Like a Laird to a Flame

by Pride, Mia

  “We can pummel each other until we are both bloody another time,” James casually replied. “We must get back to Mary. Are ye certain about Stephan?”

  “I am certain of nothing more than the facts. Brian is dead, Stephan is missing, Mary is alone, and I will die before I allow him near her.” He could not help the accusation in his voice, but James had acted without all the facts, too angry to listen. Glaring at James one last time, William kicked his horse’s flanks, taking off down the path at a pace not even the devil himself could keep up with.

  William prayed that he was wrong about Stephan, but his instincts were seldom incorrect. Either way, there was no time to waste. He needed to find Mary and fix the damage her brother had caused, then head back to Drum, praying it was still in one piece when he got back.

  Pacing back and forth in her nearly empty room, Mary chewed on her fingernail and nervously wrung her skirt in her other hand. Every second that passed felt like an eternity within the cold, stone walls. Only one candle adorned her room, its flame flickering in tandem with the draft coming from the ancient halls just beyond her door.

  Grabbing the thin wool blanket from the small bed that occupied the corner, Mary wrapped it around her body and shivered. She was not locked away. The prioress had allowed her to roam the kirk that had been built during the reign of King Stephen hundreds of years ago. Though the allure of being within this sacred place was strong, Mary dared not leave her room. Alexander’s effigy was not far away, and she found that she lacked the strength to seek it out. Would he ever forgive her for loving another man?

  The bell outside rang for lauds and the sudden break in the otherwise silent room caused Mary to jump and gasp. It was nearing dawn and she had no notion when James would return for her, but she prayed he did not hurt the people she loved most. He was not an unfair man, but he was proud and easily angered when he felt the honor of the clan was on the line.

  Hands trembling, Mary reached out to unbar the door, the rough wood scraping into her soft flesh. It was heavier than expected and Mary grunted as she moved it aside and slowly pushed the door open. Her soft leather slippers made no noise as she took a step into the dark hall, lit with sparse sconces along the wall. The lingering chill was enough to make her wrap the blanket even tighter around her body. It felt as if the spirits of hundreds of warriors and nobles haunted the very space she walked through.

  Gooseflesh ran up her legs and covered her arms. The priory rooms were set in the far back of the cathedral, and the long, stretching hall appeared to go on forever. According to the kind priest who had greeted her, Alexander’s effigy was in the transept of the cathedral. Dare she seek him out? A cramp made her womb tense up into a hard knot, and Mary bent over, gritting her teeth through the pain, trying to remember to breathe.

  “Alexander, look what ye left me with,” Mary whispered into the darkness and wondered if he could hear her. It was now or never. His effigy was somewhere within these walls. Shuffling into the area of the cathedral that made the room appear to be a cross, Mary stopped and looked around at the centuries-old architecture and effigies of lairds, lords, knights, and royals who had been brought to rest throughout the years.

  Bile burned in her throat to think of Alexander, the warm, strong man who had held her so lovingly at night, now lying still and cold within the confines of a stone effigy here in this kirk.

  “Nay. I cannae do this.” Turning away, Mary started to flee, then stopped as something caught her eyes. It was him. His very likeness carved into stone at the far side of the transept. “Alex?” Mary spoke his name, knowing he would not respond. But he was here. She felt him, his comforting presence enveloping her.

  Taking a slow step toward him, then another and another, Mary finally was face to face with the likeness of the man whose child now wedged a heel into her ribs. Hesitating, Mary touched the rough, cold stone beneath her fingertips and pulled away. When he had left for battle last summer, never had she expected the next time she laid eyes on him would be like this, staring at his image preserved forever, expertly sculpted for all to see for centuries.

  “Oh, Alex.” Running her hand down the ridges of armor, she wondered at how accurate it was. Robert must have paid a sculptor very well to honor his brother’s image. It was beautiful, yet haunting. Bending over, Mary rested her forehead on his, placing her hands over his and sighed. “I am here, Alex. I am sorry I never came before. I am weak, and I confess this. James forced me to come here to repent for my sins. I wonder if he kenned I needed to repent to ye more than a priest. ’Tis been the most painful time of my life without ye.”

