But his liege would not be put off so easily. Edmund leapt to his feet before Kirk could move Mara from the table. “Hold!” he commanded. “Whereby does she spout such nonsense?”
Kirk cast Mara an expression that suggested nothing other than complete silence from her. “The lady strolled the grounds this morn and was told some of the local folklore,” he said evenly. “Surely nothing you have not heard before, my lord.”
“But she has accused me of murder!” Edmund said with outrage. “I would know who told her such lies!”
Kirk looked at Mara, who immediately thrust up her chin stubbornly. Even in the face of an angry lord, she was characteristically brave. And mayhap foolish. “I do not know their names, my lord,” she said.
Kirk knew it was a lie. He watched as Edmund approached, his freckled face taut with emotion. Kirk was also quite aware that he himself tensed, preparing to defend Mara from any physical punishment Edmund might choose to deliver.
“Then if you do not know their names, you will describe them,” Edmund demanded. “Tell me now!”
Mara wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. “It will not help to shout at me.”
“I am not shouting!”
“You are, my lord, and I find that your howling has upset my head,” she turned away from him as if entirely disinterested in the conversation. “If you will excuse me, I shall retire for the evening.”
Edmund reached out and grabbed her by the arm. Raising his open palm, his downward motion was stopped by a grip so powerful that he yelped in pain. Gazing up, he realized with shock that that Kirk had prevented him from venting his rage on the obstinate young girl.
The gleam to the stone-gray eyes was most disturbing. “That,” Kirk growled, “would not be wise, Edmund. I suggest you return to your meal and permit me to escort Lady Mara to her chamber.”
As Edmund stared into his chilling expression, he realized that he was frightened of Kirk. Truly frightened. But he was also terribly offended.
“You defend her?” he hissed. “I am your liege, Kirk. ’Tis your duty to support me without question!”
“Not when it comes to beating helpless women,” Kirk released Edmund’s hand. Grasping Mara by the arm, he struggled to maintain his calm; he, too, could hardly believe what he had just done. “Trust that I shall deal with the lady in a less painful manner. You will excuse us.”
He whisked Mara from the room before Edmund could express his astonishment. Once sheltered by the long, cool corridor leading to the foyer of Anchorsholme, he thrust Mara into a secluded alcove and pulled the tapestry closed. When he faced her, she could read nothing but fury on his face.
“Kirk,” she said softly. “I….”
His piercing gaze cleaved her words. “You will listen to me, lady, and listen well. Never again will you show such stupidity by spouting accusations that are hardly concrete. The tales of the Darkland are not to be trivialized in any way, for they hold more power and terror than you can imagine. Do you understand?”
He was rigid with anger. Fearful of him for the first time since their introduction, Mara nodded weakly. “I… I am sorry, Kirk. But he was threatening Micheline and…”
“And did I not tell you that I would protect her?” he fired back, his tone harsh. “Do you not trust me, Mara? Or are you so young and foolish that you would place yourself in jeopardy simply to gain a small measure of revenge on your sister’s behalf?”
She lowered her gaze, close to tears of anger and shame. He was right and she was well aware of the fact; still, his scolding upset her. Even more than the spanking had.
“I suppose I am young and foolish, my lord,” she said, refusing to look at him. “I have always been outspoken, flagrantly so. I would have thought you to realize that by now.”
He loomed over her, jaw ticking with emotion. “Curb it, Mara. Or it will be the end of you.”
She was wedged into the corner of the alcove, picking distractedly at her nails. “Then let it end me. At least my end will be honestly met, speaking my mind for what is right and just. If it is not to your approval, then that is your misfortune.”
He shook his head slowly. “Christ, you’re a stubborn creature.”
She turned to him, then. “Aye, I am. And I refuse to go through life being reprimanded by you every time I open my mouth. If you were serious when you proposed marriage, Kirk Connaught, then I suggest you reconsider. You will not find a perfect wife in me.”
He stared at her. Long and hard. “Mayhap you are right. Mayhap I have been fooling myself all along.”
