So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)(62)

He was avoiding her. She should have known not to tell him the truth.

But she’d wanted to be close to him. She’d wanted to forge a bond with him where they could share their secrets, thoughts, and burdens. She’d wanted to be special to him.

It hurt. Blast him. His rejection hurt. And that could only mean she truly cared for him.

She’d fallen for him.

Now she was back in their cabin, pacing about. How on Aerthlan had she fallen for a man when she didn’t even know who he was?

But she knew his heart. She knew he was good and honorable, responsible and clever, strong and handsome. She knew his pain and heartache. His grief and fear. She’d felt his desire for her. His yearning.

Hadn’t she? Good goddesses, had she just imagined his desire out of wishful thinking?

“Will ye sit down for a minute?” Sister Fallyn fussed. “Ye’re going to wear holes into yer slippers.”

With a groan, Brigitta collapsed in a chair. “Aye. We could be stuck on that island for years, so I may never have another pair of slippers.”

Sister Fallyn scoffed. “Why are ye being so negative? ’Tis not like you.”

Brigitta shrugged. How could she gain his trust if he refused to see her?

“Stefan has told me all about the island,” Sister Fallyn continued. “They’re growing oats and barley. And raising sheep. They even have a few milk cows. And he said we could use his cottage. I think it will be quite lovely.”

Brigitta nodded.

“And Stefan said they’ll come to visit every month or so and bring us whatever we need. So if ye need new slippers, ye’ll only have to ask.”

Brigitta sighed. “Ye don’t think it’s cowardly of me to hide?”

Sister Fallyn scoffed. “Would ye rather have yer brother condemning you to a life of abuse?”

A knock sounded on the door.

“That must be our dinner.” Sister Fallyn stood. “Come in!”

Jeffrey opened the door to reveal Stefan holding an enormous tray of food.

“May I join you?” Stefan walked in to deposit the tray on the table. Jeffrey put a jug of wine on the sideboard then scampered away.

Sister Fallyn blushed. “I suppose it would be all right.” She busied herself unloading the tray.

“Thank you.” Stefan slanted a tender look toward the nun that she didn’t see, but Brigitta did.

And her heart hurt even more. “I’m not very hungry. I think I’ll lie down in the cabin next door.”

Sister Fallyn gave her a worried look. “Are ye ill?”

“I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep very much last night.” That much was true. Brigitta had hardly slept a wink, for she’d kept replaying her confession to Rupert in her mind and remembering the horrified look on his face.

She blinked her eyes to keep tears from gathering. “Good night.” She hurried from the room and dashed into the smaller cabin next door.

The sun was setting outside, so only a little light filtered through the small window. And the lantern had long since run out of oil. She lay on the bed, watching the encroaching shadows until she finally fell asleep.

Sometime later, a knock on her door awakened her. Was it Rupert? She jumped out of bed and fumbled toward the door in the dark. “Yes?”

The door opened and Jeffrey peered inside. “I brought you some food.”

“Oh.” She opened the door to let in more light from the passageway. The scent of roast beef made her mouth water. “Thank you.”

Jeffrey set the tray on the table, then hurried back out. “I’ll bring you a lantern.”

In a few minutes he was back, and Brigitta held a chair for him to climb up and replace the old lantern on the ceiling hook.

“There.” He jumped down from the chair. “Rupert heard you didn’t have any dinner, so he told me to bring you something nice.”

Brigitta’s heart did a little leap. Rupert might be avoiding her, but he hadn’t forgotten her.

With her appetite back, she sat down to eat. What could be so important about his secrets that he couldn’t let anyone know? Did it have something to do with his plan of revenge against her brother? Why did he hate Gunther so much?

Gunther was twelve years older than her. Rupert was seven years older, or six and a half to be precise. Any way she looked at it, it seemed like Gunther would have been too young to have killed Rupert’s father, yet he was the one Rupert had targeted for revenge.

She replayed the vision of the ambush in her mind. The men had been on horseback. Some wearing uniforms. Guards? Others had been richly clothed in velvet with fur-lined capes. Nobles.

Rupert’s father had been a nobleman.

If Gunther hadn’t killed Rupert’s father, then—Brigitta dropped her fork with a clatter. No, not her father.

Her heart pounded as she tried to stop where her thoughts were going. Had her father killed Rupert’s father? Good goddesses, no!

She jumped to her feet. No, no. She didn’t want to believe it.

But she knew from her history lessons that Tourin had long been plagued with uprisings and civil war. It was not uncommon for a king to demolish a noble family if he considered them traitors. If Rupert did come from nobility and his entire family had been wiped out, who but a king would have had the power to do that?

She paced about the room. This couldn’t be it. She was mistaken. There had to be some other explanation. She just needed to reexamine all the visions. There had to be a way to fit the puzzle pieces together so they would construct an entirely different picture.