Conquer the Night (13 page)

Let her remain in her tower alone awhile.

Loyalty be damned, he thought ruefully, for the men—his and hers—seemed to think that his acquiring of the lady was a manly pursuit to be cheered.

So much for the defense of her honor.

Laughter rose, cheers, taunts, bawdy jokes. Among his men, it was understandable. His men were warriors—they had become outlaws, and the spoils of victory were theirs. They expected no less than that he take full measure of what spoils the castle had delivered. But the castle guard seemed too willing to change sides. How could they turn so quickly from their lady?

Arryn felt the priest's eyes on him, and turned toward the man of the cloth. He stared at him boldly. With cheers and drinking chants rising around the great hall, he found himself by the priest.

“Look, will you!” the priest said. “They fought yesterday; they drink in one another's arms tonight.” Not even his mind seemed to be on the welfare of the lady of the castle.

“Such is the nature of drink, Father! And we do know that such camaraderie may fade with the coming of another dawn.”

“Ah, Sir Arryn! It's a difficult life, to wonder at all times whom you may trust.”

“Ah, Father! I do not wonder at all times whom I may trust. Yes, this is most curious. Can this great change of heart be true? Do you not damn me, then, in your heart, for the invasion here?” he demanded.

The priest studied him thoroughly in return. “No, sir, I do not.”

“Now that I must question. But you say you are honestly a Scotsman—and against the king of England?”

The priest grinned. “I am honestly an Irishman—and against the king of England.”

“Ah! But what of your lady, Father?” he asked blandly. He set his tankard down, crossed his arms over his chest, and stood boldly before the priest. Have you no heart for the innocent? No rage for what we have done—against her? We seized the castle
and
the lady. Would you not defend her against the heathen likes of me?”

Again the priest studied him for a long while. “She has remarkable powers for defending herself, sir. And yet … she has said nothing to you?”

“She has said many things, Father. What exactly should she have said?”

“It is not my place to speak, Sir Arryn.”

“Oh, I'm quite sure you speak quite freely, when you've a mind to do so,” Arryn said dryly.

“As you say, sir. Perhaps. Tell me: what is your intent when you ride from this castle? Will you torch it, set fire to the crops and the countryside to assure yourself Darrow receives no bounty from it?”

“I've not yet decided. I've always had a fondness for Seacairn.”

“But you'll not leave the lady to burn?”

“That was never my intent.”

“Not even in vengeance?”

“Not even in vengeance.”

The priest studied him for a very long time, then shrugged. “Perhaps there is a greater toll you can take against Lord Darrow.”

“A greater toll than murder? Do tell me, Father.”

“Marriage.”

“What?”

“Marry the lady yourself. Keep him from these lands.”

“Father, I had a wife.”

“Aye, that I know. The lady perished. At Darrow's hands.”

“I want no other.”

“But it's not in you to execute the lady, even in revenge.”

“Don't imagine that you know me so well, Father.”

“I do believe that I know you—I see living men here tonight who would have been put to the sword by Darrow—and even others among your Scottish outlaws. Don't look at me so—mercy does not make a man weaker, sir, but stronger. Still … don't you see the wisdom of what I'm telling you? Marry Darrow's intended. Then he is left without the promised riches that give him his power to raise funds and men. Granted, he is among Edward's favored barons, and the king will eventually find him another bride, but such a treasure as Lady Kyra is difficult to find. Many rich lasses come with bulbous noses, broad backs, pinched eyes—or they're old enough to be a laird's mother! If you would really infuriate Kinsey Darrow, take not just his woman but his
wife
.”

A deep, conflicting sense of betrayal burned in Arryn's heart. He could not. Yet the priest's words did have wisdom.

A wisdom he would deny.

Nay, he wouldn't kill her.

And God help him, he would be gentler.

But he wouldn't leave her, and he'd be damned before he'd marry her.

