The Darkland (11 page)

"But she has
accused me of murder!" Edmund said with outrage.  "I would know who
told her such lies!"

Kirk looked at Mara, who
immediately thrust up her chin stubbornly. Even in the face of an angry lord,
she was characteristically brave. And mayhap foolish. "I do not know their
names, my lord,” she said.

Kirk knew it was a lie. He
watched as Edmund approached, his freckled face taut with emotion. Kirk was
also quite aware that he himself tensed, preparing to defend Mara from any
physical punishment Edmund might choose to deliver.

"Then if you do not
know their names, you will describe them," Edmund demanded. "Tell me
now!"

Mara wasn't the least
bit intimidated by him. "It will not help to shout at me."

"I am not
shouting!"

"You are, my lord,
and I find that your howling has upset my head," she turned away from him
as if entirely disinterested in the conversation. "If you will excuse me,
I shall retire for the evening."

Edmund reached out and
grabbed her by the arm. Raising his open palm, his downward motion was stopped
by a grip so powerful that he yelped in pain. Gazing up, he realized with shock
that that Kirk had prevented him from venting his rage on the obstinate young
girl.

The gleam to the
stone-gray eyes was most disturbing. "That," Kirk growled,
"would not be wise, Edmund. I suggest you return to your meal and permit
me to escort Lady Mara to her chamber."

As Edmund stared into
his chilling expression, he realized that he was frightened of Kirk. Truly
frightened. But he was also terribly offended.

"You
defend
her?" he hissed. "I am your liege, Kirk. 'Tis your duty to support me
without question!"

"Not when it comes
to beating helpless women," Kirk released Edmund’s hand. Grasping Mara by
the arm, he struggled to maintain his calm; he, too, could hardly believe what
he had just done. "Trust that I shall deal with the lady in a less painful
manner. You will excuse us."

He whisked Mara from the
room before Edmund could express his astonishment. Once sheltered by the long,
cool corridor leading to the foyer of Anchorsholme, he thrust Mara into a
secluded alcove and pulled the tapestry closed. When he faced her, she could
read nothing but fury on his face.

"Kirk," she
said softly. "I...."

His piercing gaze
cleaved her words. "You will listen to me, lady, and listen well. Never
again will you show such stupidity by spouting accusations that are hardly
concrete. The tales of the Darkland are not to be trivialized in any way, for
they hold more power and terror than you can imagine. Do you understand?"

He was rigid with anger.
Fearful of him for the first time since their introduction, Mara nodded weakly.
"I... I am sorry, Kirk. But he was threatening Micheline and..."

"And did I not tell
you that I would protect her?" he fired back, his tone harsh. "Do you
not trust me, Mara? Or are you so young and foolish that you would place
yourself in jeopardy simply to gain a small measure of revenge on your sister's
behalf?"

She lowered her gaze,
close to tears of anger and shame. He was right and she was well aware of the
fact; still, his scolding upset her. Even more than the spanking had.

"I suppose I am
young and foolish, my lord," she said, refusing to look at him. "I
have always been outspoken, flagrantly so. I would have thought you to realize
that by now."

He loomed over her, jaw
ticking with emotion. "Curb it, Mara. Or it will be the end of you."

She was wedged into the
corner of the alcove, picking distractedly at her nails. "Then let it end
me. At least my end will be honestly met, speaking my mind for what is right
and just. If it is not to your approval, then that is your misfortune."

He shook his head
slowly. "Christ, you're a stubborn creature."

She turned to him, then.
"Aye, I am. And I refuse to go through life being reprimanded by you every
time I open my mouth. If you were serious when you proposed marriage, Kirk
Connaught, then I suggest you reconsider. You will not find a perfect wife in
me."

He stared at her. Long
and hard. "Mayhap you are right. Mayhap I have been fooling myself all
along."

Mara felt as if she had
been hit in the stomach. She hadn't expected him to agree so readily. Before
she could respond, however, he grasped her by the arm again and pulled her from
the alcove. Silent and brooding, he escorted her to the chamber she shared with
Micheline and left without another word.

When Micheline came to
bed less than an hour later, she noticed that Mara's pillow was saturated with
dampness. As she stood and watched her sleeping sister with concern, more tears
trailed down her temples and onto the linen. Puddling, weakening. Expressing
her sorrow.

When the dawn finally
came, the tears were still falling.

***

 "Another missive,
Kirk."

Niles was in Kirk's
chamber before daybreak, a rolled message in his hand. Kirk rose from his bed,
naked, and snatched the vellum.

"Where's the
rider?" he asked, his voice scratchy.

"In the
kitchens," Niles replied, his blue eyes shadowed. He had been on sentry
duty all night and was particularly weary. "He said the missive was for
you alone."

Kirk unrolled the
parchment, his gray eyes struggling to read the contents under the weak candlelight.
Reaching the bottom of the page, he sighed and re-rolled the vellum.

"Well?" Niles
demanded softly.

"It's from
Drew," Kirk put the parchment aside and went in search of his hose.
"Apparently, the potential of a revolt is greater than father indicated.
Drew is worried that father will wait until it is too late before summoning
help. They need a mediator immediately."

"You?"

Kirk pulled on his breeches,
securing them. "Drew requests that I come," he said. "I must
speak with Edmund on the matter."

Niles watched the man as
he donned his tunic. "After what happened last night, are you sure Edmund
will receive you?"

Kirk cocked an eyebrow.
"I am his captain, Niles. Of course he will receive me."

Niles sighed, sitting on
the edge of the bunk as Kirk splashed water on his face and wiped it off.
"You're quite smitten with her, aren't you?"

Kirk did not say
anything. Collecting his boots, he sat next to his friend as he pulled them on.
"She's a handful, Niles. A hellion of the worst sort."

