A Bridge Through The Mist

by Denise A. Agnew

  "Caithleen tells me the baron wants to have a party in the great hall two nights from now," she said.

  "Aye."

  Alenna’s discomfort increased as she thought about the activities the baron had planned for the party. "She also told me about the strange game he has in mind to play during the party."

  "Aye, the baron told me. I’m no likin’ it."

  She kept her expression closed. "I would think you’d enjoy a chance to play games with the ladies."

  He leaned his chin on his forearm and scowled at her. "Aye, and why would ye think that?"

  Searching for a good word to describe the risqué spectacle the baron had planned, she sat on the edge of the bed. "It sounds like an excuse for men to … to pick bed partners for the night. I would think most everyone would be opposed to it. Except for men who are on the prowl."

  When her gaze flicked to his, his eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. "On the prowl. Well, when ye put it like that, it could be a fine time, lass. There’s to be many a bonnie woman there, I will be bound."

  Though his tone came out teasing, irritation roiled in Alenna’s mind. Well, he could go to bed with any woman he wanted. As long as the plan worked, it wouldn’t matter. Caithleen would be on her way to freedom.

  "Caithleen said that if a man claims a woman on that night, she is to be his for a fortnight."

  "Aye." His voice went husky … a hungry sound that made her even more aware of him as a man. "And every night she must submit to his passion."

  Clearing her throat she said, "We must arrange for Dougald to choose Caithleen."

  Tynan laughed. The booming sound bounced around the room.

  "What’s so funny?"

  "It willna work, Alenna."

  "Why not?"

  "Yer thinkin’ that if Dougald claims her, the baron won’t want her any more?"

  "Well, yes. It’s likely, isn’t it?"

  "The baron is no worried about sharin’ a woman with another man. He would have to care for a woman to be jealous, and he doesna have enough of a heart for that. But he would demand her back at the end of a fortnight. She’s his property."

  As Tynan said, a cold bastard like the baron didn’t care enough about any woman, he’d proven that. He hadn’t been concerned about Florie and his child to keep them with him, nor to catch Florie’s murderer.

  Shifting her thoughts back to the present, she said, "That doesn’t entirely ruin our plan. If Dougald pretends to take Caithleen as his own during the game, then they can get to know each other and she’ll be safe from the baron’s advances for a fortnight."

  Tynan stood, smiling as he walked to a window and put his hands against the stone on either side of the tiny aperture. He peered out. "Ye ken Dougald could no last a fortnight without takin’ Caithleen?"

  Alenna nodded. "Well, I’d thought of that …" She gasped. "You don’t mean he’d rape—"

  He turned swiftly. "Nay! Dougald is a man of honor. But he has a way with wenches that turn them into a puddle of porridge. They dinna have any resistance to him. She’ll no defy him."

  Alenna smiled. "That’s ridiculous. He certainly hasn’t tried anything with me, and even if he did, I certainly wouldn’t turn to porridge over him."

  His brows went up. "Aye. But ‘tis more that he is my friend, and as he thinks yer my cousin he has respect for ye. That is the only reason he dinna try anythin’."

  "Maybe. Elizabet let him escort Johanna home one night. If he’s so charming you’d think Johanna would have …"

  She didn’t want to think of the young girl succumbing to a man’s desires. Or that Dougald would stoop to seduction of one so young.

  "He respects Elizabet as well, so he wadna try anythin’ with Johanna. No matter that Johanna is a silly wench and comely. She flirts with every man she sees. Elizabet knows Dougald can keep Johanna safe. But with Caithleen, everythin’ is different. I’ve seen the way he looks at her. The man is fair tempted."

  "How does he look at her?"

  Tynan grunted. "A bit like he’s been hit over the head. Dazed. Out of his bluidy mind, more like."

  Alenna sprang from her chair and went to stand by him. "That’s what I’m talking about. Caithleen cares for Dougald, and from what you’ve said just now, Dougald has at least a little special feeling for her. If Dougald got to know her, he might—"

  "Ye think he’d marry her and then she’d be sheltered from the baron?" he asked incredulously. "Are ye out of yer mind? In a fortnight, ye expect Dougald of Douglas to fall in love with Caithleen and marry her?"

