of him.”

“But to go without a word—”

“I didn’t trust myself to say good-bye,” he said with painful honesty.

“But why didn’t you leave me word where you meant to go?”

“Because I didn’t know. But I knew if you wanted me, you’d find me in the end.”

“And you were right.” Breathless with joy, she ran her fingers over his forehead, smoothing away the troubled lines on his brow. “Now kiss me, my love?”

But still she had to know what he’d been doing in the time they were apart.

“How have you been living?” she asked the next day as they walked in the forest in the morning sun.

“Like any other forester,” he replied.

She looked round, bewildered. “But there’s nothing here.”

He gave a crooked smile. “There’s all you need in the forest if you know where to look. Don’t forget, Merlin lived wild in the woods for years after Uther died.” His grin grew broader. “And he’s no woodman, lady, as you know.”

The smile that she gave him then lit his soul. “And you are the best in the world.” She laid her hand on his. “Will you teach me?”

S
O BEGAN THE HAPPIEST TIME
they had known, living together in the depths of the wood. Earth had slipped the chains of winter, and spring was under way. Day after day, the sun knocked on their window to wake them, and the great forest opened its hidden ways and took them to its heart. Hand in hand, they roamed far and wide, greeting their woodland neighbors like their kin. The lively hares were their children, the roe deer their sisters and brothers, and the many-antlered stags their great cousins in all their pride.

As they went, Tristan taught her all his forest lore: never to eat where they had gathered their food, never to sleep where they had eaten, and never to lay their heads in the same place twice. At night, they made their beds in warm, safe hollows guarded by thickets of quickthorn and knotty furze.

Afterward, Isolde thought she never slept better than in those woodland retreats, roofed by mighty evergreens and guarded by thick walls of bramble and fern. Night after night, she lay with Tristan at her side and the Goddess moon riding the sky overhead. As sleep descended, she lay snug inside her cloak, counting each shining star and hearing them sing.

In those long, dewy nights, she saw the world with new eyes. Sometimes she thought that the Fair Ones shadowed all in green came out of the hills and hollows to bring them sweet dreams, and every tree leaned down its tender, new-budding head to kiss them good night. And with such thoughts, sleep was not far behind.

When morning came, they fed on sweet roots and springwater and strong-flavored, chewy leaves. Then they set off for the day’s adventures, slipping as light-footed as deer between the greeny-black holly and bloodred-berried yew. Tristan’s face and body grew browner, and each lengthening day seemed to lend him new strength. She saw him newborn in springtime beauty, as if the sun itself were coursing through his limbs. Here in the forest he was utterly at home, moving with ease through its dark, fertile depths. Here he taught her how to lose herself in the life of the wood, till her spirit left her body for the astral plain. And here they trod the world between the worlds, searching, ever searching, with each new foray. Within days, they had transcended their mortal clay and wandered the realms where the Great Ones lived.

“Oh, my love, let us embrace this time of peace,” Tristan said somberly, “and then, my Queen, we’ll decide what to do.”

She looked at his dear face, aching with love. Once again she saw the wonder of his broad, high forehead and frank open gaze, his strong cheekbones and well-shaped mouth. Beltain was coming, the feast of fires and flowers, the mystic time when spring ripened into summer and the doors of the Otherworld opened wide for love. What better time to renew the ties that bound them, heart and soul? And where better than the heart of the greenwood?