"And how is that?"

Kirk snorted softly,
rising from the bed and peeling back the oilcloth on his lancet window to
reveal the lightening horizon. "She's knows she's a hellion and she
doesn't care. As much as I like her spirit, she must learn to control
herself."

"Before or after
you marry her?"

Kirk continued to stare
at the sky, turning shades of pink and gold. "Who said anything about
marriage?"

Niles chuckled, rising
from the mattress. "No one, my friend," he put his hand on Kirk's
broad shoulder. "Back to the subject at hand, do you wish for me to
prepare an escort bound for Ireland?"

Kirk nodded faintly,
thoughts still on Mara as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. He'd hardly
slept all night thinking of her. "Better still, I plan to solicit our
allies for support. Prepare a small party to accompany me to Quernmore Castle.
After Edmund’s marriage, I shall ride north and ask Lord le Vay for military
commitment. The man owes us after we aided him in ridding his territory of
gypsies last year."

Niles opened the door.
"Ah, yes, Edmund’s marriage," he shook his head. "I heard
yesterday that Johanne sent for the priest. Going through with this rather
quickly and unobtrusively, are they not?"

"Edmund simply
wants to be done with it, I think."

"What is going to
happen when Lady Micheline realizes her husband is sharing his bed with his
sister?"

Kirk shook his head with
disgust. "God only knows. For Edmund’s sake, he had better be kind to the
woman. She's an extremely decent woman, far too decent for Edmund."

The corridor was heavy
with smoke as they stepped into it, the result of low-burning torches. "So
you are Lady Micheline's protector as well, are you?" Niles smiled
knowingly. "How chivalrous. The little hellion certainly has you wrapped
around her finger."

Kirk couldn't deny the
truth. No matter how much he wanted to.

                           
***

The priest from Crosby
was a tall, thin man with a hooked nose. He looked rather unassuming standing
before Micheline and Edmund, wedding the two as if he were simply carrying on a
conversation rather than a wedding mass. Clad in pale yellow brocade that had
been her mother's finest dress, Micheline stood regally as the dreaded union
took place.

Edmund yawned, sighed,
and picked his nose as the mass was intoned. Johanne was amazingly attentive on
her brother's right, while Mara, Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda stood silent just
behind Micheline. Niles, Corwin and Kirk brought up the rear.

Mara could feel Kirk
standing behind her, her stomach twisting painfully as the priest conducted the
mass. Niles had escorted Micheline to the grand hall for the ceremony while
Mara had been left in the company of Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda. Kirk was
nowhere to be found and nearly missed the ceremony altogether, rushing in from
the bailey at the last moment clad in worn battle armor.

Mara had been aching
since last night to catch a glimpse of him. But the moment she heard his voice,
she turned her attention to the priest and refused to look in his direction.
Miserably, she listened as her sister wed a man the entire castle thought to be
a murderer while Kirk's presence seemed to creep all over her, invading her
senses and mind.

She should have been
focused on Micheline but found she could not concentrate. Even this morning,
helping her sister dress, her attention had been obviously diverted. Micheline
never did find out what had happened, what had made Mara cry all night, but she
suspected the reason. When Kirk did not appear first thing in the morning to
greet them, her suspicions were confirmed.

The ceremony was over as
quickly as it began. Edmund turned away from the priest, asking Kirk to pay the
man as he cast a reluctant glance to his pink-cheeked bride. With a weak wave
of his hand, he summoned the woman to follow and quit the hall with Johanne on
his heels. Chagrinned and miserable, Micheline struggled to remain composed as
the knights and ladies congratulated her.

Kirk finished paying the
priest, watching as Mara and Micheline lost themselves in private conversation.
They held hands tightly, Mara whispering something he couldn't hear. But the
compassion on her face, the ache for her sister, spoke volumes and Kirk felt
himself weakening.

Even if she was a
hellion, a willful wench with an uncontrollable mouth, she was still the most
beautiful, sensitive woman he had ever met. Her untamed words had always been
in defense of her sister, or another worthy cause, never selfish or trite. If
there was one thing Mara le Bec was not, it was self-centered. The woman had a
heart of gold.

Aye, he had been angry
at her last night. Angry that she proven her control over him, control he had
freely given. If he should be angry at anyone, it should be himself; he was the
one who allowed himself to become smitten with her. Smitten enough to the point
of falling in love with the bright-eyed beauty.

The grand hall cleared,
Niles and Corwin escorting Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda into the solar. The
wedding had taken place after the morning meal and the servants were eager to
prepare the hall for the nooning feast, but Mara and Micheline remained huddled
together, ignoring all else around them, as Kirk hovered several feet away.
When the wait became excessive, Kirk gently cleared his throat.

"Lady de Cleveley,"
he addressed Micheline softly. "Your husband awaits, madam."

Micheline was crying. As
Kirk approached, she wiped her face quickly and struggled to regain her
composure. "I... I know," she whispered. Then, her pale eyes turned
to him. "Will you be escorting me to him?"

Kirk nodded faintly.
"It would be an honor."

Mara was still clutching
Micheline, her lovely face dark. "I shall go with you and help you
prepare."

Kirk shook his head,
reaching down to dislodge the sisters' grip. He did not want Mara near Edmund
or Johanne, irritating an already strained situation. "That will not be
necessary, lady."

Mara flared as he took
Micheline away from her. "Of course it is necessary,” she snapped. “She
needs me.”

He refused to look at
her, focused on Micheline. "Are you ready, my lady? We shall take the long
route if it pleases you."

Micheline managed to
smile weakly. "How long? Hours?"

He cocked an eyebrow.
"By way of Paris if you like."