by Darby, Brit
“You?” Drake asked.
She nodded.
“Lachlan?”
“My twin.”
“It can’t be,” Leo exclaimed, drawing both their gazes to him.
“You …” his single word faded off, no others followed as he just stood and stared at Cailin.
“What is it, Leo?” Drake prodded his cousin to continue. Leo speechless was a rare occurrence. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. On the contrary, it seems everything is right. I mean, how extraordinary.”
“You are making no sense. Explain yourself, dammit.”
Leo looked grave for once as he sought to understand his own musings. “Don’t you see? Cailin is the girl … your betrothed … the reason you argued with your father and left. After all these years, you’ve found each other — as it was meant to be.”
Drake remained doubtful, cautious. “You can’t be serious? You don’t believe …” Now it was his sentence that remained unfinished, his look skeptical.
“Perhaps,” Cailin interrupted their stare-down, “you might let me in on the mystery Leo has resolved?”
Leo looked at her. “Years ago, Drake was betrothed to a girl in Northumbria, the daughter of an earl. Drake argued with his father over it. You see, he wasn’t too keen to be tied to a girl only eight years of age. He thought himself in love with an older woman and upon discovering himself a foolish youth — just as his father had accused him of being — Drake left hearth and home behind. And yours truly, his cousin and friend, followed, ever his faithful companion, I might add.”
Cailin smiled at the tall tale and Leo’s charming telling of it. “You believe me this girl he was betrothed to?”
“Aye. Only weeks after the arrangements were settled between the families, the girl went missing. Now tell me, how many daughters of earls went missing from Northumbria ten years ago, rumored to have been kidnapped by Vikings, no less?”
“True enough,” Cailin mused. “But still—”
“I’ve got to say, stranger things have happened since meeting you, Cailin. I might not have believed such a thing before, but now, I’d not discount it.” Leo’s look was clear enough; his words merely emphasized his determination.
Leo is right, Cailin thought. Was she the same girl, Drake’s intended betrothed from years ago? In her heart she knew the answer: Fate had finally brought them together.
“SWEET LADY,” KASIMIR TURNED a serious look upon Cailin. “It seems your decision to let the Viking and his men go is one you soon will regret. My men have spotted his ship following us. His pursuit of you is relentless, and it is unfortunate our numbers may not be enough to stop him.”
“Then I suggest we avoid a confrontation, Kasimir.”
His eyebrows rose and his dark eyes widened. “I am not a man to run from a fight, and I am hurt that you would suggest such a thing.”
Cailin saw she had offended him, but she was no less resolute. “I assure you, I do not doubt your courage. But I will not have any loss of life on my account.”
Still, he puffed his chest up and argued. “We are pirates. We live and die by the sword. If it is our time, I for one, would find comfort to die for the cause of my sweet lady.”
“But, I would not.” Cailin countered his heroics. “Look, there is a fog bank to the north. We must head for its cover.”
When Kasimir made no move to obey, Cailin tried again. “Let him pass us in the fog.”
“It is too dangerous. The wind is gone and the fog thickens. Night is soon upon us, we risk being becalmed. Do you not understand this?”
“Yes, I do. Can you understand that I will not have you confront Gunnar? He is a man gone insane. There is no reasoning with him. Trust me; I know.”
Kasimir gave her question thought. “It seems the man carries more than a broken heart. What is it that drives him to be so ruthless in his pursuit?”
“He pursues me now because I search for my father. He fears the crew will learn the truth of his betrayal.”
“How is it your father’s men follow Gunnar? Why do they not follow you?”
Cailin sighed, for that was a difficult question to answer. “My father trusted Gunnar, he looked to him as he would a son, groomed him to take over his trade. When the men were told Thorvald was dead, it was natural for them to follow Gunnar. It would have been what my father wanted.”
Kasimir grunted. “Why did you not tell them of his betrayal?”
“I have no proof, other than my word.”
