The Pendulum (5 page)

Airin was sixteen, Madeline fifteen, when Jason Bothwell wooed Madeline. Her father protested that Airin should marry first, but she refused to wed simply to satisfy tradition. If she 42

The Pendulum

by Tarah Scott

had insisted that Madeline wait—her knees weakened—would she have discovered the truth before her sister? Might she have saved Madeline a childless marriage? Her conscience, rubbed raw by sleepless nights and the ceaseless churning of her thoughts, gave way. She reached for the wall.

"Airin! What is it, child?"

Gnarled, firm hands grasped her shoulder, then slipped around her back, eased her forward three paces, then down onto a nearby bench. Cerdwin pressed Airin's head against her breast.

"'Tis not so bad," the old woman crooned. "Most men dinna' mistreat their women. Look at your father. No man more adored a wife." She rocked Airin as if she was a child and, for the first time since Madeline's death, Airin did not hold back the tears. "There, there," Cerdwin said into her hair.

"She was so young," Airin whispered through a sob.

"A mere eighteen," Cerdwin agreed. "But she is safe in God's bosom."

Did God welcome sin-tainted man back into his bosom?

Yes, Airin thought. If the fires of Hell punished killers, the innocent were surely rewarded.

"Ye cannot live life for the dead, child. Madeline would not ask it."

The sound of a door opening echoed down the stairs leading to the third floor. "The matter shall be finished this very day," her father said.

Airin straightened from Cerdwin's grasp.

"Aye, my lord," came Deryll's voice.

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Airin locked gazes with her maid. The pad of the mens'

boots said they were headed for the stairs. She seized her skirt and dabbed at her eyes, but instantly realized the futility of the effort and jumped to her feet, searching wildly about as if she had forgotten the castle's every nook and cranny.

Cerdwin seized her hand, placed a finger to her lips, then pulled her down the hall. Before Airin could stop her, she opened the nearest door—the Scarlet Knight's bedchamber.

Airin glanced back as the maid tugged her into the room, then clicked the door shut.

"The secret passage," Airin whispered, and hurried around the bed to the small table against the wall.

She glanced at the charred remains of the shredded curtains before dropping to her knees in search of the candle that had started the fire. At sight of melted wax mixed with burnt fabric, she cursed. Foolish. Of course, the candle had not survived the fire. She leapt to her feet and took three paces toward the secret door. What need had she of light?

She knew these passageways well enough to traverse them blind.

She ran a finger along the edge of a panel until she detected the spring. She prayed no one had locked the door from the inside, and pressed it. The door sprang open. Thank God the room her father had given Deryll was one of the three connected by the passageways.
How much better to
have chosen a hiding place other than the knight's
bedchamber?
Airin glanced back to see Cerdwin, ear pressed against the door.

"Cerdwin," she called in a whisper.

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The maid abruptly straightened and backed up against the wall. The door opened. Airin's eyes widened at sight of Deryll.

He raised a brow. "What have we here?"

Curse him. In her fervor, she had not realized 'twas possible he was using the bedchamber. The room still stank of smoke. What was he doing here?

"Pray, tell me," he drawled, "have you come to bed me or murder me?" His eyes lit with wicked laughter. "Do not fear. I am prepared for either."

Fury swept through her. "I am no murderess!"

"Then bed me, it is."

Her cheeks flushed hot as he strode toward her.

She backed up a step. "W-what are you doing here?"

He stopped before her.

"Do you not have business elsewhere?" She winced at the squeak in her voice.

"Aye," he replied distractedly.

"What sort of business?"

Deryll reached behind her and lifted her braid over her shoulder. "The kind that does not concern you."

"What sort of business does not concern me? Sir Gewain is—"

Deryll's head snapped up. "Nothing I cannot handle," he finished.

The heat in her cheeks spread through her belly as, his gaze glued to hers, he lifted the end of her braid to his nose and breathed deeply. Airin's heart pounded against her chest.

Hands, calloused and brown from years in the sun, held the 45

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braid as if it were a fragile flower. He breathed deeply again, as though to inhale her very essence.

