Edmund stared at his childhood friend. “Were you not the one who suggested we sneak into the festival?”
“I could as easily admit that I was going with you to keep an eye on you.”
“Bollocks. No one in their right mind would believe that,” Edmund responded, curious why Gregory would be so stubborn about this. Was it the fight? Had he been humiliated in front of Cara? “You’re the one with the reputation for misconduct. Your own father knows it.”
“Even so, it is you making claims that you’re going back for a Gaelic woman. What did you intend, Edmund? Marriage? You and your family could be hanged for treason to the king. Hers, too. The truth, while I feel it may be distasteful to you, my friend, is that I have little choice in this matter, and my troth to stay silent or not will have little bearing on the outcome, only perhaps its expediency.”
The truth hit Edmund, causing his knees to buckle. He dropped to the grass, his head in his hands. His own neck was one thing. But he’d not thought of his family or hers. He was blinded by his emotions and selfish in thinking only of himself and his desire for Cara. He felt Gregory’s hand clamp down on his shoulder and squeeze it with brotherly affection.
“There now, Edmund. In a day or two, you’ll not remember her name.”
He felt as though he’d been slashed wide open. Bile rose in his throat. As much as he despised the truth, Gregory was right. However cruel the Fates, Edmund had to accept it. But on one point, Gregory was incorrect.
He would never forget what had happened this night or his beautiful maiden.
Edmund was jolted from his dream of Cara’s body shuddering beneath his, and only had time to brace his hands in front of his face before he was tossed to the floor from his bed.
“Did you think to keep your indiscretion a secret from your family? What in God’s name were you thinking, boy?”
Still groggy from the wine he’d drunk the night before, trying to forget Cara, Edmund pried open one eye and saw the dark scowl on William Collier’s face. He combed his hand through his hair, each word from his father’s mouth stabbing at his brain.
“I do not know what you speak of, Father,” he mumbled, his mouth feeling akin to a quagmire. Edmund pushed himself upright, cautious of the wave of nausea assaulting him. He sat still, deciding it best not to move from that spot for perhaps the rest of the day.
“Do you deny it?” his parent bellowed, standing over him with clenched fists. “Do you deny that you went to the Beltane festival and had carnal relations with a Gaelic woman?”
Well, there it was. He knew, and if he did, so too did Gregory’s father—Edmund would stake his life on it. Better to face his demons now.
“You make it sound like she is a disease.” Edmund looked up at his father through bleary eyes. “What if I told you I want to marry her?”
William’s eyes, already wild, widened further. “That is out of the question!” he snapped, with the ferocity of a leather whip.
Defiance pushed the words from Edmund’s lips before he had time to consider the ramifications. “The truth of it is I am in love with her and I intend to marry her.” He tried to stand, but his stomach churned precariously, causing him to stay put. “Father, I have no desire to be a damn priest,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand across his face to jostle himself awake.
His father’s hand came too fast across the side of his head for Edmund to dodge. The blow jarred him and left a residual ringing in his ears.
“That is the last time I will hear you take the name of a religious man in vain, boy! Indeed, if for no other reason than to teach you humility to your God, to your king, I have made arrangements on a merchant ship bound later today for Italy. You sail at sunset, and you will be on that ship if I have to tie you to the masthead myself.”
Edmund held his face, his flesh still stinging from the blow. “What have you against me?” he demanded. Though his head was on fire, he met his father’s dark, piercing gaze with a challenge. In matters of discipline, William had often said taking the strap to his children’s hide was for their own good. By now Edmund should be filled with good; he had the scars on his back to prove it. But he stood every bit as tall as his father now. His shoulders were as broad, his strength equal to William’s, if not more so. Still, Edmund could not refute the love he knew his father had for him.
William sank down on the edge of the bed, his hands folded over his knees. “It is not hatred that drives this decision, Edmund. It is to save your life. It was the only choice I was given. I was told that I must send you away, as an example to those like you who might defy the statutes. I was told you needed to be disciplined. The alternative was imprisonment for treason.”