  Swallowing back her tears, she closed her eyes and took a few steadying breaths. “Ye ken I loved ye more than aught, and I will always hold ye close to my heart. Yer child grows stronger daily. If only ye had lived to ken of him. Alex… I must confess something to ye…”

  The tears began to fall in earnest. There was no holding them back. Her throat constricted and her heart felt as if it were being crushed in by a fist. “I… I am to be married to another man. Ye met him once. His name is William Keith and he is Elizabeth’s brother if ye can believe that. We always dreamed of getting married to each other, didnae we? But we were destined for other paths and other fates. Oh, Alexander. I havenae even spoken the hardest words of all.”

  Taking her forehead off his, Mary stared into the still likeness of him. The nose was slightly smaller and the lips a wee bit thinner, but the face she looked at was his own, and it made her insides quake. “I am in love with him, Alexander.” The words came rushing out of her so fast, she thought she may lose her breath, but they were said. “I never thought it possible to love another, but he is a verra good man, and he has vowed to raise yer child. Between ye and me, I do believe the bairn is a lad. I just… feel it. He is strong and must have much hair, for the burning in my stomach has been intense and the midwives all say he will be born with as much hair as his father had.” Mary giggled at that image in her mind and shook her head.

  “I hope ye will forgive me for loving another. Robert vows ye would wish me to move on and find happiness, and I find I do agree. Ye loved me so well, Alex, and I will treasure our times together forever. But, my life continues and I must make room for William and love him just as well as I loved ye. It is only right, and he deserves that. He is good to me. Ye would approve, even if James doesnae,” she scowled. “Yer son will be born any day, I believe. ’Tis hard to ken, yet the pains come often and he is a big lad, always kicking my ribs and moving around inside me. I wish ye could have felt him.”

  Kissing her fingertips, Mary placed them on his sculpted lips and smiled. “Ye are so loved and verra missed. I ken ye can hear me now, Alex. I dinnae ken how to say goodbye to ye. I didnae then, and I cannae now. So, I will simply vow to see ye once again after yer child is born. Ye must meet him, for I ken he will be strong like his father. They sing ballads about ye… do ye ken that? Do ye watch over us and listen while we tell tales of ye? I think ye do. I have felt it. Ye will always be with us, Alexander. Rest well with our Lord. And ken that I think of ye every day.”

  Fighting back a new round of tears, Mary decided enough was enough. She could stand there all night and talk to Alexander, but to what end? Turning around, Mary meant to run away as fast and as far as she could but, instead, she plowed into a solid object, this one warm and softer than stone. Looking up, Mary gasped and took a step back, feeling Alexander’s effigy behind her wobbly knees.

  “H-how are ye here?” Fear crawled up her spine, causing her hackles to rise. The candles flickered around the cathedral walls, casting eerie shadows. Surely, he was not as crazed as he appeared when the light hit his face.

  “Surprised? Thought ye were alone while ye spoke to yer dead lover?”

  Mary flinched and her gut roiled. “Stephan… how did ye get in here? My brother ordered that no man could come looking for me in here.”

  “Oh, I have my ways.” He took a small step closer, and she attempted to step ba
ck but instead fell onto Alexander’s effigy, hissing when the sharp curves of stone dug into her thighs and backside.

  His calm, stonelike demeanor made warning bells sound in her head. How long had he sat there and listened to her private words? His presence was unsettling, and his words even more so.

  “Did James send ye here? Ye betrayed me! Now I cannae go back to Drum!” Though her voice quaked, she felt her anger rise along with her tone. She was cornered like a cat and ready to claw her way out if necessary.

  “I didnae betray ye! Alexander did when he refused to wed with ye and put that bastard in yer belly! Ye have been blinded by that man, and now William. Ye cannae see the truth before ye.” He leaned over, placing his cold hands on her shoulders, their chill seeping through the thin fabric of her under tunic. Shrugging him away, Mary pulled the thin blanket back around her body as tightly as she could to stave him off, but he simply grabbed her once more. Believing herself alone and safe, Mary had not bothered to replace her clothing before wandering the halls, a decision she deeply regretted as Stephan’s lecherous gaze had raked over her body before she covered herself.

