Everlasting (46 page)

 
DARKNESS FELL BEFORE Thurstan’s men could reveal themselves, and although the castle residents and guests knew that they might find themselves surrounded come morning, for now they shared a simple meal together in thanksgiving for their safe arrival. Conversations were subdued, and people ate in haste, needing to gather their families close in the night.

 
After Cedric and Raven toured the castle grounds one last time, Cedric rested before the hearth to clean his battle-ax.

 
Lord Reginald Grayson approached him and cleared his throat. “Laird Cedric—”

 
“‘Laird Cedric’?” the Scotsman interrupted. “Reggie, havena the two of us progressed beyond the use of titles these past months? Ye’ve called me Cedric almost from the time we met.”

 
Feeling a rising warmth in his cheeks, Reginald offered an awkward smile. “Aye, I suppose I have, Cedric. In all truth, it was my wife who urged me to approach you, and although now may not be the time, we know not what the future holds. ’Tis about…our daughter.”

 
Cedric grew even more baffled. “I admire the Lady Cordelia as much as any lass alive. If she has mayhap taken offense with my teasing, then I’ll surely mend my ways.”

 
“She has not been offended,” Reginald stated. “On the contrary, she has been much heartened.”

 
Cedric nodded slowly, thinking he understood what his friend was trying to tell him. “Well, she is a comely lass, but I shall make every attempt ta be more respectful in her presence so ye and the Lady Isolde willna be offended. Ta be sure, the Lady Cordelia makes my very heart sing, and I’m supposing I’ve gone a wee bit beyond the behavior of more dignified men in my wont ta sing her praises.”

 
“Please be assured that none of my family has been offended,” Reginald replied.

 
Now utterly confused, Cedric set aside his ax. “Then what in all creation are ye trying ta say, Reggie?”

 
“We…ah…that is, Isolde and I have been wondering if you are truly interested in having our daughter to wife?”

 
Cedric harrumphed. “Well, ta be honest, I dinna consider the fires of my youth ta be entirely quenched yet…not that I’d ever be supposing something more could come of my friendship with the Lady Cordelia. Were I a score of years younger, I’d set my heart firmly on having the lass for my very own.”

 
“And that is exactly why I’ve come to you, to assure you that Isolde and I wouldn’t think ill of you if you were to court our daughter,” Reginald explained in a rush.

 
Cedric canted his head as he peered at the man more intently. “And such a thing would be ta the Lady Cordelia’s liking as well?”

 
“Actually, she was the one who brought the matter to our attention by asking if we’d be amenable to such an idea. I think the danger of our journey made her contemplate her future. I’ve yet to find a suitor for my daughter who is more pleasing to me. Isolde and I both want to be able to enjoy our grandchildren ere we depart this life.”

 
“I canna lie. Merely the idea of taking ta wife so bonny a lass makes me feel young again. Even so, there are a vast number of years separating the lass and me. I’m wont ta worry that I’d be doing the Lady Cordelia a disservice by marrying her. Many a young man would be overjoyed ta court the lass, so she may come ta rue our mar
riage should we be too hasty. As much as I’d be delighted ta have such an honor, the lass may need more time ta consider the notion.” He paused. “Did she know beforehand that ye’d be conferring with me?”

 
“Nay, after voicing the question to Isolde, I hadn’t the heart to approach Cordelia until I had spoken with you. If you should decide against taking my daughter to wife, nothing more will be said of it. Please be assured that our friendship will continue on as before.”

 
Nodding his head, Cedric clasped Reginald’s hand in a firm grip. “Then we’ll be leaving it here till I’ve thought on this matter more and am satisfied the lass wants no other man but me for her husband.”

 
THAT NIGHT, IN an ornately constructed prayer closet that had once belonged to Raven’s mother, Abrielle pleaded fervently for the protection of those who had remained behind to watch over the keep. In a world that now seemed in total disarray, there were no guarantees that life would ever return to the way it was when Henry reigned. Although of human origin, many ravenous wolves were still prowling about drooling for want of blood and plunder.

 
When Raven still did not come to her, Abrielle went in search of him, accepting the assistance of the captain of the guard, who guided her up the narrow stairs to the battlements. The shock of the wind whipped her cloak about her legs, and she clutched the warm cloth to her neck. The moon had risen, and between that and the pools of torchlight, she saw Raven standing alone, looking out into the darkness. The captain of the guard ensured her safety as she walked the length of the battlements, until she had Raven’s arm about her, and his warm smile to cheer her.

 
When they were alone, he said, “My wife isna content in her new chambers?”

 
“You know that they are beautiful,” she murmured, snuggling against
him, her head tucked beneath his chin. “All of our guests and family are settled, and though you need rest, still I find you here.”

 
He shrugged. “I canna help it.”

 
His soothing voice rumbled deep inside her whenever they touched.

