Warrior's Bride (19 page)

  Mistress Rowley's gaze flew to the dagger embedded in the wood. "Walter."

  With a sound of disgust he shoved away from the table, his bench scraping heavily against the stone floor. "Nothing ever changes. No one tries to understand my side of the story." Walter kept his gaze fixed on Izzy's face as he backed away from the table. "You all jump to her defense. But what do we actually know about this girl? Who is she really? Wolf didn't bother to find out before he married her."

  "We know all we need to know." Brahan straightened. "Wolf accepts her. And we do as well."

  Walter's face became ragged and pale. "How unpleasant for you all. I hope you feel the same way when she brings disaster down upon all our heads." On those words he turned and left the room.

  "Don't listen to him." Mistress Rowley patted Izzy's shoulder, trying to lend comfort.

  The gesture brought no ease to the threat she'd felt at Walter's reaction. His words tumbled through her mind. Did he know who she was? Had he somehow figured out the secrets she carried? Why else would he act as he did? He did not just dislike her—the man hated her. She'd seen that barely contained emotion in his eyes. And if he hated her, how would Wolf react when he discovered that she was the daughter of his mortal enemy?

  Izzy clutched her hands, desperate to hide the tremor that moved through her at the thought of Wolf learning the truth from someone else.

  But how could Walter know who she was? The attacks on her life proved her father knew she lived, attacks her mother prophesied would happen when he discovered the truth. And yet, Walter's strange behavior made her wonder if others knew her secrets as well.

  "Away from the table, all of you." Mistress Rowley shooed the warriors away with her hand. "Lady Isobel has had a fright and needs to rest."

  The warriors returned to their table and resumed their game of merrills as though nothing extraordinary had taken place. Brahan, however, remained beside her.

  "He did not hurt you, did he?" Brahan took the seat Walter had vacated.

  "Nay." She forced herself to take several slow, even breaths as she unfurled her hands and settled them in her lap. "He scared me, nothing more."

  "Why did he react that way toward you? Walter might be rash and impulsive, but he's not usually violent."

  "I was only trying to help." Eager to get away, Izzy twisted in her seat, preparing to leave. Brahan's questions probed too deep.

  His hand snapped out to grasp her wrist, stalling her. Izzy gasped and flinched.

  He immediately released her. Contrition shone in his eyes. "I meant you no harm."

  She rubbed her right wrist with her left hand. He had not hurt her other than to remind her of the restraints that used to bind her there. "You startled me. That is all." His brief nod told her he had accepted her explanation as the truth and she relaxed.

  "I apologize for my earlier attempts to press you for answers. I let my own needs override my duty." Brahan paused and frowned, his frustration obvious. "I can sense there is something you're not telling me about that Stone around your neck."

  "I've told you everything." Izzy's hand crept up to her necklace. At her touch, the usually cool Stone warmed. She dropped her gaze to the necklace. It glowed. A soft luminescence at first, then a brighter red. Curious and a little scared, she continued to stare at the bright light emanating from the Stone. Without prompting, an image filled her mind, and she saw herself standing on something dark and soft The image sharpened until she saw a crossroad. One path led off into a woodland. A woman stood at a distance in the center of a dew- dampened road just outside the tree line. Wild and disheveled, her lined face contorted with pain, the woman beckoned Izzy forward.

  She took a faltering step, then paused as the woman's face became clear. "Come down the path you were destined to follow," her mother's voice called.

  Izzy took two hurried steps back and gazed down the other road. A hunched beast sat toward the side of the path. The animal appear tired, its fur damp and matted. It held up its head with pride, but it almost appeared weighted down by some heavy burden.

  She studied its face. A beast's visage stared back at her, yet the look in his eyes made her gasp. Inky wells laced with pain. Excruciating pain. She noticed it then.

  The trap that sank deep into its leg. A pool of blood gathered in the dusty soil beneath his body. He needed her help.

  Without care for her own safety, she took two more steps forward. She came to a halt when the animal barred its teeth. "I want to help you," she called out in her mind.

  A snarl rent the air, a warning. And still she moved forward. She couldn't help herself. The need to help the beast overcame all reason.

  The image shifted in her mind. Gone was the straggly beast. In its place lay a man surrounded by the same pool of blood, the iron trap clamped around his booted leg.

  He looked up, his dark gaze meeting her own.

  Wolf.

  She gasped and flinched away from the necklace. The vision ended.

  Her mother—the visions—memories of the miseries of the tower crowded Izzy as she drew a short, sharp gasp of air. There had been the weeping, endless weeping, and the ramblings, and the visions that had left her mother prostrate for hours on end. And in all those hours of suffering, there had been too little knowledge imparted, too few lessons learned about the affliction her mother said Izzy would be doomed to share.

  Brahan's face appeared before her. A frown turned down the corners of his mouth. "You had a vision." Brahan's sharp tone cut through the residual mistiness that shrouded her brain. "You are a seer."

  "Nay." Izzy shuddered as a bone-numbing chill wracked her body. Her fingers tingled as though exposed to the icy winter winds. "It is not... possible." Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Could he be right?

  The chill in her hands seeped up her arms and into her chest. She glanced at the hearth, wondering why the room had turned so cold. A roaring blaze rolled across the logs and peat piled on the grate. Despite the evidence of warmth, she shivered again, then forced herself to shrug off her chill. She had no time to figure out the mystery. "My lord Wolf is hurt"

  "You know this from a vision?" Brahan asked with a frown.

  Her heart thundered until it felt as though it would leap from her chest "I saw something in my mind."

  His gaze dropped to her chest "The Stone you wear makes it possible."

  Izzy clutched her waist with her hands as a chill swamped her. Her father had done this to Wolf. She gasped and jerked backward, nearly unseating herself with the force.

