He soon received his answer. When the door finally opened, he was not surprised to see Johanne emerge. But he was terribly surprised to see Edmund on her heels, closing the door behind them. Puzzled, Kirk moved forward to inquire if everything was all right when Edmund looked him in the eye, his expression uncharacteristically hard.
“I would assume the escort is ready to ride to Quernmore Castle on the morrow?” he asked.
Off-guard, Kirk slowly lifted an eyebrow. “As we discussed this morning, Niles is in charge and I am sure the escort is set. Is… is everything well, my lord?”
Edmund was decidedly defensive. “That is none of your concern, Kirk. My sister and I are going for a stroll about the grounds and my wife, when she is recovered, shall join us for the nooning meal.”
Kirk did not like the emotions he was sensing, hard and careless and defiant. “Is Micheline all right?”
Edmund paused a moment before answering, his dull green eyes intense. “Listen to me well, Connaught. What transpires in the bedchamber between my wife and me is none of your concern. If you try to interfere, I shall have you clapped in irons for insubordination. And if you still insist on continuing this role of protector for Lady Micheline, then I will have no choice but to send you back to your father. He has other sons who will serve me quite well in your stead.”
Kirk remained calm. He knew that Edmund relied on him too strongly to carry out his threat. “Steven is crippled and Drew is still a boy. There is no one in England or Ireland who would serve you with as much strength and devotion as I have,” he paused, surprised that Edmund’s expression remained firm. “If you believe I am interfering, then I apologize. It was not my intent. My intent was simply to make sure the lady was treated with the respect deserving Baroness Bowland.”
Edmund studied him a moment. Then, he cocked his head as if a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Are you in love with her, Kirk?”
“Nay.”
“Then why do you insist on protecting her?”
“Because she needs protecting.”
“From me?”
Kirk stared at him a moment. Then, he smiled humorlessly. “Most of all.”
It wasn’t an insult, simply the truth. Edmund continued to gaze at the man a moment longer before turning away, moving quickly down the hall. Johanne skipped after him and Kirk watched the pair until they disappeared from view. Then, his attention turned to the closed door. He couldn’t help but open it.
The room was dark. The oilcloths remained secured over the lancet windows and the hearth was dark and sooty. Kirk paused a moment as his eyes grew accustom to the dim light, noticing a slight figure seated on the edge of the bed. Puzzled, not to mention concerned, he moved for the heavy window dressings.
“My lady,” he said. “Allow me to open the…”
“Nay,” Micheline’s voice was loud and dull.
Kirk paused in the middle of the room, looking at the woman as she sat motionless. Her eyes were distant, her back straight and proud. Kirk could sense a terrible sorrow.
“Misha,” he said softly. “Are you well, lass?”
She blinked. Then, she looked as if the question confused her. “Is this what it will always be like?”
“Will what be like?”
She turned to him, then. “My marriage. Is this is what it is meant to be?”
He shook his head, unsure of the question. Slowly, he lowered himself into an oaken chair next to the bed. “I do not understand you, lass. What do you mean?”
Micheline stared at him and he could see the tears coming. Closing her eyes, as if she could hardly stand to recall the events of the past hour, she turned away from him in soft sobs.
“My dear God…,” she gasped.
Kirk swallowed. “What happened, Misha? Can you tell me?”
She shook her head, her entire body trembling. “I… I cannot,” she whispered. “It is too… too….”
“Did he hurt you?”
She did not reply for a moment. “There was supposed to be pain.”
Kirk was struggling to help her without squeezing the truth free. It wasn’t any of his business, yet, he was eager to know. Almost frantic. “That’s not what I mean, lass. Other than the obvious, did he hurt you?”
She remained silent, sobbing into her hands. Kirk was preparing to ask again when her voice, muffled and faint, suddenly filled the room. “He made me… watch.”
He gazed at her, laboring to maintain his composure as a creeping sense of dread took hold. “What did he make you watch?”
She wept painfully, believing that the mere words describing her torment would surely make her vomit.
“He… he and Johanne,” she whispered. “He made me watch them, together, and told me to learn well from their actions. He expects the same from me.”
Kirk closed his eyes, shocked and sickened. But in the same breath, fury such as he had never known welled within his chest and he reached out, grasping Micheline’s hand. Instead of pulling away, recoiling from the man who had delivered her to her nightmare, she clutched him tightly.
“Oh, lass,” he breathed. “I am so sorry. I never… I never imagined he would do something like this.”
She continued to cry, so terribly pitiful. “That wasn’t the worst of it,” she gasped. “When they were done, Johanne… she stood by and watched as Edmund forced…forced me to….”
