‘I thank you for your kind words, sir,’ Harry said and glanced at the young woman standing just behind her father. She was as beautiful as always and his heart caught with love, and yet his grief was still so raw and so terrible that he could not summon a smile for her. ‘I was delayed, for I have employed agents to search for any sign of Anne. I know there is little hope of her being found alive—we could see no sign of her in the water. However, if her body were found, I could at least tell our family that she rests in peace.’
Claire came forward, a look of such sorrow and sweetness on her face that Harry caught his breath. She was all he could ever desire in a wife, and he loved her so! ‘We are happy to have you here while the search continues, are we not, Father? And if there is anything we may do to help you, we should wish to be of service.’
‘Your kindness overwhelms me,’ Harry said and took her hand. He held it briefly, but made no attempt to kiss it, as he would have had they met under other circumstances. The gallantry and experience of a handsome courtier had fled before the tide of grief that possessed him, and he could be no more than the man he was at heart. ‘I fear it is an impossible task, but I have asked that any news should come to me here for the next few weeks, and I shall avail myself of your kind offer, made-moiselle.’
‘You must refresh yourself and rest after your journey,’ the Comte said, nodding his approval. He had not been certain that the young man they had met at the English court would do for his precious daughter, but now he saw that the polished manners of a popular courtier hid an honest heart, and one that grieved sincerely. It would be interesting to see what developed between the two over the next weeks, for the Comte would not influence his daughter one way or the other. Claire was free to decide for herself. ‘I shall also send out messengers for I may know more of the tides than you, Sir Harry. Between us, we should be able to find news of your sister if there is any to find…’
‘I pray that one of us is successful,’ Harry said. ‘Anne is my younger sister and I feel responsible for what happened to her.’
Claire rested her hand on his arm. ‘The sea is a cruel mistress, sir. You must grieve for your sister, but the blame does not lie with you.’
She opened her eyes, whimpering as the light hurt them. Her body felt so sore and painful, as if she had been punched and kicked, and her head ached. She put up a hand to touch her face and then her hair. It was matted, tangled and stiff, as if it had not been washed for a long time. She did not like the feel of it that way and shuddered, because something was terribly wrong, though for the moment she had no idea what it was. She tried to sit up, but fell back as the dizziness overcame her. She was too weak and she cried out for help.
‘So, you are awake at last,’ a man’s voice said and someone came to the bed. The sun had darkened his skin and his eyes were black like little jet beads. However, there was something reassuring about him. ‘Do not fear me, little one. You have been ill for a long time and I have tended you. Soon you will be better, but for the moment you must rest. A serving woman will bring you some nourishing soup. You must try to eat it because it will help build your strength.’
‘May I have some water?’ she asked.
‘Yes, of course.’
The man went to a small walnut chest-on-stand at the far side of the room, filled a cup with water from a pewter ewer and brought it back to her. He supported her as she took a few sips, but the effort exhausted her and she fell back against the pillows once more.
‘As I said, you must rest. Your strength will come back soon.’
‘Who are you?’ the woman asked. ‘And where am I?’
‘My name is Ali. I am a physician and this is the Chateau de Montifiori. We are both guests of Lord de Montfort.’
The woman frowned. She closed her eyes for a moment, and her hands worked restlessly on the covers, then she opened her eyes and looked at him once more.
‘I do not know you. I do not know Lord de Montfort…’ A little wail of despair issued from her lips. ‘I do not know who I am or where I came from.’
‘You were on a ship bound for France from England and the ship sank in a storm,’ Ali told her. ‘I do not know your name, little one—but it will come back to you in time.’
‘Will it?’ The woman’s eyes were fearful as she looked at him. ‘If the ship sank, how did I come here?’
‘Lord de Montfort pulled you from the water. He saved your life and he brought you here. He placed you in my care and I have used my arts to make you well. When you are better, you will be returned to your family.’
‘Were my family on the ship? Were they saved too?’
‘You were the only one found. Some ropes had secured you to the ship’s mast and it was for this reason that you survived. It was Allah’s will.’
‘Allah…’ The woman wrinkled her brow as she tried to understand what he was saying. ‘Is Allah not the god of the infidel Saracens?’
‘You must be a Christian, for only a Christian would speak thus of Allah,’ Ali told her and smiled, clearly amused. ‘We are followers of the beloved prophet Mohamed, and our faith is shared by many peoples of the east. Christians follow the prophet Jesus, but there is only one true god and that is Allah. However, I am a physician and I do not judge others by their beliefs.’
She looked at him. ‘I do not understand any of this,’ she said and yawned because she felt so weary. ‘I know that I have been taught to believe in Jesus Christ the Son of God…’
‘I shall not attempt to convert you,’ Ali told her. ‘Religion has caused too many wars and too many deaths. I believe as I believe, but my life is dedicated to saving life. You shall keep your faith and I mine. We shall not quarrel because of it.’
‘Please do not be angry with me. I did not mean to call you a Saracen infidel.’ She looked distressed. ‘You are kind…’
Ali smiled once more. ‘I am not offended, little one. I am an Arab and have been used to insults far worse than any you could think of, mistress. However, there are others within this house that might find such words offensive. It would be best if you kept your thoughts on these matters to yourself while you stay here.’
‘I think you are a very wise man,’ she said. ‘Please, may I sleep now?’
‘Sleep for as long as you wish, but I shall have a serving woman bring you some soup as soon as you wake again, for you need food.’
‘Thank you…and thank you for saving my life.’
‘It was Lord Montfort who saved you from the sea,’ Ali said. He watched as the woman slept. She was through the worst of her ordeal, but now she must learn to live again. Her mind had blocked out the terror of being taken by the sea, and with it had gone her identity, but he felt certain it would return once she had fully recovered. However, should it not, she would be alone in the world. Perhaps it was part of Allah’s plan that she had forgotten her past.
‘As Allah wills,’ he said piously and went from the chamber, to pass on the good news to Stefan de Mont-fort. He had haunted her chamber for days, though he had pretended to a casual interest in her recovery. Ali smiled as he wondered what the future might bring. He hoped that the man he loved as a brother might find peace at last.
‘Swallow a little more if you can,’ the serving woman said. ‘It will make you strong, lady, and you need to recover your strength.’
The woman looked at the serving girl. ‘How long have you lived in this house, Sulina? Why are you here, for I do not think you born to this land? If we are in France?’ Her eyes became dark with distress. ‘I do not even know where I am…but the word France comes to mind.’
‘You