"Is there any battle you can not handle?" she asked.

Deryll shifted his gaze to her face. "I am a man, Airin. No man is invincible."

Her girlhood hero
was
invincible. The hero who always saved his lady from all harm, who knew when to bestow a kiss, and never pressed her into an uncomfortable situation.

This man was anything but those things.

Deryll's gaze dropped to her mouth. Would he kiss her?

"You may come out now, Cerdwin," he said.

Airin blinked, and he raised a brow.

The maid stepped from behind the door. "Forgive me, my lord. I did not mean to eavesdrop." She edged toward the hallway.

Airin shot her a glare, but the woman paid no heed. She looked back at Deryll. "You knew all along she was there."

"Course he did." Cerdwin backed across the threshold. "'Tis why he hasna' bedded you."

Airin riveted her gaze onto the maid in time to see the door close behind her. She narrowed her eyes on Deryll.

"Step aside."

"You do not wish to be bedded?"

She rolled her eyes and reached to shove him aside. Her palm connected with the hard muscle of his chest. As if made of stone, he did not move. Airin fell back a pace.

"Do you intend to force me?"

Both his brows rose. "Is that what you wish?"

"You are mad."

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"'Tis no answer."

"What I wish is of no consequence."

"Not so," he replied.

"Indeed?"

"I fulfilled your condition," he said. "'Tis a bargain."

Her gaze rested on the scar running down his cheek. She fisted her hands at her sides. "Why you?"

He looked genuinely surprised, then laughed. "Who were you expecting?"

"Not you." What was amiss with her? She had turned into a shrew.

"Anyone
but
me?" he asked.

"I gave you no thought."

He laughed again. "Lady, you know how to cut a man."

Airin gave him a recriminating look. "Do not play the wounded lover. I was a child when you left. You gave me no thought."

"I cared for you," he replied.

"As a sister."

"Mayhap, but that is eight years past. Today, I need no sister." He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

Despite her efforts, her heart pounded as her breasts pressed into the hard contours of his chest. Their lips were a hair's breadth apart, his breath a warm flutter against her cheek. Her nipples hardened and she closed her eyes. Could he feel her arousal? Heat flashed over her at the thought, and fanned out from between her legs.

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Moist lips touched hers. Deryll's flattened palm slid to the curve of her buttocks as he spread moist kisses over her jaw and down her neck. At the curve of neck and shoulder, he flicked his tongue. Shivers raced down her body and fueled the fire between her legs. Her knees weakened. She threw her arms around his neck, her head falling forward onto his shoulder. He groaned, the sound resonating in his chest and startling her. She jerked her head up, and he kissed her, his fingers threading into the hair held tight against her head by the plait.

The door flew open. "Lady Airin!" Cerdwin cried.

Airin jumped back, breathing hard.

"What is amiss?" Deryll demanded.

The commanding note in his voice yanked Airin from the haze of passion and she registered Cerdwin's flushed face.

"What? Quickly, what?"

"Your father—"

Airin faltered a step toward her nurse.

"He was attacked."

Airin started forward, but tripped on the carpet. Strong arms caught her and she looked up into green eyes gone hard.

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"Sheriff, we are finished," Airin said without looking up from her father. Her heart constricted. He appeared far too pale. She smoothed back locks of hair that stuck to his sweaty cheek.

"If your father awakens I must question him," Gewain said.

Airin jerked her head up, pinning him with a glare. "If?

Leave, before one of my father's men throws you out on your—"

"My lady!" Cerdwin cried, pushing past Gewain in order to enter the room.

Deryll filled the doorway behind her. "Wait in the great hall if it pleases you," he said to Gewain. "Better yet, find this killer before he attacks again."

"I have no proof the attack on his lordship is connected with Lord Bothwell's murder," Gewain said.

Airin's jaw clenched. "What sort of fool are you?"

"The kind that does not make snap decisions,
my lady
."

"Be gone," she said as Cerdwin hurried around the bed, clean bandages in hand. "Be gone from my father's house altogether. The great hall will not be your refuge this day."

