The Darkland (20 page)

"You are not
directly involved in my military operations, Mara," he said quietly.
"I need not clear my plans through you before I proceed."

She gasped with outrage.
"I never indicated that you must. Certainly, it would have been polite to
tell me what was happening. Simply so I am prepared for your departure which, I
find, may not be soon enough for my taste."

Even though he was
remorseful for his snappish statement, he refused to be baited into a verbal
brawl. Collecting Mara's chalice, he pushed it into her hands.
"Drink."

"But I do
not..."

"Drink!"

He nearly shouted at
her. Mara took a large swallow, her expression a mixture of fury and fear. Kirk
made her take another drink before they continued their conversation, and still
another. He was determined to calm her before she veered out of control. And,
as he had so often experienced, she could veer out of control quite easily.

"Now," he said
softly, shifting in his seat so that Spencer could not hear him. "I
apologize for my remark. But I am truthful when I say that the business I
handle for Edmund is none of your affair. And I did not want to spoil our last
few days together with thoughts of my departure looming over our heads. Can you
understand this?"

Her lips were jutted out
in a pout, but she nodded. "Aye." The wall of anger crumbling.
"But how long will you be gone?"

He collected both of her
hands, bringing one and then the other to his lips. "I am not sure.
Certainly a few weeks. Maybe months."

"Months?" she
repeated, distressed. "But... you cannot leave me!"

"You will be well
taken care of."

"Not at Anchorsholme!"
She shook her head firmly, fearfully. "All of those women were murdered
while you were away and...!"

Kirk shushed her
sternly. Even though the rumors regarding The Darkland were common knowledge,
still, he did not want Mara adding fuel to the fire.

"No one will touch
you." There was urgency to his tone that she dare not dispute. "Do
you understand me? No one will touch you. Or Micheline."

Mara would not be
convinced. "This is all a convenient ploy," she hissed. "Edmund
is sending you away so that he can kill me!"

"Nonsense," he
said patiently. "He will not touch you. Have faith in my word, lass, that
no harm will befall you. Please?"

He was terribly sincere.
Still, Mara was frightened. Frightened for Kirk facing a rebellion and
frightened for herself. But most of all, she simply did not want to be
separated from him.

"Then I shall come
with you." She scooted closer to him, her expression eager as if she
thought her idea grand. "I shall be very quiet and obedient and I shall
take care of you while you fight."

Kirk shook his head
sadly. "You cannot come, lass. A battle is no place for you."

Mara could feel the
sting of tears, the painful ache of distance already piercing her heart.
"Please, Kirk," she whispered. "Please let me come. I promise I
shall not be any trouble."

He touched her cheek
tenderly, feeling the painful swell of longing in him as well. "You would
come along on a ship full of men, distracting me with your beauty and sweetness
when I should be concentrating on my duties?" He shook his head. "You
would be the death of me. Not to mention the fact that I would be quite
useless."

Mara's brow furrowed and
Kirk saw the glimmer of tears. Grabbing her chalice, he forced her to down the
contents in the hope of staving off the tide of emotions. But the alcohol was
not having the desired effect and the tears began to fall as he gestured to the
serving wench for more wine.

Just when he thought he
had lost her completely, Lord le Vay and his richly-dressed daughter entered
the room and Mara's attention was diverted. A few smiles and a good deal of
chatter regarding Lily's elaborate dress caused Mara to forget her sobs. With another
dose of wine and a barrage of kisses to her hands, Mara was calming admirably.

Though Spencer wished it
was he who was doing the calming.  The knight had thus far sat silent
throughout the exchange, hearing little of the conversation but aware of the
body language. Obviously, there was a good deal of emotion between the lady and
Sir Kirk and, being a gracious knight, Spencer should have been willing to
relinquish his pursuit. But he realized, as he had when he had first seen the
lady, that she was one prize worth fighting for. And he further realized he was
determined to win.

