Claire Delacroix (33 page)

His eleventh foster mother’s doomsaying came to mind: lucky at cards, unlucky at love.

Maybe he should take up gambling.

Didn’t it just figure that Baird would be dealt a winning hand in all the material signs of success? Until he had come to Dunhelm, he would never have complained about the balance, but now Baird felt a yawning hole in the very middle of his life.

And the one women who could fill it was bonkers.

Baird nudged open his door, freezing in the foyer with the sense that he was not alone.

“Baird, darling, I’ve been waiting just forever for you!” Marissa rolled from the bed and strolled toward him in a black lace negligee and satin mules frothy with ostrich feathers. Her hair was pinned up in artful deshabille, her lips were red, her eyes were knowing. A waft of exotic perfume preceded her arrival and made Baird’s nose tickle.

She carried a pair of crystal glasses. “I thought a little aperitif might be in order, darling. We can start with sherry - it’s so British, don’t you think?” Marissa chuckled throatily and walked her fingers up a stunned Baird’s bare chest. “And then, darling, we can see where things go from there.”

Baird’s nose twitched, he sneezed violently and completely ruined the ambience of the moment.

Marissa was undeterred. “Have you caught a chill, darling?” She leaned closer and pouted with false concern. “Well, darling, I’ve just the thing to warm you right down to your toes!”

This was the last thing he needed right now.

“Marissa, this is not appropriate.”

She chuckled throatily. “Well, Baird, darling, I have never wanted to be appropriate with you.” She hooked a finger through his unbuttoned shirt and tried to draw him into the room. “I see you’ve started without me, darling, but we can certainly progress from here.”

“Marissa, I’m serious.” Baird glowered. “Please leave.”

She pouted. “You don’t really mean that, darling. Why, we’ve had almost no time alone and - “

Baird’s tone was non-negotiable. “I’m asking you to leave.”

“And darling,” Marissa’s gaze hardened. “I will make my staying well worth your while.”

“Out,” Baird declared flatly. He pointed into the corridor, what might have been a dignified pose ruined by the sock and shoe dangling from his grip.

Marissa looked him up and down, obviously making a point of observing his state of dress. “Well! I see. Is that how it’s going to be?”

“That’s how it is.”

Her eyes glinted, then her smile turned brittle. “Mark my words, darling, you’ll soon be bored with that little package and come begging for more sophisticated fare. Even Darian, sweet boy that he is, was asking when you and I would tie the knot. It seems obvious to everyone but you that we’re absolutely perfect for each other.”

“Get out now!” Baird roared.

Marissa sniffed as she swept past him, both sherries firmly in her grip. “I suppose there’s no accounting for taste, is there, darling?”

Baird’s only answer was the firm closing of the door. He emphatically shot the deadbolt home and trudged toward the shower, pausing on the way to shove open the window to fumigate the cloud of Marissa’s perfume.

Women. Who in the hell needed them?

* * *

Aurelia heard Baird’s door open and to her dismay, Marissa’s voice carried to her ears. Aurelia could not make out the other woman’s words, but she did not have to.

Baird had gone back to Marissa.

It was not fair! How could he deny the truth between them?

Aurelia flung herself across the room and let herself weep. She had lost her brother and her father, she had lost her home and everyone she had ever known. And now she had lost the man who was supposed to be hers for all time.

Well, Aurelia was not going to let him go that easily.

Baird was the one, she knew it in her heart. But he was skeptical of the power of his own intuition. He did not trust what he could not hold within his hands. Aurelia sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes.

Would she not have been skeptical in his place?

She would have, she knew it. The prophecy sounded like mere whimsy to the ears of a clear thinking person. Even she had put no stock in it until the truth had been undeniable.

Somehow Aurelia had to persuade Baird of the truth. If the prophecy intended for they two to spend their days and nights together, it was clear that prophecy needed a little help.

Fortunately, Aurelia knew exactly what to do.

* * *

Darian was bouncing like an enthusiastic pup when Aurelia came down to the hall that evening.

“You’ll never guess what I found today in the well,” he declared as soon as they sat down for dinner.

