Dismal and depressing until four familiar faces suddenly appeared out of the buttery. The younger children shrieked and danced around Mara, delighted to see her, while Robert greeted her with a dignified bow. He had seen the knights offer the gesture to fine young ladies and mimicked their manners perfectly.
“Heard there was a marriage this morning,” he said. “Was it your sister?”
Mara nodded, he smile fading. “She had no choice, Robert. But Kirk has promised to protect her.”
Robert shook his head sadly. “He canna. Not if Edmund wants to kill her. Nothing can protect her. Or you.”
Mara stiffened, turning away. “I can protect myself.” In the distance, Niles caught her attention, waving at her as his charger was brought around. She waved back, shading her eyes against the bright sun. “He’s dressed in full armor. I wonder where he’s going?”
Robert followed her gaze. “To hell, most likely.”
Mara turned to him sharply. “Why do you say that?”
The lad cocked an eyebrow. “Because he’s evil, like Edmund.”
“How do you know?”
“Everyone knows.”
“Knows what?”
Robert looked around to make sure no one was listening. Moving close to Mara, she tried not to shy away from his strong stench. “They say that Niles helps Edmund murder the young ladies,” he said quietly. “You should stay away from him.”
Mara’s eyes widened. “He does? Why did not you tell me this yesterday?”
“Would you have believed me?”
Mara continued to stare at him, shaking her head after a moment. “You must be mistaken, Robert. He’s a fine knight and a kind man. Kirk trusts him implicitly.”
“He blinds Kirk to the truth. He has a dark, dark soul.”
Sighing heavily, Mara put her hands on her hips. “Is that all you do, spout words of doom and gloom? Yesterday, you told me stories of the Darkland and today, you weave tales of Niles’ dark soul. Is there anything else so terrible around here?”
“I have lived at Anchorsholme a long time, Lady Mara,” Robert said, an odd wisdom flickering in his eyes. “Sometimes we servants know more than the lord. Or the Master.”
“You mean Kirk?”
The lad nodded, hushing his sister impatiently when she tugged on his sleeve. “Fiona found a litter of fox pups yesterday. She wants you to come and see them.”
Distracted from stories of Niles, Mara found herself gazing at the thin young girl, perhaps seven years of age. Her eyes were a pale blue, the same color as Micheline’s, and Mara suddenly found herself lamenting her sister’s situation all over again. Her depression threatened, even as Fiona politely begged her to come and see the pups, and Mara forced herself to put her fears aside for the moment.
After all, she had come to the kitchen yards in search of distraction. Now that she had been provided with four lively distractions, she realized she might as well allow the diversion to swallow her. If not, surely she would make herself ill with thoughts of Micheline. And of Kirk.
Sighing, she took Fiona’s offered hand and permitted the giggling girl to lead her from the shielding walls of Anchorsholme. Flanked by her escorts, the soothing bramble of Lancashire served to ease her cares for the moment. Away from the turmoil, the anguish, of the Darkland.
If he was any judge of time, Kirk had been standing guard outside of Edmund’s chamber for a little more than an hour. In that time, he had heard no sound whatsoever coming from the bridal bed and he was increasingly curious as to what was transpiring. Johanne had yet to leave the chamber, as Edmund had promised, and Kirk seriously wondered if all was proceeding smoothly.
He soon received his answer. When the door finally opened, he was not surprised to see Johanne emerge. But he was terribly surprised to see Edmund on her heels, closing the door behind them. Puzzled, Kirk moved forward to inquire if everything was all right when Edmund looked him in the eye, his expression uncharacteristically hard.
“I would assume the escort is ready to ride to Quernmore Castle on the morrow?” he asked.
Off-guard, Kirk slowly lifted an eyebrow. “As we discussed this morning, Niles is in charge and I am sure the escort is set. Is… is everything well, my lord?”
Edmund was decidedly defensive. “That is none of your concern, Kirk. My sister and I are going for a stroll about the grounds and my wife, when she is recovered, shall join us for the nooning meal.”
