The floor is damp," she said, looking up at him with a smile. Then her eyes widened, and Skye giggled.

Adam looked puzzled. "What is it?" he asked.

"You're wearing a nightshirt!" she exclaimed, amused.

"You're wearing a nightgown," he countered.

"I've never seen you in a nightshirt," she answered.

"I never felt the need to wear one with you, Skye," he said solemnly.

She thought a moment, and then said, "Oh," in a small voice, and her teeth caught at her bottom lip.

"I’ll sleep on the floor," he said.

"No, Adam, you'll catch your death if you do. Look! The bed is large, and comfortable." She paused a moment, then added, "And if I am not ready, or able to… to… you know what it is I say; we are two grown people who surely can control our passions. I know I am being unfair, Adam, but I need you near me! Do you understand what it is I am saying?"

"Get into bed, Skye. The night has grown chill. You need your sleep, and we have an early start."

Obediently she climbed into the big bed and snuggled down beneath the warm coverlet. Bending, Adam blew out the single candle, and only the low firelight lit the room as he slipped in next to her. For some minutes they lay in silence upon their backs, each stretched out long and stiff, and then Adam quietly reached out and took her hand in his large paw. "You say nothing, and yet I can hear you screaming with your pain, little girl. Tell me now! Tell me what is in your mind and heart. Tell me before it grows so big that there is no controlling it, and you destroy yourself."

"It was all for nothing," she said, the anguish plain in her trembling voice. "It was all for nothing, Adam." She sighed, and a shudder rippled through her slender frame. "Niall is dead. He is as dead now as he was to me two years ago; but two years ago I had learned to live with it. Do you know what I have done, Adam? I have whored. I am no better than those women who inhabit the waterfront brothels in every port. I used my body, and I have been used. I did not think when I agreed to Osman's proposal that it would be so hard, and perhaps if my husband had survived it might not have been; but Niall is dead now, and I cannot reconcile myself to the fact that it has all been for nothing."

"You got him out of Morocco, Skye. He died a free man."

It was as if she did not hear him, or if she did the facts were not enough to soothe her. "Kedar," she said. "God's blood, Adam, how I hate the very sound of his name! He was Osman's nephew, and the man whose slave I was. Look at my ankle, Adam." She stuck her foot out from beneath the coverlet, and in the dim light from the fire he could see something glittering on her ankle. "Do you know what is written on the medallion of the anklet? It says, Muna, Property of Kedar. I have not yet had the time to have a smith remove it. Property of Kedar, Adam, and I was most assuredly that. My very life depended upon his goodwill. He possessed me with a ferocity I have never known, Adam. He took everything I was forced to offer, and much I did not. I spent those months in his possession, terrified that he would devour me both body and soul with his passion, with his terrible need to consume me. He did things to me, Adam, things that I did not imagine a man could do to a woman, and it was never enough! Oh, God! I shall never be free of him! The memories of him will haunt me all my life, and the memories of my beloved Niall will haunt me, too. I see now that it would have been better if I had left him to meet his end in Morocco rather than to betray the vows we made before God when we were wed. Oh, Adam! I am so lost!"

With a low growl of anger Adam climbed from the bed and flung the covers back. Gently he lifted her ankle in one hand while with the other he snapped the gold band from her leg as if it were a ribbon. Striding to the window, he threw back the shutters and flung the offensive anklet as far as he could. Then he closed the shutters again, and calmly climbed back into the bed.

Skye turned and, pressing her head into his shoulder, began to weep. Stunned, Adam wrapped his arms about her and let her cry. Tears, he knew, were a catharsis. There was nothing else he could do, for he could never completely wipe away the terrible memories she would retain of her time with Kedar. Gradually her sobs died, and her breathing evened out and she slept nesded against him. Adam also slept then, only to be awakened by piteous cries as Skye, caught in the middle of a dream, relived some of her Moroccan adventure. He did things to me, Adam, things that I did not imagine a man could do to a woman, she had said. He was both horrified and shamed by what a member of his sex had done to her. Skye was a woman to be cherished and adored. She was a good companion and a brave comrade. She had been made to be loved, and she was the best friend he had ever had. It both pained and angered him that she had suffered so.


***

It took them eight days to reach Archambault from Beaumont, and during those eight days Adam learned in detail Skye's adventures in Morocco. After that first night he had insisted that she tell him everything, and as more and more of her agony came to the surface, the less violent her nightmares became. As he listened he realized how very much he loved her. This time she was not going to get away from him, and the afternoon they neared his mother and stepfather's château through the exquisitely rolling green countryside of the Loire River Valley he told her so.

"You are going to marry me, Skye."

"I will never marry again, Adam. I have had all I can of belonging to a man. I will be my own mistress until I die. Please try to understand that, my darling."

"I understand that you have had a terrible experience, Skye, but I am determined that you will be my wife. Being married to me will not make you my property. You will always be your own woman; but you will be my wife as well. I love you, little girl. I have for so very long a time. My greatest treasures are my good name and my honor. I would bestow my name upon you."

"How cruel you make me feel to refuse such a magnificent gift, Adam, but no. I must be free! Please try to understand."