“That should be sufficient, no?”
“Gunnar has worked with most of these men for years. They, too, trust him. Thorvald held him in great affection and esteem.”
Kasimir looked thoughtful. “But you are his daughter.”
“Yes, I am his daughter, not his son. I held no affection in my father’s heart, and hold no position over his men.”
“The ways of men are hard, but this, I do not understand.”
“Sometimes,” Drake’s voice sounded from the shadows as he stepped forward, “fathers are hard to understand. They seem to place a premium on sons and their expectations are high.”
Again, Kasimir grunted. “Do they not know that life comes from the fairer sex? Their love and laughter is the greatest gift a man can know. To live without these things is a grim prospect indeed.”
This time, Cailin laughed softly at his words. “I did not know pirates were such poets. You have a romantic heart, Kasimir. Please, I beg you. Make for the fog bank, lest you be taken from this world and all the women you hold dear.”
Drake wrapped his arms about Cailin’s waist and pulled her back up tight against him. He agreed. “You may get another chance to fight, Kasimir, but for now, you’d best do as she asks. She is relentless in getting her way.”
Then Drake leaned lower and whispered into Cailin’s ear, “I think we should have a dozen daughters, don’t you?”
THE AIR GREW STILL, only the slightest disturbance as the ship drifted into the fog and it settled about them, cloaking them in its wet, misty veil. Everyone remained silent, waiting, the soft sounds of the sea lapping against the ship’s hull.
Time stood still as they listened for the sounds of the other ship passing by in the muted night. Straining to hear, Cailin waited impatiently, praying Gunnar’s ship would pass without incident. How did so many people become embroiled in her journey? What gain did all her efforts bring?
Even if she found Thorvald, what then? Would it change anything? Yet, had she not taken the path chosen, she would not be with Drake. Her head ached trying to reason it out and follow the complicated threads of her choices.
Still, her actions placed them all in danger. Any loss of life from her actions would be too much to bear. Even Kasimir and his pirate hoard and the Mongol Jagun who joined her cause had proven strangely loyal to her. It made no sense, yet here they stood at her side.
In the distance, she heard the soft swishing of oars. Gunnar’s madness caused him to recklessly follow into the fog bank, heedless of his men and ship. Inch by inch, the other ship crawled toward them, close enough now they heard men’s hushed voices echoing in the fog. Suddenly, the voices stopped and a tense quiet held them all in its grip.
Cailin glanced up as a shadow passed close overhead. She saw Disir’s dark wings, and a piece of driftwood clutched in his talons. With canny precision the raven vanished into the swirling fog, and in her mind’s eye Cailin saw him carrying his prize to the far side of the other ship. She heard a splash, the sound loud in the ensuing silence.
Men shouted and scrambled on the other ship. Once again, they heard oars dip into water, the rhythm moving the Dreki Logi along. Yet the other ship had turned slightly now, hunting the source of the mysterious sound. Cailin saw the silhouette of the Dragon’s head passing them by, so close she feared it might ram their stern. Instead, it glided by, like a ghostly visage upon the sea, disappearing into the mist.
With agonizing slowness, the sound of oars and voices gre
w faint, and finally faded all together. Everyone remained frozen in place, unable to move lest they come back. Only when enough time had passed did Kasimir dare to whisper.
“Now what, my sweet lady?”
“Prepare your men for hard work. When the wind rises, we must seize the chance to beat him to Northumbria.”
Drake did not look amused. “So you think Gunnar knows where you are going?”
Cailin nodded. “He knows, but does not fully understand why I would return there after all these years.”
“Do you?”
Drake’s question caused uncertainty to well up inside but she said honestly, “No, I only know I must.”
“Then we shall go together.” Seeing her concern, he flashed a brilliant smile. “Do you think your family will like me?”
Cailin smiled, but sadness still clung to her as she attempted a light-hearted answer. “Even more importantly, will they like me?”