Kirk did not like the emotions he was sensing, hard and careless and defiant. “Is Micheline all right?”
Edmund paused a moment before answering, his dull green eyes intense. “Listen to me well, Connaught. What transpires in the bedchamber between my wife and me is none of your concern. If you try to interfere, I shall have you clapped in irons for insubordination. And if you still insist on continuing this role of protector for Lady Micheline, then I will have no choice but to send you back to your father. He has other sons who will serve me quite well in your stead.”
Kirk remained calm. He knew that Edmund relied on him too strongly to carry out his threat. “Steven is crippled and Drew is still a boy. There is no one in England or Ireland who would serve you with as much strength and devotion as I have,” he paused, surprised that Edmund’s expression remained firm. “If you believe I am interfering, then I apologize. It was not my intent. My intent was simply to make sure the lady was treated with the respect deserving Baroness Bowland.”
Edmund studied him a moment. Then, he cocked his head as if a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Are you in love with her, Kirk?”
“Nay.”
“Then why do you insist on protecting her?”
“Because she needs protecting.”
“From me?”
Kirk stared at him a moment. Then, he smiled humorlessly. “Most of all.”
It wasn’t an insult, simply the truth. Edmund continued to gaze at the man a moment longer before turning away, moving quickly down the hall. Johanne skipped after him and Kirk watched the pair until they disappeared from view. Then, his attention turned to the closed door. He couldn’t help but open it.
The room was dark. The oilcloths remained secured over the lancet windows and the hearth was dark and sooty. Kirk paused a moment as his eyes grew accustom to the dim light, noticing a slight figure seated on the edge of the bed. Puzzled, not to mention concerned, he moved for the heavy window dressings.
“My lady,” he said. “Allow me to open the…”
“Nay,” Micheline’s voice was loud and dull.
Kirk paused in the middle of the room, looking at the woman as she sat motionless. Her eyes were distant, her back straight and proud. Kirk could sense a terrible sorrow.
“Misha,” he said softly. “Are you well, lass?”
She blinked. Then, she looked as if the question confused her. “Is this what it will always be like?”
“Will what be like?”
She turned to him, then. “My marriage. Is this is what it is meant to be?”
He shook his head, unsure of the question. Slowly, he lowered himself into an oaken chair next to the bed. “I do not understand you, lass. What do you mean?”
Micheline stared at him and he could see the tears coming. Closing her eyes, as if she could hardly stand to recall the events of the past hour, she turned away from him in soft sobs.
“My dear God…,” she gasped.
Kirk swallowed. “What happened, Misha? Can you tell me?”
She shook her head, her entire body trembling. “I… I cannot,” she whispered. “It is too… too….”
“Did he hurt you?”
She did not reply for a moment. “There was supposed to be pain.”
Kirk was struggling to help her without squeezing the truth free. It wasn’t any of his business, yet, he was eager to know. Almost frantic. “That’s not what I mean, lass. Other than the obvious, did he hurt you?”
She remained silent, sobbing into her hands. Kirk was preparing to ask again when her
voice, muffled and faint, suddenly filled the room. “He made me… watch.”
He gazed at her, laboring to maintain his composure as a creeping sense of dread took hold. “What did he make you watch?”
She wept painfully, believing that the mere words describing her torment would surely make her vomit.
“He… he and Johanne,” she whispered. “He made me watch them, together, and told me to learn well from their actions. He expects the same from me.”
Kirk closed his eyes, shocked and sickened. But in the same breath, fury such as he had never known welled within his chest and he reached out, grasping Micheline’s hand. Instead of pulling away, recoiling from the man who had delivered her to her nightmare, she clutched him tightly.
“Oh, lass,” he breathed. “I am so sorry. I never… I never imagined he would do something like this.”
She continued to cry, so terribly pitiful. “That wasn’t the worst of it,” she gasped. “When they were done, Johanne… she stood by and watched as Edmund forced…forced me to….”
