Immortal Love
By Victoria Craven
Copyright 2013 by Victoria Craven
Cover design by Patricia Lazarus
Tell-Tale Publishing Group, LLC
Smashwords Edition published at Smashwords by Crossroad Press
& Tell-Tale Publishing
P.O. Box 90112
Burton, MI 48509
www.tell-talepublishing.com
Tell-Tale Publishing
Nightshade Imprint
LICENSE NOTES
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Dedication
This book is dedicated to Nancy Gideon for opening doors for me. I also want to thank Laurie, Loralee, Pat, Dana, and Connie for my inspiration.
Immortal Love
Prologue
Ocean waves crashed against the rocks below. The fine salty mist caressed her face, and sparkling waters beckoned her to the cliff’s edge. Though her heart was caught in a tightening clutch of despair, soon her pain would be gone. All her suffering would be over.
The sun bathed her in its beauty and warmed her skin. Freedom. The mere thought made her smile. She stood closer to the precipice and peered down into turquoise water that turned pristine white where it met the rocks below. Peace washed over her. Soon there would be no more betrayals, no more lies, no more torment. Adolescent dreams shattered over time would no longer matter.
Gulls danced on the waves of the wind, screaming out their delight at such a glorious day. Looking up into the heavens, she filled her lungs with the briny sea air and threw her head back to drink it all in. This moment she would take with her into eternity.
Eleanor.
The image of her daughter filled her mind with doubt. How could she leave her little girl behind with that monster?
She took a step back.
Her child was like a jewel in a tarnished crown. She took another step back, and with it her resolve shifted.
She would not throw herself to her death. She would endure the heartache and pain, take on all the abuse to keep her daughter safe.
Another step back. No matter what happened to her, she couldn’t leave Eleanor behind unprotected.
With the roar of the waves breaking on the rocks below, Isolde never heard the footsteps come up behind her, only the warm breath close to her ear.
“Die, whore.”
A hard blow to her back made Isolde lose her balance. Small rocks shifted under her feet. There was no stopping the momentum that propelled her forward over the cliff's edge.
Her last thought before she hit the rocks below was of Eleanor.
Chapter One
Looking down at the parchment, Eleanor Thanton stood in the great hall of Godwin Castle, frozen, heart sinking in her chest as she read the royal decree that had just arrived from her king.
She was being ordered to marry. By this royal command, she was once more to become a prisoner in her own home.
Eleanor looked up from the curling page of the King’s edict. The silver thread that bordered the messenger’s tunic shimmered in the daylight beaming through the window. His boots shone. His neatly combed chestnut hair gleamed.
A messenger of doom should never dress so well.
Her eyes narrowed. Anger and hate welled in the pit of her stomach as she frantically made a mental survey of her possessions. If she were to escape, what would she take? Her mother’s silver brush and comb and the few meager gowns she possessed. She would have to make her way on foot. What things she had she would have to carry.
From the corner of her eye Eleanor saw Martha enter, and her shoulders slumped even as the long breath she exhaled hissed between her teeth. She couldn’t leave Martha behind.
So many nights the elderly servant had come in to Eleanor’s room to comfort her fears, telling stories of fairies and wood sprites that inhabited the forest beyond the castle walls. Some nights she’d listen to Martha’s honeyed voice sing sweet lullabies, and her young mind would drift on the gentle notes that carried her away to her dreams.
Martha’s husband, Zenon, had always found time to play games of tag and hide-and–seek with Eleanor when she was a child. They were the parents she never had. The people of the village were her family.
Silently she shook her head. No, I can’t leave them behind. I will not leave them in the hands of a merciless soldier.
The familiar weight of despair returned as the hope of escape vanished like a wisp of smoke.
Reading the script once more made the bold black letters declaring her fate dance before her eyes. Her peripheral vision went black. There was no sound. Even the air around her didn’t move.
The messenger cleared his throat, breaking the spell.
Slowly she drew her gaze back to him. “What would happen if I refuse to marry?”
He stiffened. “Refusal would most definitely mean imprisonment, my lady. And forfeiture of your lands.”
She looked up at the beams in the ceiling.
One prison or another, she thought. There is no escape. Her teeth gnashed at the injustice of it.
“Just who am I to marry?”
“Dominick Wolfingham,” the messenger declared on a sigh of relief. “The king’s general, my lady.”
“I don’t understand. I’ve never heard of him. Where is he from?”
“He is from no one place. You may know him as Dominick the Immortal.”
At the messenger’s statement, Eleanor had to consciously shut her mouth. She’d heard tales of the ruthless warrior who with his brother, Randolf, the Black Knight, had never known defeat. Stories of their merciless battles set the hair up on the back of her neck. Her knees felt as though they were about to give way, so she slipped into the nearest chair.
