Carolyne Cathey (23 page)

"Aye."  Lord Kyle pulled the reins and spun to
face Sir Jerrod.  "Brigham."

"I'm hooked, friend.  We ride."

"
H
e's been gone forever, Nurse
Kincaid."  Eleanor strained to see out Kyle's chamber window in hopes to
catch a glint of movement in the moonlight.

"Get ye to
bed, lass.  Ye heard Lord Kyle.  Ye must have.  He shouted the order for all to
hear before he rode into the night.  He commanded we were to make certain ye
bathed, then ye were to wait fer him in his bed.  And if ye care fer the
master, ye'll do as he says."

Lord Kyle's
earlier statement that he was an honorable knight twisted oppositions in her
mind.  Did he mean to honor the wager?  The thought bloomed into hope.  But,
what about the king?  Hope became buried by dread.  And why had he not
returned?

She had sensed
danger while she had sat with him on his steed.  She had sensed the dragon. 
And yet whom did the dragon represent?  Brigham?  Or Mellisande?  Or the king?

Eleanor gripped
the stone ledge of the window and studied the landscape, but the land lay
still, silent, like a mural painted with a brush dipped in moonbeams and
shadows.  She had stared so long at the ribbon of road that curved from the
gate past the grain field and into the copse of trees, that her eyes ached from
dryness, and still nothing.  He had ridden after Brigham--without his armor.

"I fear for
Lord Kyle, Nurse.  I fear he's injured."  Foreboding slithered down her
spine.  "Or worse."

The old woman
took her by her arm and pulled her toward the draped bed.  "Ye might take
a chill in yer chemise and bare feet, lass.  Iffen ye take ill again, ye'll
worry him.  He hardly slept while ye were ailin'.  Don't make him go through
another siege.  Don't risk the chance he might lose ye altogether.  The loss
might be his undoin'."

Eleanor didn't
want to go to bed.  She wanted to follow after Kyle.  She had tried her best to
stop him even though Valiant's hooves had stamped near her own when the beast
had shied from her protests.  In tones loud enough to rouse the first Eve, Kyle
had ordered her to remember her place, then had winked, his private reminder
that when he returned he wanted her beneath him in his bed.

Her eyes closed
with the memory.  Even the thought of him weakened her fiber.  Sighing, she
brushed the bottom of her bare feet then sank down into the mattress and pulled
the fur cover to her chest, her back at a pillowed recline.

The last time she
had been in that bed, she and Kyle had experienced incredible passion.  Would
they ever do so again?  Did he want her as his lady? 
His lady
. 
Excitement built despite her efforts at brutal reality.  Why had he changed his
mind about the wager?

I swore a vow
. . . I'm an honorable knight
.  His own declaration.  Not because he loved
her, but to honor his oath.

Eleanor groaned
in frustration and leaned her head against the pillows.  If he asked her to
plight her troth, should she accept?  She loved him, but he merely kept a
knight's pledge--to a peasant wench.  He admitted he wanted her, needed her,
that he must have her.  Merely lust?  And she wondered if she betrayed the
prophecy if she plighted her troth.

Regret sliced
through her chest.  A fierce longing for Kyle pressed against her ribs. 
Regret, longing, love, pain.  Fear.  Eleanor caressed the fur cover, silky,
like his hair, and prayed for his safe return.

"I've never
seen him so smitten afore, lass.  He cares about ye real deep, he does." 

The words struck
Eleanor with surprise.  Fighting tears, she watched Lord Kyle's long-time nurse
as the woman shuffled across the rushes and sat on the chair beside the blazing
hearth.  "Iffen ye like, we'll wait fer him together."  Light
flickered on her creased face and turned her gray hair a reddish-yellow.

Eleanor wrapped
her arms around her pulled up knees.  "Nurse Kincaid, tell me about his
wife.  I know he loved her."

The old woman
leaned her head back against the chair, a dusky image against the flames that
danced behind her.  "Aye.  He did.  'Twas different than what he seems to
feel fer ye, but still, he loved her."

"Lord Kyle
said as much.  But, different in what way?"

A deep sigh rose,
then sunk the woman's chest.  "Lord Kyle and Lady Cathryn had been young
sweethearts and had planned to wed.  Her estate lay just north of the Hanleys',
while Trystonwood has the misfortune of bein' at his south end.  Not wantin' his
land to be surrounded, Lord Hanley offered Lady Cathryn's father more gold than
any soul could refuse.  They's wealthy, ye see, whereas Trystonwood is
poor."