  “What truth, Stephan?” She tried to remain calm, but he refused to directly answer any of her questions. And when he referred to her child as a bastard, the urge to claw his eyes out made her clench her hands into fists.

  “That ye were meant to be mine all along. I didnae betray ye, Mary. I saved ye. Now ye willnae be ruined. And we can finally be together, the way God intended.” Stephan looked down at the tops of her breasts that were not covered by the blanket, and licked his lips, making her wish to recoil. God had nothing to do with the gleam of lust in his dark eyes. They were like looking at mirrors of his soul, dark and empty but for his own desires.

  Shaking her head, Mary closed her eyes. He was close. Too close. And she was vulnerable, a feeling she had always strived to avoid. There was no avoiding now that she was at his mercy and knew that he had none. His course palms slid down her shoulders and yanked the blanket out of her grasp, making Mary jump and yelp in fear. Throwing the blanket to the ground, Stephan then slid his hands over her breasts, where he cupped them through her under tunic, groaning her name. Swallowing hard, Mary shook.

  “Mayhap I shall have ye right here. Right on top of Alexander’s grave so he can see the wanton whore ye truly are… I want him to hear ye scream another man’s name. Ye allowed William to touch ye. Am I not worthy of the same honor?” As Stephan’s voice grew more sinister, Mary’s fear grew more intense. He did not care that they were in a kirk, or that Alexander’s body was so near. Madman that he was, Stephan was enjoying it all the more.

  Stephan pinched her nipples until she yelped and tried to twist away. “Please, Stephan… ye cannae…” she whispered, doing her best to keep a clear head.

  “I cannae?” Pushing the fabric down her shoulders, Stephan smiled when her bared breasts became exposed to his eager gaze. “I believe I can. I believe I shall.”

  Before she could think or react, Stephan grabbed her by both arms and tossed her onto her back, the freezing stone floors of the cathedral seeping through her under tunic and into her flesh. “Stephan!” she cried and grunted when her head hit the floor, pain exploding in her skull. Disoriented, Mary grabbed her head with one hand and tried to fight him off with the other, but she was too weak and dizzy. Blood coated the hand holding her scalp and she sobbed. “Please!”

  It was happening so fast and yet seemed to last forever as every detail etched into her mind. Stephan unbuckling his belt and loosening his breeches. His other hand yanking her under tunic up to her thighs. The feel of his clammy, callused palms running up her leg. The pressure she felt when he attempted to spread her legs and defile her with his filth.

  “Nay!” She would not allow this. She had no strength, but she still had her voice. Opening her mouth, she screamed as loud as she could, hoping the priests would be preparing for their prayers somewhere within the kirk. Her temples throbbed from the pain in her head, but she continued to wail with all her might.

  Smacking her across the face, Stephan scowled and pulled his breeches back up, quickly replacing his belt. She took that moment to cover her breasts again and attempt to break away, primal fear driving her instinct to survive at all cost, even if her cheek throbbed from his blow and her head ached from her fall.

  “Why, Mary? Ye make everything difficult!” Feeling herself being lifted into his arms, Mary kicked and screamed some more, praying someone heard her. She had no idea what he was doing or where he was taking her, but she knew for certain that Stephan had plotted this entire event.

  Footsteps echoed through the cathedral from the corridor, and Mary yelled. “Help! Stephan Irvine is–”

  Stephan released his hold on her and Mary landed hard on her feet, feeling the shock run up her ankles from the impact. When his hand slapped over her mouth to stifle her shouts, Mary bit the flesh of his palm, making him yelp in pain, but he did not release his grip.

  Dragging her across the cathedral, Mary had no choice but to move her feet toward the back of the kirk as he led her from behind, one hand across her mouth and the other behind her. Something sharp poked her back and she arched forward as much as possible, wondering if he had pulled a dagger on her.

  “Who is here? Mary?” She heard the familiar voice of the priest who had greeted her earlier but dared not to make a sound. If a knife was truly against her back, she would not risk harm befalling her bairn. Stephan pulled her behind one of the towering columns that ran the length of the cathedral, tightening his grasp on her as a group of three priests searched the area, carrying candles on a stick that likely did not allow them to see more than an arm’s length past their noses.

