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flesh of her back. He did indeed have a gentle touch that made her ache with need.
    Virgin she might be, but she knew well what went on between husband and wife. When she had turned ten-and-four, her father had seen to it that her nurse instructed her well on what duties a wife should perform. They had expected Christian to come home that year.
    He hadn’t.
    Instead, they had received word of the destruction of his monastery and Selwyn’s letter stating his death.
    Poor Christian, to be so hated. Jealousy and greed had stolen everything from her husband…just as it had taken much from her. Maybe Christian was right. There were times when the cost of her crown was far too high.
    “What happened to you after the Saracens attacked your monastery?” she asked him.
    “You don’t ever want an answer to that question.”
    The anger and hatred in his tone gave her pause. There was much he kept hidden. Much he didn’t speak of.
    She remembered the brand on his hand. It was a Saracen mark. “Were you held captive? A slave?”
    He moved away from her without answering.
    She followed him. “My mother always said that burdens weigh much less when they are shared with another person.”
    He scoffed at that. “I have no desire to think of the past in any manner. It’s gone and dead. What we should focus on is the challenges before us.”
    Adara paused.
    What had they done to him that was so horrible he couldn’t even bear to think on it?
    He led his horse to her, then helped her to remount. “Lutian,” he called out to her fool, who was feeding her mare grass. “’Tis time to leave.”
    A breath later, Christian was behind her in thesaddle and they were on their way again, with Lutian trailing behind them.
    “Christian?” she asked.
    “Aye?”
    “Would you answer one question for me?”
    “If I do, will you swear to ask no more of me?”
    “That would be impossible.”
    “Then you have your answer.”
    Deciding to give them both a reprieve, she didn’t speak anymore until they were in the village and he deposited her and Lutian before a hostel.
    “Would you care for anything to eat?” she asked Christian before he departed.
    “Nay. There’s not enough time. You two should eat quickly, then be ready to ride again.”
    She frowned at him as he left her and headed toward the stable at the edge of town.
    “Your husband is a peculiar man, my queen. There is much sadness inside him.”
    “Aye, Lutian, I have noticed.”
    “Perhaps we should drop him on his head, and then when he awakens in your arms he would be as charmed by you as I was.”
    She smiled at that. “Were you charmed?”
    “Aye, my queen. I still am. There is nothing in life that I cherish more than your smile and laughter. I live and breathe for them both. I only wish your husband felt toward them the same way as I do.”
    Even though her father would have frowned at her action, she gave her fool a quick hug. Would that Lutian were her husband. He might not be dashing and handsome, but they got along famously. Yet for all his good nature and sweetness, Lutian could never rule a kingdom. To be a successful king took a great deal of confidence and intelligence. Not to mention a sternness that he completely lacked.
    Adara turned toward the small cottage behind them to find a large, buxom woman opening the door to welcome them inside. A few years older than she, the woman had long straight brown hair and friendly green eyes.
    “Good evening,” the woman said, smiling brightly. “Do you be needing a room for the night?”
    “Nay, just a bit of food for us and my husband.”
    The woman looked down toward where Christian was headed. “You married a priest?”
    Adara felt her face flush with color as she realized that Christian still wore his monk’s black robes. “Nay, we’ve been on pilgrimage,” she lied.
    “Ah,” the woman said, stepping aside so that Adara and Lutian could enter. “My brother went to Rome wearing a friar’s frock,