Mara felt as if she had been hit in the stomach. She hadn’t expected him to agree so readily. Before she could respond, however, he grasped her by the arm again and pulled her from the alcove. Silent and brooding, he escorted her to the chamber she shared with Micheline and left without another word.
When Micheline came to bed less than an hour later, she noticed that Mara’s pillow was saturated with dampness. As she stood and watched her sleeping sister with concern, more tears trailed down her temples and onto the linen. Puddling, weakening. Expressing her sorrow.
When the dawn finally came, the tears were still falling.
“Another missive, Kirk.”
Niles was in Kirk’s chamber before daybreak, a rolled message in his hand. Kirk rose from his bed, naked, and snatched the vellum.
“Where’s the rider?” he asked, his voice scratchy.
“In the kitchens,” Niles replied, his blue eyes shadowed. He had been on sentry duty all night and was particularly weary. “He said the missive was for you alone.”
Kirk unrolled the parchment, his gray eyes struggling to read the contents under the weak candlelight. Reaching the bottom of the page, he sighed and re-rolled the vellum.
“Well?” Niles demanded softly.
“It’s from Drew,” Kirk put the parchment aside and went in search of his hose. “Apparently, the potential of a revolt is greater than father indicated. Drew is worried that father will wait until it is too late before summoning help. They need a mediator immediately.”
“You?”
Kirk pulled on his breeches, securing them. “Drew requests that I come,” he said. “I must speak with Edmund on the matter.”
Niles watched the man as he donned his tunic. “After what happened last night, are you sure Edmund will receive you?”
Kirk cocked an eyebrow. “I am his captain, Niles. Of course he will receive me.”
Niles sighed, sitting on the edge of the bunk as Kirk splashed water on his face and wiped it off. “You’re quite smitten with her, aren’t you?”
Kirk did not say anything. Collecting his boots, he sat next to his friend as he pulled them on. “She’s a handful, Niles. A hellion of the worst sort.”
“And how is that?”
Kirk snorted softly, rising from the bed and peeling back the oilcloth on his lancet window to reveal the lightening horizon. “She’s knows she’s a hellion and she doesn’t care. As much as I like her spirit, she must learn to control herself.”
“Before or after you marry her?”
Kirk continued to stare at the sky, turning shades of pink and gold. “Who said anything about marriage?”
Niles chuckled, rising from the mattress. “No one, my friend,” he put his hand on Kirk’s broad shoulder. “Back to the subject at hand, do you wish for me to prepare an escort bound for Ireland?”
Kirk nodded faintly, thoughts still on Mara as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. He’d hardly slept all night thinking of her. “Better still, I plan to solicit our allies for support. Prepare a small party to accompany me to Quernmore Castle. After Edmund’s marriage, I shall ride north and ask Lord le Vay for military commitment. The man owes us after we aided him in ridding his territory of gypsies last year.”
Niles opened the door. “Ah, yes, Edmund’s marriage,” he shook his head. “I heard yesterday that Johanne sent for the priest. Going through with this rather quickly and unobtrusively, are they n
ot?”
“Edmund simply wants to be done with it, I think.”
“What is going to happen when Lady Micheline realizes her husband is sharing his bed with his sister?”
Kirk shook his head with disgust. “God only knows. For Edmund’s sake, he had better be kind to the woman. She’s an extremely decent woman, far too decent for Edmund.”
The corridor was heavy with smoke as they stepped into it, the result of low-burning torches. “So you are Lady Micheline’s protector as well, are you?” Niles smiled knowingly. “How chivalrous. The little hellion certainly has you wrapped around her finger.”
Kirk couldn’t deny the truth. No matter how much he wanted to.
The priest from Crosby was a tall, thin man with a hooked nose. He looked rather unassuming standing before Micheline and Edmund, wedding the two as if he were simply carrying on a conversation rather than a wedding mass. Clad in pale yellow brocade that had been her mother’s finest dress, Micheline stood regally as the dreaded union took place.
