“Father, no,” Faith said with mounting alarm. She wanted nothing to do with the devil or Lord Eric or whoever he was. She favored her freedom and did not care to surrender it or herself to a man who clearly lacked any emotion. A trait the devil most surely possessed.
“Silence,” her father shouted. “He will do right by you. I will not have my daughter’s virtue stained.”
Lord William was obviously enjoying what he assumed was his upper hand in the situation, and Eric quietly allowed the little man to continue with his useless tirade while he focused his attention on Faith.
She obviously knew nothing of her father’s plan, though he doubted the man possessed enough brains to contrive it. No, dubious tactics seemed more Lady Terra’s style. The only thing about this whole strange incident was that he had never been informed that there were four daughters, not three. Why had her existence been kept from him? Why had he not been told that the healer was Lord William’s daughter?
The puzzling thought irritated him, though he would not allow it to stop him from possessing Faith. Nothing would stop him from possessing Faith.
Lord William ranted on, enjoying this moment of power over the lord devil.
Faith stood in shock, her slim body trembling beneath her garments. This could not be happening. Her father meant to give her in marriage to this dark lord? She would have no say in the matter. And once they were joined he would rule over her. Command her every move and demand she perform her wifely duties.
Her eyelids fluttered and her breath caught. What would happen when he discovered the truth and eyed her shame? She scolded herself for even thinking of her scar as shameful. But he would think of it as such and would feel betrayed, slighted, and then what? He had to be told the truth. If he knew the truth he would not want her.
She moved to step forward, but her stepmother blocked her path and whispered a harsh warning.
“Not a word will you speak.”
The cold, hard glint in the woman’s eyes sent a shiver through Faith and she did as warned. She remained silent.
Lord William, winded from his recourse, finally stood silent. Not a whisper, a sigh or a breath was heard. The silence hung thick and heavy, and not even the autumn wind sounded outside. Everyone waited, waited for the devil to speak.
Eric stood, his heavy wooden chair scraping along the planked floor as the back of his legs gave it a hefty shove. He walked slowly around the table, his blue eyes fixed on Faith and every eye in the room fixed on him.
Faith refused to show her fear. She forced her trembling under control; only a slight quake now racked her body and she boldly met his blue lust-filled eyes as he approached her.
He was magnificent, though that one word seemed inadequate in describing him. His dark red tunic was the color of rich aged wine, and the material looked to have been spun by the finest weaver using the finest threads. The wool garment complimented his finely toned body.
His face, though, was what brought a frantic tremble to her stomach. His features were a blend of Irish beauty and striking Viking strength. His long, dark hair was combed away from his face and lay in shiny splendor over his wide shoulders, adding to his potent appeal.
If this was the look of the devil, it was no wonder why people fell into sin.
He stopped a short distance from her, Lady Terra moving out of his way as if she offered Faith for inspection. It was no surprise to Faith that he did just that. He took his time circling her, his blatant stare stroking her body from head to toe.
She prevented herself from responding to the shiver that rushed over her from his lusty perusal. She had no doubt that if they were alone it would be his hands slowly traveling the route his eyes now followed. The sinful thought sent another flourish of frantic flutters to her stomach and instinctively her hand moved over her nervous abdomen.
Her movement stopped him and he grinned knowingly at her. He was well aware of the discomfort he caused her and he appeared to take great pleasure in it. Without taking his eyes off her, he spoke to Lord William.
“I will wed your daughter Faith on the morrow.”
Stunned and frightened by what this union meant, she moved to speak.
Her father’s quick response cut her off. “I am pleased to hear this. A banquet celebration will be prepared.”
Faith again attempted to speak, but her father’s bloated pride kept him uttering nonsense.
“A wise decision for all and one you will not regret. Faith is a good healer, a dutiful daughter and will make you a dutiful wife—”
“Father,” Faith attempted to interrupt.
He simply raised his hand to silence her. “You say you wish to leave the following day. I will make certain you are supplied with all you need and—”
“Father, please,” she attempted again.
“You have no manners.”
The harsh scolding came from her stepmother who had returned to her side. Faith saw the look of fury on her face and quickly gave a signal behind her back for Rook to remain seated. She sensed the woman’s loss of control and knew it meant a sharp and sudden slap, for which she braced herself.
“You will obey your father and when you marry you will obey your husband, you ungrateful child,” she screamed and raised her hand swinging toward Faith with such force that Faith feared she would not remain on her feet.
Faith closed her eyes and prepared for the blow.
She felt the soft brush of fine material against her cheek and opened her eyes to see the dark lord’s hand squeezed so tightly around her stepmother’s wrist that her fingers drained of all color.
His blue eyes, that only moments before were filled with blatant lust, now raged like a winter storm out of control and when he spoke, his deep, chilling tone froze all with fear.
“Faith belongs to me now. Touch her and you suffer the devil’s wrath.”
Lady Terra spoke not a word, though her thin body trembled as she bowed her head in submission.