Darian looked expectantly around the table, but no one responded. Marissa looked sour, Baird dissatisfied and Aurelia was certainly not in the mood for small talk. She was impatient for night to come so that she could convince Baird of the truth.

And angry with him for going from her to Marissa. She never would have imagined that he could be so shallow and cruel!

Darian’s enthusiasm was unruffled by the lack of response. “Well, I just have a couple of Polaroids of it. Didn’t want to disturb it.”

“Well, what is it?” Julian asked, when no one else did.

With a triumphant flourish, Darian produced a shiny image of something so familiar that Aurelia’s breath caught in her throat. “See?”

The image was of Aurelia’s crossbow, half buried in the dirt. The gutting was gone, the nut lost somewhere over time, but she would have known the inlaid wood anywhere. Her sire had commissioned the design especially for her when he thought her skill warranted the gift.

She had taken it to the walls that last morning. Aurelia touched the image, but it was flat, though the crossbow was complete in every detail. She swallowed, not daring to ask about this stiff square and its magic, and passed it to Julian.

“What is it?” Julian asked idly.

“I don’t know, but it’s old, that’s for sure.” Darian’s voice throbbed with excitement.

Baird fired a cold glance down the table. “Don’t you follow strict processes for removing and dating artifacts? I had assumed that this was going to be a systematic investigation.”

Darian fidgeted. “Well, you’re right, of course. I was just so excited!” His features brightened. “And isn’t it beautifully made? I’m sure that someone can figure out what it’s for.”

“It’s a crossbow,” Aurelia said tightly.

Darian looked surprised. “I don’t think so, Aurelia. You see, it would have to have a firing mechanism and we know that Picts didn’t use crossbows...”

“They most certainly did.”

“I thought wood disintegrated in damp places,” Baird commented frostily, passing the Polaroid to Marissa.

“Well, well, it does. Usually.” Darian toyed with the print now back in his possession. “Maybe it’s not as old as all that.” He eyed Aurelia speculatively. “How could this be a crossbow?”

He was baiting her and Aurelia knew it, but her temper was such that she responded anyhow. She plucked the print from his hand. “Gutting from here to here, and here to here. A revolving nut here, it’s held this way and fires like so.” She squinted at the image. “There is the nut, fallen into the dirt directly beside it.”

They all stared at her, but Aurelia returned to her meal.

“And Pictish?”

Aurelia fired a glance at him, daring him to challenge her. “Dating from the arrival of the first Vikings.”

Darian smiled patronizingly. “Aurelia, the Vikings took possession of the Orkney Islands in the eighth century or so...”

“And Hekod the Fifth claimed Dunhelm, among the first to land in these islands. He married a Pictish woman, the crossbow is from that time, therefore the Picts used crossbows.” Aurelia ate her dinner with resolve, not tasting a single bite of it.

“Uh, well! You certainly seem to know a lot about the period,” Darian acknowledged.

Aurelia shot a glance at him. “You could say that I have lived it.”

Marissa laughed nervously. “More silly stories of prophecies for us, darling?”

“Prophecies?” Darian looked to Aurelia with open curiosity.

But it was Marissa who answered, her eyes bright with malice. “Yes, Aurelia has this charming fantasy that she actually is a Pictish princess. Baird found her in the well, didn’t you, darling?”

“That’s enough,” Baird said tightly.

Marissa ignored him. “You know, Darian darling, it was the cutest little story.” She laughed harshly again. “But then, doesn’t every little girl dream of starring in her own fairy tale? It’s so much easier than actually growing up.”

An awkward silence settled around the table.

Darian cleared his throat, apparently uncertain whether to laugh or believe Marissa. Something flickered in his gaze, though, that gave Aurelia an instinctive understanding of Baird’s dislike of this man.

“Well, then, perhaps you’d like to help me excavate the site?” Darian leaned closer and smiled charmingly. “I could use all the expertise I can get and if we’ve got an extra fan of the Picts in the ranks, it would certainly help.”

If Aurelia had not heard Baird go to Marissa, she would never have agreed.

But agree she did.

“I would delighted to help you,” she said proudly.

Baird pushed to his feet, his features grim. “Well, I’m going to bed.”

