Dark Warrior (11 page)

“He is mad.”

“And a madman is not easy to deal with,” Magnus reminded.

“He has threatened you?” the Dark One asked. “But of course he has. How else would he expect you to surrender Mary?”

“He has given me a week's time.”

“Do I hear defeat in your voice?”

“Do I hear anger in yours?”

“Mary has suffered enough and asks for little. She bears her burden with strength, courage, and humility. She deserves to be free of
Decimus
, not wed him.” The Dark One spit the name from his lips.

“I do not argue, but I do not know how to make this happen without my wife and my friends suffering.”

“So Mary is to suffer for all?”

“I want no one to suffer,” Magnus said forcefully.

“Decimus has placed us in a maze and expects us to stumble about in confusion, unable to find our way out. But there is always a way out.”

“Then I suggest we find it fast.”

“I will be in touch,” the Dark One said and then was swallowed by the shadows in the corner.

T
he days sped by thanks to Roarke's company. He always had a tale to tell or an interest to share, and Mary, having finally regained her voice, was ready to converse about anything.

She did, however, miss Michael more than she had expected. It had been almost a week since he had taken his leave, and she had watched the edge of the woods every day, hoping to see the dark shadow emerge into the light.

“He should return any day now,” Roarke said, busy cleaning his sword.

“I hope he does; I miss him.”

“I have come to realize this past week how much you care for the Dark One.”

“You doubted my love for him?” she asked with a smile and shook her head. “I have never doubted. My love for him is bold and strong and
forever.
” She threw her arms to the heavens as if inviting their blessings.

“Bold and strong is what you will need to deal with what you will face.”

“You have continued to warn me of my feelings for him. I think you know something that you do not share with me.”

He shrugged. “I know the Dark One's life is difficult, and love, on its own, may not be strong enough to overcome the obstacles you will meet.”

“I would like to believe that love is strong enough to perform miracles.”

Roarke stopped his work on the sword. “I suggest then that you hold firm to your belief, for you will need it.”

A chill raced through Mary and the old seer's words echoed in her mind.

You will be the demise of Decimus
.

She walked off toward the woods, her mind burdened with thoughts. A shout from Roarke reminded her not to go far. She acknowledged him with a wave and kept to the edge of the woods.

She had thought on her problem while Michael had been gone and had realized there was no easy solution. She was a hunted woman and that would not change, but then Michael was also a hunted man. What kind of life would there be for them? But what kind of life would there be without him?

She also realized the importance of Michael's work. He would not simply walk away from so many tortured souls. He had made a vow and it seemed unfair to ask him to forsake it for her love.

With so many obstacles in their way, how then could she possibly believe they had a future together? How did she conquer evil so that she and Michael could be free?

Love will be your only weapon
.

Her father's warning was just as clear now in her head as it had been in her dream. How love could be a formidable weapon she did not know, but she would remember and hopefully strike with it when the time was right.

Mary enjoyed a good meal and a good conversation with Roarke that evening. They discussed many things but for some reason shied away from any talk of the Dark One. Mary sensed something was on his mind concerning Michael, and though she wished to question him about it she decided he would tell her in good time.

He did.

Just when Mary bid him good night, Roarke spoke up.

“I will be gone when you wake in the morning.”

“I will miss your company,” she said with sincerity and a twinge of joy, for his departure surely heralded Michael's return.

“And I yours, but I know you miss Michael very much and will be happy with his return.”

She grew excited. “Will he arrive with your departure?”

“Within a short time of my leaving he will arrive. He would not feel it safe for you to be alone for too long.”

“How do you know of his return?”

“Do not ask me what I cannot answer,” Roarke urged.

“Michael remains cloaked in darkness in more ways than one.”

“You would do wise to remember that, Mary.”

“I find ignorance a foolish mask,” she said.

“Sometimes masks are necessary; they protect.”

“Who?”

“The innocent.”

Mary had difficulty sleeping. She would have thought anticipation of Michael's return would rob her of sleep, but it was Roarke's last remark about the innocent that had her thinking most of the night.

Who did he mean?

The innocent victims of Decimus's persecution or did he refer to Michael's innocence? And if so, what innocence did he speak of? She sensed there was more to Roarke's warning than she understood, a clue of sorts, possibly to his identity.

She turned and tossed, her mind refusing to let go of her chaotic thoughts, and it was near to sunrise when, finally exhausted, she drifted off to sleep.

