“Have they been talkin’ the night through?” she whispered to her mother.
“Aye, lass. They’ve much to settle between them.”
“Nay, they have nothing to settle. I can settle my own life, Mam.”
Aging hands soothed Arianna’s brow and placed a cool cloth upon it. This sudden betrothal o’ yours gave your da and me a shock,” her mother whispered. “An’ there remains much to be decided. Dinna worry your head about it, lass. You’ve had enough worry to last a lifetime.”
Closing her eyes, Arianna lay back and sighed. She knew what they were discussing out there. Her. Her future, her life. When would they realize that she could make her own choices?
There’s something you must understand, Mam,” she said slowly, and her mother looked down at her with a certain expectation in her eyes. As if she knew and dreaded what was coming next. But it didn’t stop Arianna from going on. “Nicodimus only said what he did to keep them from killin’ me,” she whispered. And the memory of her dear friends, her teachers, hanging charred and lifeless from the mighty oak, whispered coldly through her mind. She shivered and closed her eyes, but forced herself to go on, refusing to be distracted. “He canna truly mean to wed me, Mam.”
Her mother’s hand patted hers. “Aye, perhaps he did speak in order to save your life. But he’s a man of his word, is Nicodimus Lachlan, an’ if he says he’ll make you his bride, you can be certain, he means to do it. You’ve naught to worry about on that matter, lass.”
Arianna sat up a little, but her mother’s hands urged her back again. “‘Tis unfair to expect him to marry me, Mam. He saved my life. I canna hold him to the lie he spoke to do it. I’m certain he thought he had no choice but to say what he did.”
“Perhaps you canna hold him to his word, Arianna, but your father can. Not that it’s necess–”
“He wouldna!” She sat up in bed so fast the cool wet cloth fell from her forehead. “I’ll nay have a husband who needs forcin’ to the altar!”
Her voice had risen. The two men in the other room fell silent and turned to stare.
“You’ll have the husband your da chooses for you, lassie,” her father said.
“I’ll have a husband who wants me as wife, or none at all.” Flinging the covers aside, she got to her feet. Bare, they touched the dirt floor, and her toes instinctively curled against the dampness and chill.
Her mother’s hands came to her shoulders, trying to pull her down again, but she stood strong. “Darlin’, how do you know he doesna want you as wife?” she whispered. “You dinna ken, methinks.”
“Nay, Mam. ‘Tis you who dinna ken. I proposed marriage to him myself only yestereve. An’ he made his feelin’s quite clear.” She stared at Nicodimus as she spoke.
His lips pulled at one side, as if he battled a smile. So he was amused by her objections, was he? Was that what her pain was to him? Amusing? Did he not know how deeply his rejection had cut her?
“Can a man not change his mind?” Nicodimus stood up from the table, his tone soft, but firm, his eyes holding hers captive whether she wanted to be held or not. “Arianna . . . I was taken off guard by your . . . offer. I admit, my reaction was cruel, and thoughtless. But I swear to you, I regretted my words the moment I spoke them.”
Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. He was lying to her, she was certain of that. “I would speak with you alone, Nicodimus.”
He didn’t agree or disagree. He looked to her father, and her admiration of him grew another notch. For he was her father’s better in every way, and yet determinedly gave him his due. “With your permission, sir?”
Her father nodded but once and came to take her mother’s arm in one hand. He drew her to the door, and took the empty water pail from its wooden peg on the wall beside it. “We’ll walk to the well and back,” he said. His way of letting them know he wouldn’t be far, and would return soon. He sent Arianna a stern look, while her mother’s parting glance was only worried. She’d have offered them both a smile of reassurance, if she felt capable of smiling at all. But her stomach was churning, and a large empty pit seemed to have opened up in the center of her chest. What was this feeling? She’d never been nervous around anyone in her life, no man, no laird, no warrior. Yet the moment she was alone with Nicodimus, her hands began, to tremble and the odd sensations in her belly intensified.