Nurse tilted her
head at Eleanor and leveled her a prideful glare.  "Not better than us,
mind ye . . . " Then a troubled frown creased her already-wrinkled brow. 
"At least, not until..." 

"Until
Brigham?"

Fear shadowed her
eyes as she shook her head.  "Don't ask me, lass.  Even the air seems to
have ears these days."  She leaned her head against the chair back. 
"Her father agreed to the match.  They was wed while Lord Kyle was away
bein' a young knight, fightin' beside our king.  Lord Kyle found out after he
returned home.  Devastated, he was, and he protested to the king, but the
marriage seal was long cold by then.  And rumors hinted of gold seepin' into
the king's ever-empty coffers."

Dear heaven.  How
could Eleanor hope to compete with such a memory?  How naive of her to expect
Kyle to love her as she loved him, or to love her at all.  She merely filled a
cold spot in his bed.  If not for the wager, he would never ask her to be his
lady, not in a million eternities.  The cruel realization enclosed her like a
shroud, cold, dark, final.

Nurse released a
shaky sigh.  "Then Lady Cathryn's father died soon after, suspicious-like,
and with her bein' the only child, Lord Hanley then had the gold and the
land."  Tears glimmered snaky trails down her weathered cheeks. 
"'Twas a brutal marriage.  Lord Hanley beat her."

Eleanor swallowed
at the painful cramp what would surely never leave her throat.  "Beat
her?  But Kyle said she was sweet and shy."

"Aye.  'Tis
true.  A tiny thing she was.  And not the type to raise her voice or an
objection."

Eleanor winced at
the comparison.  No wonder Kyle had called her a shrew.  Nay, she could never
compete with dead perfection.  The shroud clung so tightly Eleanor gasped for a
breath.

Nurse sniffed and
wiped at the molten tears.  "Lady Cathryn gave Lord Hanley no children,
and even though he already had a son as well as Lady Mellisande by a previous
wife, Lord Hanley annulled the marriage, claiming her barren state proved their
vows had never been consummated.  Then he planned to put her away in a convent
and to search for a lady who would increase his wealth in gold and land as well
as children."

"What
happened?"

"Lord Kyle
begged Hanley to allow him to take Lady Cathryn as his own.  And fer him to beg
the Hanley's after all they'd done, well, 'twas a mighty powerful desire fer
him to lower hisself that way.  In any event, Lord Hanley refused Lord Kyle's
offer."

"Refused? 
But, Lord Kyle and Lady Cathryn plighted their troth."

The nurse nodded,
a toothless grin on her face.  "Aye.  He swiped her, he did.  Right out
from under Lord Hanley's warty nose."

"Sweet
heaven."

The woman cackled
a laugh.  "Sweet, indeed.  Do ye remember Jane?  She was tendin' to the
lord's chamber the day ye arrived."

A lifetime seemed
to have passed for Eleanor since that unusual day.  Searching her memory she
recalled a woman who had told Lord Kyle she was fine, thanks to him.  Might she
be the one?

"Well,
anyway, Jane was one of Lady Cathryn's maids.  She and her husband helped Lord
Kyle steal her away."

"At this
point, would she have rather gone to the convent?"

"Oh, she was
forever grateful to Lord Kyle, and she still had a fondness fer him.  Lord
Hanley had changed his mind, ye see.  We's all certain he’d planned her death
so's not to have to pay her way into the convent."

Nurse's gnarled
hands quivered against her brown wool tunic.  "She died anyways.  A
thought that must grieve the master.  But he wanted so desperately for her to
know kindness and happiness in her lifetime--and love."

"And did
she?"

"As much as
possible.  He never denied her any wish.  He bought her gowns, lavished her
with attention as if to make up for all the past horrors, as if to assuage his
guilt for his failure to protect her, but her former life had scarred
her."

"Lord Kyle
mentioned that she was always a little frightened of him."

'Tis true, that. 
And he never gave her any reason.  He was always soft and gentle with her, like
she might break if he breathed too hard.  He tried not to bed her too often,
'cause of her frightful memories, ye see, but, as ye've discovered, he's a man,
and well..."

"And then
she became with child."

Nurse Kincaid
squirmed in her chair.  "Aye.  I never saw two as excited.  'Twas as if
the world was made just fer them.  Until time fer the babe to come forth."

"Lord Kyle
told me.  He said 'twas terrible."