Waking to the smell of freshly cooked fish, she yawned, stretched and, grinned wide.

Michael will be home today.

Home?

Home, Mary realized, was where Michael and she were together. It did not matter if a sound roof covered their heads or the land beneath their feet belonged to them. What mattered was that they were with each other, sharing their life, their love.

Mary stretched herself fully awake and after combing her hair and plaiting it, she hurried to join Roarke for breakfast. She stopped abruptly when she discovered she was alone. Roarke was nowhere to be found and she understood that this simple breakfast was his way of saying goodbye.

She was saddened by his departure. She had wished to thank him for all he had done for her. He had listened endlessly to her speak of her love for Michael and did not discourage her, though he urged caution. She hoped their paths would cross again.

She ate her breakfast, her glance constantly drifting to the woods, hoping to see him emerge. She ached for Michael's return; actually she ached for his arms, his touch, his kiss.

She was beginning to understand the ramifications of love. It consumed the senses and the mind. Nothing else seemed to matter; thoughts of the person lingered on the mind and the need to be with that person overwhelmed.

That was how she presently felt,
overwhelmed
with the need to see Michael again, to know he was well, safe, and that he missed her as much as she missed him.

Childish thoughts?

Selfish thoughts?

Or thoughts of love?

She laughed at her own musings and if he did not return soon, she would probably drive herself mad by day's end.

“What is it you find humorous?”

Mary jumped from her seat, startled by the familiar voice behind her. She turned with a brilliant smile.

“Michael!” She flung herself at the dark-robed figure, holding on to him as if she never intended to let him go ever again.

He clung to her just as tenaciously.

“I have missed you so very much,” she said and laid her head on his chest, rubbing her cheek against the coarse material of his robe, wishing the shroud did not separate them.

“And I you, though I carried your sweet voice in my mind and whenever I missed you I heard you in my head and felt you close to me.”

“Pleased I am to be there for you.” She placed a hand to his heart. “I will always be there for you, Michael.”

Holding her, he said, “I too, Mary, I will always be there for you. You must remember that.”

She closed her eyes, smiled wide, and raised her head, offering her lips to him.

He took them, eager to taste her once again. He had missed her so very much. There had not been a time he had not thought about her; she had been forever on his mind and he liked the way she lingered there. He did not feel alone; he felt part of her and it felt good.

He kissed her slowly and with purpose, the purpose being to love her with all his heart. He took his time, wanting their kiss to go on and on, wanting this close, intimate connection with her, wanting her with him forever.

The thought jolted his senses and he remembered the news he was to deliver—but not just yet. He did not want to wipe the smile from her face, or the joy from her eyes.

He stepped away, though he took hold of her hand. “You look well and happy.”

“I am happy now that you have returned.”

“Roarke was good company?” he asked.

“Aye, that he was. He entertained me with many good stories and he loved to eat, supplying us with more than ample food.” She patted her stomach. “I think I have added to my weight considerably.”

Michael held out her arm and pretended to inspect her. “You look the same. Nay,” he said with a shake of his head. “You look more beautiful than I remember.”

She did. She seemed somehow to have blossomed in his absence. Her face was full and touched by the sun. No worry lines marred her brow or crinkled at the corners of her eyes. Her lips were rosy, her blue eyes brimming with joy, and her long blond hair was neatly plaited and shined like a summer's sun.

“It is love that gives me such beauty.”

He wanted to warn her not to love him, that it was a mistake she would surely regret, and yet his heart and soul screamed for her to love him and not give up on them.

“Your love,” she said and tapped his chest. “It is strong in my heart. No one can touch it, no one can harm it, no one can take it away from me.”

With her back to his chest and his masked face next to her cheek, he swung her around in his arms. “Promise me that. Promise me that my love will forever remain in your safekeeping.”

“I promise,” she said without hesitation.

He hugged her tightly to him. “Your promise means much to me.”

“And will you promise me the same? Will you keep my love safe in your heart?”

“Forever and beyond time your love will rest safely in my heart, my mind, and my soul.”

“I expected nothing less from you.” She wiggled out of his arms and turned, holding on to his hands. “Tell me what you have learned from Magnus. I am eager to know where we go from here.”

Her reference to
we
did not escape his attention. She expected them to continue on from here, and he had wished the same, though he knew it was nothing more than a futile dream.

“I will not lose you,” she said, taking his prolonged silence as ominous.