At the sound of the door closing behind her parents, Arianna’s forced mettle deserted her. She let her legs give as they seemed determined to do anyway, and she sat down on her pallet gracelessly. Nicodimus could see through her false calm as if peering through clear water. It was no use pretending, not with him.
“You dinna want to marry me and we both know it, Nicodimus. So let’s waste no more time with this foolish pretense.”
He walked slowly into the room, stood so tall above her that she wished she’d remained standing. But if she rose now, she’d be far too close to him, so she remained as she was and tilted her head up at him.
“I don’t intend to lie to you, Arianna. I’m going to tell you the simple truth. You are a spoiled, selfish wild thing and it is high time you gave some thought to the well-being of someone else besides Arianna Sinclair.”
She sucked in a shocked breath, her chin coming up fast. “How dare you!”
“Like you, hellion, I dare anything. And I think you know it. Now go on, spew your defenses. Tell me how unselfish you are, and then tell me why you’ll refuse me.”
“I’ll refuse you for one reason and one reason alone, Nicodimus! I’ll nay have a man who needs be forced to wed me.”
“I’ve never been forced to do anything.”
His tone was soft, but impatient. He knelt in front of her, gripping her shoulders and turning her body until she stared right into his blazing eyes. “And this is no longer about what you want.”
“And what do you ken of what I want?”
“Oh, I know. I can see it in those cat’s eyes of yours, Arianna, just as plain as the sun on the Summer Solstice. What you want are declarations of undying love, and a man on his knees begging for your hand–”
“Nay, not any man. You, Nicodimus. Only you.”
That seemed to quiet him for a moment. His face paled and his lips tightened, but he never dropped his gaze. He drew a deep breath that expanded his chest, and blew it out, very slowly, before he spoke again. “You’ll never have that from me. I’ve no love to give, and I have never begged for anything in my life. But I’ll wed you, Arianna. And because of our marriage, your father, the man who just proved himself willing to lay down his life for you, will be respected and his wealth will grow. And your mother, who nearly feinted in terror at that clearing last night, will be spared the grief of losing another daughter.”
“She wouldna have lost me. I’d have run away, nay let the villagers kill me.”
“If you had run away, you’d be just as lost to her. And your family name would be ruined, your father destroyed and known only as the sire of a fugitive witch. Is that what you want for them?”
She lowered her head. “It mayn’t have happened just that way.”
“That’s the only way it could happen. And will happen if you continue with this stubborn game you play. At the keep, Arianna, when Joseph bade you choose, you obeyed. You chose me. And if you regret that choice now, well, I’m afraid there’s naught to be done. Your recklessness brought you to this. And now you’ve naught left but to deal with it.”
Lifting her head slowly, she stared into his eyes, searching them, seeing a spark there, but so deep, so distant, she didn’t see how she could ever reach it. Her voice quiet now, barely above a whisper, she asked him, “And what of us, Nicodimus? What sort of husband will you be to me?”
He rose then, turning slightly away, on the pretense of watching for her father’s return. “You’ll have my protection. I’ll provide for you. And you’ll bear my name.”
“But nay your children,” she whispered.
His head swung around. “Never that.”<
br />
She lowered her head quickly when she felt the sting of tears burn her eyes. Gods but she did not cry. She ne’er cried. And she blinked the dampness away. “Then . . . ours will be a marriage . . . in name only?”
Nicodimus came toward her, stepping close to the pallet. She got to her feet and turned her back to him, surreptitiously dabbing her eyes with one hand, reaching for a wooden comb with the other. He said nothing as she began drawing it through her hair.
“Is it because you dinna want me, Nicodimus?” she asked, very softly. “Am I nay beautiful enough to stir the desire of a man such as you? Have you nay once thought of tasting my lips, of holding me close with nothing between us save the heat of our own bodies?”
She felt his gaze on her, burning into her back. And boldly she turned to face him. “Tell me.”
“My reasons . . . are my own. And an unmarried girl of your tender years–a maiden–shouldn’t be asking such questions. You know nothing of these things . . . nothing of . . . wanting.”