He sighed. "You need time, Skye, and I am willing to give you all the time you need."

"You are impossible!" she scolded him.

"I am a man in love," he countered. "You are the first woman I have asked to marry me in twenty-two years, Skye."

"Oh no, Adam de Marisco," she cried, outraged. "You shall not make me feel guilty because the daughter of some obscure count once refused your suit! You know better where I am concerned."

"You will marry me!" he laughed, pulling her into his arms and nuzzling her neck with his lips. "Dammit, little girl, I love the smell of you!"

She pushed half-heartedly against his chest. "I won't!" she said stubbornly. Yet Skye felt lighter of heart than she had in months. Adam de Marisco was so very good for her, and she knew it.

Suddenly he was serious again, and he gently tipped her face up to his, his thumb and forefinger on her chin. His smoky blue eyes seemed to envelope her, and she thought for a startled moment that she might faint, but she didn't. Instead her heart raced madly, and a faint flush touched her skin as he murmured in his deep voice, "I adore you, you sapphire-eyed Celtic witch!" And then his mouth was closing over hers in a tender and melting kiss that left her both breathless and near to tears. "You see," he teased her when he had lifted his lips from hers, "you are yet alive, and still very much a woman, little girl."

She was surprised. When Niall had died she had thought that she could never again stomach a man's touch. Not after Kedar and his excesses. Still, this was Adam, her dearest and most beloved of friends; but deep in her heart Skye knew that was not the whole truth. She had always loved Adam in her fashion, and she strongly suspected that love was now deepening in a far different way. I will not give up my freedom, she thought furiously to herself. I won't!

Adam's mouth was smiling knowingly at her, and she hit him upon the chest with her fist. "I will be my own woman, you ass! I will never again belong to anyone but myself! Stop smiling, Adam! Oh, I hate you when you are smug!"

He began to laugh, and his laughter warmed her, much to her outrage. "In the end, little girl, you will marry me," he said in a voice deep and tender with his love for her. “You may take your time, Skye; whatever time you need to admit to what you know in your own heart. God only knows I have proved a patient man where you are concerned."

"Hah!" she snapped at him. "How many times did you turn me away, Adam de Marisco? Twice, as I recall, and now suddenly it is I who would turn you away, but you will be patient. I swear to you I will not marry again! I will learn to use men as they use women. I wonder how patient you will feel when you see me flirting with another man, Adam."

He grinned infuriatingly at her. "Get it out of your system, little girl, and when you are ready to be sensible again I will be waiting patiently for you, as I always have."

"Ohhh!" God's bones, he was making her so angry. He was treating her as if she were a child instead of a woman of thirty-one who had just come through a terrible experience. Skye drew in a deep breath to scold him further, but he forestalled her, saying:

"Look, there is Archambault!"

Unable to resist, Skye looked through the coach window. There on a gentle hill that rose above the River Cher, she saw a charming small château with its steep red-tiled roof, its four rounded corner towers, and very French dormer windows. Below it along the river were the vineyards of Archambault, and behind them a generous estate of fields and woodlands. It was a perfect summer's day with a cloudless, deep-blue sky and bright golden sun. The river ran cheerfully by the green vines and ripening fields of maize and wheat. The forest was in full leaf. There were cattle grazing in the fields, and sheep, too. It was altogether the most peaceful scene Skye had ever seen. She had not believed that there was any place on this earth that peaceful.

The coach rumbled onward up the hill to the château, drawing to a stop before a tier of steps crowned with carved and gilded double doors of weathered oak. As the vehicle stopped, the doors to the château were swung open by a liveried servant, and several footmen came running down the steps followed by a rather beautiful woman in a taffeta gown the color of purple primroses, its low-necked bodice embroidered in silver and crystal beads. The woman's hair was coiffed as Skye wore hers, parted in the middle, drawn back and gathered into an elegant chignon. There were pearls in her hair.

"Adam!"

"Maman!" He sprang from the coach, and caught her up in a bear hug of an embrace, squeezing her until she shrieked, and kissing her soundly upon both cheeks.

"Put me down, you great oaf!" she scolded him laughingly. "You are destroying my coiffure, and what will your lovely Skye think of me if you do!"

"She will think what I think. She will think you are the most beautiful, the most marvelous mother in the whole world!" He set her gently on her feet.

Gabrielle de Saville's glance softened with the fondness a mother harbors for her firstborn, then quickly she demanded, "Well, where is she, my son? Where is this paragon you have written me about?"

Skye felt her cheeks coloring as she heard Adam's mother's words. As she stepped down from the coach, her small hand in Adam's big one, she had no idea of how lovely she looked. She was wearing a simple light silk traveling dress of leaf green with a soft scooped neck and comfortable hanging sleeves, which were cool for coach travel. She had only a simple strand of pearls about her neck and matching earbobs in her ears. She looked fresh and very beautiful.

"Maman, may I present to you Skye, Lady Burke, better known as Skye O'Malley. Skye, my mother, the Comtesse de Cher."

"You will call me Gaby, my dear," Adam's mother said graciously, "and I shall call you Skye. You are every bit as fair as Adam has written. Welcome to Archambault! I hope you will stay with us for a long visit."