If My Heart Could See You (13 page)

Ian clamped his lips shut, apparently not having the strength to argue with her further, and Amiria once more settled herself at his feet. How long they were there thusly she could not say as time had no meaning when they were just trying to bear the brunt of the storm.

She must have dozed off but quickly awoke with an anguishing scream as she was lifted from her vigil by Ian’s side. Her arm was pulled roughly by none other than Lord Dristan as he began pulling her through the bailey. Ian shouted her name but to no avail as the sound escaped on the wind, and she quickly lost sight of him. She called out for her captain, feeling helpless that he should remain out in the elements be-cause of her stubbornness.

Amiria clawed at Dristan’s arm and hand as he dragged her through the mud towards the keep. Yet still he continued onward, tugging her farther and farther away from Ian’s side. She cursed Dristan’s soul to hell and heard a faint mutter from him, saying he was already there thanks to her schemes. They had reached the inner bailey when she used her last remaining strength to kick and punch any part of Dristan she could come in contact with. His patience came to an end when she heard him grunt in pain as her fist landed squarely in his left eye. She felt herself being lifted up in his arms with not even a pause in his stride as he carried her as if she weighed nothing.

“Continue as you have been behaving, and your men and Ian will stay where they are ’til you come to your senses. I do not care if they are there through winter. ’Tis your choice!” he voiced sharply.

Amiria finally calmed at his words, not wishing her men a longer sentence due to her actions. She felt Dristan shift her slightly, and her head naturally came to rest comfortably on his shoulder. She would have sighed if she could have, but her body decided it had suffered enough abuse and began to shiver uncontrollably. ’Twas followed by a deep agonizing cough she could not control.

They entered the keep and several paused at the sight of their lord carrying Amiria close to his body. She turned her head into his shoulder in embarrassment with thoughts that some might think Dristan was off to have a bit of pleasure between the sheets. Apparently, any misinterpretations of his actions did not bother him in the least as he lengthened his stride, calling for Kenna and Lady Lynet to follow him to Amiria’s chamber.

He hurriedly took the steps two at a time and called for a serf to open Lady Amiria’s door. Several other women followed them into the chamber, stoked the fire, and pulled down the coverings on the bed to ready the room for its mistress.

Amiria felt the warmth of the hearth as Dristan began to peel the soaking wet garments from her freezing body. ’Twas a task greatly hindered by Amiria’s own feeble attempts when her weak hands slapped him, thinking he would not take her thusly. She cried out in frustration when the only remaining cloth covering her was a flimsy chemise, molding itself to her young lush body. It revealed more than any other man had ever seen afore.

Looking down, she was appalled to notice the material was indeed almost transparent and she used her arms and hands to cover herself as best she could. She watched, fascinated and surprised, when Dristan noticed her embarrassment and at last turned his back whilst one of the serfs came and a sleeping gown warm to her chilled skin was thrown over her head.

The fabric barely ceased its motion at her feet afore she felt a blanket wrapped around her and she was once more de-posited into Dristan’s arms. Amiria began to struggle ’til she heard Dristan murmur to cease. ’Twas not a command nor an order, but just a quietly whispered word that put her immediately at ease. All fight left her and she thought it surely must have been her imagination when she felt her lord caress her hair and seemed to rock her gently in his arm as her coughing began again. His soothing words spoken in Norman French reached into her soul against her will and wrapped itself around her torn and confused heart. With a single tear gently falling from her eye, Amiria allowed sleep to finally claim her.

She would have been astounded if she had been aware when Dristan wiped away that solitary tear as several of his own fell in concern for her welfare from his deep grey eyes.

Hugh watched Dristan and Amiria disappearing up the stair well.
Damn his soul to hell
, he thought, fuming with his anger rising to new heights. Who would have known such a beauty had been hiding beneath that filthy face and boy’s attire? Were they all such fools not to see for themselves she was in truth a girl? He looked around to those who still occupied the hall, hoping to find a willing wench to take care of his needs. Where was a castle whore when you had need of one in this God forsaken place?

Not seeing a serf who would be able to service his baser desires, he espied the daughter with the lanky frame. She stood staring up at the stairs with a look of bitterness upon her sharp features. He smiled calculatingly and made his way across the hall. When he reached her side, he leaned towards her, whispering words of flattery in her ear. It had the desired effect, which was to have her blushing and nodding her head in agreement to his suggestion
s.
Foolish girl
, he thought, escorting her out of the keep to find a secluded place for them to while away the hours.
She would suit my plans to perfection
, he reflected as he cast her a smile that any other would have recognized as pure evil.

Sixteen

Dristan stood in the Great Hall with Riorden and Fletcher. Leaning over the large oaken table, he perused various parchments etched with the improvements he desired to have constructed on the castle walls and grounds. He weighed the merit on the words of the two men closest to him when they voiced their opinions with possible changes and gave them credit for seeing a few flaws in his theory of change. They were details he should have thought of for himself, but he had been distracted of late. He glanced up once again and swore for the hundredth time when serfs headed towards the stairs, carrying yet another stack of linen and several pails of water. His brow furrowed with worry. ’Twas obvious Amiria was not improving as he had hoped.