Faith was stunned. No one . . . no one but Rook defended her with such ferocity. It was almost as if he actually cared for her and she felt a twinge of guilt that he was not being told the truth of the matter.
Eric looked to Faith as he called out, “Borg.”
The large man was at his side in seconds.
“You will stay with Faith until our departure. Whatever her needs, see to them and make certain that monster dog of hers” —he stopped when he saw her face darken with fear— “is ready for the journey,” he finished.
She smiled up at him and the sensual heat that had been tempered by more obvious matters suddenly soared, causing him great discomfort.
“Thank you,” she said softly and laid a gentle hand of appreciation on his arm.
If Eric possessed full Viking blood he would have swung her up in his arms, thrown her over his shoulder and taken her straight to his bed where he would have proceeded to ravish her. But his Irish blood, though temperamental, possessed the iron will of determination and he was determined to wed her and bed her in that order.
He turned to Lord William. “Make haste with the wedding plans.”
William was only too happy to comply, wanting to be rid of them both. “Yes, yes.”
Eric returned his attention to Faith. “We will talk later.”
And with that command given, he signaled Colin to follow him out of the hall.
Faith watched the dark lord disappear out the front door and shivered. He must be told the truth, but the vicious looks her father and stepmother sent toward Rook warned her it would be he who suffered if she dared to disobey them.
Her only choice was to trust in the devil.
Chapter Four
The wedding was over and the banquet celebration near to ending. Faith could not believe she was married to the man who sat beside her at the long table. She knew nothing of him except that he was called the Irish devil, and for what many believed was a good reason. He was strong—which was obvious from one sweeping glance—and when one li
ngered to look upon him it became even more evident why he was considered the devil’s own. Strength, potency, arrogance, determination and no fear. The man simply looked as though he feared no man or beast, and she could easily believe it the way Rook had responded to his strict command the other night. And, of course, there was the way her father either avoided the man or stood several steps away from him when he was around. And her stepmother?
Faith raised her hand to her mouth to conceal the brief smile that surfaced when she thought of the way her stepmother quaked when in the presence of the dark lord.
Her hand also served to hide the slight frown that suddenly darkened her features. Concern as to what he expected of his wife haunted her. Would he demand obedience? Did he wish her to fear him? Was there any gentleness in the devil’s soul? But then, the devil did not have a soul, so what was she to expect?
She had hoped to speak with him alone. She had soundly convinced herself that his request, when first they met, to take her to his bed was simply a misunderstanding. He had thought her a servant of the keep. He knew not that she was the daughter of Lord William. And while he had frightened her, the thought that he had found her appealing excited her. Not a proper or ladylike thought, but one she pondered anyway.
But her hope was dashed when it became apparent that her father and stepmother purposely saw to it that she and Lord Eric were given no chance to speak yesterday eve even though the devil himself had decreed it.
When Faith returned to her small cottage she had no sooner entered it when she was inundated by ailing villagers. She learned that it was her stepmother’s doing since barely any man, woman or child who sought her skills were actually ailing. It was late in the evening when Bridget came to see her that she discovered Lady Terra’s involvement. The girl informed her that Lady Terra had ordered the whole village to be seen by Faith. By evening’s end she was completely exhausted and still had to pack her belongings, especially her herbs. Then there were a few rare herb plants she had to dig up carefully and preserve properly so they could be transplanted to her new home.
Bridget had offered to help, as did Borg, and the three of them had worked together, enjoying each other’s company. For all of Borg’s size and strength, his large hands that could easily squeeze the life from a man, gently handled the delicate plants with care and attention. He had also seen to it himself that Lord Eric was informed that she was much too busy to meet with him. Since she received no demanding summons from her future husband she had assumed that he accepted Borg’s message without question.
She was also happy to learn that Bridget had accepted Lord Eric’s request that she serve as Faith’s personal servant. She could not help but notice that Borg had been pleased with the news as well. The tall, quiet man remained close by Bridget’s side the entire time they had worked together and had listened to her endless chatter without comment or annoyance. The man, though shy in his demeanor, was obviously taken with her.
Having not had the opportunity to speak with the man who was now her husband made the night that lay ahead all the more frightening to Faith. He was a complete stranger to her. How did one share intimacy with a stranger?
He had barely spoken with her today, though she could not lay the blame on him. The ceremony and this celebration had brought much activity to the keep. Scores of people wished to extend their congratulations to them and there was little time for more than a brief exchange of conversation between them.
She yawned, placing her hand to her mouth.
“You are tired,” Eric said, leaning over, his smooth cheek not far from her own.
She was drawn to his stunning blue eyes. They captivated, tempted and seduced.
She nodded, not taking her eyes from his, not wanting to and not able to. “Sleep was something I got very little of last night.”
“And of which you will get even less tonight,” he said in a soft whisper.