Jongleurs told stories about the famous fighters who’d trampled over their enemies like wind over wheat, bending them to their will. Men and women alike feared the two living legends.
No one knew where he came from. Some said from the black fires of hell, he and his brother.
People talked of Dominick being on the brink of death only to walk away from its edge and survive. Many believed he couldn’t be killed.
Terror welled within.
First the torment of my father, now the terror of a merciless warrior. She resisted the urge to flee when her instincts screamed at her to do so.
Her attempt at speech came out raspy and weak. She had to clear her throat to release the strangling hold of fear. “When will General Wolfingham arrive?”
“Tomorrow, my lady.”
“Tomorrow, you say?” She took a deep breath to quell her churning emotions and forced herself to speak with false bravado. “Then I must ready myself for his arrival.”
Feigning confidence, she handed the parchment back to him. Then looked over his shoulder to see empathetic tears pool in Martha’s eyes.
“You must be hungry from your journey. Martha will bring you a meal. If you will excuse me, I have a great deal to do to prepare for my betrothed’s arrival.”
She nodded at Martha then turned toward the stairs.
Taking one step at a time until she was out of sight, she then clenched her skirts in her fists and took flight. By the time she reached the landing, she was in a dead run toward her chambers, not stopping until she’d entered them and slammed the door behind her. Her breath, deep and heavy, squeezed tight around her heart.
Falling to her knees she tried to prevent the tears from coming, but they came anyway. The pain of her past flooded back. When her father died six months prior, she’d hoped to be delivered from the hell she lived in, but now the iron door of her torment was about to close, locking her in forever. Her heart cried out to the memory of her mother.
Would she suffer the same fate?
Dominick looked down upon the gray castle before him. Years of neglect had taken its toll, leaving it on the edge of ruin. Fences needed mending, gardens were overrun with weeds, and stones from the castle walls needed new mortar. Only a few hens pecked at the barren ground.
He shifted in his saddle. If he hadn’t known King William better, he would have thought his friend was punishing him for a grave wrong instead of rewarding him. He sighed deeply, remembering the last conversation he’d had with his liege.
He had been called to His Majesty’s opulent private chambers where the king had poured wine into goblets and passed one to Dominick. They tapped the cups together in a friendly salute. Once they were both seated, His Highness handed him a rolled up piece of parchment.
“What is this?”
“It’s your last order from me.”
“Dominick’s curiosity was piqued. “I have a feeling there will never be a last order from you,” he said as he took the scroll. His felt his jaw begin to drop as he read the decree. “I don’t understand.”
“What is it you don’t understand? I’m giving you land of your own.”
“But you’re ordering me to marry. Why?”
“Two reasons. There is a clan leader whose land borders Godwin. Robert McPhearson is trying to take Godwin to expand his boundary. I can’t allow that to happen.”
“This I understand. But why marriage? You could just have me break the siege and push him back to his own borders.”
“Your marriage would ensure a strong hold on the land and keep McPhearson from coming back to take it.”
“But you have other noblemen who are suitable for marriage.” His life was changing course, and for the first time in many years he wasn’t in control. He felt as helpless as he had when he was a child.
“None have served me as you have, my friend, and it’s time for peace. Your peace. It’s time you have a place of your own, where you can grow roots and raise a family. No more wandering and no more war. Your soul needs rest.”
“Sire, I have been a soldier too long. I don’t know how to rest.”
“I owe you my life many times over,” William continued. “You have been a true and loyal friend. Now it’s time for me to show you my gratitude.” The king sat back in his chair and looked down into his goblet of wine. “Your fighting skills are legendary. Now I want you to learn a new skill, that of land owner.”
Dominick’s life-long dream had been a home of his own, but the promise of a woman unknown to him and not of his choosing made him wary. “Tell me why this gift comes with a wife.”
King William leaned forward, commanding his friend’s attention. “It’s a guarantee that you will settle down to the land I give you. It will bind you tightly to it and make you reluctant to leave your sons and daughters to fight in someone else’s war.” The King leaned back in his chair and stared down in his goblet. “I am giving you the opportunity to build and watch something grow instead of watching it burn to ashes.”
The March wind brought Dominick out of his reverie. He looked out beyond the rocky cliff upon which Godwin Castle sat to the gray ocean and its horizon. He could hear the waves crashing against the shore below it, and feel the salty breeze against his face.
He’d always loved the ocean. The great roar of the surf slamming against the rocks reminded him of a home he’d once had as a child, but that had been long ago. He brushed aside the memories and swallowed the dull ache in his throat as he heard the familiar sound of Randolf’s approach and turned to watch his brother rein in beside him.
Randolf surveyed the landscape and let out a great sigh. “There’s a lot of work to be done here.”
“I’m aware of that.” Dominick couldn’t keep the chill out of his voice.
“Well, with a little work—” Randolf caught Dominick’s sidelong glance. “—All right, with a lot of work, this place could be quite beautiful.”