Lord le Vay motioned to
Kirk as Spencer continued to stare at Mara. Kirk kissed Mara's hand and left
the table without as much as a glance to Spencer. While Kirk found himself being
introduced to a flock of le Vay relatives, Spencer saw his opportunity arise.

Great platters of food
were brought from the kitchens, much to the delight of the famished guests. As
a huge boar was set in the center of their table, Spencer immediately sliced
off a portion for Mara and placed it neatly on her plate.

"This bugger was a feisty
one," he said, cutting his own meat from the thigh. "He nearly gored
me before I could kill him."

Mara, still emotionally
fragile, found she had no appetite. But Spencer smiled at her encouragingly,
going so far as to cut her meat when she simply sat and stared at it. It took a
good deal of coaxing for her to taste it, and even then, she chewed slowly and
without enthusiasm.

Spencer watched her
lethargic movements, setting his knife down after a moment. "Is it not to
your liking, my lady?"

Mara shook her head.
"It is very good." She swallowed hard, forcing it down. "I... I
am simply not hungry."

Spencer was to the
point. "Because of Kirk?"

Mara looked at him.
Then, she looked away sullenly. "I find I must apologize for my behavior
earlier, Sir Spencer. I never meant to... that is to say, I believe I
encouraged your attention and I should not have.  Sir Kirk and I are...
involved."

"Are you
betrothed?"

Her brow furrowed and
she stared at her hands. "Well... nay, we are not. But he is going to ask
Lord Edmund for permission when we return to Anchorsholme."

Spencer stared at her a
moment, her silken hair and exquisite profile. She seemed to provoke feelings
in him that he had forgotten himself capable of and the desire to continue
those warm feelings, expand them, was more than a want. It was a need.

"Tell me, Lady
Mara," he said quietly. "Is Kirk the only suitor you have
known?"

Mara was thoughtful.
"In the true sense,” she admitted. “I have known many men, mostly friends
of my father or relatives. But Kirk is the only man who has pursued me."

Spencer smiled faintly.
"Then tell me; were you to go to the dress maker, would you simply
purchase the first dress offered or would you demand to be shown her selection
of patterns before making your choice?"

Mara turned her
brilliant blue eyes on him and Spencer was swallowed by their beauty.
"What does that have to do with suitors?"

His pale eyes twinkled.
"I mean that you should choose carefully your suitor. Not simply take the
first man who comes along."

Mara regarded him
carefully. "I do not need to sample a variety of men before making my
selection. I love Kirk."

Spencer's smile faded
somewhat. "Are you sure it is not infatuation?"

"Why would you say
that?"

"Because you said
yourself he is the first man who has wooed you. Is it possible that the thrill
of his attentions has caused you to believe yourself in love with him when, in
fact, he has merely succeeded in blinding you with his charm?"

Mara frowned. "I am
not a fool, Sir Spencer. I love Kirk and he loves me and we shall be married.
"

Spencer cast a long
glance at Kirk, currently in conversation with a wrinkled dowager. But the
Irish knight caught his stare, the stone-gray eyes blazing across the room. Spencer
merely turned back to Mara.

"Kirk Connaught is
a career soldier," he said quietly. "The man is thirty-three years
old and has never been married. Have you never wondered why?"

Mara shook her head
slowly. "Nay."

Now that he had her
attention, Spencer focused on his food. "Mayhap you should consider that
he is not the marrying kind. You could find yourself taking second place in his
heart, well behind his love for fighting and his oath to the House of de Cleveley."

Mara stared at the man
as he devoured his meat, turning wide eyes to Kirk as he chatted politely with
the old woman in the severe wimple. She simply couldn't believe there was any
truth to Spencer's words but was appalled to realize he had given her food for
thought. Being rather innocent of men and their games, it was difficult to
resist the confusion.