Edmund yawned, sighed, and picked his nose as the mass was intoned. Johanne was amazingly attentive on her brother’s right, while Mara, Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda stood silent just behind Micheline. Niles, Corwin and Kirk brought up the rear.
Mara could feel Kirk standing behind her, her stomach twisting painfully as the priest conducted the mass. Niles had escorted Micheline to the grand hall for the ceremony while Mara had been left in the company of Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda. Kirk was nowhere to be found and nearly missed the ceremony altogether, rushing in from the bailey at the last moment clad in worn battle armor.
Mara had been aching since last night to catch a glimpse of him. But the moment she heard his voice, she turned her attention to the priest and refused to look in his direction. Miserably, she listened as her sister wed a man the entire castle thought to be a murderer while Kirk’s presence seemed to creep all over her, invading her senses and mind.
She should have been focused on Micheline but found she could not concentrate. Even this morning, helping her sister dress, her attention had been obviously diverted. Micheline never did find out what had happened, what had made Mara cry all night, but she suspected the reason. When Kirk did not appear first thing in the morning to greet them, her suspicions were confirmed.
The ceremony was over as quickly as it began. Edmund turned away from the priest, asking Kirk to pay the man as he cast a reluctant glance to his pink-cheeked bride. With a weak wave of his hand, he summoned the woman to follow and quit the hall with Johanne on his heels. Chagrinned and miserable, Micheline struggled to remain composed as the knights and ladies congratulated her.
Kirk finished paying the priest, watching as Mara and Micheline lost themselves in private conversation. They held hands tightly, Mara whispering something he couldn’t hear. But the compassion on her face, the ache for her sister, spoke volumes and Kirk felt himself weakening.
Even if she was a hellion, a willful wench with an uncontrollable mouth, she was still the most beautiful, sensitive woman he had ever met. Her untamed words had always been in defense of her sister, or another worthy cause, never selfish or trite. If there was one thing Mara le Bec was not, it was self-centered. The woman had a heart of gold.
Aye, he had been angry at her last night. Angry that she proven her control over him, control he had freely given. If he should be angry at anyone, it should be himself; he was the one who allowed himself to become smitten with her. Smitten enough to the point of falling in love with the bright-eyed beauty.
The grand hall cleared, Niles and Corwin escorting Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda into the solar. The wedding had taken place after the morning meal and the servants were eager to prepare the hall for the nooning feast, but Mara and Micheline remained huddled together, ignoring all else around them, as Kirk hovered several feet away. When the wait became excessive, Kirk gently cleared his throat.
“Lady de Cleveley,” he addressed Micheline softly. “Your husband awaits, madam.”
Micheline was crying. As Kirk approached, she wiped her face quickly and struggled to regain her composure. “I… I know,” she whispered. Then, her pale eyes turned to him. “Will you be escorting me to him?”
Kirk nodded faintly. “It would be an honor.”
Mara was still clutching Micheline, her lovely face dark. “I shall go with you and help you prepare.”
Kirk shook his head, reaching down to dislodge the sisters’ grip. He did not want Mara near Edmund or Johanne, irritating an already strained situation. “That will not be necessary, lady.”
Mara flared as he took Micheline away from her. “Of course it is necessary,” she snapped. “She needs me.”
He refused to look at her, focused on Micheline. “Are you ready, my lady? We shall take the long route if it pleases you.”
Micheline managed to smile weakly. “How long? Hours?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “By way of Paris if you like.”
Micheline laughed softly, eased by Kirk’s gentle manner. “Paris will not be necessary, I think. Mayhap it is best if I simply get this over with.”
Mara couldn’t stand it; she turned away, closing her eyes against the injustice about to happen. “Connaught, if you have any sympathy at all, you will take her back to our chamber and bolt the door,” she hissed.
Kirk gazed at her dark head. “Lord Edmund is her husband, Lady Mara. He has every right to his bride.” Putting Micheline’s hand on his elbow, he smiled encouragingly as he led her away. “Have you ever been to Paris, my lady?”
