One Snowy Knight (17 page)

While the pikes had been ideal for fighting within the pen, outside the spears were cumbersome compared to wielding a sword. Skena screamed as a wolf launched itself from the shadows at Noel’s back. Not hesitating, she loosed an arrow which flew into his neck, and then another into its chest as it hit the ground.

Noel brought down the black wolf, which finally sent the other fleeing. Both men looked around them to be sure no lurking beasts lingered. At last, lowering their spears, they turned to each other.

“Well, what shall we do for the rest of the morn?” Guillaume laughed. “Let us get within the wall before they grow bolder, drawn by the scent of the blood.” He kicked at the small one he had killed last. “This one is hardly more than skin and bones. The bigger ones seem to have fared better. We need to get someone to come pile them up and then burn them.”

“Nay, we must drag them inside.” When both men stared at her, Skena slung her bow over her shoulder. She rushed to one of the wolves, grabbed his tail, and began dragging him through the snow.

Noel grabbed her arm. “I told you to stay in the blind.”

“If I had stayed in the blind, the wolf would have jumped you from behind, my lord,” she countered.

“You will learn when I give an order I expect it to be obeyed, my lady.” His gaze narrowing on her in anger, he started to pull her toward the entrance.

Guillaume put an arm out to gently restrain him. “Sage advice—which shall serve you well, my friend—never deal with a female when your blood runs hot.”

“I am not going to deal with her—I am going to bloody well beat her,” Noel threatened.

Skena backed up several steps, crashing into the stone wall. Angus had never beaten her. She knew some men beat their wives; few had ever tried in Clan Ogilvie and not felt the strong hand of retribution. She kenned naught of the ways of these Norman-English. Mayhap they felt they had the right to do such to a woman. It brought clear just how little she knew Noel de Servian, despite this growing bond they shared.

Guillaume shook his head and muttered, “Knave. I warned you to wait for a cooler head.”

Noel dropped the pike and moved toward her. “Ah, Skena, lass, I would never lift a hand to you.” His hand reached out and stroked her hair. Trembling, she did not trust her voice to answer with strength, so she looked away from his handsome face. His bent finger lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me you do not tremble because you fear me.”

Guillaume picked up his sword where he had left it just inside the pen while he used the spear. He nudged Noel’s arm with the pommel. “Let us drag
her
wolves inside and then return to the
dun.
She is shaking from the cold and the excitement. You need to get her warm. I need to get
me
warm.”

Skena, still traumatized, was in no mood to deal with arrogant males. Ignoring them, she looked to Galen who had rushed in when he saw her backing up from de Servian. “Have the bodies dragged to the tanner. He will deal with them. Tell Cook to go there. Secure the gate with the swords as we did before so they will not try to get in again,” she told the elderly man.

“Skena, as soon as we are done here we needs must talk.” Noel stared at her.

So the new lord of Craigendan assumes command of her fortress. She nodded in resignation. “Aye, my lord.”

“Meat?” De Servian echoed as he slammed the door to the lord’s chamber. Rounding on Skena, he glared at her. “You were serious. Of all the stupid, half-wit—no,
quarter-wit
—notions! I still have a mind to turn you over my knee.” He waggled his finger before her face.

Skena glared back at the fuming man despite his formidable presence. Tall men always held an advantage when they wanted to appear menacing, and de Servian was calling upon every measure of his fierce warrior mien. Still, his words instilled less alarm now he had vowed that he would never raise a hand to her in anger. She believed him. In spite of knowing him only a few days, she sensed honor in this man. Her inner voice spake she could trust Noel de Servian; he was a man of his word. Right now, regardless of the flashing eyes and set jaw, she little feared him. Oh, the man clearly had a temper.

Well, after all these years she was discovering she had one as well. Putting her fisted hands on her hips, she said, “You would not dare.”

“Watch me.” Noel reached out to grab her arm, only to have her duck away from him, putting first a tall stool and then the table between them.

“Actually, my plan was well thought out and would have worked,” Skena defended her actions. “Except…”

Noel rounded the table’s corner, closing in on her. “Except what?”

Skena hesitated to say she had been distracted by Angus, standing on the landing of the boulevard. Though she knew what she had seen, she still had trouble accepting it. De Servian would naturally assume her feeble-minded, or as she accused Dorcas, allowed her grief to make her hope for things that would never be.

Not that she was grieving, which tweaked her conscience. Despite all the trials, tribulations, and sheer panic this year had brought her, there was a sense of freedom from the stifling marriage and the humiliating situation foisted upon her by Angus and Dorcas. For the short span of these past months, no matter how dire things grew, she had been master of her destiny. She made decisions instead of waiting for Angus to rule how matters would be. The faint spark of her young girl’s dreams had continued to live in her heart, despite Angus’s spirit-crushing notions of marriage, which relegated her to little more than a servant or brood mare. That small hope had fanned to life with her thinking there might be a future with Noel on the horizon. This handsome man with the bespelling eyes provoked her to almost believe wishes could come true.