“Scowling will not cure what plagues her, Dristan,” Riorden commented dryly.

Dristan’s concern focused on the now empty stairwell. “Use any other word but not that one, Riorden,” he replied sharply. “Last thing we need is something as deadly as the plague running rampant throughout the countryside.”

“’Tis becoming a lovely shade by the way, my lord,” Riorden said with a smirk, apparently trying to lighten his foul mood.

“What is?” Dristan questioned snidely, trying to pay attention to their conversation and failing terribly.

“Your eye, of course,” Riorden answered. When Dristan cursed it only made the obnoxious man laugh louder. “’Tis a shade of purple that would not look well on others but it seems to suit you most splendidly indeed, my lord.”

“You risk much to further sour my foul humors, Riorden. If I was not so worried about the girl, I would take you to task for your cheek with a quick trip to the lists so I could show you a thing or two about respect,” Dristan grumbled, giving his captain a warning look that this conversation would continue at a later time.

“I am still perplexed on how such a wee bit of a girl managed to fool us all into thinking she was in truth her brother,” Fletcher marveled. “Considering she is a woman of such small stature, she handles a blade most admirably.”

“God’s blood, I knew there was something about Aiden that was not right! I just could not figure out what was wrong with the lad . . . er . . . girl,” Riorden continued, clearly annoyed he had not been able to solve the mystery where the boy was concerned.

“So where do you suppose her brother is?” Fletcher inquired.

Riorden waited a moment for their liege to answer. When none came forth, Dristan gave a brief nod and Riorden began to recall to Fletcher all he had learned. “Her men claim to believe he is buried in some unmarked grave since they saw him fall by their lord. They had hopes that perchance he yet lived and have searched everywhere. There is no word this has come to pass.”

Dristan continued his unapproachable stance. He heard Riorden’s words but they in truth did not register that he needed to offer further comment. All his thoughts were with a small slip of a woman, who lay in her chamber with an illness Kenna had not been able to heal. Since he was so preoccupied, he missed the looks given between his two closest guardsmen.

Dristan barely acknowledged Riorden as he began to pace. ’Twas clear his mind was elsewhere and not on the task at hand of perusing the parchment afore him. His captain strode to a sword leaning against the wall near the hearth and grasped the hilt, feeling the weight in his hand. Only a fool would leave their weapon unattended whilst under the close scrutiny of their lord. Visions of a lad hefting such a sword swam through Dristan’s mind.

The sound of metal scraping against stone tore Dristan out of his internal turmoil coursing through him and back to the present.

Riorden began swinging the blade back and forth afore him.

“’Tis hers,” Dristan muttered hoarsely.

“Aye, I see that now upon closer inspection,” Riorden replied as he handed the sword to Dristan.

Dristan took the offered hilt and studied the blade for several moments. “’Tis too heavy for her.”

“I agree, which would explain her utter lack of progress on those moves you were trying to instill in her,” Riorden exclaimed.

“’Twould appear so,” Dristan voiced coolly. “’Tis still a fine blade despite the weight.”

Silence stretched on between the men ’til Kenna appeared, rapidly descending the stairs. She halted afore the three knights, her brow heavily furrowed with worry lines. She swayed slightly and Dristan reached out to steady his healer afore she fell from fatigue.

“What news do you bring, Mistress Kenna? Will she be well?” Fletcher asked hopefully.

She raised tear filled eyes to Dristan but clearly ’twas plain to see she would not bear them glad tidings. “I fear I have done all I can, Lord Dristan,” Kenna said quietly with downcast eyes. “I am afraid ’tis in God’s hands now.”

“Nay! I refuse to believe ’tis so!” Dristan voiced in exasperation as his words resounded off the walls. He bolted from the room, taking the stairs two at a time just as he did when he carried Amiria up them but recently.

He heard the others following him up the stairwell, leading to the third floor housing the family members. Upon reaching the landing, he turned left and raced in the direction of Amiria’s chamber. He halted at her door when he noticed young Patrick, sitting on the floor in the passageway, crying. Taking a moment, he squatted down to his page and patted his shoulder, offering him what comfort he could.

“Please, my liege, I beg of you
. . . make her well,” Patrick hiccupped, wiping his tear filled eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. “I canna lose them both.”

“I am no healer, Patrick, but I will do what I can,” he said gruffly, and the boy nodded his head.

Entering the room was akin to walking into the scorching heat of a raging fire. A serf knelt at the hearth with her sleeves rolled up, busily setting wood to the flames to further heat the chamber. A pile of linens were being collected by another, who all but ran from the room. The skin of those who remained glistened with sweat as they mopped their overheated brows. With much reluctance, his eyes went to the bed. He was prepared to see the worst. ’Twas not far from the truth as his eyes scanned the slight form, lying motionless upon the bed. Amiria lay under multiple coverlets, shivering with cold. Her ashen face caused the color of her hair to appear an even darker redden hue. Lady Lynet knelt by the bed with a rosary in her hands. Her nimble fingers moved from bead to bead as she mouthed a noiseless prayer for her sister over each. She glanced up when she felt his presence at the edge of the bed but remained silent.

