Midnight Eyes by Brophy, Sarah (well read books .TXT) 📕

never been plentiful, that they had had wood at all should be seen as no mean achievement.

And it wasn’t as if Robert was making all these grand achievements in household management by himself, Imogen thought with a scowl. Far from it. The Keep was now bursting with his people. His male people.

Life had changed for everyone in the Keep since their wedding night, but for her most of all.

She had awoken early the next morning and, turning instinctively to Robert, had found only his cold furs. She had tried hard not to brood too much about his desertion, telling herself that it was only to be expected, but feelings of betrayal still lingered.

However, the greatest betrayal was that of her wayward heart and body.

For a moment she had held close the pillow that had cradled his head through the night and had bathed her senses in the echo of scent he’d left behind. Even when she had then put the pillow firmly from her, his scent haunted her.

She couldn’t let that show, however. Haunted or not, she wouldn’t have people pitying her for being an unwanted bride. She had gone about her days as usual, telling herself that all was as it had always been, but it didn’t work. There was now a loneliness to her days that surpassed even that of her years of isolation.

It was a loneliness that bit deepest in the rare moments Robert breezed into her days.

On that first morning he had arrived in her chambers around midmorning and had brought with him all the bracing scents of a brisk winter’s day. Her heart had skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, even if it was only mouthing polite nothings, and the wonders of the night before rose up before her, starting her wanting him all over again. So powerful was the feeling, it took her a moment to realize that he wasn’t similarly affected.

He stood before her with all the joy of a man facing his executioner.

In those all too precious minutes he found just time enough to tell her that his horses had arrived. They had been traveling in relatively easy stages from Wales, accompanied by the knights that had fought under him in the recent wars on the borders. He had then muttered something about eating in the hall with his men, but understanding that she would prefer to eat in her rooms.

In his eagerness to get away from her, he had all but run from the room. Why he bothered at all remained something of a mystery to her.

That the visit was to prove to be something of a record wasn’t improving her temper any.

That evening she had eaten in splendid isolation and the food had tasted like sawdust. Somehow, the sound of raucous male laughter had soured her appreciation of the food that night and every night since.

Each night the laughter was only getting louder as slowly more and more of Robert’s men trickled up North to be with their glorious leader, but her isolation remained just as absolute. Loneliness was becoming such a part of her days that sometimes she could almost choke on it, and it was a loneliness that followed her each night into her dreams. She had been alone for years, had lived as if in sleep, but then so had everything around her. Now the Keep was waking up. Robert was quickening it, drawing it into the living world. It was she alone who remained in the dark world of sleep.

She leaned her head wearily against the casement.

For one who had been alone so long, loneliness was suddenly becoming an impossibly heavy burden to bear. In bed at night Imogen could feel inertia laying like a heavy blanket on her, suffocating her, and each night she went to sleep with her cheeks wet with tears.

Strangely, though, she no longer met the familiar demons in her dream.

No, a new torment had arisen from her mind to plague her.

Her sleep was now haunted with half memories of being held close in Robert’s arms. As she slept, her skin was tortured by butterfly kisses, by slow, sensuous caresses from warm hands. She would struggle to wake, wanting to know if what felt so real was only a sad, unfulfilling dream. A part of her was even traitorous enough to want to believe that Robert came to her each night under the cover of dreams.

She tried to wake but failed. Her mind slumbered while her body burned, and each morning she woke alone. Only the scent of him on her skin gave her a small hope that she did more than dream her nights away, but perhaps that was nothing more than a desire that it was so.

Hope, she was fast discovering, was as much a torment as anything Roger had devised.

Imogen could feel resentment building inside her. The more he stayed away, the tighter he seemed to hold her mind. She longed for him yet, perversely, when he was with her, she found herself withdrawing into herself, treating him ever more coldly. She was unable to reach out to him. She lived each day with the fear that if she didn’t try something soon he, and the fire he brought to her body and mind, might slip through her fingers.

It really was enough to drive a person mad!

And that would serve him right, Imogen thought darkly. See how he liked being married to Lady Deformed when she was also known as Lady Deranged. At least then he couldn’t ignore her.

Strangely it wasn’t only the ignoring that irritated her. No, what really made her want to scream was the fact that he dared as well to make decisions and plans about her Keep. She would be damned before she would allow that anymore, she suddenly decided.

She turned quickly from the window. “Mary I’ll need some stout walking shoes.”

“My lady…”

“And a warm cloak too, I suspect. Do I possess such things?”

“I’m sure I’ve seen some in the south chamber,