Kirk hung his head. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more. Literally, the pain from Micheline’s humiliation reached out to grab him like a vise and he found it difficult to breath for all of the heartache and outrage he was experiencing.
“Misha, I am sorry,” he whispered, feeling as if he had contributed to her agony. “I am so very sorry. Had I known….”
“And she laughed, too,” Micheline’s voice was high-pitched, strained with emotion and hysteria. “When I cried in pain, she laughed. She told me to bear it well.”
Kirk thought he might vomit. But Micheline wasn’t finished, compounding his illness with each successive word until he thought he might literally go mad.
“Edmund invited her to touch me,” she was gasping for air, struggling to tell her sordid tale. Needing to tell someone. “As he continued to… oh, Kirk, he told her to touch me. And she did. She did!”
Kirk shot to his feet, blind fury filling him. He simply couldn’t stand it any longer and was determined to punish Edmund for his vile doings no matter what the personal cost. Before he reached the door, however, Micheline threw herself at him, pleading for calm.
“Nay, Kirk,” she begged, clutching his arms with all her frail strength. “You have no right to condemn them. He is my husband and has every right to do with me as he pleases.”
The gleam in Kirk’s eyes frightened her. “He has no right to treat you like….”
Micheline nodded firmly, struggling to gain control of her tears. She could see that Kirk was beyond his limits and the sooner she regain her composure, the better for them all.
“It is his right,” she insisted, sniffling. But her gaze was steady as she faced him. “You know as well as I do that you have no control over what he does. No matter how barbaric. And certainly it is not your station to judge or punish his actions.”
“But….”
“You have no right.”
Kirk stared down at the woman, his heart aching for her plight. Never had he imagined Edmund or Johanne capable of such debauchery and he grappled furiously with his outrage, so much so that beads of sweat peppered his brow. After a moment, he shook his head in a helpless gesture.
“But I promised Mara…” he sighed heavily, turning away from Micheline. “Dear God, I promised your sister that I would protect you. I alone would prevent further humiliation to your fragile character. And see how I have failed.”
“You have not failed,” Micheline was calmer now, watching the broad back pace away from her. “You have done all you can, Sir Kirk, and I am grateful. To have failed would have been to confront Edmund when it is not your place to do so. And I could not allow you to jeopardize yourself, not when Mara loves you so.”
He froze in mid-pace, his chest heaving with emotion. Slowly, with great wonder, he focused on the pale, trembling lady.
“She told you this?”
Micheline smiled weakly. “She spent the night crying over you, though she would not tell me the exact circumstance. I know my sister well, Sir Kirk, well enough to know that she loves you and would be lost without you.”
Kirk’s face was pale, the stone-gray eyes wide. “I… I do not know what to say.”
Micheline wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks, her smile steady as she approached him. “Say that you love her, too.”
He did not hesitate. “I have from the start.”
“And you will marry her?”
“She does not want to marry me,” he shrugged. “And… last night, I said things I should not have. But she was so stubborn, so pugnacious, I simply couldn’t….”
Micheline put her hand on his chest before he could finish. “The trick with Mara is to be more stubborn and more pugnacious than she is. She loves a good fight, but she respects someone who can beat her at her own game. It’s the Irish in her, I suppose.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Mara has Irish bloodlines?”
Micheline nodded. “On our mother’s side. Her grandmother was from Dublin.”
Kirk chuckled, his composure returning as Micheline succeeded in calming his rage with talk of Mara’s stubborn nature, of all things. “She has a lot of fire in her. Certainly it could only be Irish blood.”
Micheline laughed softly, feeling her mood lighten and her horror fade; to have Kirk’s support was more of an emotional boost than she realized. If he wasn’t already smitten with Mara, she might have declared interest in him herself.
“You will promise me something, Sir Kirk,” she said after the laughter faded.
“Anything, my lady.”
“Promise that you will not tell Mara what happened here today. I shall think of something to tell her, but she must never know the truth.”
