Nothing Else Matters (31 page)

“You kil ed my father for money?” Stian roared.

“I didn’t kil him. I never intended to kil him.” Ayrfel raised his sword. “Though I’d be happy to kil you.”

As the men moved closer to each other, Eleanor darted out of the relative safety of the shadows. She’d understood only part of their conversation but their intentions were impossible to mistake.

“Put up!” she cried. Any fear she might have had at the sight of the men’s weapons was offset by outrage. “Cry sanctuary, for God’s sake,” she shouted looking from one surprised face to the other. “This is a church.” She spoke with grim, fierce certainty. “You can’t shed blood in the house of God. You’l cal His wrath down on us al if you do.” She put her hand over her abdomen. “Don’t do this, my lord, for the babe’s sake. Not here.”

“Enough men have died!” Beatrice cal ed out. “The girl’s right. Leave be. Please.”

How could he leave be? Stian wondered. What did he care about shedding blood in a church as long as it was done to obtain justice? This man, this man

who he’d hated al his life was responsible for his father’s death. Never mind that he said he hadn’t intended for Roger of Harelby to die, the fact was he had died.

“Remember Thomas Becket,” Eleanor warned.

“Who?”

“There’s been a curse on the king ever since he had Becket murdered in church,” Eleanor told him, the words tumbling out in frantic haste. “Don’t bring a curse down on your head, I beg you.”

Intent on David of Ayrfel , Stian ignored her words. But before Stian could move to join battle, Ayrfel ’s gaze moved speculatively to Eleanor. He edged closer to her.

“Touch my wife,” Stian warned quietly, “and you truly are a dead man. It won’t be a quick death either, that I promise.”

“Aye,” Ranald’s voice chimed in from the church door. “My lord Stian wil surely kil you. But if he doesn’t, I wil .”

“Get out of the way, Eleanor,” Stian ordered without looking at her. He kept his eyes on David of Ayrfel . He caught the man’s gaze with his and held it. He poured al his anger, hatred and determination into the look he gave his cousin. Ayrfel glared back with equal ferocity.

Eleanor moved back until she was once more pressed up against the stone pil ar. The men faced off with only a sword’s length between them. The

danger that crackled in the atmosphere between them drove out any sense of this being a holy place. Instead it took on the aspect of a kil ing ground. Stil she prayed, prayed that her husband would prevail.

“If anything happens to him,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I would do.” Suddenly, the prospect of living without him was worse than al the annoyance of living with him. “Sweet Savior,” she prayed. “Don’t let anything happen to him.”

The men stood with their gazes locked for a long time. No sound stirred in the church, no one moved, not Beatrice or Ranald or her. The swordsmen might have been carved from stone. Neither seemed able to move or to turn away. Time stopped. Eleanor forgot to pray. After a while she forgot to breathe then took in air on a long, painful gasp. Neither man paid any attention to the sound.

She focused entirely on the struggle of wil s between the men. There was something familiar about this silent, stil combat. Eventual y, she recognized what it was she was witnessing, knew where she’d seen this sort of struggle for dominance before.

Wolves, she thought. They’re like a pair of wolves.

She knew whomever looked away first would win. Despite her own fear, Eleanor couldn’t stop a smal , triumphant smile. She had no doubt which of this

pair of wolves was the stronger.

She was proved right a few moments later when David of Ayrfel broke eye contact with Stian. His sword dropped to his side. “Damn you, Harelby!”

Stian paced closer, his gaze stil intent on Ayrfel . His lips were pul ed back in a feral snarl beneath his copper-colored mustache. His weapon was stil held at the ready. Ayrfel backed hastily toward the church door. Ranald graciously stepped aside to let him through when Ayrfel turned to run for the outside.

Stian would have gone after him but Eleanor stepped into his path. “No,” she pleaded. “Let’s have a day with no murder in it. Please.”

She put her hand on his arm, his left arm. He winced and the pain brought him back from the red haze of fury that had been consuming him. “Eleanor?”

She smiled up at him. “Yes. Eleanor.”

She was so little but so strong. “No mouse,” he said. “A lioness perhaps, but no mouse.”

She shook her head. “Not a lioness. A wolf bitch perhaps, but there’s nothing of the cat about me. Or you either, my lord. Let him go,” she added when Stian looked toward the church door. The sound of a horse ridden hurriedly away came from outside as they stood together in another short battle of wil s.