  Alenna took a deep breath. "Well, yes."

  He laughed again. Anger pushed from somewhere deep within her and flowed over like lava. "Damn it, Tynan, would you stop it?"

  Her harsh words stopped his guffaw. "Lass, yer cartin’ a load of clishmaclaver around if ye think he’d marry."

  "I see. Because he’s just like you?"

  "Aye. In that sense he is. He’s no goin’ to marry, so ye can get that plan out of yer head."

  Alenna’s frustration simmered below the surface, steaming like a volcano vent. She was getting mighty tired of hearing she couldn’t do things. Mighty damn tired.

  "Well, at least if Dougald was good to her for a fortnight, and he didn’t hurt her the way the baron does, she’d know a little happiness. Even if it was only for a short time." Sinking down onto the bed, she speared him with a withering look. "I’m sick of you, the baron, and every other idiot man in this stupid century. You’ll turn your back on common decency because of your misplaced loyalty to the baron, Tynan of MacBrahin. Get out of my room."

  Stiffening in indignation, he moved away from the window and towered over her. "I willna. I am not finished with ye."

  "Well, I’m finished with you. Get out before I scream."

  "Ye wadna dare-"

  Alenna opened her mouth, and he grabbed her up, hauling her against his chest. Before she could take a breath he clamped his hand over her mouth.

  Eyes blazing, he said tightly, "Are ye crazy, woman? Now ye listen, I have had about enough of yer wailin’ about men. Do women in yer time clap their hands and men come runnin’?" With his hand over her mouth she couldn’t speak, but he didn’t appear to care. "Ye have got to understand the way of things here. The baron doesna give a fishmonger’s arse about ye, lass. He has never loved a woman in all his life. And mark my words, if ye do anythin’ at all to anger him, he may kill ye on the spot. Yer plan is no goin’ to work. All it will serve is to bring the baron’s wrath down on Dougald and Caithleen if they were to marry. And, as I told ye, there is nothin’ that could make Dougald marry her."

  Tynan dropped his hand from her mouth and yanked her closer, both of his arms secure around her.

  She licked her dry lips nervously, and saw his gaze follow the movement. A burgeoning heat ignited in his eyes. Intense and devouring, it told her she’d pay and pay dearly right that moment.

  "Not even if he were to fall in love with her?" she asked.

  "Nay," he said softly. "He wadna love her."

  The way his arms tightened about her should have warned her, but part of Alenna wanted his embrace. Wanted it and craved it like a drug. So when his mouth lowered to within an inch of hers, she allowed her eyelids to flutter shut.

  His mouth came down on hers with swift, undeniable, voracious need. She remained rigid in his arms until the pressure of his lips lessened, barely touching hers with feather light tenderness. He seduced her mouth with sweet, seductive tastes, kissing her over and over, each meeting of their mouths thrilling her more than the last.

  Every part of Alenna craved his touch, melting her resistance inch by inch until she might have done anything he asked. Her lips yielded, softened, and his tongue moved into her mouth, stroking and exploring until the desire in her loins heightened, heated. Her arms went about his neck and she pressed against him, relishing the hard contours of his body. Groaning deep in his throat, he increased his passion, tracing his hands over her shoulders, her
back, until he could cup her buttocks. Relenting, she kissed him back.

  As Tynan’s tongue stroked into her mouth continuously, her excitement overtook any reservations and she clutched at his shoulders and arched her hips against him. When he touched her neck and trailed slowly down to her breast, she felt her nipples tighten unbearably. Nothing in her life prepared her for a passion this mindless and all consuming.

  She wanted him to touch her. She wanted—

  He pulled away from her suddenly, and she stumbled back a step and almost fell. He breathed heavily, clutching his hands into fists at his sides. She couldn’t deny the hot, obvious desire raging in his gaze. Suddenly Tynan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  Rattled she managed to take her own steadying breath. Determined to go on with the plan, despite his opposition, she decided she’d let him think he’d won. This time.