  "My lady?" Brahan reached for her arm, offering a steady anchor for her to cling to.

  "I must find Wolf."

  "Where?"

  "I have no idea. Only that he is in a forest somewhere." She twisted away from the table, then stood on legs that were less than steady. "He needs me." She didn't wait for Brahan's response. As quickly as she could, she headed toward the huge doorway at the opposite side of the hall.

  When she reached the knights, she paused, then straightened as she assumed a great lady would. "Your lord and master needs your help. Come, follow me."

  Without hesitation the men set their game aside and obeyed as though she commanded them every day. Once she knew they followed, Izzy didn't look back. She had to find Wolf. She had to protect him from her father.

Chapter Nineteen

  Brahan stood, staring after the Lady Isobel as she hurried toward the castle door with seven strong knights in tow. He should follow, and yet he hesitated.

  Mistress Rowley hastened to the table as Lady Isobel left. "Where is she headed?" The housekeeper wiped her flour-covered hands on her muslin apron. "The master will have our heads if she disappears for hours as she did yesterday, or worse yet, is harmed."

  "She's had a vision," Brahan said with a mixture of displeasure and awe.

  "How could you know that?" Mistress Rowley asked, untying the garment and placing it on the table, ready to follow her new mistress.

  "She says Wolf is injured."

  "Injured?" Mistress Rowley's eyes went wide. "Well then, what are you waiting for? If he is hurt, he needs your help."

  "And what if she is wrong?"

  Mistress Rowley's mouth thinned with displeasure.

  "You said yourself she'd had a vision. Can you take the risk that she is wrong?"

  "Nay," Brahan agreed. "I shall follow her vision just as I would my own. We will know the truth if we find Wolf safe."

  "Let us pray she is wrong then," Mistress Rowley said, lines of worry etched deeply into her face.

  Brahan caught up with Isobel in the courtyard, where he heard her quietly command Hiram to help her into her saddle. A second horse stood empty at her side, and a legion of knights gathered behind the two horses.

  "Where are you going?" Brahan asked as he came to a halt beside her, his mouth falling open in surprise at how quickly she'd managed to rally Wolf’s troops.

  "To find Wolf—to find my husband." She perched precariously upon the saddle, looking terribly uncomfortable. She shifted her weight back. Too far back. Off the saddle she slid. She hit the ground with a thump. The green damask of her gown tangled about her legs as she tried to stand. Briefly, Brahan caught a glimpse of a shapely calf.

  His irritation shifted to amusement mixed with a bit of envy. Wolf might not have done such a bad thing by marrying the girl. A shapely and very appealing package lay beneath her voluminous gown.

  Brahan extended his hand to her. "Milady."

  She accepted his assistance and gained her feet She batted at her gown as she approached her horse. "Please, help me up."

  "You should stay here at the castle, where it is safe. The men and I can verify the truth of your vision for you."

  She arched a brow, and for a moment he thought she might actually laugh. "Safe? Can you honestly say I am more protected behind these castle walls than I would be out there?" She pointed beyond the large wooden portcullis that remained closed.

  He would like to have responded, aye, but he knew better. Already she'd been attacked twice since her arrival. "Nay."

  A look of determination crept over her delicate features. "Then help me into the saddle and command the gates open."

  The strength in her voice surprised him. Where had the timid and meek creature they had taken from the isle gone? The knights seemed to agree with her sentiments. They brought their horses into a tighter formation around her. They had gathered under her direction, but they awaited Brahan's nod of approval to make their next move.

  "Do you know how to ride a horse?" Brahan asked.

  "How difficult can it be? You sit upon the beast's back and hold on." A renewed spark of determination flashed in her eyes.

  "How difficult, indeed," Brahan replied. He grasped her about the waist and tossed her into the saddle.

  She settled herself in the center of the saddle and appeared every bit as uncomfortable as before. Brahan patted the edge of the saddle with his hand. "Place your hands here and 'hold on,' as you said. It will help you balance."

  She did as he suggested and instantly appeared more at ease. "Much better, thank you."

  Brahan mounted the horse beside her, inspired by her transformation. Her chin came up, her shoulders went back. Confidence and poise seemed to settle around her, regardless that this was only her second attempt at mounting a horse. She sat atop the beast as if she should be dressed in mail, brandishing a sword instead of her long, flowing gown. She wore no protection and carried no weapon.

  With no thought for herself or her own safety, and for the sake of another, the girl from the isle had vanished, transformed into a woman with the spirit of a warrior. Wolf’s warrior bride.

  "Open the gates," Brahan shouted. At his command, the portcullis rose, and she urged her horse forward, heading toward the forest lands. The knights fell into formation around her and would protect her with their lives.

  Brahan kept his senses on alert as they crept ever closer to Grange's land on the other side of the forest. Slender needles of sunlight pierced the boughs overhead, stabbing the earth with brilliant pinpricks. Beneath the horse's hooves crunched the remains of accumulated yew needles, their fragrance sharp and pungent.

  He hadn't been back to this part of the forest for years. Not since he was a little boy, hiding from the men who had raided his village and murdered his kin. Memories of blood were everywhere, blood that had seeped into the ground from the dead long ago, their discarded weapons useless against the force of the attack. They were all dead—everyone he knew, everyone he loved. He had searched through the bodies until he'd found his mother's lifeless form.

  The next thing he remembered, he'd woken up to a gentle touch. It hadn't been his mother's touch, or even the sharp prick of his enemy's sword, but an understanding, compassionate nudge. Wolf had found him there, alone among the dead, and had taken him away from the nightmare. The young boy had begged his own mother to offer Brahan shelter in her household.