“But Gregory—”
His father’s upturned hand stopped him.
“It does not matter. You sail tonight. That is the end of it. Now, you won’t need much. Your vows will strip you of all worldly possessions at first.” His father stared blindly across the room, lost in his thoughts.
“Do you find them a farce?” Edmund asked.
“What, the statutes?” William shrugged. “It is not for me to say, whether to believe in them or not. We are here to serve our king. What he decrees, we must follow.”
“And what if, all those years ago, his decree meant that you could not have married my mother. What then would you have done?”
His father sighed, searching Edmund’s face before responding. “It was not the way of things before, and it may not be so again one day. But for now, it is the law, and we will abide by it.”
Edmund sat with his head in his hands. He seethed with hatred. What bloody deity would allow Cara to come into his life when there was no future to be had? He leaped to his feet, taking his father by surprise, and paced back and forth across the room. Perhaps they could run away. He turned abruptly, an idea popping into his head. “Then I will wait for that day.”
“And you would expect this girl to also wait? What good would come of destroying two lives? See reason, my son. Let this go and move on with your life. For her sake and yours. Hurry now, your mother will want to spend time with you before you sail.”
His hands were tied, and there was more at stake here than his own happiness. Edmund only hoped that one day Cara would understand, and perhaps, in time, forgive him.
4
Three years later
CARA DID NOT MIND THE WALK TO HER SISTER’S house. It kept her away from her father, at least. Every day she saw the disappointment in his eyes, endured his silent glances. But the sun was brilliant on this late summer day, and the path she walked well worn by the weekly visits she paid to her sister and brother-in-law. Today, she was off to help her with their growing brood of children. Kiernan and Conner had produced three children over the years and had become parents to one more not their own. Every week, with twin emotions of gratitude and guilt, Cara made the trek. Today she made it with a heavy heart, given the disturbing news her father had given her. It was yet another of his decrees in the past three years that had served to tear apart the close relationship they’d once shared. Cara’s mind drifted back to the day her life had changed forever.
Cara backed away, seeking safety in the shelter of her mother’s protective arms. Kiernan and Conner had been married for several months, already attempting to expand their family. Cara, no longer able to disguise her predicament beneath her loose kirtles, decided it was time to tell her parents the news. She had anticipated they would not be pleased, but it was her father’s temper that she dreaded the most.
“You? Having a child? How is that possible, daughter?” her father roared. Still seated at the table after the morning meal, he slammed his fist down, knocking over his cup.
Cara’s hand trembled as she cradled the small protrusion of her belly. She could not look either of her parents in the eye. She was no better than one of the village whores. Her lip trembled and she bit it, forcing herself not to fall apart. There was enough chaos in the house as it was.
“Who is it? I
s it a lad from our village? I’ll go have a talk with his da. We can get things squared away before the child comes. It will be a quiet ceremony.” He pushed himself from the chair, pacing the floor, lost in his thoughts of how to resolve the destruction she’d brought upon his house.
Cara swallowed, wanting to sit down, but afraid she wouldn’t be able to escape his wrath when she told him who the father was. She’d only ever been with one man in her entire life—Edmund.
Her father’s wild red hair exaggerated the fierce look in his eyes. He glanced up, pinning her with his angry gaze. “Daughter? I am waiting on your answer.”
Nervously, she uttered the first thought that came to her mind. “He is dead.” The words tumbled from her mouth like pebbles rolling down a hillside, preceding a rockslide.
Her father stared at her, burning with frustration. “He’s what?” His green eyes narrowed, penetrating her soul, defying her to repeat her lie.
Cara blinked, summoning her courage, relying on reason, since she had little else. It was, after all, not a complete untruth. To her and her unborn child, Edmund was dead. He’d left without a word and broken his promise. “He is dead,” she repeated with greater confidence.
