Triskelion

by Avril Borthiry

  Lord Weylin speculated that it was a temporary situation – the silent aftermath of a powerful storm. “You've been through quite an ordeal,” he'd said. “Give it time. I'm sure everything will –”

  “Katherine.” Her father's voice intruded into her thoughts, his hand patting hers where it had curled into a fist that gripped his sleeve. “Are you alright?”

  “Um...yes. Sorry, Papa.” She loosened her fingers and smiled at him. “I was day-dreaming.”

  They stepped into Rushen's quadrangle, which was now bathed in feeble sunlight. A gentle breeze lifted the cream silk veil from Kate's shoulders and stirred the daisy and lavender coronet encircling her head. She took a breath of sea air and smoothed a delicate hand down the shimmering blue silk of her dress. Then she raised her chin and faced the small crowd that had gathered outside Rushen's chapel. Her heart quickened. Standing on the chapel steps, with a great silver wolf at his side, was the man she loved.

  The man she was to marry.

  It might not have been prophesied in some ancient text, but Kate knew she'd been born for this day too. Created for it. Everything around her faded into a mist as her gaze met his. “I love you,” he mouthed, and stretched out his hand.

  “She is my most treasured possession,” said John, lifting Kate's hand from his arm, “but I hereby give my daughter to you, Owen ap Madoc, willingly and with my blessing.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Like a bird hovering on silent wings, Kate watched the dream unfold from on high. She recognized the curve of the shoreline, the pale cliffs containing the wolf's lair, the manor house set back from the shore. Wraysholme. Eager to set foot on familiar ground, she tried to descend, but struggled in vain against whatever held her aloft.

  She stilled as a shadow figure emerged from the grey tidal mist. It moved like a ghost, gliding without effort across the sands. A vague sense of awareness grew as the shadow paused beneath her. It – he? – too, seemed familiar. Again she tried to free herself from her invisible bonds, whimpering in frustration.

  Hush, little one. The wolf is sleeping.

  Confusion clouded her instincts, for her instincts, surely, were wrong.

  Who are you?

  You know who I am.

  I think not. Who are you?

  Was that laughter she heard? Not him then, and yet...

  You know who I am. But you must not tell. He must never know. No one must ever know.

  The dark figure lifted his face to the sky and Kate flinched. Fearful that the truth might be a lie, she closed her eyes.

  And opened them.

  A heartbeat later, the fading images of her dream flew from her memory like leaves in the wind.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered, a sob rising in her throat. “Please. Come back.”

  But the vision had vanished. Only the feelings remained, confusing her with their presence, for she could not identify their cause. Joy, fear, hope, disbelief, and an odd sense of revelation. A strange concoction. What series of events could tie knots in her stomach and set her heart beating with such a wild cadence?

  Disheartened beyond sleep, Kate slid from the bed and wandered over to the open window. Night air brushed across her nakedness, soothing her emotions, and calming her hurried heart.

  The small arched opening framed an indigo sky adorned with a chaotic tumble of stars. A waxing moon hovered among them, its silver light challenging the darkness. She felt a sudden urge to free herself, to absorb the beauty of the night unhindered by the confines of Rushen's walls. She recognized the sensation. How many times had she stood beneath the fissure in Elric's labyrinth, wishing she could see all that lay beyond it?

  Memories of her captor continued to haunt her, especially in the depths of night, when the rest of world slumbered and time slowed to a crawl. She still felt the stirrings of grief, but took solace from knowing he lived in her thoughts, and always would.

  Forever, Katherine.

  His final words, known only to her.

  An enigmatic farewell. What did you mean by it, I wonder? Will I ever learn the secrets of that night? Will I ever know what the Triskelion gave to you?

  Kate heard movement behind her and took a slow breath, shifting her focus. Some thoughts were not meant to be shared, and she felt no guilt at hiding them. Owen and Elric had always been part of her destiny, of that she was certain. Each had a place in her heart and mind, yet only one of them was meant to share what remained of her life.

  Despite Elric's claim to the contrary, Kate knew where she belonged, and with whom. She had known it for a long time.

