She cut the image off abruptly. It was making her nauseous. And her eyes were getting strangely misty.
She blinked hard. What did it matter to her? She had to leave. The sooner the better. He wasn’t important to her, she wasn’t important to him, and this marriage was nothing but a burden to both of them. Let him do all the “wenching” he wanted. It didn’t matter. And she wasn’t going to waste one more brain cell thinking about it. She had already wasted two whole days.
She should be focusing on how to get home. Her annoying husband was making good on his promise to have nothing more to do with her, and that was just fine by her. Perfect, in fact.
First thing in the morning, she was going to start doing a little detective work. She would need to find a way to distract Royce for ten minutes or so—just long enough to sneak out of here and into the bedchamber down the hall for a closer look at her “window of opportunity.” She wanted to see if there was anything unusual about it.
She pulled the blankets closer, pleased that she was finally getting her plans—and her emotions—back on track.
She was leaving.
It didn’t matter to her what Gaston did.
She didn’t care about him.
Or whom he slept with.
And that was not a tear gliding down her cheek.
***
The room was still dark when she opened her eyes sometime later, feeling sleepy and disoriented, wondering what had awakened her. Then she felt a tug on the bedclothes.
“Lady Celine, wake up,” a small voice whispered.
Celine rolled over, startled. A child stood beside the bed, her eyes glittering unnaturally blue in the dim glow of the hearth’s embers. “Fiara?” Celine whispered, squinting in the low light. “How did you get in here?”
“You must hurry, Lady Celine.” The little girl glanced toward the hearth. “Aye, Groucho, greetings to you as well. I am pleased you have been such good company to your mistress.”
Celine’s grogginess dissipated as she tried to follow the dual conversation. “What do you mean, hurry? How did you get past Royce? Hurry where?”
“I am going home,” Fiara said adamantly. For all her mysticism and seriousness, she suddenly sounded very much like the lonely little girl she was. “Maman thought I would be happy here, but I am not. If you would still like to see her, I will take you with me.”
“Your mother?” Celine sat bolt upright, her heart doubling its pace. “But I thought you said—”
“She will not be happy that I disobeyed her, but I will not stay here one more day.” Fiara’s voice quavered and Celine heard a telltale sniff. The child rubbed at her eyes with one small fist. “Please do not worry about Captain Royce. He will not be a problem. But if you would like to come with me, I think you should dress first.”
Celine didn’t need any more urging than that. She was on her feet, dressed, and grabbing her cloak in two minutes flat. Gaston would be furious when he found her missing. He was suspicious and mistrustful of her as it was, and this little disappearing act was not going to improve matters. In fact, she thought with foreboding, his reaction would probably make his mood the other day look downright gleeful by comparison.
But Fiara’s mother might be the only person around who could tell her what she needed to know to get home. She couldn’t miss this chance to meet the woman, no matter what the risks.
As soon as Celine was ready, Fiara turned and opened the door, not being at all cautious.
“Fiara, wait. Don’t you think we should—”
The little girl stepped into the corridor without hesitation. Celine froze, certain her escape was about to end before it had even begun.
But she didn’t hear a word from Royce. After a moment, she followed Fiara—and found her guard sitting beside the door, asleep.
“Well, some great guard he turned out to be,” Celine muttered in surprise. “Asleep on the job.”
“He will not waken until morning.”
Celine glanced at Fiara and back at Royce, realizing only then that his position looked a little odd: his legs stretched straight out in front of him, his arms limp at his sides. It didn’t appear he had settled in for a nap—more like he had been standing upright and slid down the wall.
Celine knelt beside him with a little gasp of alarm. “Oh, Fiara, you didn’t do anything to him, did you?”
“I did not hurt him,” Fiara said indignantly. “I merely looked into his eyes for a few moments and suggested he sleep until morning.”
“You hypnotized him?” Celine hesitantly tapped Royce’s shoulder, but he didn’t stir. He appeared unharmed, but he was lost to the world.