Read Online Summer Siege by Samantha Holt - Free Book Online Page A

was
easier than their outward journey. Cariad had almost fully recovered and
handled the short journey admirably. Relief combined with dread pricked at
Madeline, churning in her gut. She was grateful to be free from the oppressive
atmosphere of Ashford Manor but, having barely had time to settle at Woodchurch
before they left, she feared the ghosts of the past that still lingered.
    Remorse struck her
for her ungrateful attitude. Lord Reginald and Lady Elizabeth had gone out of
their way to see to her comfort and had treated her as they would a daughter,
but she had been unable to return the sentiments. Indeed, they had behaved no
differently towards her than when she was a child but time had stolen the
solace she used to feel in their care.
    As they proceeded
past Woodchurch chapel, Madeline pulled Cariad to a stop. There was one ghost
here that she needed to confront.
    Tristan rode
slightly ahead of her and turned his mount around when he realised she had
paused, motioning to Thomas to continue on.
    “Is he here?” she
asked him.
    “Aye, he’s here.”
    Madeline took a
breath and dismounted. Tristan followed behind her, keeping his distance.
    The flint walled chapel
was meagre as befitting a village of Woodchurch’s size and few gravestones surrounded it. Only the most noble of families were
buried here.  Moving directly towards her mother’s grave, she found the
freshly turned soil that indicated a new burial.
    Her father’s grave.
    She stared at it
for some time, mayhap hoping to conjure some kind of emotion, but none came.
Only the cold fist of detachment took root in her heart.
    “He grieved for
you, Madeline.” Tristan said softly as he came up behind her.
    She let out a
disparaging laugh. “Yet I was not dead.”
    “A young maid out
in the world alone -‘ twould not be surprising if he
thought it true.”
    “ ‘Tis funny that he should care for me once I was gone.”
    “All Woodchurch saw
how he mourned, ‘tis why the lands have been neglected thus.”
    Shaking her head in
denial, she met his forceful gaze. “Why do you tell me this?”
    “So you know that
you were loved.”
    “Loved? Nay, he did
not love. He knew naught of love. Likely, he grieved the missed opportunity of
joining his lands with another through my betrothal.”
    “I cannot claim to
have respect for your father, not after his treatment of you, but I do believe
he loved you in his way.”
    “Why would he claim
me dead then? Why not search for me? Why not bring me home?” Madeline realised she
was speaking not of her father, but of Tristan. She recognised that she was
still angry at him for believing her father’s lies, for not finding her and
marrying her as he had promised. Yet, would she have even returned with him? By
the time she had made her escape, she was too embittered to even contemplate
returning, whether Tristan had wanted her or not.
    Tristan must have
heard her anger building and he laid a soothing hand on her shoulder. It gave
her strength, somehow, in spite of her reluctance to accept aid from him, and
she let it rest.
    “Mayhap he was
ashamed of his actions, too ashamed to own up to them. I believe he thought I
would look for you if I knew you were alive and then his deceitful actions
would have been revealed.”
    She considered this
before she curled marginally into him. Her body tucked into the side of his and
she found herself unable to withdraw, his presence providing a comfort she
could not bring herself to reject.
    “And would you have
looked for me?” She hated the feebleness that crept into her voice.
    Tristan twisted her
around to face him, his hands on her shoulders. “Of course, why would you ask
such a thing? Madeline, if I had known you were alive I would have hunted until
the end of my days to find you.”
    Aye, of course he
would. He had seen her as his duty and naught could come between Tristan and
duty. His eyes blazed into hers with an emotion she couldn’t identify. Desperation? Anguish? She