The maid set the bandages on the bed and Airin reached for one as Cerdwin knelt on the mattress, slid her arms beneath Douglas' shoulders, and lifted him. Airin slipped the first strip of cloth beneath him and began wrapping it around the other blood soaked bandages.

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"I will begin my investigation."

"Do so. But once you finish, you may await news of my father's condition
outside
our walls."

"I have yet to question you about the earl's murder."

"Be gone," she replied, and cast a glance at Deryll before continuing to wrap her father's wound.

Gerwain hesitated, then left, accompanied by Deryll.

A dizzying jolt of panic threatened to reduce her to tears as she watched the new layers of bandage too quickly soak up blood. "He still bleeds." She cast a helpless glace at the maid.

"I have seen worse."

Airin saw no deceit, however well intended it might have been, and choked back a sob.

Cerdwin nodded in understanding. "'Tis a nasty wound, but your father may not yet be ready to meet his maker."

Airin's heart swelled. At seventy years of age, Cerdwin had lived through disease, clan attacks and a fall down the stairs.

She well knew about locking the door against the Leveller.

They added pads of cloth, then wrapped more bandages until blood no longer seeped through. Then the maid dipped a rag in a basin of warm water, rung it, and passed it to Airin.

She was mopping his brow when Deryll returned.

"Gewain has begun his
investigation
?" she asked, and received a recriminating look from Cerdwin.

Deryll closed the door. "Aye."

Airin reached for the blanket that covered her father's hips. He unexpectedly seized her arm, and she and Cerdwin cried out in unison. Deryll was instantly at Airin's side. She 50

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dropped to her knees beside the bed and looked into her father's eyes. She saw his pain and had to force back a cry.

His hand fell limp over the side of the bed and she gently lifted it onto the covers. His mouth moved as if to speak, then he took several labored breaths.

"Father," she said, catching her voice before it broke,

"rest."

He tried speaking again, only to whisper something incomprehensible. Airin gave Deryll a questioning look. He shook his head, then dropped to a squat beside her. His shoulder brushed hers and Airin closed her eyes, thankful for his strength. She breathed deeply and opened her eyes.

Her father was looking at Deryll as he whispered,

"Protect."

Embarrassment tinged her cheeks with warmth when Deryll nodded.

Douglas shifted his gaze onto her. "Land yours."

She shook her head stubbornly. "Nay. You will be well soon. I am not—" He grabbed her arm again with surprising strength.

"There!" She bit back tears. "You are still strong."

"W-wed," Douglas said with a tightening grip. "To-day."

"Father," tears washed her eyes, "you will heal."

His gaze hardened. Even at heaven's door, the weight of his authority remained strong. "Today," he repeated.

"He is right," Cerdwin said. "God have mercy, if he does not live, his land is yours. 'Tis no small parcel, and King Robert will command you to marry—without delay. The king's 51

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choice will not be Sir Deryll." She shifted her wide-eyed gaze onto Deryll and dipped her head. "Forgive me, my lord."

"You have spoken true, Cerdwin. You owe no apology."

She nodded in gratitude and looked again at Airin. "When Robert commands you to wed, you will have no choice. It will matter not that the man is a stranger or that he beats his dogs. The land he gains will insure his allegiance. Nothing else will matter."

Airin buried her face in her father's neck. "You will recover."

"Wed," he repeated. She did not immediately answer and he added in a raspy whisper, "Lass."

The endearment tore at her heart and she nodded into his neck. "Aye, my lord."

He released her.

Deryll stood. "Cerdwin, have we a priest?"

"Aye. Father Triston. He is half an hour's ride."

"Call for him."

Airin lifted her head. "Wait." She started to push to her feet, but Deryll grasped her hand and pulled her upright.

She stared at him, for the first time in her life, uncertain of what lay ahead. He met her gaze unflinchingly as if he understood her need to force sense into the situation being thrust upon her. She broke the stare. To lose a father and gain a husband in a single hour was more than she could bear. How could she expect joy at such a cost?