Wild Hearts (47 page)

"Hurry, we can talk on the ride up to TantalIon," urged Margaret.

Tabrizia came hurrying back, wrapped in her fur cloak. "I'll just tell Alexandria I'm going to Tantallon."

"I just told her," lied Margaret quickly, "and she told me to tell you Paris would forbid you to go

"Yes, I know he would," agreed Tabrizia softly, "but I must. You understand, don't you, Margaret?"

"I'll look after you. You can rely on me," stated Margaret briskly.

.Only one young stable hand was there as she took her mare from its stall. He quickly saddled up for her and assisted her to mount. He wanted to say something, but her condition made him tongue-tied, and the moment was lost as the two young women briskly cantered from the stables.

Paris went straight to the jeweler's to pick up the ring he had had especially designed for his wife. He had not given Tabrizia a ring of her own when they wed, and she had made do with his huge emerald. Now he had bought her an emerald of her own, surrounded by exquisitely pale amethysts. As he left the jeweler's, an uneasiness crept upon him. As he looked homeward to the northeast, great snow clouds had gathered, and he knew from experience that they were in for a heavy storm. When he reflected for a moment, he remembered the dawn sky had been blood red when he arose, a sure sign that bad weather would descend before sunset. He had been given the address of a competent midwife, and he hurried there now. She was about to depart on another case. Quickly, he made a decision. He pressed money into her hand and arranged for her to follow on the morrow, assuring her he would send a carriage; then, without even stopping to water his horse, he headed back to Cockburnspath.

Before Margaret and Tabrizia reached the peak of the first summit, the snowstorm hit. One moment it was gentle, drifting snowflakes, the next it was driving; swirling, white blindness.

"Margaret, we must go back," shouted Tabrizia.

"No, no. I know a shortcut. Follow me and keep close," ordered Margaret in a determined voice.

"What the hell is Margaret trying to do?" she muttered to herself. Then her attention focused on her body as it was gripped with a spasm of pain, and she knew her labor had. begun.

She lifted her head sideways to keep the driving snow from her eyes, and began to panic when she realized the horse ahead of her had disappeared. "Margaret, Margaret!" she cried, "I cannot see you!"

Margaret slowed down, and once again Tabrizia could make out the dark shape through the blinding whiteness. There it was again! This time the pain seared down her back, knocking the wind from her completely. "Margaret! My pains have started," she shouted helplessly.

Margaret rode up alongside her mare. "Oh, my dear; dismount, and we will rest a moment and decide what to do. Give me your reins, and I will hold her steady," she instructed.

Tabrizia, her thoughts in disarray, handed over the reins and slid to the ground. Margaret did not dismount but paused to look at her for a long moment. "You stupid bitch! You are just as your mother was." She dug in her spurs and vanished in a cloud of snow taking Tabrizia's horse with her.

It took Tabrizia a few moments to realize that Margaret would not come back. This was deliberate. Margaret was insane. She walked a few feet; by now the snow was halfway up to her knees. She seemed to be on top of a ridge; if her bearings were correct. She followed it until the strength of the wind made her realize she would be better off if she started down from the ridge a little way. The swirling snow was blowing into drifts, some reaching up to her thighs by the time she sank down in agony with another contraction.

She started to talk to her baby calmly. "'Tis all right. We will be all right. I won't let anything happen to you." Then she prayed silently to her mother, "Please, show me which way to go." Over there! What was that in the fold of the hill? She had seen something. She set off in that direction, but once again the pain was bringing her to her knees. She closed her eyes while her midsection went rigid, totally oblivious to the bone-chilling, cold snow in which she was half-buried.

The pain eased until she was again able to breathe and open her eyes. From her kneeling position she could see the entrance to a shieling, one of those cave-like shelters that shepherds used in just such storms as this. Tabrizia crawled inside the darkened lair, deeply thankful for the dry little haven that blocked the bitter wind and driving snow so effectively. She offered a prayer of thanks immediately, knowing she would need further divine intervention before long. As she rested, Paris's words came to her clearly. He had tried to impress upon her how sudden these snowstorms could blow up in the Borders. She must keep thinking of him, sending out signals from her heart. He would be determined enough to find her. How angry he would be at her foolishness!

At the noon meal Mrs. Hall asked Alexandria where Tabrizia was.

"I haven't laid eyes on her today," mentioned the younger woman.

"You dinna think his lordship took her wi' him to Edinburgh, do you?" asked Mrs. Hall anxiously.

"Lord, I wouldn't think so, when it is this close to her time, but you never know. My brother is like a dog with a bone when it comes to his lady love. I think we'd better make sure. Troy, as soon as you have finished eating, you had better go and search the stables and the outbuildings. If she has started in labor, she could be stuck somewhere and desperately in need of help."

Adam Gordon looked worried. "It is snowing heavily out there. You don't think she could have fallen in the snow, do you?"

Troy said, "Let's go. We'll get a search party together. You had better go over the castle room by room."

As Tabrizia rested between the pains, she considered Margaret's words about her mother. Indeed, there were glaring similarities between them. They had both been loved by great lords, but when they had tried to give their men a child, fate had stepped in to ensure their destruction.

"No!" She quickly pushed the thought away from her. Paris adored her; she was sure of him. Magnus, too, had managed to convince her of his love for Danielle. She bitterly dismissed the madwoman, Margaret, from her mind.

She could tell hard labor was rapidly approaching. She had hoped against hope she would be rescued before she gave birth, but the hours had gone by unrelentingly, and she knew now that she would have to face it alone. The child she had helped deliver a couple of months ago had been just practice for her. And so she went down to the gates of pain, in woman's usual way, and by some miracle, she bore the unbearable. She delivered herself of a son.