She lowered her head until her chin touched her chest. “If I know nothing of wanting, then what is this feeling burning inside me, Nicodimus? Why do I so crave your touch, if desire is something I’m too young to feel? Why do I yearn to be in your arms? I want you, Nicodimus. And though you may deny it until the day you die, I think you want me, too.”
She saw it clearly, the reaction that lit his eyes for but a moment, quickly concealed, a fire instantly doused. “I will set the terms of our marriage, Arianna. And as my wife, you’ll honor them.”
She stepped forward, closer to him, but didn’t touch him. “Do you think you can live with me as my husband and never touch me? Never know me?” She laid her hand lightly on the front of his shirt, and slid it slowly up his chest.
His hand closed over hers, stopping its progress and moving it away. “We will not be residing together for long.”
He could have slapped her and shocked her less. “I . . . but I. . .”
“You will reside in the keep, of course. And I will, as well, until I am certain of your safety. The talk in the clan will die down soon enough.”
Her lower lip trembled, and she caught it between her teeth. “And then?”
“And then I go my way. I have . . . obligations. I come here only to rest in between them, Arianna. You know that.”
“I only thought–”
“That I would change my life for you? No, Arianna. My destiny is set. Yours . . . has become entwined with it. Irreversibly so, I’m afraid, but not endlessly. There is no need for me to remain here once your safety is assured.”
“I . . . I’ll go with you!”
His surprise showed in his eyes. “Your family–”
“As my husband, Nicodimus, you will be my family.”
He reached out to stroke her hair, gently, softly. “I cannot take you where I go, Arianna. There is only danger for you there. More, even, than there is here in Stonehaven.”
“But where is this horrible place you must go? Why do you return there if ‘tis so dangerous?”
“Because I must,” was all he said. He took his hand away, and a darkness seemed to settle over him. A finality. There would be no arguing him around to her way of thinking.
“Then . . . you’ll go. You’ll leave me. Bound to a man I can never have, free to know no other. Am I to die a maiden, then, Nicodimus?”
“There is,” he said slowly, “a long, long time before that possibility will arise.”
She shook her head. “You are meant for me. This I have known since the day I first set eyes on you. And you do want me, Nicodimus. And you will know me. I vow it on all that I am.”
He looked hurt by her words. Just a brief flash of some old pain flitted across his face. And then she saw anger. His jaw went tight, and he opened his mouth. She had the most peculiar feeling he was about to reverse his offer. She only held his gaze, praying he would not.
He did not speak, seeming to change his mind. She nearly sighed with relief, all the while gathering her courage. She wanted to wed him. But she wanted him to want it, too. Either way, it would not matter. She would be bound to him, aye, but he would be bound to her as well, she reminded herself. No other woman would know him. She would kill any woman who tried. It was her he would grow to love, Arianna Lachlan, his wife.
Finally, looking as if he were drawing on his last reserves of patience, he whispered, “So what of it, Arianna? Will you wed me or not?”
“Aye, Nicodimus,” she said, before she could lose her hard-won courage. “Aye, I’ll be your wife. If you’ll give me your word that you’ll be true to me. That you’ll have no other woman. Including Nidaba.”
He frowned at her. “That is an easy enough promise to make.”
“I mean to see that you keep it,” she declared.
“And to accept my terms?” he asked her.
“Terms? That you will never love me? Never touch me?”
He had to look away to answer. “Yes.”
She moved to watch his face. And as she did, she knew that he was lying as much to himself as to her. He loved her already. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew it. She was meant for him, hadn’t she sensed that from the very first? If The Crones had taught her anything at all, it was to trust her senses, the ideas that popped into her head like stray thoughts, the kind most people ignored. The wisdom of those old women had come from sources so ancient, even they had no longer been able to identify them. Yet they had lived by what they knew to be true.
The door creaked open and her parents stepped hesitantly inside, looking from one of them to the other, questions in their eyes.
All too aware that she had not agreed to Nicodimus’s terms, knowing he was aware of it, too, she spoke aloud. “There is to be a wedding, then,” she said, lifting her chin, holding his gaze and refusing to look away. “I have agreed to marry Nicodimus.”