Her father scowled as though unsure whether to believe her. “How did you find out?”
Cara’s throat went dry. She felt dizzy. It came back to her that it had been nearly eight months or better since Edmund had left. “How…did I find out…what?” She grabbed her belly, grimacing as an excruciating pressure gripped her middle. The pain radiated to her lower back and tightened with such force that she thought she might pass out. “Mother,” she managed to gasp before she fell to her knees.
“How did you find out that the boy had died?” Her father’s gruff tone added to the pain assaulting her body. “Is she going to have that child here?” His voice softened a bit.
Cara’s mother helped her to bed, easing her over onto her side, propping her belly with a blanket. “Go fetch the midwife,” she calmly ordered her husband, brushing the damp hair from Cara’s face.
“It hurts more than I can bear…. Am I going to die?” Cara had no control over the pains that came and went like the tides. She curled herself into a ball, gritting her teeth against the next wave.
“Nay, Cara. I suspect you are getting close to your time. But you must tell me the truth, now that your father is gone. Who is the father of this child?”
Tears streamed down Cara’s cheeks. She welcomed the freedom of telling someone the truth she’d been holding inside for so long. “It was an English lad I met at the Beltane festival.”
Her mother’s eyes grew wide. “Does he know?” She held her hand to her heart.
Cara shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut against another rolling wave of pain clamping her midsection.
“Did he force himself on you, Cara, that Englishman? Your father may kill him when he finds out what he did to you. I feared something like this would happen. I should not have let you go. Pray, child, why did you not tell us that night that you had been violated?” Worry shone in her soft blue eyes.
“Nay, it was not like that,” Cara said, then was overtaken by another cramping pain. She sucked in a breath and pushed out the words. “I wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with me. I loved him, Mother.” Her tears poured in earnest, between the pain attacking her body and her heart.
Her mother dabbed her face with a cool wet cloth, then placed it on her forehead. “It will not be long now, Cara,” she said soothingly.
“What will happen?” Cara thought of Gregory’s words, the plans he’d shared that had taken Edmund so far away from her.
“Your father will need to speak to the boy’s father. We will have to see what can be done.”
Cara grabbed her mother’s arm, looking up at her, true fear striking her heart. “The statutes! No, you mustn’t. They will take my child. I will never see her again.”
“The boy must know that he is a father,” she insisted, patting Cara’s hand.
Cara shook her head. “He is gone, Mother. Truly, he is dead to my child and me. By now he is in Italy, in his apprenticeship.”
“Apprenticeship? For what trade?”
Her mother rubbed her hand up and down Cara’s back, and the pain subsided. She shut her eyes, exhausted, wanting to sleep. “I have heard that he is bound to take his Holy Orders.”
“Did you know this when you met him at festival?”
Cara slowly shook her head, fatigue sweeping over her. “Nay, he did not mention it afore the time we were together. He said that he planned to speak to his parents and that he would come back for me. He told me he cared for me, that he wanted us to marry.” She opened her eyes, noting her mother’s sorrowful expression.
“Oh, Cara,” she sighed, and looked across the room, lost in her thoughts.
“I am sorry for what I have done to you and Father.”
Her mother gazed down at her, a soft smile playing on her lips. “It will be well. Sleep now. You’ll need your strength in the days to come.”
Cara nodded, her body and soul racked with weariness. She fell asleep and dreamed of Edmund holding his child.
She awoke sometime later to the sound of her father’s angry voice.
“I’ll not have a bastard child of an Englishman in this house.” His words rocked off the walls of the small dwelling.
“But, Galen, we cannot turn our daughter out,” her mother pleaded in Cara’s defense.
Cara pushed herself from the bed and stood in the doorway to the main room. Her father and mother stood toe-to-toe, arguing over her.
