“I knew you’d come,” she said in English that was pleasantly and softly accented.
Roger blinked once in confusion but ignored her remark. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”
She smiled at him, making her eyes turn liquid. She looked to be quite young, a child really, wearing a dress much too old for her. Dark hair peeped from under a pearl-embroidered hood. More pearls draped down the front of her dress.
“My foot is caught and I cannot move it.”
Women! Roger thought, moving to examine the rocks that pinned her feet. “You must have heard me above. Why didn’t you call out to me?”
“Because I knew you’d come for me.”
Insane, Roger thought. The poor girl was possessed by spirits. “When I lift this rock I want you to move your foot. Do you understand me?” he said as if talking to an idiot.
She merely smiled in answer and when the rock was moved, she pulled her foot from under it.
Her right foot was pinned differently and Roger saw that if he moved one stone, another would fall and perhaps break her ankle. She was a little thing and he doubted her fragile bones could stand much.
“Do not be afraid to tell me,” she whispered. “I’m not a stranger to pain.”
Roger turned to look at her, at her big eyes looking at him with so much trust, and that trust both frightened him and made him feel powerful.
“What is your name?” he asked, studying and considering the rocks around her little foot.
“Christiana, my lord.”
Roger’s head came up sharply. His dirty peasant’s clothes had not fooled her, so perhaps she wasn’t stupid after all. “Chris then.” He smiled. “May I borrow your eating dagger? I’ll put together something to hold those rocks while I move these.” He pointed.
She handed him the knife quickly and he bit his lips to keep from cautioning her
about handing knives to strangers. The jewels on her dress were worth a fortune and the pearl necklace she wore was without equal.
He moved but a few feet from her to cut several tree branches. Removing his doublet, he pulled out his shirt and cut strips of cloth from the tail to use in building a platform to fit under the rocks.
“Why is no one searching for you?” he asked as he worked.
“Perhaps they are; I don’t know. I dreamed of you last night.”
He gave her a sharp look but said nothing. Girls everywhere seemed to be full of romantic ideas of being rescued. It was hard for a man to live up to.
“I dreamed,” she continued, “of this forest and this place. I saw you in my dream and I knew you’d come.”
“Perhaps the man in your dream was merely fair-skinned and resembled me,” Roger said patronizingly.
“I saw many things. The scar by your eye—you received it from your brother when you were only a boy.”
Involuntarily, Roger’s hand went to the curved scar by his left eye. He’d come close to losing his eye that day and very few people who knew how he got the scar were still alive. He doubted if even Elizabeth knew.
Christiana merely smiled at his look of surprise. “I have waited all my life for you.”
Roger shook his head to clear it. “That was a lucky guess,” he said. “About the scar I mean. Now hold very still while I prop these rocks up.” There was no need to tell her to be still as she’d hardly moved since he’d arrived.
The rocks were not small and Roger had to sweat some before he could move the largest one. And even as it rolled away, more came crashing down onto the weak, makeshift platform he’d created. With lightning speed he jumped onto Christiana, knocking her backward and rolling her away from the crushing boulders. Even as he moved her, he heard her intake of breath as the rocks scraped away some of her skin.
The sound of the rocks filled the air and Roger covered Christiana’s body with his own, protecting her from dust and fragments. When it was safe, he started to pull away from her but she put her hands on the sides of his head and pulled his lips to hers.
For a long time Roger’d been concerned only with bringing his brother and sister back to him and he’d had no time for women. He’d had no idea his desires were so pent-up inside him. Once, years ago, he’d been almost carefree, laughing with pretty young girls, tumbling about with them in clandestine meetings, but his anger at the Montgomerys had changed all that.
At the first touch of the girl’s lips, Roger’s first thought was: serious. She may look to be little more than a child, but she was a woman and her purpose was one of seriousness. She kissed him with such intensity that he drew back from her.