  "I feel very sorry for Dougald. For you," Alenna said as she sank back onto the bed. "If you never love at least once in your life, you have nothing. Even if you lose it."

  A deep well of hurt seemed to drown the passion in his eyes, and his lips hardened into a frown. The sight of such pain startled her, and for a second she regretted her words. He turned away and walked to the door. Once there he paused and looked back at her.

  "I have loved a woman once in my life. And it wasna worth the pain of loosin’ her."

  Seconds later the door closed behind him. Stunned by his admission, Alenna stared at the floor. Within her breast grew an ache so abysmal, a sadness so thick it filled her throat and threatened to choke her. He was right.

  She’d fallen in love once, and when her fiancé dumped her before the wedding, she knew the love had been hollow. It hadn’t been worth what she’d gone through the last few months. And now Tynan made her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

  No. Tynan couldn’t make her experience anything she didn’t want to feel. God help her.

  Any anger she had with Tynan dissipated, and without warning tears trailed down her face in a slow, steady rain.

  * * *

  A decisive knock on Alenna’s door the next afternoon brought her out of a deep sleep. Groggy from the lengthy nap, she sat up slowly.

  "Who is it?"

  No answer. Letting out an exasperated groan, she pushed off the bed and walked wearily to the door. Suspicious, she called through the door again. "Who is it?"

  "Baron MacAulay."

  At the sound of his voice, her stomach muscles clenched with tension. In the time since she’d moved into the donjon, he’d spent little time with her, and then always in the presence of others. Perhaps this time he brought Caithleen with him.

  When she opened the door, though, he was alone. Nervous knots tightened her stomach. Automatically, she dropped into a curtsy.

  "Good afternoon, my lord."

  He nodded and bowed. "Good afternoon. You are well?"

  "Aye." She stepped back to let him in.

  He advanced into the room, putting a long walking stick down on the table, and a large wood box. As if he’d been through a stiff wind, his hair stood up in spikes on his head. Quickly he ran his hand through his hair, but pushing his thick fingers through the unruly strands disordered his hair even more. If she didn’t know that the man had a stone cold heart, she’d think he was nervous. As a precaution, she kept the door open.

  "I hope I am not intruding," the baron said politely.

  "Nay."

  "Splendid. I wanted to give you this before the party tomorrow night."

  He retrieved the box and walked toward her, as if he had all the time in the world.

  Apprehension skittered up her spine, but Alenna managed to plant a smile on her face. "What is it, my lord?"

  He held the box out in front of her. "A little trinket to express my admiration."

  Inside the lined box lay a large necklace made of gold, the long strand dotted with pearls, and what looked to be emeralds and garnets. In the center nestled a huge square cut garnet.

  "Oh, my," she gasped.

  He laughed, the sound echoing glacial and soft in the room like a ghost’s cackle. His cheeks creased as he smiled, the grey of his eyes like two cold nickels. "I had hoped you would like it."

  Alenna almost reached out to touch the stones, but restrained the urge. Instead she schooled her face into a serious mask. "I cannot take this."

  She’d never seen a scowl form on a man’s face so quickly, not even Tynan’s. "Why do you refuse it?"

  "Because it would be unseemly to take such a gift from anyone other than a … a guidman or a betrothed."

  The baron shut the box with such a loud clack that she jumped. "Yet you took a present from your cousin, and he is neither guidman or betrothed." He paused and lifted one eyebrow. "Was that not unseemly?"

  Her mind raced for a plausible answer. "He is family. He gave me the cloak because he feared the one I have would not be sufficient. Jewelry is an intimate gift."

  "While you are my guest you have only to ask and you shall be provided with every accommodation," he said, conveniently ignoring her statement on intimacy. He placed the box back on the table.

  Alenna clamored for something to say to placate him. She reached out and touched the box gingerly.

  "I would not presume that I might ask for anything I wanted, my lord. It would be ill bred and equally unseemly."

  He twisted his lips into something that might be called a smile to some, or a grimace to others. Either way, it made her quake inside. Without breaking the smile, he opened the box and retrieved the necklace.

  "You are quite different than Caithleen, are you not?"