“Then she will have the babe at her sister’s house, and if they agree to it, they will raise the child as their own.” Her father spoke as if she was not there, but he spotted her then, pointing his large finger at her. “No one is to know about this. You have brought shame to this house, Cara. You are fortunate that I do not cast you out.”
She said little as she packed her belongings the next morning. Her father took her to Kiernan’s, where Cara was made to explain her situation and ask for her sister’s mercy. Gratefully, Connor agreed to take her in and, after the birth, to raise the child.
So it was that Cara bore her daughter and lived for a time in the same house, not as little Moyran’s mother, but as her aunt. It was her mother finally who saw the pain it caused Cara to live with the child, unable to acknowledge her as her own. She interceded, convincing Cara’s father to allow her to come back home. Only in the past year had things between her and her father begun to return to what they once were.
This fine morning, Cara spotted her daughter’s fiery red hair glistening in the sunlight as she played.
“Aintin Cara!”
The little girl came running to greet her. Cara scooped her into her arms and hugged her tight, never tiring of her sweet outdoor scent. The child loved being out in nature and was curious about herbs and potions, and all the ancient druid ways. But Kiernan had little time for such things, as she seemed to be constantly with child.
Cara studied the girl’s excited expression, a pang of hurt pricking her heart when she looked into her stormy gray eyes. “What have you discovered today, my dearest Moyran?” Cara placed her on the ground and took her hand, walking with her toward the wooden fence surrounding the thatch-roofed house. Kiernan was hanging clothes in the yard, her belly round again, her baby due in the next few weeks, if the midwife’s timing was correct.
“I can make a flower crown, to wear in your hair.”
The young girl’s face was radiant. Cara smiled, grateful that she was a happy child, and grateful that at least she’d been able to be a part of her upbringing. “You’ll show me then, in a bit? I want to visit with your mother and see how she fares, all right?”
The child nodded, wisdom much older than her years shining in her eyes. She gave Cara a peck on the cheek and, spotting her brother, ran off to play.
Kiernan looked over and offered Cara a weary smile. “You are a s
ight for sore eyes, to be sure. My back is aching today, more than usual. I could use help with the rest of the wash, if you’ve a mind to.”
Cara took the wet laundry from her sister’s hand. “Go on now. Find a place to sit out of this sun.” She watched her waddle to a small bench in the shade of a giant oak, then shook out a wet shirt, preparing it for the line. “Where is Conner?” she called over her shoulder. Kiernan’s time was at hand and Cara wondered at the wisdom of his absence.
“He’s gone to the village with Jacob, to do some trading. They left early, so they should be back before long.”
“Mother will ask me if you are eating well. I hear about her concerns for you on a daily basis, you know.” She finished hanging the clothes and went to sit at her sister’s feet. Moyran reappeared and plopped unannounced in Cara’s lap.
“Mother says I got the color of my hair from Grandda. It’s the same as yours. We are lucky, as we are the only ones who have hair that looks like it’s on fire. That is what Da says.” She focused on weaving the flowers together in her chubby hands. Cara glanced up at her sister and saw the look of pity in her eyes.
“Have you had any nibbles?” Kiernan asked. Cara knew that she worded the question so the child would not catch her meaning.
“Scoot now, Moyran, I have a few things I need to visit with your mother about. We’ll go for a walk in the woods a bit later.”
Unaffected at being shuffled off, the little girl gave Cara a grand smile, hopped from her lap and ran to a rope swing that Conner had fashioned for the children.
“Father has arranged a marriage for me, Kiernan.”
Her sister sat silent for a moment, searching Cara’s face. “A good man, yes?”
Cara’s eyes welled. “Aye, I suppose for a used daughter, it is. He is a widower, nearly Father’s age. But he swears he will be good to me, and he would like many children surrounding him in his old age.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her sister reached out, drawing Cara’s head to her lap, stroking her hair.
The Pleasure Garden: Sacred VowsPerfumed PleasuresRites of Passions Page 4