  She felt his warm hand at the small of her back and heard his beloved voice.

  “What's wrong, Kate? Was it a vision?”

  Without turning, she nodded. “More of a dream, I think. It unsettled me, mostly because I can't remember what it was about. I'm sorry, Owen. I didn't mean to wake you.”

  “Don't ever be afraid to do so, cariad.” Owen's hands spanned her waist before moving up to cup her breasts. Aroused by the delicious sensation of his calloused palms against her sensitive skin, her nipples tightened. “Besides,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair, “I awoke to a vision of my own. Do you have any idea how beautiful you look silhouetted against the heavens?”

  She smiled and leaned into his embrace. “It is a glorious night.”

  “That it is.” He moved her hair aside and trailed kisses across the back of her neck. “When we return to Wraysholme, I'm going to take you out to the headland on such a night as this. Then I'm going to undress you and take you again, on the grass, beneath the stars. Probably several times.” His words sent tingles all the way to her toes, making her squirm against the hardening evidence of his mood. He groaned. “Have mercy, Kate. When you wriggle your sweet little backside like that, I'm lost. Come back to bed, will you? For now, I'll just pretend we're outside.”

  Kate giggled and turned to face him, her movement wrenching another groan from his lips. With slow deliberation, his hands slid over her hips and grasped the smooth curves of her buttocks, tugging her hard against him. Kate let out a small gasp of pleasure as his rigid manhood proposed its intentions.

  “You're insatiable,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, “and I love you beyond measure.”

  “Insatiable? I'm completely besotted with my wife who, as I recall, recently promised to obey me.” He assumed a stern look. “So do as you're told and come back to bed.”

  Kate raised a brow and rubbed her belly against the hard length of him. “And if I refuse?”

  He sucked in a sharp breath and hoisted her into his arms, forcing a squeal from her. “Cheeky wench. You need a lesson in obedience.”

  “Another?” She splayed her fingers through the dark hair on his chest. “But I've had two tonight already.”

  A growl erupted as he straddled her on the bed, bearing his weight on his knees. Sweet faith, but he was a sight to behold, muscles sculpted by silver moonlight and that proud male part of him erect with desire. Kate felt her own need pulsing in response.

  “Two?” He cocked his tousled head. “Are you sure?”

  Amused by his exaggerated frown, Kate's mouth curled into a smile. “Uh-huh.”

  “How long have we been married?”

  “Almost three days.”

  “Three days,” he repeated, tracing a forefinger down her breastbone, causing her to shiver. His lips twitched as if suppressing a smile. “Hmm, well, you should be pleased that I'm not tired of you yet.”

  “Tired of me?” she sputtered, pushing his hand away and trying to wriggle out from under him. He grinned as his legs tightened around her, holding her captive, and she laughed. “So how long do I have, pray tell, before you do become tired of me? A week? A month, maybe?”

  “How long?” He sighed and stretched out, his body pinning hers to the soft feather mattress. Aroused beyond constraint, Kate shifted beneath him, reaching down to place his shaft at the entrance to her core. An expression, carnal and possessive, spread across his
face. His hands sought hers, lifting them up and over her head as he buried himself inside her. Ecstasy rose like a wave and she arched against him, seeking the sweet release his lovemaking promised.

  “I shall never tire of you, my precious girl,” he whispered, moving slow and thrusting deep, the truth of his words written in his eyes. “I am yours completely. You have me until death, Katherine Rose. I swear it again before God. I love you with all that I am.”

  Chapter 24

  The trek across the sands had been without incident. Now, as the pale cliffs and Wraysholme's roof drew near, Kate swallowed against a growing lump of nostalgia. Her emotions tugged at her like a child seeking attention. It had, after all, been two long months since she had last see her home.

  Home. At last.

  Keen to savour the moment, she pulled Crovan's big horse to a halt, and filled her lungs with the familiar air. Owen and her father paused also, each turning to look at her with mild concern on their faces. Lio stopped too, ears pricked and yellow gaze questioning.