His expression grim, he came to sit upon the edge of Amiria’s bed and saw how her breathing was shallow as if each breath she took cost her a bit more of her life. He reached his hand out to her brow and felt the beads of cold sweat running down her face. Perplexed she should feel chilled to the bone with the chamber a furnace of heat, he placed his hand down between the coverlets on the bed and felt the cool wetness of the mattress. Growling his aggravation, he threw the linens from her drenched body and heard the gasps of shock coming from the occupants of the room behind him.

“What madness are you about, my lord, that you would disturb my sister when she is so ill?” Lynet voiced, worried for her sibling. She rose on wobbly legs from spending time upon the floor in prayer.

Dristan’s piercing gaze briefly met the young girl’s, subduing her words. He ignored any further protests from the others, as well, and silenced them with a single glance. He leaned down and scooped Amiria up into his arms. Worry crossed his brow as he carefully held his charge, feeling as though she weighed no more than a mere babe. Tenderly, he cradled her unresponsive form, bringing her shivering body closer to the warmth radiating from his own.

He began shouting orders afore he even left her room. A serf scrambled to open the heavy oak door. Others rushed down the passageway to Dristan’s own chamber where they proceeded to stoke the fire in the hearth and turn down the bedding. He cared not who he left in his wake. His only concern was to break the chills consuming Amiria’s tormented body. Most would not approve of his methods he thought to use, but he could think of no other option.

“Leave us,” he commanded to those who had followed him to his chamber. All but one fled in haste.

“My lord, I beseech you, perchance−” Kenna began.

“
I said leave us!” he shouted, still holding the trembling girl to his chest.

“I think only of her reputation, my liege. ’Tis not proper you should be alone with her even though she is ill,” Kenna dared. “I fear I must speak on her behalf since she is unable to do so herself, although those who remain outside may also have cause to echo my concerns for her welfare.”

“You have nothing to fear on that account, Kenna.”

“Be that as it may, others may not agree, and then who would see fit to wed a woman who is soiled? Whether you touch her or not, her reputation will still be sullied,” she answered gravely. “Not all would believe your words, given your reputation, my Lord Dristan.”

“There will be no others to worry about asking for her hand.”

“My lord?” she questioned with concern, afraid Amiria would spend her life alone or be sent to a nunnery.

“I have been given my orders from our king and obey him I must without question.” Dristan looked at his healer and let out a deep breath he seemed to have been holding a lifetime. “Amiria of Berwyck and clan MacLaren will become my bride, forever sealing the fate of this land and its people to England.”

Her alarmed expression of shock showed on his healer’s features and ’twas apparent from her reaction to his words that for once she had not seen such an event coming. ’Twas obviously the first time her sight had failed her and it took several moments of staring at him afore she at last found her voice. Her words were not very reassuring but he would have been surprised if they had been.

“If this is so, then tread lightly and with care, my lord, or you will find yourself saddled with a hellcat. She will not take it well she is used as a pawn in a king’s game for power. Lest she comes to love you of her own free will, I am afraid you will truly learn what hell on earth really means.”

He nodded to her only once. For now, ’twould have to be enough and he would deal with the repercussions of his actions when Amiria was healed. He gave a silent prayer to God above, hoping his meager offering would be enough to appease a higher being.

Kenna’s mouth remained in a grim line of disapproval but she was powerless to do anything further for Amiria. Moving towards the hearth, she left some warm broth and herbs she hoped would help cure the young woman. Against her better judgment, she assisted Dristan with removing Amiria’s wet gown from her body. She took the garment to have it be laundered and turned to leave the room whilst Dristan laid the young naked girl down in his bed. She caught one fleeting glimpse of her liege as he, too, stripped the clothes from his body and joined Amiria, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her close. Embarrassment heated her cheeks to be witness to something so intimate between two people.

Quietly closing the door, she leaned back against the oaken portal, giving a huge sigh of distress. Her sight had failed her! She had known Dristan and Amiria were connected by some invisible bond but she had no inkling that the king had demanded Dristan was to wed her. They may not as yet know it, but their destiny would be linked together for all time. Knowing Lady Amiria and her stubborn nature, ’twas perchance best any choice to her future would be taken from her. Their liege would have his work ahead of him to convince the woman he had their best interest at heart. She did not want to be around to witness such a battle of wills that surly would be put to the test.

Kenna made her way out of the keep, across the baily, and into the chapel. She was not surprised to see it filled with not only Amiria’s guardsmen, who had been released, but Dristan’s, as well. As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness of the room, she espied other clan members as they, too, knelt on the stone floor, offering petitions for the daughter of their deceased laird.

With a quiet stride, she went towards the front of the chapel ’til she witnessed Geoffrey slide over to make room for her. With his hand held out to her, Kenna took hold of it and knelt down next to him. His thumb made a slow lazy motion across her skin ’til he at last gave one last reassuring squeeze afore he let go and returned to his prayers. She bowed her head and began to humbly make her plea, fervently hoping that God above would hear and grant her wishes. She was not sure ’twould be enough for what she knew was yet to come.