  When the men rounded a corner and went down a side corridor, Stephan pushed her along once more, continuing in the same direction. When they reached a smaller, less ornate door at the back of the room, Stephan leaned over and hissed in her ear. “I am going to remove my hand. If ye scream, I will kill ye. Do ye understand?” Mary nodded emphatically and pursed her lips when he removed his hand.

  Pulling a long metal key out of a satchel tied to his belt, Stephan unlocked the door, cursing when the ancient hinges groaned. How did Stephan have a key for this door? She would not ask, but the foulest thoughts ran through her mind. Was he capable of murdering a priest? Is that how he gained entry to the kirk? Stephan pushed her through the door and shut it behind him, yanking her by the arm and leading her down a side path through what would likely be a beautiful garden by spring, but was currently covered in leafless shrubs and ankle-deep in fresh snow.

  The wind blew Mary’s red hair across her face, and she stumbled on a loose rock beneath her feet. “Where are ye taking me?” she finally asked now that they were alone outside. “’Tis c-cold out here.” Teeth chattering, Mary did her best to keep up with his long strides. “Stephan… I cannae keep up! The bairn…”

  Pulling her into a thickly wooded cove behind the kirk, Stephan pressed her up against a tree and covered her mouth, flashing a blade before her eyes. “I care not for yer bastard!” He growled through clenched teeth, and Mary felt bile burn her throat as she nearly vomited. He would kill her child if she did not get away.

  When he began to pull her along once more, Mary saw a cart tucked between the trees in the distance. It was the same one James had delivered her in, and she tried to pull away even when his grip on her wrist threatened to break her bones. “Where are ye taking me, Stephan? James will be back for me. He even left the cart. He will be here soon!”

  Snickering at her when they approached the cart, Stephan waved the blade in her face. “Get in.” Doing as he commanded, Mary stepped into the cart and pressed as far into the back as she could to avoid his weapon. Stephan climbed in after her, thankfully tucking his dagger back into his boot. She sighed with relief but knew her troubles were far from over. She was alone in a cart with the crazed man who had attempted to force himself on her just moments ago, and she was not
certain what he was capable of.

  “James isnae coming back for quite some time. There is a dead body at Drum and a murderer they shallnae find. He will be quite occupied with the war that shall wage soon enough when they discover the Irvine plaid soaked in Brian’s blood.” A salacious grin slid across his face and Mary gasped. He had killed Brian? Stephan was attempting to start a war between the Keiths and Irvines, destroying the hard-earned yet fragile peace they had achieved through the union of Robert and Elizabeth not long ago.

  If the Keiths believed an Irvine killed one of their best warriors, peace would be forgotten, and another bloody battle between the two clans would rage. William would be in danger. It was all starting to come together, and yet so much did not make sense. She needed to keep him talking. The look of need in his eyes made her skin crawl.

  “Ye killed an innocent man and endangered yer own kin just to start a war? For what purpose? What could possibly be worth such a betrayal?” He was naught more than a landless knight. He had no money, nor power to gain by the deaths of any laird.

  “Ye are, Mary. Ye are worth it all. To have ye…” Stephan took a step closer. “To own ye…” Another step brought him face to face with her, and she pressed herself against the rough wooden back of the cart, both her head and lip still throbbing. “To feel ye…” His hands reached out to grab her breasts again, and she slapped them away, disgusted by him.

  “Dinnae touch me! Ye shall never own me!” She spat in his face, but he only smiled wider, making her cringe in fear. His eyes were wild and darker than the night as he took her by the shoulders.

  “I can, and I will. Nobody is here to hear ye scream now, Mary. And once I have had ye, I shall take ye back to Douglas lands and ye will be my wife.”

  Bewilderment and horror flooded her. She attempted to break free, but his grip only grew stronger. “Douglas lands?”

  “Ye underestimate me.” Making a tsking sound, Stephan shook his head. “Ye think that because I grew sickly and have been marred by the scars of my illness, that I am a fool? I ken ye loved me then. I ken ye would have been my wife if I hadnae been ill and Alexander hadnae stolen ye away while I lay half-dead in my bed!” he shouted, and she jumped from the sudden change in his voice.