“No,” Kasimir interrupted them with a huff, “of the most importance is the fact that the wind has died. It is as I said, we are becalmed.”
“Hafvilla,” Cailin whispered the word even the most experienced seaman dreaded. But instead of fear, she felt a strange confidence fill her. “Do not worry, Kasimir, by morning’s light we shall have a prevailing wind from the north, and to the south the sun shall warm our faces.”
His look remained doubtful, but he did not naysay her prediction. Instead, he smoothed his mustache and turned away, leaving them alone.
“I can’t tell if he believes you or not.”
Cailin looked up at Drake. Despite the darkness cast over them, Cailin remembered every inch of his handsome face. She touched his cheek, rough from lack of shaving. “I don’t think he does.”
“Well,” Leo came up to stand beside them, “I don’t think he quite understands your strange ways as we do, Cailin. Give him time, he’ll come around.”
As usual, Leo made light of things, yet there was an undertone of seriousness to his words. At that moment, Cailin knew both Drake and Leo had come to terms with her visions, and the Dragons that guided her on her journey. For the first time in her life, she felt true peace.
Chapter Thirty-two
“MOTHER,” LACHLAN LEANED CLOSE to her so his words were not overheard by others. “Shona is very beautiful, don’t you think?”
Moira smiled at his shy words and patted his hand. “Yes, she is lovely.”
Lachlan nodded agreement, his gaze moving back to his bride to be. It was hard to believe Shona would be his wife soon. He was the most fortunate of men. Yet the thought frightened him. He knew nothing of being a husband, just as he knew little of being an earl.
In truth, since his father’s death, his mother and her advisors handled all business and matters of state. Lachlan’s life had changed little, but somehow he knew marriage would be different. More things would be expected of him now, things he didn’t understand.
Shona sat by her father, Lord Talorcan, her hands folded meekly in her lap. She was a pretty blonde girl, delicate. She reminded Lachlan of the sprites and pixies the old ones talked about when sitting around the fires.
She and her father traveled a long way to attend the betrothal dinner in their honor. The announcement of Shona’s and Lachlan’s upcoming marriage was cause for a feast, but the merging of two great families, an alliance at long last come to pass, was reason for even greater celebration. The fact that Shona’s eldest brother was betrothed to Cailin just weeks before her disappearance was only revealed to Lachlan recently. It might have been a double wedding, had his sister not vanished.
Every once in a while, a deep sadness touched Lachlan. He missed Linny. He remembered her sweet nature and loving heart, her protectiveness towards him, the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. He grew up overhearing servants whispers, passing rumors that she was unnatural. It wasn’t until he was much older that he understood the mutterings and the common belief that his twin was a witch, a sorceress, a harbinger of evil.
Lachlan didn’t believe any of it; in his heart he knew Linny was good and kind. Even after all these years, he held onto the hope they would one day be reunited. Something inside him told him they would see each other again.
LATER, SHONA PUT ON her cloak and slipped outside the feasting hall for some fresh air in the courtyard. Her father was still catching up with old cronies at the feast and would likely not notice her missing for a while. She was not a rebellious girl, but she was bored and curious about her future home. For some time she wandered the garden, finding path after path branching off in treelike fashion. It was like a maze. The sun was sinking now, but there was light enough yet for her to admire the winter landscape.
As she paused to study a pretty stone statue, she thought she heard a voice. Distant, muted. A man’s voice, surely. But who besides herself would seek refuge in the cold?
She quietly followed paths until the voice was closer, and she made out some words.
“No,” the man said, pleasantly but firmly. “Not like this, but so …” It sounded as if he was instructing someone. Shona heard no response, but then the man laughed, the warmth of it running over her skin and causing gooseflesh to rise on her arms. She tiptoed closer until she saw someone’s back, a man clad in a dark blue velvet surcoat. She saw nobody else, but his calm conversation continued, clearer now that she was close.