  “Kate?” Owen swung Arrio around, urging the stallion back to where she waited. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, I'm fine. No. I'm beyond fine, for I'm almost home. I have my beloved father with me, who is nearly recovered, and my husband, whom I love more than life.” She shrugged and drew another deep sigh. “I just wanted a moment to savour our return, Owen. There was a time, not that long ago, when I thought it would never happen.”

  “Ah.” Owen smiled. “And I was just thinking about the last time I travelled these sands with you. You looked so beautiful that night, soaked through and barefoot, standing beneath the stars.”

  “The night of the storm. The night I met Lio,” she said, glancing at the wolf, her stomach fluttering at the memory. “I thought I'd seen a ghost.”

  “Hmm.” A soft gleam came to his eyes. “Ride with me again, will you, Kate? On Arrio’s back as you did then.”

  Without hesitation, she dropped the reins and reached out. Owen pulled her into his lap and gathered her against him.

  “This is where you belong, in my arms,” he murmured. “In truth, I realized it that same night as we rode back to Wraysholme.”

  “And I recall thinking that your behaviour was unusual,” she said, snuggling into his embrace. “For a future priest, that is.”

  Owen chuckled. “Aye, well, I must confess, my thoughts were not entirely priestly.”

  John cleared his throat, a smile twitching on his lips. “I'll see you two back at the house,” he said. “Don't tarry too long. It'll be dark soon, and the tide has likely turned already.” He raised his hand in a casual salute and spurred his horse homeward.

  Owen urged Arrio into a walk and Lio loped along at their side. Kate relaxed and watched the pale cliffs draw ever closer. Twilight softened the craggy facade and blurred the lines of the cave entrance. Gulls wheeled in circles overhead, shouting what Kate fancied to be a welcome.

  A feeling of hesitant contentment settled upon her. Perhaps now, secure in the familiar cradle of her home, she might find a greater sense of peace. Still haunted by obscure dreams, Kate's nights were often disrupted. Although she remembered little of what took place in her dreams, she knew, instinctively, that they had to do with Elric. To what purpose she had yet to discover. She had an impression of something unfinished or untold - a shocking truth that defied belief. Something she had missed or failed to understand. Not knowing the answer frustrated and puzzled her.

  A loud snort interrupted her musing.

  “That beast has no grace at all,” said Owen, glancing back at the big horse, who followed behind. “Not a scrap. Although at least that came from his front end.”

  Arrio nodded as if in agreement, and Kate giggled. During their time at Rushen, she'd grown fond of the gentle giant and more or less adopted him as her own. She found it hard to believe the horse had once belonged to such a notorious mercenary as Crovan. Humphrey, as she had named him, showed no sign of malice or ill temper.

  “He's amusing and he's very gentle,” she said.

  “Gentle, aye. I'll grant you that. And I suppose he does have a certain appeal. God only knows what Thomas will make of him, though.”

  Kate's eyes widened as a sudden thought ran through her mind. “Oh, Owen. I never thought. Thomas will be facing Papa's anger alone. Maybe we should have been there.”

  “Don't worry. I doubt your father is about to take up arms. He's resentful toward Thomas more than angry. In fact, I think he's relieved that there's some accord, at last, between him and your mother's people.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “I also think it's what Adela would have wanted.”

  “I think so too.” Kate sighed, a vague impression of loss nudging her as she looked over at the cave entrance. The dark space was less of a mystery now.

  Perhaps sensing her thoughts, Owen's arm tightened around her waist. “There's nothing in there except the sad remains of Lio’s dinner. Please, Kate, I beg of you. Don't wander out here alone anymore. Swear to me you will not.”

  She felt his heart's increased thud, and lifted a comforting hand to his face. “I swear it, Owen.”

  They rode into an empty courtyard. Owen reined Arrio to a halt as a familiar face appeared from within the stables. Thomas had lost weight. His leathery skin appeared even more lined, and the silver strands in his hair had widened. He held himself on a slight angle, one shoulder a little higher than the other, but his dark eyes seemed clear and sharp as he observed them.

  “Thomas!” Owen slid from the saddle. “By all the saints, it's good to see you again, old friend. How are you?”