Angus’s return would shatter all. She would be pushed back into a loveless marriage, a union where her only value had been the land she brought him and the son she bore. A marriage where he arrogantly thought he had the right to keep another woman as a lover, regardless of the humiliation it heaped upon her. Before, she had existed in a situation that sapped the life out of her, shredded her self-respect, and nearly killed all her dreams. Now it would destroy her.

“I planned to open the door and quickly step into the trap…. Something distracted me. My fault. I should have kept my mind on what was happening,” she admitted, skirting around the other side of the table, about three steps ahead of the bedeviling man.

“Something?” Noel kept stalking her. “Pray, what was important enough to pull you away from protecting your life? Those wolves could have killed you, Skena. And for wolf meat? Is this some odd Scottish custom like your haggis?”

“Nay…. ’Tis desperation, Lord de Servian.” She tossed up her hands, fighting the helplessness rising in her. “’Tis doing what I must to survive, to see my people survive. I fear your king did you nary a boon giving you Craigendan.”

“Edward Plantagenet oft fails to see the worth in things. I am not so foolish as to repeat his mistake. Craigendan is my wish fulfilled, Skena.” He stopped before her, his eyes meeting hers with a plea for understanding. The unhealed pain of a scared little boy flickered in the shimmering silver depths.

Emotion clogged her throat as she understood what he was telling her. Edward Longshanks had given him the chance to have something he had lacked his whole life. Skena hurt all the more. Noel de Servian craved a family, a home to replace what he once lost. Instead of a place worthy of this man, he was given a rundown fief with dire prospects if they did not receive aid to get them through to spring.

“’Tis you who are blinding yourself. Craigendan has few men. Only elderly, lame, or boys remain,” she confessed. She owed him the truth. He would find out soon enough. Better that he be prepared before he assumed the mantle of baron in front of her people.

Noel frowned. “Who has been protecting the keep?”

“Sleight of hand and mummery. My women don the armor of men and patrol the walls. I do not send them out to ride the boundaries as that would be too risky. Most have never been upon a horse anyway.” She sighed. “The ruse served us well, else trouble would have already reared its head from Duncan Comyn or Dinsmore Campbell.”

“How long—” He paused, understanding hitting him. “Since Dunbar?”

Skena nodded. “Aye. Angus took all the men who could fight, foolishly thinking they would return in a few weeks. Well, they never came back.” She sat down on the bench. So tired of the struggle. “Summer saw one of the worst droughts scorch the land, drying up crops. We worked from dawn to dusk trying to save what we could, but the effort was wasted. Quickly, it became a fight to keep the livestock alive. Stores are down. ’Tis why we make use of silverweed and wolf meat to fill out the supplies this past sennight.”

“Why did you not go to Challon? He would have supplied soldiers and food.”

Skena gave a feeble shrug, feeling imprudent for not having done as he said, ashamed for being selfish. “Fear, I suppose.” She looked up at him and attempted to smile at her folly. “I was scared what would happen to me and the children. If I made the situation known to Earl Challon, then he would set his own man here as lord, mayhap force me to marry him.”

He sat down on the bench beside her and took her hand. “Well, Skena MacIain, whether you believe in wishes or not, your children do, and they wished for a knight to come care for you. I am that knight. I have long hungered for a home and a family. I believe my wish was answered in my coming here. Allow me to save you from the fate of losing all. I know the taste only too well. Shortly, I need to face your people, tell them that I am the new lord here. Mayhap…we should also inform them that on a day of your choosing you and I shall wed. You will not be forced to marry, mind. I ask your consent.”

Skena could hardly breathe, his words so filled her heart. De Servian was asking her to wed him? “Marry?”

“Aye. ’Tis sudden, I know. Only our short time together tells me all I need to know I would be most pleased with you as my lady wife. Methinks your children already see me as theirs.” He gave a soft laugh. “Cipher upon your response before you tend it. True, we are but strangers. This winter can be spent learning about each other. Come spring, we can start to build a life here.”

Despair slammed into her, pushing Skena to jump to her feet and blindly walk to the fireplace. She leaned her head against the stones and silently allowed the tears to come. More than anything in the world she wanted to give Noel de Servian her troth, to look upon the bright promise of the future he offered. Only her mind was tossed back to seeing Angus standing on the stairs, just before the wolves pushed through the postern door.

“Skena, what is it?” Noel came to stand just behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, then slid them down to her upper arms. “Did I say aught to upset you? Tell me I am not wrong, that there exists this special bond betwixt us, something very rare. Did I misspeak?”

“Nay, there is bond, rare and pure,” she admitted in a pained whisper.

He turned her to face him. “Then you will plight your troth with me? Mayhap on the eve of Christmas? Do you not think it a good omen to marry a man named Noel on that day?”

He pulled her into his arms, those strong arms, holding her against his body. Mayhap, it was too soon to know all about this man, yet Skena sensed this is where she belonged, the only place on earth she wanted to be. She was already falling in love with Noel. Time would only serve to strengthen their connection. Though they were strangers, she had no doubt this man was that part of her heart that had always been missing.

“Skena, trust in wishes. Say yes,” he pleaded.

Skena stared into his handsome face, into the gray eyes that sparkled with magic. She would kill for Noel de Servian. She would die for him. But she could not marry him. It was a dagger to her heart.

