Thirst
“I’m reasonably certain we won’t encounter English patrol boats along this coast,” Roland told his companions. “John fears an invasion from Normandie, not Ireland.”
After several hours rowing, he’d called a halt and put ashore on a deserted beach. They shared the roast chicken and bread the baroness had provided, but more food would be needed. Roland’s mouth watered at the memory of the Cornish seafood they’d enjoyed. What he wouldn’t give now for a tasty morsel of crab meat.
The crew scavenged the rocky area near the beach, returning with dulce, mussels, razor clams, oysters and periwinkles which they hauled aboard the longboat to eat later. Thyst brought empty shells as big as his hand. Roland would probably have left them where they lay, but his resourceful crewman thought they might come in useful during the voyage.
Roland’s main concern was fresh water. Rowing took strength and thirst soon drained a man. As it was, they’d have to ration the meager seafood.
As the shadows lengthened and the air cooled, Roland decided to make a detour into what looked like a river mouth. No one had complained, but everyone had to be as thirsty as he was. If they rowed far enough up stream, chances were they would encounter fresh water.
They hadn’t gone far when Terric scooped water in his hand, sipped and pronounced it potable.
The men pulled the longboat into the reeds near the riverbank, then fell to their knees in the shallows to guzzle water. Adelina hiked up her skirts, apparently intending to do the same. Roland scooped water in one of Thyst’s large shells and held it to her parched lips.
Gripping his wrists, she gulped several helpings of water, finally gasping, “Not very ladylike.”
Roland tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, knowing her harried beauty would be etched in his memory forever. “You couldn’t be unladylike if you tried, Adelina. Your courage and breeding shines through.”
“That’s as maybe,” she replied with a faint smile, “I’ve done naught but sit in a boat all day, but I doubt my legs will carry me any further.”
Roland surveyed their surroundings. “I’m not sure where this river leads but we daren’t risk going too far inland.”
“There’s a copse yonder,” Adrien reported when he and Thyst returned from scouting the area. “Seems safe enough and there are a few crabapple trees.”
Adelina didn’t protest when Roland picked her up and carried her to the wood. “You must be exhausted,” she said.
“Knowing your feelings has given me strength,” he replied.
Unwilling to risk a campfire, they chewed leathery dulse, swallowed salty raw oysters and munched sour crabapples.
The blankets from Aigremont proved to be a godsend when the night turned cold. Roland could only grit his teeth, frustrated when Terric wrapped his shivering sister in a blanket and settled her beside him on the damp grass. On the morrow, he would make it clear to his cousin that it was now his responsibility to comfort and protect Adelina.
* * *
Terric sensed Roland’s annoyance, but he was Adelina’s brother and it was his duty to protect her. Their Norman cousin might believe himself in love with her but, until Terric knew how she felt about that, he would be her champion. That’s how it had been since the deaths of their parents and Roland might as well accept it.
Gazing up at the stars, he admitted he hadn’t done a good job of protecting her. As a conscript in John’s army he’d had no choice but to abandon her at court.
He had much to make up for—if they ever made good their escape from England.
The very notion of being forced to flee into exile churned his gut. He wondered how his sister felt about being driven from her homeland. He had to admit it would be for the best if she and Roland married. Living in Normandie with a man she loved would be the best outcome for her. The impressive Montbryce Castle was a fine place to live.
The prospect of living his life in the magnificent fortification built by his own Norman forebears shouldn’t irk him as much as it did. He’d still be a refugee, forced out of his home and country by a tyrannical monster.
If only he knew how Adelina felt about the future. After all she’d been through, it was selfish to expect her to think of anything beyond the morrow.
* * *
Adelina acknowledged she was blessed to have Terric as her brother. He was courageous and kind. She’d depended on him for years. Melton Manor and the de Quincey estates had probably become more prosperous under Terric’s capable management than ever before. She would never hold him responsible for the ill that had befallen her, although she knew he blamed himself.
Now, thanks to an inept king, they’d lost everything. How could Terric not be consumed by resentment and a thirst for revenge?
When Roland succeeded in bringing them all safely to Normandie, her brother would still be an exile. She’d have a new family if she married a Montbryce, but Terric would have no one.
Her wanton wish to be snuggling with Roland seemed all the more selfish. She was all Terric had left.