Who was she and where had she come from?
While Eric spoke with Colin and Borg on the matter, Faith and Bridget were holding their own discussion.
“Where have they placed the body?” Faith asked quietly.
“It remains in the stables for now, my lady.”
Faith wanted to correct her and offer simply to call her by name as Borg did with Eric, but she knew that would take time, so she made no mind of it. “I think it would be wise for me to view it.”
“Whatever for?” Bridget asked.
Faith shook her head. “I do not know. I only know I refuse to be frightened in my own home and I will not hide my head and look the other way while more in this keep could be in danger.”
“You are a brave soul, my lady.”
“Stubborn is more like it,” Faith said with a laugh.
“But how with one of them” — Bridget indicated with a nod to Borg, Colin and Eric who were huddled in conversation — “always nearby do we manage it?”
Faith was pleased to see that she included herself in the scheme. She may be brave but it would be nice to have a favorable companion beside her as she faced her nightmare.
“Simple,” she said, gliding easily out of her seat at the dais. “We take our leave.”
Bridget followed quietly, the two women sneaking out through the kitchen where Rook joined them, having finished his meal while the three men remained deep in conversation, oblivious to their departure.
Faith approached the two guards stationed at the stable doors as if she had all the right in the world to be there. Bridget trailed beside her, with healing basket in hand.
The two guards looked oddly at her approach.
She smiled sweetly, rubbed her hands together and then tucked them beneath her red wool cloak. “Feels more like a winter chill than autumn.”
Both men nodded in agreement.
“I have come to tend the body,” she said and wisely waited for their approval.
The younger guard seemed to understand and stepped aside. The other guard remained where he stood, still skeptical.
“She is going to fix her up some before they bury her,” the younger guard said.
It proved to be a reasonable explanation and the man stepped aside.
“If there is anything you need, my lady . . .” the younger guard offered.
“Thank you,” Faith said, “but I think I have everything.”
Faith and Bridget trembled as the door closed behind them and they stood close beside each other, holding shivering hands. The place was stone silent, the horses made no sounds, no birds could be heard chirping in the rafters and there was no scurrying of cats after the mice that frequented the stable. It was as if the living creatures were paying their respects to the dead with their silence. The two women did the same—the only noise was that of their soft chattering teeth as they walked over to where the covered body lay not far from the stable entrance.
They stood silent and unmoving, gathering their courage. Then slowly, with hands still shaking, Bridget placed the basket on the ground away from the body. Together they approached the shroud-covered corpse and together they drew back the corner of the blanket.
They gasped when their wide-eyed glare fell upon the deceased woman and the blanket slipped from their hands as they took startled steps back, Bridget whispering, “Sweet mother of God—it is Nora.”
“How?” was the only word Faith could say, and she repeated it several times.
“I do not understand,” Bridget said, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“How could she have gotten here?” Faith finally asked but really expected no answer.
“What are you up to, wife?” an angry voice replied.
Faith and Bridget stumbled as they hurried to turn and face the devil. Borg stood beside him, shaking his head while looking directly at Bridget.
Faith ignored her husband’s temper and with a trembling voice said, “Her name is Nora and she was a servant at Donnegan keep.”
“Are you certain?” Eric asked, rushing to her side. Borg joined him and both men used their sizable bodies to block the mutilated body from view.
Bridget nodded, wiping at her tears. “‘Tis true, my lord, it is Nora.”
“How, Eric?” Faith asked, as if he would know the answer. After all, did not the devil know everything? “How did she get here?”
Eric answered, as she suspected he would. There was not anything at the keep that went on without his knowledge. Faith amended that, peeking between the two men’s broad shoulders and catching sight of Nora, though she doubted it would be long before her husband had his answers.
“I have just been informed that your father and stepmother’s arrival is imminent. Their wagons now crest the rise.”
“Why would Nora arrive ahead of them?” Bridget asked.
Borg explained. “One of the guards told us that Father Peter arrived late last night shortly before the young woman and had informed them that a young woman would be arriving to speak with him. It was dark so the guard could not tell us much about the woman except that she was of ample weight.”
“Nora,” Bridget confirmed sadly.
Bridget was the only one present who did not notice that Faith paled considerably.
Eric was instantly beside her, his hand firm on her arm. “Come, we will talk,” he said and with a nod to Borg he directed Faith quickly out of the stables.
He walked with her toward her healing cottage, the crisp cold air returning color to her pale complexion. She kept something from him and he did not like the fact that she harbored secrets or that she did not feel secure enough with him to share them.
“Why did you want to see the body?” he asked, though his first thought was to shout and scream and demand that she never frighten him again by disappearing. He had been terrified when he looked over where she had been sitting at the dais to find her gone. His terror intensified when she could not be located in the keep and he grew completely outraged when he had learned she had gone to the stables.