He immediately screamed his displeasure for his cold environment, and she quickly laid him against her bare breast and folded her cloak over them both. He found the nipple quickly, and as he drained away her body's warmth, he hushed contentedly. She did not feel cold, nor did she feel pain now, but somehow everything was drifting away from her. She had no strength left to hang on to things, so she let them slide gently away and closed her eyes.

Paris had struggled as quickly as he could through the heavy snow for the last five miles. He sensed a great relief when the towers of Cockburnspath came into view; however, the unease that had dogged him all day caused the pit of his stomach to contract as he saw the faces of Adam and Troy.

"Did you not take Tabrizia into Edinburgh with you?" asked Troy, already knowing the answer.

"Tabrizia?" demanded Paris.

"She's missing: We have been searching since noon," replied Troy miserably:

"Her mare is gone, didn't you see that?" demanded Paris.

"Yes, but we hoped she had gone with you," said Troy.

"Get all the stable hands. Someone must have helped-her to saddle. If she's been thrown in this storm, she won't last long," he said urgently. He questioned the young lad Troy had found, the one who had saddled Tabrizia's horse. "Where was she going?" asked Paris carefully.

"She was wi' the dark woman from Tantallon," the boy told the solemn group.

"Margaret!" exclaimed Troy.

Grim-faced, Paris shouted, "Where's The Mangler? Come, girl!"

Adam watched Paris mount and take off like the wind. "He shouldn't go alone."

Troy nodded. "I'll get Ian and his men. We'll follow him."

It was slow going, for the snow was a deep powder, which, in many places, reached up to the stallion's underbelly. The Mangler loped along, not experiencing the same difficulty as the horse and the man.

Paris's mind raced in a hundred different directions. Were the Fates playing with him? Had he finally found his heart's desire, only to have her snatched from him after a few short months? He forced his mind to be calm. Self-torture would gain him nothing. Though darkness had fallen hours ago, the moon upon the snow made it seem like daylight. He saw nothing. No tracks, no fallen horse, nothing! He turned in the saddle and saw that his men were out in full force. It took two long, slow hours to reach Tantallon.

He strode across the great entrance hall and stopped at the foot of the staircase as Margaret appeared and came down two steps. Relief had swept over him as he had seen Tabrizia's mare in the stables, and he knew they had made it through the storm.

"Margaret, thank God! Where is Tabrizia?"

"Tabrizia?" she asked, apparently puzzled. "How should I know?"

He looked into her blazing eyes and he knew.

"The game is over, Margaret. Her horse is in the stables, and you were seen at Cockburnspath today. You want her dead, don't you?" he asked incredulously.

"I rid you of one wife, and you married another," she cried, her eyes glittering wildly.

"You killed Anne, you and your mother, between you," he realized aloud.

She began to laugh. "She was my mother's creature from the moment she knew Anne married you while carrying another man's child." She laughed again. "My mother and I even got rid of that French bitch, Danielle, all those years ago. How ironic her bastard should come to haunt us."

"Where is Tabrizia?" Paris demanded urgently.

Magnus had quickly come up behind her, and they had her trapped now.

"Somewhere on the mountain giving birth! They will both be dead by now." She gave a triumphant laugh.

Magnus took a double-edged claymore from the wall and smote the woman he had lived with for all those years. Her body stood erect for a long moment after her head had left her shoulders, then it crumpled and lay crookedly across three stairs. The head rolled to one side, the face hidden by the sticky, black hair.

"Find her! Find her!" cried Magnus. "Call out all my men."

They searched the mountainside with torch-lights, making a crisscross pattern then, working backward, did it all over again. They searched the long night through to no avail.

Toward morning, it was The Mangler who found her. The excited barks told Paris immediately that the huge beast had found something. He prayed it would not be some animal the dog had unearthed. He found the shieling, buried in snow, and crawled inside. She was lying still and cold, but he could hear his child mewling and knew that it, at least, was alive.

He sent up a great shout that brought torchbearers to the cave. He passed his son out to Ian, and then Paris picked up Tabrizia gently, not daring to examine her too closely in case she had already left him. As he struggled through the deep drifts, his heart pounding with the great effort, he suddenly became aware of another heartbeat against his. A faint, fast, but steady beat that sent his hope wildly soaring and quickened his footsteps toward the sanctuary of Tantallon.

"Brandy and whisky," he shouted as he swept Tabrizia up to their own apartments. Ian followed, carrying the baby. The household sprang into life with a steady stream of servants carrying blankets, hot water, liquor and food. Others laid out fires and food and cleaned up the muddy snow that had been trailed across the carpets.

"Rub the child with whisky," Paris instructed Ian as he laid Tabrizia in the big bed. "Here, pour some into this bowl," and he took it to the bed and began to rub her arms and shoulders with the raw whisky.

Ian tried his best with the baby, but it began to scream angrily in protest. The wide-eyed men exchanged grins. "I dinna think he needs more reviving," decided Ian, wrapping the child in a woolen blanket.

Tabrizia opened her eyes and closed them again. Paris held the brandy to her lips, and she coughed and choked as a little went down her throat.

"My baby," she gasped as his screams penetrated her consciousness.

"He is here, love," soothed Paris, taking the child from Ian and tucking him in beside his mother.

"Get some hot bricks," Paris ordered a servant, and as Magnus approached to see how his daughter fared, Paris gently said, "She's going to be all right." And the older man's eyes filled with unshed tears. He put hot bricks to her feet and fed her warm broth, hushing her questions and assuring her their child was lusty and strong.

"Out, everyone. She needs rest," he commanded.

When they finally had privacy, he sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. He reached inside his doublet and brought forth the exquisite gift. He slipped it on her finger and raised it to his lips. Her eyes shone like the amethyst jewels in the ring.