"You are
wrong." She turned away from Kirk and from Spencer, taking another bite of
meat simply to occupy herself. "Kirk and I shall wed and he shall love me
best of all."

Spencer continued to
eat. "I certainly hope so, my lady," he said softly. "Speaking
for myself, of course, I would most certainly love you best of all. There would
be nothing to stand in the way of my devotion."

Mara looked at him
sharply. "Sir Spencer, I hardly know you. And I have no interest in
becoming your wife."

Spencer's expression did
not waver. He wiped his mouth and took a long drink of wine. "Mayhap not
at the moment. But know that if your betrothal with Kirk fails to come about, I
shall be eager to take his place."

A few of the guests had
finished their meal and took to the floor as the musicians played a delicate
ballad. Mara refrained from answering Spencer's declaration, partially because
she was uncertain how to respond, and instead turned her attention to the
dancers. A few more couples joined the gaiety and it took Mara a moment to
realize she knew one of the dancers very, very well.

Kirk and Lady Lily were
enjoying themselves as they whirled around the floor. Even though Kirk was
holding the lady at a proper distance, Mara was infuriated. Intending to
interrupt their cozy clutch, she hardly noticed a wrinkled hand in her face.

"Lady Mara."
Lord le Vay was smiling at her. "Would you care to dance to a truly Irish
folk ballad?"

Mara was caught off-guard
by his handsome, old face. Spencer leapt to his feet, swallowing the bite of
food in his mouth.

"Good eve to you,
my lord," he said formally. "I apologize for my bad manners, but I
did not see you coming."

Le Vay waved him off.
"Of course you did not see me. You were too busy gawking at Lady
Mara." He thrust his hand in her face again, the implication obvious.
"Certainly, I can hardly blame you, but now I intend to occupy the lady
myself. A dance, if you please?"

Mara stammered.
"But... surely you have not yet eaten, my lord. You have only just
arrived."

He waved her off.
"There is the rest of the night for eating. Now, I wish to dance with a
lovely lass."

Mara had no choice. As
le Vay guided her onto the stone floor, Spencer caught a glimpse of Kirk and Lily
as they enjoyed the dance. Pale blue locked with stone-gray and Spencer
realized that Kirk was quite unhappy for three very good reasons; forced to
dance with Lady Lily, being separated from Mara while Spencer took the
offensive, and also with the fact that le Vay was very busy swinging Mara
around the dance floor.

But Spencer wasn't
unhappy in the least. In fact, things were going rather well. Taking a drink of
his wine, he turned his back on Kirk and Lily as they whirled by. Glancing over
his shoulder as Lily's brilliant green surcoat moved away from him, he drained
the contents of his chalice; aye, things were going very well indeed.

As Spencer gloated in
triumph, across the room Mara was wallowing in misery. Lord le Vay was a nice
man but she had no interest in his conversation. Her only concern was Kirk,
still holding Lady Lily as the Irish ballad ended and a snappy jig began. Le
Vay was rattling on about something and she ignored him, instead, watching as
Kirk tried to pull away from his dance partner. But the woman was persistent
and as Mara found herself forced to jig with the father, Kirk found himself
forced to jig with the daughter.

Fortunately, Mara could
jig like the devil himself. She could easily out-dance le Vay and the old man
began to huff and chuckle as he struggled through the dance. Bright blue eyes
met stone-gray across the floor and Kirk smiled, his gaze never leaving her
even as Lily laughed gaily before him.

Warmth and emotion
flowed between them even though they were several feet apart. But Mara found
her attention diverted as le Vay scooped her up in his arms, tossing her to the
man next to him. It was part of the dance and she was not surprised nor
offended, but she soon lost sight of Kirk as she was tossed from man to man.

Mara found herself
hoping she would eventually be tossed into Kirk's arms and he would sweep her
away from these strange, lively people. And then, once they were alone, he
would make her forget all of Spencer' disturbing words. A tender touch, a
soothing word, and the confusion would leave her.