He was grateful the older of the guards had decided he should be informed of Lady Faith’s presence in the stable. With the knowledge of her safety, he was flooded with relief and now he simply wanted answers.
She responded honestly. “I wanted to confront my fear.” Admitting her weakness brought tears to her eyes and she hastily entered her healing cottage, setting to work lighting the logs in the hearth and lighting the numerous candles.
Eric followed her in, but remained silent, allowing her to go about her tasks, knowing she needed this time to regain her emotions and face him with courage. He would have much preferred to reach out and take her in his arms, protecting her, tucking her away from her fears, but that would not do. She wanted to confront the fear that had haunted her and he would help her, not hinder her.
He finally asked as she lighted the last candle, “Did you face your fear?”
She shook her head and a teardrop fell from her cheek.
He could keep his distance no longer. He was upon her in a flash and had her wrapped in his arms in seconds, squeezing her to him. Her quiet tears turned to whimpers and then to sobs and her anguished cries tore at his heart.
He gathered her up in his arms and walked to the bed, sitting down with her on his lap. He held her like a child in need and let her cry.
“I feel a fool,” she said between sobs.
“You are no fool,” he assured her. “You have every right to fear.”
“I thought it was done, over—” her sobs interfered from her continuing.
“For you, it is. No one will harm you… that I promise.”
She knew his word was like a decree and he would keep her safe, but how could he if she did not speak the whole truth to him? Before her decision could be made, a soft knock sounded at the door and Colin peeked his head in after Eric bid him enter.
“Lord and Lady Donnegan arrive shortly.”
“Where is Rook?” she asked Colin nervo
usly.
The dog heard his name and stuck his head around the door. She called him to her and she slid from Eric’s lap to grab hold of the large animal and hug him tightly.
Eric nodded to Colin and he discreetly took his leave.
Faith stood, her hand resting on Rook’s big head. “I must get ready to receive my father and stepmother.”
“I will walk with you back to the keep,” he said, wanting to pursue more deeply her fear that lay hidden away and concealed and which he was certain she had shared with no one. There was something about that night she never spoke of—not to a living soul—and it had caused her fear to grow.
But no longer, she would tell him and confront her demon in front of the devil himself.
Faith had refreshed her face with a hasty splash of water to wipe away the remnants of her tears and then she arranged her flaming red hair to conceal her scar—or as her stepmother had often called it, her shame.
It was strange that since Eric learned of the scar she had found herself not bothering with hiding it. More often than not her husband would push her hair aside and nibble most deliciously along her neck, over the scar. He seemed not at all offended or troubled by it and she felt relieved he accepted the blatant remnant so easily.
She and Rook descended the steps and entered the great hall while the commotion of her parents’ arrival sounded outside. She hurried to the dais where her husband looked to be lounging in his chair and where Colin and Borg sat at either end of the long table just as uninterested but extremely alert.
“Come, we must greet them,” she said anxiously to her husband and held her hand out to him.
He rose out of his chair, his towering height, powerful size and those blazing blue eyes intimidating even her. She was about to draw back when he reached over the dais, grabbed her under her arms and lifted her with the ease of a small grain sack over the table, depositing her in the chair next to his.
“You will stay seated for their arrival,” he ordered in a voice she was wise enough to obey.
This would infuriate her stepmother and not please her father. That thought brought a smile to her solemn face.
“Rook, go stay by Colin,” Eric ordered firmly and the dog obeyed without question, taking up a proud stance beside him.
Lady Terra and Lord William burst through the double doors with a gush of wind, startling both of them and disrupting not only their grand entrance but their appearance. By the time they reached the dais, their hair was disheveled and their clothing was covered with a fine film of dust.
“A fine welcome you offer,” Lady Terra said in a scolding tone and sent a look of disgust at Faith.
Eric’s hand rested over his wife’s where it lay trembling on the armrest. He gently gave her delicate fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze.
Lady Terra unwisely continued to berate her stepdaughter. “I knew you incapable of proper manners.” She took a breath and more unwisely attacked the Irish devil. “He at least has an excuse being part barbarian, but you—”
Faith was out of her chair in a flash, surprising everyone in the room and stunning her husband with her words.
“Do not dare malign my husband with your vile tongue. You are in my home now and will show respect for my husband and all here or you will not be welcome.”
The silence hung so heavy in the air that it seemed that all held their breath in anticipation.
Lady Terra stood with her mouth agape and her eyes rounded in stunned disbelief.
To add to the already uncomfortable situation, Faith flung her hair back away from her shoulders and neck, exposing her scar to full view.
Her stepmother gasped and her shocked glance went first to her husband and then to Lord Eric.
Eric rose slowly out of his seat, standing to his full height. His shoulders were drawn back, his chest expanded and the sides of his dark hair were plaited. He was at that moment a mighty warrior, a leader among men and a lord to dark souls.
All in the room took one or two steps back even if they stood a good distance away from him. Faith herself felt compelled to move away, but fought the impulse, placing her hand securely in his.