 
“I trust my people implicitly,” he continued, “and I ken that all is done as Da and I wish, yet…de Marlé is out there somewhere, waiting, choosing his time.”

 
“Would he be foolish enough to attack at night?”

 
“Nay, ’twould na benefit him with castle walls ta protect us.”

 
“Then come to bed.”

 
It took every shred of his willpower to look away from the temptation she presented simply by breathing and peer at the dark countryside. “Soon.”

 
She hesitated. “I had not thought to have this talk in such a strange place, but perhaps you need to hear it now. What if I were to tell you that I’m with child?”

 
He gave a start, then took her by the arms and stared down at her face as if everything he ever needed or wanted to know was to be found in her gentle eyes. For a moment he did not trust himself to speak around the swelling in his throat. “A bairn,” he said softly. “My bairn.”

 
“Then you are happy?”

 
He laughed and kissed her swiftly and then enfolded her in his embrace. “Happy? Aye, ye’ve made me that, sweet Abrielle.”

 
“Then welcome home,” she whispered.

 
He laid his large hand on her stomach, and she sighed. Feeling a new hopefulness, she was inclined to think of the joy their children would bring to them. She told herself that her marriage would not always be filled with the tension of sieges and attacks. She and Raven had to live for the future—and the infant growing inside her.

 
BEFORE DAWN, A horn sounded to alert the household, all of whom were already up preparing for the grim day. Those not in the courtyard rushed outside, only to see soldiers running at them, waving them back, their faces harsh with fear.

 
The first volley of fiery arrows lit the sky, rivaling the coming sunrise, raining down on the courtyard from where Abrielle and the women had just fled.

CHAPTER 22

 
Under a dark sky that the sun didn’t pierce, the sight of flames flying in the sky made one stare in horror. The terrible screams of frightened people jolted Abrielle back to life, her heart lurching painfully. Although the women were urged back inside, and Isolde dragged Elspeth within the keep, Abrielle could not go. Most of the burning arrows landed harmlessly in the dirt of the courtyard, but several hit the roof of the stables and the barracks, and men were forced to climb up, passing buckets to one another to douse the blaze.

 
A lone shriek made her whirl around, and she saw a child staggering, waving her burning sleeve in fear. Abrielle ran to her and used her own skirt to smother the flames. She handed the dazed child to her sobbing mother, and then ran about the courtyard, stamping flames wherever she saw them on the ground.

 
In minutes the fires were extinguished, and she waited in shock, wondering when the next volley would be launched.

 
“What is happening?” she demanded of Raven’s captain of the guard as he rushed past her. “Why have they stopped?”

 
The man turned briefly. “They don’t have the men or equipment to force their entrance, so they are using your fear against you, my lady. They want you to wonder when the next attack will come.”

 
There were sudden shouts from the soldiers on the battlements only moments before another volley of flaming arrows cleared the curtain wall.

 
“We’re trained in this, my lady,” the captain called as he began to run toward the barracks. “Our own archers even now fire constantly on the enemy, who must dodge or hold their shields above their heads. Fear not!”

 
At least the children were now safe inside, Abrielle thought, glad she didn’t have to hear such a piercing scream again, one that had frozen the very marrow in her bones. She was not the only woman to remain in the courtyard, smothering flames with blankets, shouting and pointing when a fire started where they couldn’t reach. Men were stationed at the wells, constantly bringing up water and filling buckets.

 
Overhead, the clouds roiled, but no rain fell to aid them. The air was oppressive with the hesitation of the storm, and the heat of the flames that sometimes resisted death. An hour later, there was a larger gap between the launching of the arrows, and Abrielle had a moment to stare about her. The dovecote had gone up in flames, and no one had been able to save the poor birds. A pile of hay near the stables still smoldered. Women and men sagged wearily wherever they could sit during a moment’s respite. Faces were blackened, garments charred, and hair singed.

 
“Abrielle!”

 
She heard her husband’s stern voice.

 
“What are ye doing?” he demanded fiercely. “Go inside at once!”

 
“I will not! I am doing nothing more strenuous than stamping on flames.”

 
“I demand that ye—”

 
“This is my home now, is it not?” she cried. “I will protect it, too!”

 
Raven had never felt such fear in his life as when he espied his wife—the woman he loved more than life and who was carrying his child—darting from the path of flaming arrows. Inside him a surge of tenderness warred with his need to see her safe.

 
“I’ll care for her!”

 
Raven and Abrielle turned to see Cordelia marching toward them. Wisps of blond hair stood out from her dirty face, and she dragged a singed cloth behind her that she’d obviously been using to fight the flames.

 
“Can you take her inside?” Raven demanded.

 
“I shall try,” Cordelia said firmly. “Now go do what you need to.”

 
With a nod, Raven loped away toward the stairs leading to the battlements.

 
Abrielle folded her arms across her chest. “I shall not go.”