“Mary,” he said slowly and softly. He attempted to pull her to him but she yanked her hands free and stepped away from him.

“You do not have good news for me.”

“I have news that I thought not to deliver.”

“It is not what you wish?” she asked cautiously.

He heard hope in her voice and it tore at his heart. “It is not what I wish, and I will do all I can to see that it never comes to pass.”

A shiver ran through her, leaving her with a sense of dread. “Tell me and be done with it.”

He clasped his hands in front of him, holding back his anger over what he must tell her.

She waited anxiously, her own hands grasping at the sides of her skirt as though grasping for sanity itself. She sensed she would not at all like what she was about to hear.

“Magnus had news from Decimus.”

She nodded, her stomach tightening and her heart pounding.

“Decimus demands you wed him.”

M
ary stumbled backward as though Michael had struck her. He reached out to steady her but she shook her head and righted herself.

“Wed me?” She repeated his words to make certain she had heard him correctly.

“Aye.”

“But why?” It made no sense to her.

“He wishes to wed you to show how a sinner can be made righteous. He intends to make you into a dutiful wife who obeys without question.”

“Who does he threaten to guarantee my surrender?”

“Magnus's wife Reena to start with.”

“He knows I would not let another suffer.” Mary sighed. “My father taught me that for every action there is a cause that sets things into motion and creates consequences, good or bad.” She looked to Michael. “There is more to this plan than he tells.”

“Magnus and I also considered this to be a trick to force you to surrender—”

“And you reached the conclusion that Decimus is truthful in his evil,” she finished with a sad smile. “By becoming his obedient wife I surrender everything, my freedom, my will, my very life. My complete surrender demonstrates his complete power.”

She wondered . . . complete power over whom?—for she herself was insignificant in his quest.

“We must leave by tomorrow if we are to arrive at the prescribed time,” Michael said.

“Or Decimus will begin his torture of the innocent. And knowing Magnus he would never allow those he loved to suffer. And to kill Decimus would bring on the wrath of the king and the Church. Decimus has planned well.”

“You need not make a choice at this very moment.”

Her sad smile turned sadder. “The choice was made when Decimus delivered his ultimatum.”

“I swore to protect you.”

“And you have.”

Michael, standing near the hearth, pounded the mantel; the sound of worn wood cracking filled the momentary silence. “This is a life sentence for you. He will be your husband with all husbandly right. You will submit to his every need, his every whim. You will
never
be able to leave him.”

“Complete surrender is what he is looking for.”

“There must be something that can be done.”

Desperation edged his harsh voice and filled Mary with sadness. Decimus had complete control of the situation. There was nothing they could do but submit to his demands. She sighed heavily with the knowledge that for now Decimus had won.

Michael cursed beneath his breath as he walked over to Mary's side and took her gently in his arms. He brought her to him.

Mary clung to him in hopes of never letting go, in hopes of discovering this was all a bad dream that she would suddenly awake from and life would be good.

She laid her head on Michael's shoulder.

“I will always be there for you, Mary.
Always.
”

“I have no doubt of that,” she said and moved slowly out of his arms.

He released her reluctantly. There was no more that could be said between them. The truth presented itself like a blazing message in the sky, scribed by the finger of God.

“I need time to consider all this,” she said, backing away from him.

Michael urged her not to go far and she promised him she would only go to the stream. The flowing water helped soothe her mind, calm her worries, and bring her peace though she feared that never again would she know peace.

She walked with worried steps to the stream and sat beneath a large willow tree, its branches weeping around her.

She had not expected such dire news. She thought they would have more time together. Their love would only grow stronger with time. She hoped the strength of their love would allow him to trust her enough to reveal his identity, sealing their future together.

Sadness settled heavily in her heart. How could she wed Decimus when she loved Michael? How could she live out her days with a stranger? A man she cared nothing for. A man she had feared for the last ten years. A man who tortured and killed the innocent. A man more evil than the devil himself.

The idea that he would hold dominion over her angered her. Choices, however, were not open to her. It was either accept and deal with the consequences of her decision or go insane from constant sorrow and regret.

She struggled with her thoughts and feared losing what sanity she had managed to retain. Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing Michael again, of him never holding her, kissing her, loving her.

Loving
.

She would know no intimacy with Michael and the thought saddened her heart even more. It would be Decimus's hands she would feel on her flesh and Decimus's body joining with hers.

Her skin crawled with gooseflesh and she shivered.