  His change in subject startled her, but she managed a reply. "We are very different."

  He took the necklace out of the box and looked down at the gems sparkling in his fingers. "She has little patience for the appearances one must have as a man of my stature. The little wench is so artless. You, however, are very mature. Age, of course, has much to do with this. But I think ‘tis not all."

  "I have been married, my lord. And I have seen more of life all together."

  "Aye. No doubt. But she has received anything she asks of me. I refuse her little."

  Except her freedom from your cruelty.

  With a tone somehow intimate and detached at the same time, he said, "You are a very extraordinary woman, Alenna. Indeed, you are different from any woman I have ever met. ‘Tis something I find fascinating."

  Alenna didn’t want his fascination or his necklace. When he stepped in front of her and looped the jewelry around her neck, the cold of the metal made her skin prickle with goose bumps. His smell repulsed her, and the way he let his gaze drift over her face and body told her exactly what he had in mind.

  Letting his fingers slide between the necklace and her dress, the baron managed to caress her collarbone. Thank goodness for high necklines, she thought. Simply the thought of his bare skin touching hers again left a nasty taste in her mouth.

  "Doubtless you have been admired by many men," he said as he let his fingers lay against her.

  "Nay."

  "Then I shall take your reluctance as a sign of modesty, rather than of distaste and defiance. You would not defy me?"

  Affronted by his haughtiness, but realizing she didn’t have much choice in how she acted around him, she said, "Certainly not, my lord."

  Even though Alenna hated it, she decided playing an insipid woman, or at least someone stupid, would keep him off guard. Let him think she hadn’t a clue what he planned. Then again, she wasn’t entirely sure what he was up to.

  Was this necklace, something she might have expected for him to buy for Caithleen or a wife, a sign he wished to get rid of Caithleen for certain?

  "I was sheltered by my parents," she said. "And then I was sheltered by my guidman. I have little understanding of a man such as yourself, my lord."

  Smiling with that caricature of a grin, the baron let go of the necklace. The strand felt hot through the material of her dress
. Despite the beauty of the necklace, she’d never wanted anything off of her so quickly.

  "Innocence becomes a woman," he said softly, as if he might be talking to a child. He put his hand on her shoulder, and the press of his fingers felt like hard, cold metal. "With a beauty such as yourself, purity of heart is particularly becoming."

  If he’d been anyone other than the baron, the words might have sounded smarmy. Instead his grave, heavy tone took on a frightening significance. She sensed malice and hate deep within the man, and knew she treaded dangerous waters.

  The baron moved away, and she took a deep breath, releasing the tension building within her body.

  "You will take the necklace and wear it to the party tomorrow night. As a sign of my affection … as a sign of your meaning to me."

  Without another word, he bowed and left the room.

  Quickly Alenna took the necklace off and put it in the box. She stared at the dazzling jewelry for a long, long moment. She never would have imagined something so beautiful could be so ugly.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 14

  Wounded and desperate, the cry came out of the darkness and penetrated Alenna’s deep sleep.

  At first the fog of sleep convinced her she’d imagined the sound. Night lay heavy, like a smothering blanket on the room. She couldn’t see anything. The fire in the hearth had burned down hours ago.

  Wind created a high pitched whistle that screeched around the tower like a banshee. Perhaps she’d heard the wind and nothing else. She lay back in bed, the veil of sleep luring her under the warm coverings.

  The next cry came like a muffled sob. She sat straight up in bed, listening intently. Caithleen?

  Could the baron be hurting her?

  If the swine hurt Caithleen, Alenna would kill him.

  Enraged, she jumped out of bed. With trembling fingers she lit a candle and quickly put on shoes. After removing the chair from in front of the door, she cautiously peered out. She half expected one of Clandon’s clooties to jump her.

  Her candle made a token dent in the blackness. A tiny quiver of rage centered her determination and banished her fear. She stepped into the hall. Shutting the door behind her, she headed down the spiral stairs to the third floor where Caithleen shared chambers with the baron. Gingerly she stepped down, never taking her eyes off the dark stairs as one by one they were revealed to her by the candlelight.