Mara listened to their conversation as they neared the stairs, her heart shattering for her sister’s plight. She could only imagine the horrors Micheline would be going through in the next few hours. And Kirk was speaking so gently to her, as if nothing in the world was awry. She adored and hated him all the more for it.
She heard the conversation fade as they mounted the stairs. She sat in the vacant hall for some time after that, pondering the misery the future had brought. For both of them. When Kirk did not return after a nominal amount of time, she rose and went into the kitchens in search of her four little friends. Wondering, and hoping, if they could distract her from her sorrows.
CHAPTER EIGHT
By the time Kirk reached Edmund’s chamber with a composed Micheline on his arm, thoughts of Mara were faded and he was more reluctant than ever to subject the woman to her husband’s callous attentions. He felt as if he was leading her into the lion’s den. But he had no choice in the matter, a sense of duty that did not falter even as he knocked on the door and Johanne answered.
Micheline seemed comforted by the fact that Johanne was present; mayhap she believed there was safety in numbers. Whatever the case, she gave Kirk a brave smile and entered the room with her customary dignity. Kirk watched, feeling sickened, wishing he could warn her of the appalling reality she was about to face. But his sense of duty prevented him from doing so. Still, it did not stop him from assuring her he would be right outside the door should she require him.
A statement that seemed to anger Edmund. Kirk’s strange loyalty to the le Bec sisters was something he had not anticipated, nor desired, considering he needed the man now more than ever. The Irish were preparing to rebel and he needed his captain’s strength and military wisdom if he were going to protect his holdings; clearly, the last thing he wanted was a souring relationship.
Although he did not want to argue with the man he admired above all else, the fact remained that Kirk was sworn to obey him and not the other way around. But the arrival of Micheline and Mara le Bec was creating division between him and his mighty captain, an uncomfortable situation that Edmund was struggling to come to terms with. A division that seemed to be growing wider by the moment and Edmund was desperate to stop the rift.
A rift that was apparent as Micheline entered the bridal chamber, accompanied by her new sister-in-law, and Edmund and Kirk locked gazes. Edmund had no idea what to say to the obviously displeased knight, waiting for hi
m to shut the door, but instead Kirk beckoned him with a crooked finger.
Edmund labored to remain neutral of expression as he graciously honored the request. Quietly, Kirk pulled him into the corridor where their conversation could not be heard.
“Lady Johanne will be leaving, I trust?” Kirk asked.
Edmund nodded. “After she prepares my bride. Truly, Kirk, this is of no concern to you. She is my wife, after all.”
Kirk’s gaze was cold. He had always disengaged himself with Edmund’s personal habits but found at this moment he could not. He had promised Mara that he would protect her sister and felt strongly, even above his oath of fealty to Edmund, that he enforce his promise. Especially when he knew what Edmund was capable of.
“That may be, Lord Edmund,” his voice was a growl. “But Lady Micheline is a fine and dignified woman and I shall be most displeased if I discover the marriage bed does not meet with her expectations.”
Edmund tried not to appear intimidated. “And what does that mean?”
Kirk’s jaw ticked, dangerously close to insubordination. “I believe you already know,” he moved to the opposite side of the corridor, assuming his post at a discreet distance. “Congratulations on your marriage, my lord. May you be truly blessed.”
Edmund stared at him; thinly veiled threats one moment, best wishes the next. But his apprehension quickly turned to rage and he whirled about, slamming the door to his chamber hard enough to rattle the walls.
Kirk continued to stare at the door, wondering if his intimidation would do any good for Micheline’s sake. Wondering, upon reflection, if Edmund would do unspeakable things to the woman simply to show his captain who was truly in charge of Anchorsholme Castle. A battle of wills had begun, the lines of conflict drawn, and Kirk knew there could only be one winner.
And it would not be Edmund.
Mara was trying desperately not to think of her sister’s plight as she strolled the kitchen yard, searching for the quartet of dirty children. The more she walked, however, the more difficult it became for her to forget what was happening. Micheline had married a fiend, Kirk had decided she was indeed a hellion, and the world in general was looking rather dismal.
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