  “Less of the old.” Thomas gave a wry smile. “Better than I was and hopefully worse than I'll be. Welcome home, both of you. You're a sight to behold. A blessing, indeed. You too, Lio.” He bent to pet the wolf, peered around Arrio and frowned at Humphrey. “Christ above. What's that?”

  “My lady's horse,” said Owen, lifting Kate to the ground. “And speaking of my lady...Thomas, allow me to introduce you to my wife, the lady Katherine.”

  Thomas straightened and gave Kate a sober look. “Aye, I heard about the marriage. You have my deepest sympathy, mistress.”

  Owen snorted and Kate laughed. “Are you still in some pain, Thomas?” she asked, her expression softening.

  “Some, aye. Especially when it rains. But it's bearable and doesn't stop me from working. I'm just a tad slower these days. My lady, I want...” He hesitated, his brow furrowed. “I want to say how deeply I regret what happened. I fear I failed you. If I'd only –”

  “Thomas, please.” Kate placed a hand on his arm. “Don't blame yourself. You didn't fail me. There was nothing you could have done. I'm just glad to see that you're recovering.”

  Glad to see you alive.

  “Thank you.” His brow relaxed. “It appears Sir John took a bad hit as well. I'm thankful he's on the mend.”

  “Did he say anything to you?” asked Owen.

  “I'm still employed at Wraysholme, if that's what you mean.” Thomas grimaced. “But his disappointment in me was quite obvious. Can't say I blame him. He trusted me, and I betrayed that trust. It'll take a lot to make amends, but I mean to try.” He looked at Kate “He's a good man, your father. There are few better.”

  “You meant well, and I'm sure he'll come to understand that,” said Kate, bothered by the sudden sadness in Thomas's eyes. “Just give him time. He's been through a lot.”

  “Aye, I know he has.” Thomas gestured to the house. “If you're looking for him, he said he'd be in the dining hall talking to young David. You must both be tired. Go and get some rest. I'll see to the horses, although I'm not sure we have a stall big enough for that one. Where, under God's blue sky, did you find such a beast?”

  “He belonged to one of the mercenaries.” Kate walked over to pat the horse's neck. “But now he's mine. His name is Humphrey, and he's very sweet and very gentle. Aren't you, Humphrey?”

  In response, the horse lifted his top lip and presented T
homas with a broad-toothed grin.

  Thomas raised an eyebrow and scratched his head. “Bit of a character, is he?”

  “You have no idea,” said Owen.

  ~ ~ ~

  The day had been one of endless rain, which bound them to the house. After dinner, Kate, Owen and John sat in companionable silence by the hearth in Wraysholme's parlour. A modest fire, hogged by Lio, struggled to banish the damp, and a solitary candle chased evening shadows across the walls.

  Legs tucked beneath her, Kate occupied a sheepskin beside Owen's chair, her head resting against his thigh. His fingers played in her hair and, like a contented cat, she nestled into his touch.

  A month had passed since their return. Apart from her dreams, it had been a period of relative calm, like a sturdy bridge linking an extraordinary past to an uncharted future. Kate was about to step into that future. In two days, she would return to Rushen with Owen to begin the next part of her life.

  Their life.

  The thought of leaving her father weighed on her conscience, but the promise of Lord Weylin's guidance beckoned like the welcoming lights of a harbour. She needed his help to anchor her thoughts that, of late, had taken to drifting on a sea of confusion. Elric's presence in her dreams had recently become stronger, chafing the tender scars of her grief. At times, he seemed so real, so...vital.

  “He could have killed me.”

  Kate, startled from the depths of her reverie, lifted her head to look at her father. Without being told, she knew to whom he referred, and an odd little chill crawled up her spine. Elric, obviously, wandered through her father's mind as well.

  “I know, Papa.” She felt a slight twinge of nausea in her stomach. “I know.”

  “It's baffling.” John fidgeted in his chair. “He could have killed me –”

  “But he didn't.” Kate straightened, perturbed by her father's unexpected train of thought. “And I thank God daily for that. What, pray, has brought this about?”

  She felt Owen lean forward. His hand dropped to her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.