“To demand a night in retaliation for crimes far more heinous is one thing, Father. To wed the enemy is quite another. If you'll forgive me, I'll leave you and all these newfound friends who may or may not prove loyal. I've business at hand. Tomorrow may bring another battle, sir, as easily as it brings another day.”

“God protect you, sir,” the priest said. “Through the day and the night to come.”

Arryn nodded and started from the hall again. He saw his cousin across the room and nodded.

John extracted himself from the company, leaving the men to their meal, and joined Arryn. “Come, John, let's ride and talk.”

“Aye, and that we must,” John told him.

Twenty minutes later they were beyond the outer gates, riding north to look back at the castle.

“I still say it's quite an accomplisment,” John said.

“It would be—if we had the power to keep it.”

“Aye, Edward will come soon enough,” John said. A breeze stirred his hair as he looked at Arryn. “But we're going to best him this time.”

“Edward has trained and disciplined archers. Cavalry. Foot soldiers who have waged campaigns in France and Wales. We have an unruly—and often untrustworthy—group of freemen, tenants, farmers, and a few barons, far too many of whom will watch the way of the wind before striking a blow. If it appears we have a chance to take the battle, they will be on our side. And if it looks as if Edward will win, they will swear loyalty to the king of the English, and say that they were with him all along.”

“Some men will waver,” John agreed. “But,” he added, and excitement was evident in his voice, “look what we have accomplished. We've learned from the massacre at Berwick, and from the rout at Dunbar. Men have risen, important men!”

Arryn arched a brow skeptically; then he shook his head with disgust. “The most powerful and probable champion we could have is the younger Robert the Bruce—but it's true that he believes his loyalty to Edward may cause the king to place him over John Balliol. And the heart of our rebellion, William Wallace, still recognizes Balliol as king. John, as long as the Scottish are at odds with one another, we'll not find freedom.”

John smiled. “But you see, many very good men are coming together. Wallace and de Moray are ready to combine their forces and fight together. Wallace has asked to see you. Can you meet with him in Selkirk Forest in a fortnight?”

“Aye, that I can, but I remind you, you must take care—”

“Aye, cousin! I realize that you've allowed men to live—who may not be all they vow to be. I'll take greater care with my words—especially since any association with William is like a death decree.”

“I don't imagine I need any association with any man for a death sentence, were Edward or Darrow to get their hands on me,” Arryn said.

“Like as not. Look there, will you? There comes Jay MacDonald.”

Jay, on his large gray mare, was riding bareback and hard toward their position. “Arryn! Arryn! A group of Darrow's men were spotted from the tower. They're coming toward the castle with carts of supplies.”

“Is Darrow among them?”

Jay shook his head. “I'm afraid not, but they seem to be heavily laden with arms and armor, food, kegs of ale.”

“Then I think we should greet them, don't you?”

“Aye, the men are ready to ride. But, Arryn, we could trick them into returning to the castle, and take them in the courtyard,” Jay began.

“But their arrival could be a trick as well.” John murmured.

“In what way?”

“A Trojan horse,” Arryn explained. “They may know we have taken the castle. The supply wagons may carry more men, armed men, prepared for an assault. It would be best to plan an ambush there, at the rim of the trees. They'll not expect us there, and we'll have good cover against them if they're prepared for an assault. Jay, hurry back and order our men to seize up their weapons; I think that armor will weigh them down where we fight. Make sure our archers are well supplied with arrows. John, ride with me to the end of the trail there, we'll mark our positions.”

God protect you, sir, through the day and night to come
, the priest had said. Had he expected Arryn's attack, and had he known Darrow's men would return? Or had he been referring to the danger that might be encountered at night?

From a beautiful woman, the most dangerous of all enemies?

“Arryn!” Jay said, steadying his mare. “What of the men of Seacairn who have vowed that they will fight with the Scots?”

He hesitated “Allow them to come. If they falter in fighting the enemy, strike them down immediately.”

“Aye, Arryn!”

He turned his mare and galloped back hard to the castle.

Arryn looked at John; then together they raced for the trees.