“Yes, it could. I didn’t know we would be this close to the sea. I must send a message back to King William to thank him.”
Randolf shifted in his saddle. “It’s almost perfect, with one exception, the gift comes with the encumbrance of a wife.”
“A large price indeed. I always thought I would have the liberty to choose my own bride, but it was not to be. The King has decided to take the matter into his own hands.”
“Does she know?”
“I sent a messenger this morning. He has yet to return.”
Our fate is now cast in stone, he thought.
“The poor girl must be quaking in her slippers, if your reputation has preceded you.”
Dominick felt himself smile. “I will give her no reason to fear me.”
“Your size alone creates terror.” Randolf chuckled. “I have seen women fall faint with one glance at you.”
He scowled at his brother’s ribbing. “Surely you exaggerate.”
“Exaggerate? Remember that woman in Daanon? I swear her hair turned white right before our eyes.” Randolf gave his brother a mischievous smile. “Of course, there were the women who wondered if everything about you was large.”
Dominick grinned reluctantly. His brother’s wit was sharpening, and he needed to dull it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And what about you? I have seen young girls throw themselves at your feet. Been nearly deafened by their audible sighs as you walk into a room.”
“It isn’t my fault I was born this handsome.” Randolf stroked his closely clipped beard.
Both men laughed. Randolf didn’t have a vain bone in his body. Dominick knew that at times Randolf’s good looks became a nuisance to him, and he grew weary of the attention. But when a young lass struck his fancy, he didn’t hesitate to use his charms.
Randolf changed the subject. “Do you think McPhearson will stay away now that you’ve broken the siege and are now the lord of the castle?”
“No,” Dominick replied fiercely. “McPhearson is out there with treachery on his mind. If he is a patient man, he will wait until the time is right and strike when we least expect it. We must be on our guard for any attack.”
For a time the two men sat in companionable silence, observing the landscape. Suddenly, a chill ran up Dominick’s spine like a cold finger of ice. Uneasiness slipped into his mind. Sensing a presence close to him, he drew his sword as he turned toward the forest.
Randolf drew his own weapon in readiness. “What is it?”
Scanning the trees, Dominick approached the woods. “I’m not sure.”
“Spirit or man?”
“Spirit, but she will not show herself to me.” He looked deeper into the tree line. “I sense she’s waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“I don’t know.”
As quickly as the presence came, it was gone. Dominick shifted in his saddle and sheathed his sword.
Though he knew Randolf didn’t understand them, he didn’t doubt the existence of the spirit world. Over the years, his brother had learned not to question Dominick’s visions.
“The spirit may have come to warn us,” he stated as he turned to Randolf. “Have Erik search the forest for any of McPhearson’s men.” Randolf nodded. “And make sure the fortress is closely guarded. There may be spies not yet rooted out. It wouldn’t surprise me if McPhearson tried to take the castle from within.”
“I’ll see it done.”
“Good. Now that McPhearson’s siege has been broken and his men pushed back to his borders, I must get ready to meet my bride. I’ll return to camp by supper,” he said, riding back into the woods.
“I bet she’s fat with warts all over her face, Ran
dolf said.”
Randolf spoke to Dominick’s own reservations. “You’re not helping, Brother.”
“Or she could be ancient, like that woman in DuMont who tried to ensnare you with her love potion.”
He let his horse bump into his bother's and said, “I’m going to run you through.”
“You could try," Randolf said. He chuckled and nudged his horse to encourage him to move away. What if she has one leg and one eye and is missing teeth?”
“You can stop talking any time, Brother.” Dominick sighed as Randolf continued his teasing as they rode all the way back to camp. Yet privately Dominick wondered himself how hideous his bride could be.
Chapter Two
Eleanor cried herself to sleep that night, the first time since her mother’s death.
Waking up to a pounding headache and a heavy heart, she readied herself to meet the new lord of Godwin. Dread washed over her. The weight of it forced her to the window seat where she stared out over the cliffs to the sea’s horizon. Seagulls squealed overhead. How she wished she could fly out over the ocean, never to return.
Six months had passed since her father’s death, and she thought she would finally know peace. But unknown to her, in one of his drunken stupors he had promised her hand in marriage to Robert McPhearson, a clansman to the north.
An evil man with an ambitious heart.
After her father died, McPhearson had come to claim his bride and Godwin. When she refused his claim, he burned her stables, ran off with the animals and threatened to starve her into submission. It was then she asked for the king’s help. But never in her wildest imagination had she expected her savior to be a husband.
If it weren’t for McPhearson’s siege, Eleanor and Godwin would have been forgotten, and she could have lived the rest of her days in obscurity. Unfortunately, the king had other plans.
Eleanor sat up in bed when Martha entered with a tray of hot tea and biscuits.
“I brought you some food since you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.”
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