“I think it’s more like this,” he said, and then, “Yes, that’s right.” His head was bent, but she recognized the red-gold hair spread over his shoulders, gleaming like the colors of the sunset.
It was Lachlan, her betrothed. Her stomach tightened and flipped in anticipation. She had seen him for the first time at the feast, and found his physical beauty breathtaking. He was tall and slender, yet not effeminate; God favored him with a fair countenance and generous smile, the same smile he gave her now as he glanced over his shoulder at her.
She froze like a startled doe, wondering if the scuffing of her slippers on the stone path gave her away or if he just had a sixth-sense of being watched. Now that she was mere feet from him, she saw his eyes were a soft, clear violet, the most unusual color she’d ever seen.
“Shona,” he said, his deep voice wrapping around her, embracing her name. He sounded truly glad to see her.
“Yes.” Cautiously, she edged closer. One moment she was the center of his world, but the next it seemed he had forgotten her as he turned back to concentrate fiercely on something else. She didn’t know whether to feel offended or curious. Curiosity won out. She heard a scratching noise and as she walked around the bench where he sat. He was bent over a parchment, his quill working furiously. The parchment was laid on something flat and hard so the pen flowed more smoothly.
She saw Lachlan was drawing something. Nobody had told her he was an artist, yet she watched the slender hand gripping the quill move with swift, confident strokes. The tip of his tongue poked out between his teeth and he squinted with intense concentration in the fading light, as he hurried to finish his work. Something about the man or the moment captured her as surely as if he’d cast a net.
Fascinated, Shona sidled closer until she made out what he was drawing. The intricate weave of strokes and swirls slowly morphed into a creature of sorts, no, two of them. A pair of Dragons intertwined, seemingly one yet each slightly different so they were yet distinct.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”
Lachlan did not seem to hear her, so focused was he on his art. Gingerly, Shona sat beside him on the bench, taking care not to jostle or bump him. She watched his handsome profile, feeling drawn to him and yet the same time suffering a feminine pique that she could not distract him from his work.
For a time she watched him work in silence, and the pair of Dragons seemed to come to life before her eyes, writhing and wriggling. She could not tell where one ended and the other began.
“And the two shall become one,” Lachlan said. Though Shona recognized the ancient words from scripture, she heard no sarcasm in
his voice; he said it as simple fact.
“The Dragons?” she asked.
He nodded, pausing to sit back and appraise the parchment at arm’s length. “It is almost right.”
She supposed he meant the drawing and wanted to ask to be sure. But like most girls, she was raised not to be immodest or outspoken, and her natural shyness won out. She demurely linked her hands in her lap, content to be close to this unusual man, compelled by both his talent and his physical beauty. Within hours, he would be her husband; Shona knew little of what this entailed, but she was fairly certain it did not involve drawing.
“Do you like Dragons?” Lachlan asked her.
The question was no less strange than the man, and Shona shrugged. She had never given it thought before. “I don’t know,” she said cautiously. “The ones I’ve seen on tapestries or shields are scary-looking. I’m glad they are only myth.”
“Myth?” Lachlan glanced at her with those marvelous violet eyes and she felt breathless. “Dragons are real, Shona.”
The calm confidence of his statement startled and disconcerted her. “Are they?” she asked, having been trained by her mother to display polite interest in anything a man might say.
He nodded emphatically. “Yes, they are quite real. My sister has seen them.”
She glanced uncertainly at the darkening sky. “Here?”
“Here, there, everywhere. They whisper to her.” Lachlan smiled and she saw a light in his eyes as he gazed heavenward, searching. She shivered a little, half expecting a terrifying creature to swoop down and snatch them from the bench.
“Don’t be frightened,” Lachlan said. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Shona. The Dragons belong to my sister.”
There was something very odd about this young man, yet it intrigued rather than repelled her. She feared her father had bartered her off to a rough and unkempt warrior lord, yet this gentle lad was clearly an artist at heart, not a fighter.