“What shivers your skin?” Michael asked and pushed the weeping branches aside to join her beneath the tree. “You were gone too long.”

“It has been mere minutes.”

“Too long,” he whispered and stroked her lips with his glove-covered finger.

She was glad he had followed her. Precious little time remained for them and she wanted ever second spent beside him.

“The shivers?” he reminded.

She did not wish to burden him with her thoughts. The time they had left was for happy memories. “Concerns that I refuse to fret over right now.”

He took her hand and with one finger traced circles in her palm.

“I like those shivers,” she said, smiling as gooseflesh scurried along her arm.

He stopped suddenly. “I cannot allow you to surrender to Decimus.”

His words tore at her heart. She wanted so badly for him to rescue her just as he had done from her prison cell. But this time the Dark One could not. Her fate had been sealed.

“You cannot prevent it,” she said with regret.

“I cannot let you go.”

“Then do not,” she said. “You promised me you would always be there for me.”

“Aye, you have my word.”

“Then you mean that I will see you from time to time?” she asked though hurried to add: “Only if it does not present a danger to you?”

“I am not done with Decimus.”

She suddenly grew fearful, remembering the Dark One's mission and realizing now he had even more reason to hate Decimus.

“I do not want any harm to come to you.”

“No harm will befall me or you. I will make certain of it.”

She realized then that he would always be nearby, rescuing, helping, plotting against her future husband and forever placing his life in danger.

And
one day
, possibly, rescuing her.

“You will keep yourself safe, promise me this.”

“I promise I will keep both of us safe.”

She rested back against his chest, her head on his shoulder. “We have this day to enjoy. I want to think of nothing else but the two of us and this time we have together.”

“You wish to shut out the world.”

She took his gloved hand in hers. “Aye, only you and I exist, nothing else.”

“And what is it you wish to do?”

“Be happy,” she said with a joy that sprang from deep within her. She jumped to her feet and spun around beneath the willow tree. “We shall eat, laugh, be merry—”

She stopped suddenly and dropped to her knees in front of the cloaked man she loved with her whole heart, her whole being.

“Love,” she said on a whisper. “I want you to love me.”

“I do love you. I will always love you,” he said, reaching out to cup her face.

She rubbed her cheek against his leather glove. “Nay, I want you to
make love
to me.”

The thought had been a faint echo in her mind, and she had paid it no heed when suddenly it had risen in a fury to overwhelm her.

“You do not know what you ask.”

“Aye, but I do,” she said with a soft conviction. “I do not want to completely surrender to Decimus, but I do wish to completely surrender to you.”

He took her face in his hands, holding it gently, lovingly. “I do not want your surrender.”

“Then take my love, for I give it to you freely, willingly, and from the depths of my soul.”

He rested his forehead on hers. “Do you know what you say?”

“Aye, I free myself of Decimus by loving you. He then can have no complete surrender from me and I can have what I ache for—you—if only for tonight.”

“My identity must remain concealed, for your safety as well as mine.”

“I understand,” she said with excitement. “We can wait until dark, or I will keep my eyes closed, or you can blindfold me and then we can love throughout the day.”

He laughed at her joyous enthusiasm. “And when do we rest?”

“We will not need to rest. Time does not exist; it is irrelevant, therefore it will not affect us.”

“If only that were true,” he said, running his finger over her lips and growing hard as he watched her eyes flutter closed and her mouth open to nip playfully at his fingers.

“I want my first time to be with you. I want to know your touch, taste your kiss and feel your body.” She moaned. “Oh, Michael, you have no idea how much I wish to touch you, feel your flesh, and kiss it. I need to know you are real, flesh and blood and not a mere shadow of a man. I want those memories to keep with me forever.”

“What of Decimus?”

“I do not care.”

“You will not go to his bed a virgin.”

“He did not ask for a virgin.”

“He expects one,” Michael said.

“That is his problem.”

“It could very well be yours. I do not wish to put you in harm's way.”

“At this moment, Michael, I have free will. I can make a choice—”

“That will have consequences.”

“Leaving me to choose, fully aware of those consequences.”

“I should say nay,” Michael said.

“Why deny ourselves the love?”

“You will face the consequences of
our
actions, not I.”

“Which I am willing to do.” She pressed a finger to his lips to stop his protests. “The answer is simple, nay or yea, which shall it be?”

A second of silence followed and it felt like an eternity to Mary before she heard him whisper.

“I shall make love to you.”