“Let the coward go,” she said. “His knowing he’s a coward is punishment enough.”

Stian gave a deep sigh then nodded. “Enough for now,” he agreed. “Someday, though—” He sheathed his sword. “Today he lives.” He looked back at

Beatrice, whose ravaged face shone out of the shadows. “She’s been punished enough as wel .” He put his good arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Come,

my lady. Let us go back to Harelby.”

The perfect day was clouding over when they left the church. Eleanor looked up at the sky and appreciated the promise of cool rain in the fresh breeze. “I want to go home,” she said as Ranald helped her up on the horse. “I just want to go home.”

“What are you doing here?”

Malcolm turned from speaking to his sister and lifted a wine cup toward Stian. “Congratulate me,” he cal ed out. “I’m getting married.”

Stian came into the hal . Eleanor came in close behind him. It had just begun to rain as they arrived in the bailey. He shook raindrops out of his hair as he came up to his boisterous cousin. Eleanor did not come with him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pul off her wet headrail. She gave him a nod then beckoned for Fiona to attend her as she headed for the tower stairs. He watched her go with a fond smile. The ride back to Harelby had been no

more talkative than the ride to the abbey but there had seemed as if there was a more contented mood to the silence between them. He rubbed his left

arm. He’d left the sling off on the ride home and it didn’t seem any worse for it.

“Tonight, Eleanor,” he promised himself before addressing the smiling Malcolm. “Married? You?” He clapped the other man on the shoulder. “What

woman would be fool enough to have you?”

“Why Long Kate of the Muraghs, of course,” Malcolm answered promptly.

“What?”

When Stian took a surprised step back, Malcolm gestured for a servant to bring the lord of Harelby a cup of wine. “Drink my health while I explain.”

“Long Kate’s my prisoner,” Stian pointed out after he’d swal owed a portion of wine.

“I know that.” Malcolm gestured around the room. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve come to negotiate the marriage contract with you.”

“Me?” What about the Muragh kindred? Stian thought. “What about David of Ayrfel ? He claims to be betrothed to the girl.” Even as he spoke the words a wicked pleasure bubbled up in Stian’s thoughts. “Ayrfel isn’t getting his greedy hands on her dowry.”

“Or on Kate’s pretty hide either,” Malcolm added.

“Kate? Pretty? Are we speaking of the same spitfire?”

“Fiona says she could be pretty,” Malcolm defended the woman he would marry. “This is Fiona’s idea, by the way,” he added. “She thought it up then sent word to me. I think the lass is right. Better one of us married in to the Muragh kindred than adding a troublemaker like Ayrfel to their ranks. Since you’re already taken—”

“Very taken,” Stian agreed.

“Then it’s up to me to marry the girl,” Malcolm offered cheerful y. In a more serious tone he added, “I’l treat the girl kindly. As long as she doesn’t try to stab me in the vitals more than once a month.”

The fact that she was a trained fighter and a sworn enemy didn’t seem to bother Malcolm. Stian supposed it didn’t real y matter, Kate, for al her

fierceness, was only a woman. Someone was going to have to marry her for her lands, dowry and connections. Malcolm was the best choice he could

think of.

“Does the girl know about this yet?”

Malcolm shook his head. “Fiona says it might not be wise to give her time to think on it. No reason for her to give you more trouble than you need.”

“That’s true,” Stian answered. He took Malcolm into a quick hug. “Very wel , cousin, congratulations. Let’s talk over the details. Then we’l send for Long Kate and the priest.”

* * * * *

that leak, she thought.

Turning back to Fiona, she asked, “Who is Malcolm marrying?”

“Katherine,” Fiona answered. The girl looked very pleased. “He’l be good for her, and the Lady knows it is time Malcolm settled with one woman.”

“Katherine,” Eleanor repeated. “Our Kate? The prisoner?” Fiona nodded. “But—”

“Lord Stian wil agree, of that I’m sure,” Fiona told her. “It is a very good arrangement for everyone involved. Kate wil even thank Stian someday.”

Eleanor cringed at the girl’s words. Her heart had been mended a great deal by the events of the last hours, now she was reminded of the worst pain of al . “Thank him?” she asked bitterly. “Thank him? The girl might have been raped.”

“Oh aye.” Fiona nodded. “But for Lord Stian she might have been, though Malcolm claims he would have stopped it if Stian hadn’t.”