Kirk gazed into the pale blue eyes before answering. “Of course,” he said softly. “There is no telling what she will do if she learns what Edmund and Johanne subjected you to.”
Micheline turned away from him, sighing heavily as her composure, her wits, returned. “Have you always been aware of their… relationship?”
He paused a moment. “Aye,” he muttered. “But it is something we do not speak of simply for the fact that it is too vile to comprehend. I… I am sorry I did not forewarn you. I truthfully do not know if it would have made a difference even if I had.”
Micheline nodded, running her hand over the mussed coverlet, smelling of sweat and sex. “It would not have,” she murmured. “I would have been forced to marry him regardless.”
Kirk watched her as she gazed at the bed, pondering the course of her future. “Still, I will speak to him,” he said quietly. “Mayhap he will listen to me.”
“And mayhap he will take your interest out on my hide,” Micheline looked at him, amazingly composed now that her cleansing cry was complete. “For my sake, I ask that you not intervene. This is my marriage and I must take responsibility as best I am able.”
Kirk sighed heavily; there was nothing he could say against her sound logic. “As you request, my lady,” the stone-gray eyes twinkled. “Tell me; did you inherit all of the common sense in your family?”
Micheline smiled. “Mara has a good deal of common sense, though she pretends otherwise. Have you never shared a calm conversation with her, Kirk?”
Now he grinned. “Once, after I spanked her. She harbors a great deal of wisdom in her little brain, wisdom I should like to nurture. Mayhap it will overshadow the wild nature, someday.”
“But not entirely.”
He chuckled. “Nay, not entirely. I rather like a hellion.”
Micheline laughed with him, holding out her hand. He collected it gently, so very respectful of the new Baroness Bowland. Edmund did not deserve the woman in the least and if the man was standing before him at this very minute, he wasn’t at all sure he could refrain from killing him.
“And I rather like the hellion’s beau,” Micheline said softly, laughing again when he shrugged modestly. “Thank you, Sir Kirk. For everything you have done for my
sister and I, I thank you.”
The moment was genuinely warm and Kirk maintained his smile, hating Edmund more by the second for subjecting Micheline to his immorality. It was a battle not to become grieved with the circumstance all over again. “My pleasure, my lady.”
The seasonal rains had greened the countryside now basking under the new winter sun. Mara had spent well over an hour inspecting the fox pups that Fiona had so delightfully discovered, hiding in the bramble as the mother fox nursed her young. In fact, the magnificent morning had been enough to distract her from her depression and by the time she returned to the keep, her fragile composure was well fortified.
Her hands were full of winter blooms that she had discovered in the foliage, small flowers with blue and white petals she did not have a name for. Robert and his siblings followed her into the kitchen yards, demanding she lay the flowers aside and play a game with them, but Mara declined.
Even though her frame of mind had been calmed by the lovely weather and playful children, she was nonetheless eager to see to her sister. And possibly see what had become of Kirk if she could spare the time. Bidding her friends farewell, she crossed into the inner bailey only to come face to face with Edmund and Johanne.
Immediately, her fine mood dissolved, replaced instead by a burgeoning dislike. The bright blue eyes simmered with hostility as Edmund and Johanne came to a halt, hand in hand, before her.
“Ah, Lady Mara,” Johanne said with feigned delight. “Out foraging in the fields, I see.”
Mara’s gaze moved between the two pasty-faced siblings. “I was enjoying the day. At least, I was until this moment.”
Edmund shook his head. “Are you always so confrontational? My sister was merely making an observation.”
Mara fixed on him. “Speaking of sisters, where is mine?”
Johanne shrugged lightly, snuggling up to her brother in more than companionable gesture. “In my brother’s bower, where we left her, I suppose,” she looked to her brother, touching his cheek. “Shall we continue our walk, dear? I do not think I like the atmosphere here.”
Brides of Ireland: A Medieval Historical Romance Bundle Page 83