Nicodimus stared steadily into her eyes, and gave a nearly imperceptible nod of what she took to be approval, though there was more than a bit of wariness or perhaps, suspicion, in his eyes as he did.
Thank goodness you’ve come to your right mind!” Her father’s face split in a smile, and he clasped Nicodimus’s hand in one of his own and shook it hard, slapping his shoulder with the other. “Welcome to my family, Nicodimus Lachlan.”
“And glad I am to call myself a son of yours, Edwyn Sinclair,” Nicodimus replied, to which her father beamed.
Mara hugged Arianna, and as she did, leaned near, and whispered, “What changed your mind, daughter? I’ve never known you to give in until you get what you want.”
“I’m gettin’ exactly what I want, Mam,” Arianna said softly, watching Nicodimus and her father as they talked and gestured and planned. “A man who loves me. He doesna ken it yet, of course, but he will. In time.”
“Bless me, but I believe you, child. Heaven help Nicodimus Lachlan. He canna ken all he’s in for.”
* * * *
THE CELEBRATION IN Arianna’s home that dawn was subdued and dulled by the grief so recently brought upon this clan. Dulled, too, I thought, by my own ominous thoughts. Arianna was a willful girl. She had given me fair warning that she would not abide easily by my dictates. The sooner I could get the vows said, and be safely away from her, the better.
It may sound foolish now. Arianna was beautiful, young, and just awakening to her body’s yearnings. But she was dangerous to me, too. I knew my own heart too well. She was a girl I could come to care for too much far, far too easily–if I let myself. But I was certain of my fortitude. My lessons had been too hard won for my will to crumble at a look of yearning from a pair of beautiful eyes.
My Gods, I should have known I could never resist her for long. Should have known it that very day, as she looked me squarely in the eye and admitted her own desires: her desire to make love to me, to be my wife in every sense of the word. But foolish pride was my downfall. I told myself that a man who had lived seven centuries could easily win a battle of wills fought against a girl o
f seven and ten.
I could not have been more wrong.
Mara Sinclair took a bowl and pitcher of water into the small sleeping area with Arianna, and drew the curtain tight. Edwyn and I continued our discussion of the wedding and other arrangements. For his daughter’s honor, as wife of the cousin of the laird, I would have a new cottage built for Arianna’s parents. It was only fitting that my bride’s family live in a dwelling grander than the one they now inhabited. And I would gift the family with food, sheep, and grain. All these things we discussed, as well as the date, a week hence, for the vows to be spoken. I was for having it done sooner, but Edwyn argued that there would be need of time to stitch a proper gown, and that it would only arouse more talk in the clan to have the wedding in such an unseemly haste. So I agreed.
I had a deep respect for Edwyn Sinclair. Always, I had liked the man, but since bursting into that clearing and seeing him there, standing alone, facing a murderous mob, defending his daughter with his life and a rotting limb, my respect had trebled.
Even as we discussed all these things, though, my senses were sharply attuned to what went on in the next room. I heard clearly the sounds of fabric against soft skin as Arianna removed her clothes. The trickling of the water as she bathed, and her own gentle sighs taunting me now and again. I grew agitated and restless, but tamped those feelings down and warned my foolish mind against them.
When at last she reappeared, freshly scrubbed, hair gleaming, in simple but clean garments, I saw a slight sparkle in her eyes. As if she had been aware of my attention the whole time.
But it dulled slowly, as she became aware of what was happening outside. Noise filtered into the cottage, voices, and Arianna hastened to my side as I opened the door to look without. Joseph sat mounted near the burial ground, three hastily constructed coffins in a wagon, beside him. The Crones. And a crowd had gathered at the cemetery gates. Voices rose in agitation, and Joseph shouted above them all. They were murdered and shall be buried proper!”
Then the village priest, who stood directly in front of the death wagon, nearly nose to nose with the horse that pulled it, held his Bible high above him. “Nay with good Christians, Laird. ‘Tis blasphemy and will surely bring the wrath of the Almighty down upon us all!”
Eternal Love: The Immortal Witch Series Page 42