Faith knew not how to respond. She simply stared at him wide-eyed and her hand rushed to press against her tummy in an awkward attempt to still the strange flutters. Instead the flutters took flight, sending a tingling sensation down between her legs and an unexpected shiver to race through her.
Eric slipped his finger gently beneath her chin and spoke so close his lips almost brushed hers. “I will satisfy that tremble more than once this eve.”
Faith was certain he intended to kiss her right there and then. She sensed it, her body ran warm with anticipation, she grew light-headed and to her surprise she eagerly awaited his lips.
Shouts and startled cries caused her to jump and Eric to rise hastily up out of his seat.
A frantic young man rushed forward toward the dais and fell to his knees before Lord Eric, his hands clamped tightly together as if he were prepared to beg for his cause.
But it was to Faith he directed his plea. “Please, Lady Faith, I beg you. You must come with me. Ellie’s time has come and she is fearful. She says you promised you would be with her.”
The young man looked pitiful, as though he shared his wife’s labor pains and had spilled several empathetic tears for her suffering.
Faith stood prepared to rush off when she realized she now was answerable to a husband. And with what had just past between them she wondered if he would deny his own desires for that of a woman about to give birth. An ordeal that could possibly take all night.
With courage she had fought hard to sustain, she faced him. “Please, my lord, may I have your permission to attend Ellie?”
She was certain she had caught a flicker of admiration cross his face before she heard her stepmother’s shrewish tongue.
“This night is for the consummation of your wedding vows. Do not embarrass your husband by making such a ridiculous request.”
Eric turned his head slowly toward Lady Terra, his blue eyes ablaze with smoldering fury. The woman drew back fearfully in her seat.
“If your tongue lashes at my wife one more time, I will see to it that you never speak again.”
The great hall grew so quiet that the crackling flames in the large stone hearth sounded like mighty thunder in the eerie silence.
The young man on bended knees was close to tears and Colin and Borg rose to stand behind their lord.
Eric extended his hand to his wife and she readily accepted it, the warmth of his flesh and the strength of this touch reassuring. “Come, I will go with you.”
Relief visibly flooded her tense features and she sighed. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Eric,” he corrected as they walked around the table. Every one who was not standing rose out of respect for the mighty lord and his lady.
“Lord Eric,” she said, trying his name on her tongue.
“No, Faith,” he once again corrected gently. “Eric, simply Eric.”
“Eric,” she whispered with a smile as his arm slipped around her slim waist and together they disappeared out the door, the young man frantically following.
o0o
A chilly autumn night kept the men huddled around a fire outside the small cottage. The young, expectant father sat shivering next to the dancing flames even though two cloaks had been placed over his shoulders.
Colin and Borg sat nearby discussing plans for an early morning departure and Eric, with Rook sitting obediently by his side, sat with his eyes fixed on the one-room cottage, tensing along with the young man every time a shrill scream ripped through the night air.
Eric flung back the black cloak away from his arms, the gold brooch that secured the woolen garment at his shoulder, preventing it from slipping off. He extended his hands out to the fire warming them.
It was his new wife he wished he was warming his hands on and introducing her to his intimate touch. When he had caught sight of her entering the chapel his breath had lodged in his throat and he had fought to maintain his composure. She appeared an angel outfitted all in white. Shift, tunic and belt. Pale, slim, petite in form, except for her generous breasts he ached to get his warm hands on. And then th
ere was her hair. Its bold red color startled the eye and sat in sharp contrast to her pale skin and white clothing and made her all the more passionately appealing.
Now, however, she stood in that small cottage, her wedding clothes discarded for a more practical blue wool shift and tunic and she had draped a large white cloth around her hips. The last time he had peered inside, sweat beaded along her forehead and her springy red curls hung limply in her face. He had wanted to go over to her and tie back her hair, but she was so engrossed in tending to the fearful, crying girl that he had turned and walked away, sending her only a simple nod to let her know he was near.
He asked himself several times why he had granted her permission to forego their marriage bed to birth a babe. Surely the women in the village were skilled at delivering each other’s babes. But he knew why. When she had turned to him with courage and pride and asked him permission in front of all, she was acknowledging and accepting her position as his wife and extending him the respect due a husband. For that tribute to a complete stranger he admired her and could not deny her request.
Another scream ripped through the air and the campfire flames crackled and shook in protest. He had forgotten how many shrills had pierced the night, had stopped counting hours ago. It was at least two hours past midnight and the babe had refused to make its appearance. He was sorely tempted to curse the unborn babe but held his tongue.
Instead Eric concentrated on the future and thought about his lands and the castle that was under construction in Limerick. The keep was near finished and the castle grounds work moving along steadily. He would have a good home to take his new wife to and fertile fields that had yielded a generous stock for the winter. He hoped his wife would be as fertile as the Irish soil.
His love for this land at times overwhelmed him. His mother had often told him that a son born on Irish soil who journeys far always returns to the land that saw his birth. She told him Ireland was forever in his blood and she was right.
The Irish Devil Page 4