"She
suffered such pain.  The master, well, he blamed hisself for puttin' the babe
inside her.  I blamed meself cause I couldn't make the babe come as it should. 
The night she and the wee-un died, we women raced around the keep to empty any
containers that held water so their spirits wouldn't drown.  And by the time
we'd finished, the master had left.  Just up and left.  We never saw him again
till the day he came home with ye in his arms."

Eleanor sat in
silence with the sadness of it all, sadness for Lady Cathryn, for Lord Kyle. 
And for her.

"I've never
seen him this way afore, lass.  With ye, I mean.  Peter and I discussed the
matter, for we've known the master since his birth.  And we both agree.  He's
like a man possessed, like ye’ve bewitched him.  We never thought he'd take a
virgin.  'Twasn't his way, ye see."

Eleanor held her
breath at the mention of bewitching, then her hot memory stirred.  Lord Kyle
had claimed he had shaped her path to fit him, as if he could hardly believe he
had been her first.  Glory be.  She loved him so much her heart ached.  A love
that he would never return.

"He needs
ye, lass.  I hope ye don't do aught to hurt him."

Eleanor closed
her eyes.  Dear God, tell her what to do.  Should she leave?  Should she stay? 
He wanted her.  She wanted him.  He hinted he would honor the wager.  But did
she want marriage to a man whose heart lay buried with another?  Nonsense.  
Eleanor knew Kyle loved her.  But the king?

"He deserves
someone who cares fer him, lass.  That's why I thought I'd die if he had to wed
that Lord Hanley's beast of a daughter."

Beast of a
daughter.  Another hint that Lady Mellisande might be the dragon.  And yet Sir
Jerrod had started to say something about the deadly specter in connection with
Eleanor.  What?

"Lord Kyle's
a good man, child.  There's only one other I consider as worthy."  She
sniffed and fell silent, lost in her thoughts.

"'Tis
Peter?"

Nurse appeared
startled.  "How did ye know?"

Eleanor
shrugged.  "I only surmised.  Why haven't you shared your vows?"

A scoff rasped
from Nurse's throat.  "He don't have even a bit of land, a requirement
afore we can plight our troth.  We'se always been here at the keep.  And now,
life's path is near the end fer both of us and 'tis too late."  She shook
her head and wiped a gnarled finger under her eye as if to catch a tear. 
"’Tis why I encourage ye to fight fer the master.  Ye have an affection
fer him, and he fer ye.  Don't let the world pull ye apart."

Nurse's words
stirred Eleanor's hope to a froth of excitement.  Perhaps she should agree to
be Lord Kyle's lady.  "Nurse, what do you think might happen if I--"

Wood slammed
against stone.

Alarmed, Eleanor
jumped, fearing Brigham had come for her.  She had forgotten to bolt the door. 

John rushed
through, frantic.  "Nurse Kincaid.  It's Lord Kyle.  He . . . he . . .
well, just hurry."

Eleanor leapt to
her feet, as did her heart.  "Lord Kyle?"

"They're
carryin' him across the drawbridge.  I don't know if he's dead or he ain't. 
Come quick, Nurse.  Hurry."

"Bring him
up here, lad.  Bring him to his own bed.  And bring my basket.  Go now."

John scurried
from the room.

With a scream
trapped in her throat, Eleanor flew behind him.  She ran barefoot down the
steps, through the solar and across the great hall to the entry.

Sir Jerrod and
another knight carried Lord Kyle's limp form across the moonlit bailey.

"Oh dear,
God!  Don't let him be dead!  Please!"

As they carried
him past her toward the dais she saw that blood covered one side of his face. 
His black mantle glimmered wet in the torchlight.  Shaken, she took a step
toward him, then froze.  Kyle's once-white cross dripped red. 

The vision she'd
had when Brigham had handed Kyle the king's missive flashed again into her
mind.  An arrow had pierced a cross.  She had seen blood.

She forced her
feet to move to his side.  "Please, Sir Jerrod.  Is he alive?"

"The last
time I checked, lass, but his life's seeping out of him in bloody
surrender."

Terrified,
Eleanor followed as Sir Jerrod and the other knights struggled with Kyle's
lifeless body through the solar.  She prayed they weren't on a death march.

Tears
threatened.  She shoved them down.  He needed her composure not her hysteria. 
She walked as close to Kyle's inert form as she dared.  "What happened,
Sir Jerrod?"

"Ambush."

"Brigham?"

Despite his heavy
burden, Sir Jerrod gave a semblance of a shrug.  "Twas too dark."