“You do me an honor in the asking…but I cannot wed with you.” She was barely able to force the words out.

He stared as if not believing her answer to be true. “Why? You know we would suit. You feel it. I know you do.”

“Oh, aye. You are all I could wi—” She started to say wish, but changed it, “want in a husband.”

His frown deepened. “Then explain, Skena. I want you for my lady wife. You say I am what you would wish for in a husband. Do not avoid the word. Guillaume says the people of Glen Shane and Glen Eallach already accept them as the lords there. I can win the approval of your people…my people…our people.”

“I have no doubt you will make a good lord for this holding.”

Skena’s heart broke, as she knew it would be a life without her. She could not marry him. She could not stay here. If she remained she would fall into being his lover. There would be no resisting him. He would have to marry to father a son, an heir. She would be forced to watch him with another woman. Worse, she would be cast into the same spot of shame that Dorcas had filled in her life. She would never do to another woman what had been done to her.

“Unspoken thoughts haunt that statement. You say you cannot wed with me. Then explain.” The muscle in right side of his jaw jumped, signaling his refusal to accept her answer.

She closed her eyes, fighting against the burning anguish. When she opened them she gave him the truth. “Angus,” was all she managed to get out.

De Servian’s head lifted slowly. “Skena, sorry I am for your loss, but life marches on…for us all. What has he to do with your answer?”

“Everything…. He has
everything
to do with my refusal. I cannot marry with you, Noel de Servian, though it might be my heart’s desire, because I am already the wife of another man.”

He frowned. “And that man is dead, Skena. Your vows to him ended when he drew his last breath. The practice of the widow following her lord husband onto the funeral pyre went the way of the Vikings.”

Skena shook her head. “Nay, he is not dead. I saw him on the boulevard stairs. ’Tis what distracted me when I went to let the wolves in.”

Sympathy clear in his silver eyes, Noel’s tense muscles seemed to ease. “Ah, lass. I understand only too well letting go is hard. Grief pulls at the heart. Sometimes the mind plays us for a fool. We see what we want to see, not what is real.”

“’Tis not what I wanted, but what I saw truly. I spotted him on the boulevard, and then he descended the stairs. Moonlight hit half his face. I saw him, Noel.”

Noel shook his head to the side. “’Tis not possible. You simply mistook another man for him.”

“Did you not listen before? There are
no
men here young and fit enough to pass for Angus.”

“Likely, it was one of Guillaume’s men then,” he suggested.

“Nay, they are clean shaven like you and Baron Lochshane. This man wore a beard and the braids of a chief.”

“Then where is he now? If Fadden had returned, do you not think the man would come through the front gate and announce his arrival?” His right hand gently stroked her cheek. “I am sorry, Skena. Your husband died on the field at Dunbar. There is no shred of doubt. There were witnesses. Edward gave me Craigendan because he was made aware of the man’s death and knew the fortress would need a knight to hold it. Edward conferred the title on me in April. I had been wounded in the battle and was slow to heal, which is why it took me so long to come claim the holding. Originally, plans were for me to accompany Damian St. Giles to Glen Shane. He was to assume command of Lyonglen and I Craigendan. Since I am already sworn to Challon, Edward knew it would only cement Julian’s control here to place me as baron.”

The quiet logic of his words made Skena feel childish. He was right—Edward had sent Noel as new lord here because Angus was dead. Even so, she could not banish the dark image from her mind. Mayhap guilt preying upon her caused her to see a man who was dead? She would never wish Angus harm; even so she did not want him back as her husband. Instead, she wanted to be the wife of this man who believed in wishes, wanted to believe dreams could come true for her.

Reaching out, his large hands cradled her face as if he held the most rare and precious treasure. “Skena, I can make you forget him. Just give me time.” He was so close the words fanned across her face, just before he lowered his mouth to hers.

Skena’s breathing was shallow, rapid, as his gentle lips teased, giving her a taste of pleasure…making her hungry for more. Dizzy with anticipation, she closed her eyes and pushed up on her tiptoes, craving more of the sensations he conjured within her. Eager for all he could show her.

Most vexing, he pulled back. “Open your eyes, Skena.” That probing gaze raked over her features, almost as if he were memorizing every curve, every shadow of her face. “You know naught of the ways of kissing, do you, lass?”

She heard the puzzlement in his voice, felt ashamed he found her lacking. Unable to meet his stare, she glanced down. “I am sorry….”

He laughed. The bloody man laughed at her! She felt like punching him.

“Do not look angry or hurt, my sweet Skena. It will be my honor to show you these wondrous pleasures.” Noel tilted her chin up a little. “Open your mouth slightly….” The corner of his mouth crooked up as a wicked twinkle flashed in his eyes. His lips, ever so lightly, brushed against hers.

Pulling back he watched the reactions playing across her face. Skena knew she could not hide them from him. What she saw reflected in his eyes robbed her of the ability to think, to draw air, made her want to believe in wishes. This time he tilted her head back slightly and then pulled her chin down to open her mouth. This kiss sent shivers down the backs of her thighs.