He held her hand firmly. “We have several matters to discuss, Lord William, before I decide if I will allow you to stay at Shanekill keep.”
Lord William looked irate but handled his enraged emotions more wisely than his wife. “I am sure we can settle your concerns in no time and enjoy a friendly visit.”
“We shall see,” Eric said.
“In the meantime, perhaps my wife and I could retire to a chamber where we may refresh ourselves after this long and tiring journey.”
Faith almost moved to do as her father bid, but her husband’s firm grip kept her rooted to where she stood beside him.
“First we talk,” Eric commanded. “Lady Terra will remain here in the great hall until we are finished.”
Lord William looked ready to burst with anger. It was Lady Terra who remained calm this time. “I will visit with my stepdaughter.”
Eric immediately corrected her. “Until you offer my wife an apology for the threat your messenger delivered to her in her own home, you are forbidden to speak with her.”
“You-you-you . . .” Lady Terra found speech difficult, she was so incensed by his edict.
Colin and Borg laughed and several other laughs and giggles could be heard circulating the room.
“This is an outrage,” Lord William protested.
“I agree… and one that you will pay for dearly,” Eric warned, and the laughs instantly ceased.
His remark immediately quieted the complaining man.
“Rook,” Eric said and the dog hurried to his side. “See to your master.” He then sent a silent command to Colin to join the two. He leaned down, brushed a gentle kiss over his wife’s lips and whispered, “Keep yourself busy and out of trouble until the evening meal. Your parents will either be gone or repentant when you return.”
She smiled and brazenly kissed him soundly in front of all and finished in a strong voice, “As you say, my lord.”
He watched her walk past her stepmother without a glance or word and out the front door with Colin beside her and Rook at her heels. He felt safe knowing she was in good hands. He turned his attention back to his visitors.
“Make yourself comfortable, Lady Terra. Food and drink will be provided for you. Lord William, you will join me and Borg,” he said, pointing to his brother who stood to his impressive height.
The rotund little man paled considerably and reluctantly preceded the two trailing men out of the hall.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Colin followed Faith as she toured the castle grounds, visiting those who suffered from ailments and stopping to chat with those who called out a greeting to her. They shared the current gossip, mostly speaking of the poor girl who was murdered and how the Irish devil, bless his soul, would make certain the culprit was caught and punished.
Colin did not prevent her from stopping at the Donnegan wagons to see if any needed tending, but he did make certain to remain by her side, as did Rook. None made mention of Nora’s death, but then the news had not begun circulating as to the identity of the girl. Eric thought it wise to keep that bit of information secret for the moment.
They were near upon the portcullis when Faith asked Colin, “Can we go to the meadow near the back of the castle wall?”
“What is it you want in the meadow?” he asked.
“A breath of fresh air from confinement and more heather.”
“Is the heather necessary?”
She sighed and shook her head. “I could probably make do with the batch I have, but collecting extra would not hurt and it would sweeten the rooms in the keep.”
Rook agreed with a bark, though she was well aware that a berry patch sat close by and the last of the berries were falling from the bushes. It would be Rook’s final treat before winter set in.
Colin found it difficult to deny her simple request, but he to
ok no chances—he ordered one of the guards to fetch Stuart. “We will not go out alone,” was his only explanation.
While she waited she sought to borrow an empty basket from a woman in a nearby cottage. The older woman gave it to her only too gladly, and was pleased to be asked to tend Lady Faith’s healing basket while she was off gathering plants.
Faith breathed deeply of the fresh, sharp air as they made their way to the meadow. Rook ran ahead and Stuart trailed behind them, his sword in hand and his attention alert.
She loved this time of the year when the land prepared for winter. The fields so ripe from birthing, their last harvest smelled sharp and pungent. The rolling hills wore their purplish gray coats for the crisp weather yet to come and she was certain the lakes sparkled with a little more silver and the brooks babbled just a little more quietly. She was beautiful, this land. No matter the time of year, she was a sight to behold and Faith never tired of viewing her splendor.
“Are you Ireland’s son?” Faith asked Colin.
His grin was wide, his bow low. “None other, my lady.”
She smiled with joy. “And where is it you call home?”
His grin quickly faded. “My home is wherever Lord Eric is.”
That he did not wish to discuss his origins was obvious, but Faith was curious. “Before Lord, Eric, where was home?”
“Eric mentioned your persistence.”
She noticed the familiar use he made of her husband’s name but did not mention it. “South? North?”
“North,” he confirmed.
She said naught, aware of the many struggles and losses that persisted in this land of beauty, birth and sorrow. “How did you meet Eric?”
“That is a story a lady should not hear,” he said with a laugh that had her thinking the tale was more salacious than dangerous.
“You tempt my curiosity and yet fail to appease it… that is not fair.”
The Irish Devil Page 30