“Need some company, darling?” Marissa cooed.

Baird’s glance was lethal. “Don’t push your luck,” he muttered, then stalked from the room.

* * *

Baird fought the dream tooth and nail, even though it began similarly to the one he had of Julian.

But this dream seemed more determined than the others, more purposeful in its invasion of his sleep. Baird had the eerie sense that it was intent on showing him something he had missed.

But that was illogical.

Baird stood in the doorway of the room where the woman had given birth to that child. The furnishings were slightly more worn than they had been before, but the room still had a welcoming feel. A trio of candles burned on a table, filling the shadows with their beeswax scent, and illuminating the proud figure of the warrior standing before the window.

His hands were folded behind him, his back to Baird as he stared out at the stars. It was the same man, with the same heavy silver chain around his neck, though he looked older and slightly smaller.

He turned at some minute sound and Baird saw the passage of the years more clearly in his lined face. His expression was grim.

“Come in, son.” He heaved a sigh and frowned, as Baird made sense of his words. “I have some news to share that will not come easily.”

Baird must be in the point of view of the son this man had claimed as his own. That would explain the passing of time. He glanced down to himself and saw that he was tall and dressed in a tunic and leggings similar to those of the king.

The old king pursed his lips. “There is no sense in drawing this out. I have a missive this day from Dunhelm.”

Baird’s heart skipped a beat.

“Bard, son of Erc, perpetuated a cruel ruse with marked success. He sent word to Hekod that he would heal the rift between their families by wedding Hekod’s daughter Aurelia. Hekod, in good faith, sent his son Thord to negotiate the details.”

Baird’s mouth went dry, though which part of him was dismayed, he could not have said. The image of his friend at the harbor, the friend he knew to be Julian in the present day, drew clear in his mind.

“Has something gone amiss?”

The king levelled a steady glance at him. “It was a savage plot. Bard killed Thord and sent his head back to Hekod with the dawn, along with a declaration of war.”

Dismay swept over Baird in a dizzying wave. “No! Not Thord! He cannot be dead!” He could not have lost his greatest friend.

The world could not be without Thord’s merry laughter.

“But he is dead, Bridei, and naught can change that now.” The king’s tone was resolute. He crossed the room and laid a heavy hand on Baird’s shoulder, his gaze boring into Baird’s own.

“Though I respect that you would mourn, this is not the end of matters. There is little time for such doings now. War has been declared. Hekod has not asked for aid, but he will need of it. He has served me loyally all these years and I will send an army to his aid.”

His grip tightened on Baird’s shoulder. “I would have you lead the forces, Bridei. The presence of my only son will show all the strength of my commitment to the defense of Dunhelm.”

Baird straightened and felt an alien thrill of pride course through him. His father trusted him to lead men into battle. He was indeed a man. “Yes, Father.”

The older man nodded and his tone was grim. “Perhaps you will be the one to strike the blow of vengeance for Thord. Bard, son of Erc, deserves no less.”

Baird’s throat tightened with his own resolve. “Yes, Father.”

“Look at you.” The older man smiled sadly. “I remember well enough my first battle and can imagine your anticipation. Know that I trust you to do us proud.”

“Thank you, Father.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, and Baird was sure an echo of the warrior’s sadness gleamed in his own eyes. Thord was dead.

“Go, tell your mother the news, but beware she may not take it well. You are her pride and joy, and her only chick, after all.”

The king called to him when he would have crossed the threshold, and Baird reluctantly turned back.

“Look well upon the daughter of Hekod,” his father said solemnly. “It was said once that much ill could be avoided if I pledged you to her, but I was loathe to commit you to anything when you were but a child. Perhaps I erred in this, perhaps this might have ended differently, but what is done is done.”

“I do not understand, Father.”

His father cleared his throat. “What I say is this - if Aurelia takes your fancy and you hers, know that you have my blessing in making a match.”

Aurelia
.

There she was again. In every dream, her presence was tangible.

“I shall do so, Father.” he bowed slightly. “Thank you for your trust.”

The king shook his head solemnly. “You may not thank me, my son, when you witness the foul deeds of which war is wrought.”