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“What if Mountbane discovers what has happened!” Her eyes flashed fire as she spoke.
“He won’t learn the truth from me. Are you so weak that you’ll let it slip?”
“Of course not! But would it not be better to live together as we have, stealing the moments when we can?” she calmed her wrath in order to plead with him. “There are plenty of opportunities for us to love in secret.”
“What happened to you, dear lady—just yesterday you agreed against such pretenses. You plead both sides!”
“I am worried, sir. About your safety.”
“Think clearly, Charlotte, you really believe when you return that Mountbane will restore your privileges as his wife?” Tristan eased his grip on her wrist, though he would not let go.
“I would assume he would,” she replied.
“He might for a time, if you’re lucky. But it’s more likely the birds won’t fly north as spring approaches, than Mountbane will have you back. He has his ways. Trust me, you are finished with him.”
“You are so certain?”
“I am,” his dark eyes were now as cold as the north wind. “Trust me, as soon as he tires of you again—if he doesn’t do this directly when you return—he’ll cage you in his dungeon until you’re an old and withered hag.”
“Oh, never. I am his wife, he won me well. He’d never do that.”
“You think not? He already has once, ma’am.”
“What do you mean, he has? I’m in no dungeon now.”
“His other wife, my cousin, Elissa, was sent to the dungeons after two years romping playfully in his bed. She was his slave and still she was condemned. At least he gave you three years of bliss. When Mountbane tired of her she was gone—in mind and body no longer of use to him.”
“He had another wife?” She was aghast. “Where is she now, still there?”
“She’s dead,” he said flatly.
“My, lord, no! He killed her? Had her killed?”
“That wasn’t necessary,” Tristan said. “A nasty plague went through the cells the first winter. And before it ran its course, she was too far gone to revive.”
“Could she not have easily died living in the castle above?”
“No one died in his noble realm. It was a simple ailment, but unchecked it became virulent.”
She still could not fathom this wild story. “I know my husband is a hard and even cruel man at times; but I can’t believe he’d allow a wife to die of such neglect.”
“Neglect it was. He tried to mourn, but he has no soul.”
“No, that can’t be. Such wit and grace, sexual prowess, even if he’s cunning.”
“He’s a charming madman, Charlotte.”
“Perhaps so,” she looked down pensively considering his words. “I worry for you. You indict yourself to believe what you believe and then say these things.”
“I’d say them to his face.”
“But reporting it to me? Don’t you consider that a dangerous gamble?”
“Is your allegiance so fragile?” he asked.
“No, sir. It is firmly with you.”
“Then I have nothing to fear.”