Kyra awoke suddenly, startled to realize that she had been sleeping. Deeply.

She lay on the great master bed with its fine linen sheets and warm furs, then twisted quickly, afraid that he might be there with her.

But he had not returned.

She gazed at the fire, down to embers in the hearth, remembering that he had warned her not to leave the bed when he had left. But surely he did not mean for so long!

Then she suddenly swore with a soft fury. Was she going to listen to him?

He did hold her life in his hands, she reminded herself. She had feared death. But he hadn't killed her. Not yet …

And he was going to try not to! He had said.

But …

This … this had happened. She had fought, attempted flight, reason, violence, and flippancy, and nothing had availed her. Her lies and flippancy had only goaded his temper and instigated the speed of force against her.

She had fought, aye!

And then …

And then she had not fought!

Fool!

What good would it have done?

She'd never know, because she had allowed it.

No!
It was not that simple; she had given him nothing!

And denied little.

She couldn't think about it. She could think of nothing else.

She hurt; she was angry … and yet …

She had prayed to God and the Virgin Mary never to have to marry Kinsey, never to give in to his demands, never have to lie with his arms around her. Well, at least now she would never have to lie ignorant and vulnerably innocent in Kinsey's arms.

Tears stung her eyes—just briefly. She grew angry with herself.

Crying about this would solve nothing. Her life was a disaster. Perhaps she could use this situation to make her life
less
a disaster.

She wondered how the invader of Seacairn would feel if he were to know that she had abhorred the idea of being with Kinsey.

Surely there must be some way to use this event to get out of the marriage. She had prayed to the Virgin, and Arryn had appeared. Apparently the Virgin had a mischievous sense of humor. “What now?” she whispered aloud, addressing whatever trickster in heaven had brought her to this predicament.

She walked away from the bed, suddenly determined to rid herself of the reminders of what she could not change. She walked to the tub and stepped into the water. She cried out in shock at first from the feel of it, for the water had grown cold. She clenched her chattering teeth together. Goose bumps formed on her flesh. It didn't matter. She scrubbed strenuously.

The door suddenly burst open. She froze in fear, suddenly afraid that his vengeance would go further still, that he had simply said to his men,
Take her, use her, abuse her! She is Kinsey Darrow's woman
.

“My lady!”

But it was Ingrid who cried out her name and came running across the room, falling down at her side by the tub, casting her plump arms around her shoulders and hugging her despite the water. “Oh, I would kill him for you if I could, the brute! The wretch. The barbarian. Did he beat you, hurt you, threaten to kill you?” She swallowed, barely halting her speech. “Burn you? Oh, my lady, if I could only help you! Have you wounds? He didn't hurt your face. But what man would mar that beautiful face? No, no—”

“Ingrid, I am well enough.”

Ingrid pulled back, her huge blue eyes very wide “He didn't cut you … whip you … beat you?”

“No, Ingrid, I am not injured.”

“Well …” Ingrid said, and her voice trailed. “Well, we must somehow kill him!”

“Kill him?” Kyra repeated. She should at the very least want to kill him, shouldn't she? The thief of her honor! But oddly enough, though she might want the strength to put him in his place—and maybe that place was being tied to a whipping pole—she didn't want him dead.

She said, “Ingrid, are you mad? If we kill him, there are a dozen more with him.”

“But there is the matter of honor, my lady! They are outlaws, nothing more than ruffians, men who defy the king and kill and pillage and …” Ingrid went still, allowing her tone to imply all the other wretched and awful things their uninvited visitors did.

“Ingrid, forgive me. I don't want to die,” Kyra said, then held silent for a moment. She had run to the chapel soon after Kinsey had left, and in sheer desperation she had actually contemplated death rather than marriage to Kinsey. But the outlaw invader who had come here today couldn't know such a truth.

She felt a sudden chill and wondered what Darrow's reaction would be to the events that had taken place here. That was the point, of course: that Darrow would know that the Scotsman had come for him, and not finding him had seized the castle—and her.