“Malcolm claims…?” Eleanor could make no sense of the girl’s words. “What are you saying? That Stian didn’t…that he didn’t want to—” She put her

hand on the damp stone of the wal to support herself. Her head was spinning and she thought her knees were about to buckle. Fiona reached out to touch her cheek. Only then did Eleanor realize tears were spil ing out of her eyes.

“Is that what’s been troubling you, my lady?” Fiona asked.

Eleanor looked away. No one had any business in knowing the troubles of the lady of Harelby. She had to be strong and imperturbable, though she felt as weak and vulnerable as a babe.

“Nothing’s troubling me,” she lied. “No more than concern for having lost my sister and Lord Roger,” she amended. “Nothing more than that.”

“Is that why you’ve been glaring so at Lord Stian then?” Fiona’s tone was serious but Eleanor could also detect a hint of teasing in it.

“I have not been—”

“I thought you were angry with Stian because you didn’t know what to do to civilize Kate. I thought that was why you kept so close to her. Having her in the bower is like having a wildcat in a basket of kittens, isn’t it?” Eleanor nodded at the comparison. Fiona went on. “But you were afraid he would rape her, weren’t you?”

Eleanor looked away. She was beginning to suspect she’d acted like a fool. “I do not wish to speak about it.”

“It was Lars who threatened Kate,” Fiona relentlessly went on. “Kate told me how Stian stopped him. So did Malcolm.”

“Lars?” Eleanor’s voice came out as a whispered rasp as her painful suspicions were torn away. “It was Lars?”

“Oh yes. He’s a bad-tempered one when he’s not near Lady Edythe. I think the reason he insisted they leave so hastily is because he didn’t want her to find out about his threatening Long Kate.”

It hadn’t been Stian. Of course it hadn’t been Stian, her heart sang. Stian is wonderful! How could she have thought so for even a minute? Eleanor gave a silent laugh at her own sudden blindness. Could her suspicion have possibly come from his having kidnapped and threatened her on their wedding night?

Or because the way he’d acted the night his father died? Might it have had something to do with the things he’d said in his fever? How could she have

given any credence to his words? How could she have forgotten how he had respected her wishes when she’d told him no.

They were only fevered ravings, she told herself. Perhaps he’d only been repeating threats he’d stopped Lars from carrying out. “He said—”

“Said what, my lady?”

Eleanor shook her head. “Never mind. Whatever was said meant nothing.”

It was true, she realized. They meant nothing. Not to Stian, who didn’t remember them. They no longer meant anything to her. She’d misjudged him. She

should have trusted her heart.

Her heart? What did her heart have to do with anything?

She shook her head but didn’t try to suppress the foolish, wonderful, heady emotion that flooded through her. She couldn’t stop the smile that felt as if it spread from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to run down to the hal and take her husband in her arms and kiss him until there wasn’t a spot on him her lips hadn’t claimed as her own. She wanted to lead him up to their bed and take his body into hers, make herself his completely. It seemed like such a very long time since they had made love. She wanted the frantic joy of their joining and the contented peace of being held in his strong arms when they were sated and content. She wanted the taste of his flesh and the heat of his kisses. She wanted him.

She had never stopped wanting him. That was why the last days had been fil ed with such pain. Now the pain was at an end. She could start living again, thank the Holy Mother. She almost kissed Fiona for the news that freed her from her heavy grievance against Stian. She did hug the laughing girl.

The only thing that stopped her from running down to the hal and throwing herself in his arms was Malcolm. Her shy husband would not take it wel if he had to put up with Malcolm’s ribald teasing. She didn’t want to do anything to upset him in the least. Stian deserved to be treated kindly, gently, with deference and respect. She would wait, not with any great patience, it was true, but she would wait.

Tonight
, she said to herself as she turned to go up to her room. Tonight she would show him just how solicitous a wife could be.
Solicitous, aye, and
randy too
, she added with a silent chuckle.

When she would have gone into the room at the top of the landing, Fiona put out her hand to stop her. “No, my lady, that’s not your room.” Eleanor gave her a puzzled look and the pleased girl explained, “Lord Stian told me to see to moving your things to the bower. He said it was time you and he took your rightful places in this household. And, my lady,” Fiona went on while Eleanor was absorbing this piece of news, “a messenger arrived while you were