Kirk hung his head. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more. Literally, the pain from Micheline’s humiliation reached out to grab him like a vise and he found it difficult to breath for all of the heartache and outrage he was experiencing.
“Misha, I am sorry,” he whispered, feeling as if he had contributed to her agony. “I am so very sorry. Had I known….”
“And she laughed, too,” Micheline’s voice was high-pitched, strained with emotion and hysteria. “When I cried in pain, she laughed. She told me to bear it well.”
Kirk thought he might vomit. But Micheline wasn’t finished, compounding his illness with each successive word until he thought he might literally go mad.
“Edmund invited her to touch me,” she was gasping for air, struggling to tell her sordid tale. Needing to tell someone. “As he continued to… oh, Kirk, he told her to touch me. And she did. She did!”
Kirk shot to his feet, blind fury filling him. He simply couldn’t stand it any longer and was determined to punish Edmund for his vile doings no matter what the personal cost. Before he reached the door, however, Micheline threw herself at him, pleading for calm.
“Nay, Kirk,” she begged, clutching his arms with all her frail strength. “You have no right to condemn them. He is my husband and has every right to do with me as he pleases.”
The gleam in Kirk’s eyes frightened her. “He has no right to treat you like….”
Micheline nodded firmly, struggling to gain control of her tears. She could see that Kirk was beyond his limits and the sooner she regain her composure, the better for them all.
“It is his right,” she insisted, sniffling. But her gaze was steady as she faced him. “You know as well as I do that you have no control over what he does. No matter how barbaric. And certainly it is not your station to judge or punish his actions.”
“But….”
“You have no right.”
Kirk stared down at the woman, his heart aching for her plight. Never had he imagined Edmund or Johanne capable of such debauchery and he grappled furiously with his outrage, so much so that beads of sweat peppered his brow. After a moment, he shook his head in a helpless gesture.
“But I promised Mara…” he sighed heavily, turning away from Micheline. “Dear God, I promised your sister that I would protect you. I alone would prevent further humiliation to your fragile character. And see how I have failed.”
“You have not failed,” Micheline was calmer now, watching the broad back pace away from her. “You have done all you can, Sir Kirk, and I am grateful. To have failed would have been to confront Edmund when it is not
your place to do so. And I could not allow you to jeopardize yourself, not when Mara loves you so.”
He froze in mid-pace, his chest heaving with emotion. Slowly, with great wonder, he focused on the pale, trembling lady.
“She told you this?”
Micheline smiled weakly. “She spent the night crying over you, though she would not tell me the exact circumstance. I know my sister well, Sir Kirk, well enough to know that she loves you and would be lost without you.”
Kirk’s face was pale, the stone-gray eyes wide. “I… I do not know what to say.”
Micheline wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks, her smile steady as she approached him. “Say that you love her, too.”
He did not hesitate. “I have from the start.”
“And you will marry her?”
“She does not want to marry me,” he shrugged. “And… last night, I said things I should not have. But she was so stubborn, so pugnacious, I simply couldn’t….”
Micheline put her hand on his chest before he could finish. “The trick with Mara is to be more stubborn and more pugnacious than she is. She loves a good fight, but she respects someone who can beat her at her own game. It’s the Irish in her, I suppose.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Mara has Irish bloodlines?”
Micheline nodded. “On our mother’s side. Her grandmother was from Dublin.”
Kirk chuckled, his composure returning as Micheline succeeded in calming his rage with talk of Mara’s stubborn nature, of all things. “She has a lot of fire in her. Certainly it could only be Irish blood.”
Micheline laughed softly, feeling her mood lighten and her horror fade; to have Kirk’s support was more of an emotional boost than she realized. If he wasn’t already smitten with Mara, she might have declared interest in him herself.
“You will promise me something, Sir Kirk,” she said after the laughter faded.
“Anything, my lady.”
“Promise that you will not tell Mara what happened here today. I shall think of something to tell her, but she must never know the truth.”
Kirk gazed into the pale blue eyes before answering. “Of course,” he said softly. “There is no telling what she will do if she learns what Edmund and Johanne subjected you to.”
Micheline turned away from him, sighing heavily as her composure, her wits, returned. “Have you always been aware of their… relationship?”
He paused a moment. “Aye,” he muttered. “But it is something we do not speak of simply for the fact that it is too vile to comprehend. I… I am sorry I did not forewarn you. I truthfully do not know if it would have made a difference even if I had.”
Micheline nodded, running her hand over the mussed coverlet, smelling of sweat and sex. “It would not have,” she murmured. “I would have been forced to marry him regardless.”
Kirk watched her as she gazed at the bed, pondering the course of her future. “Still, I will speak to him,” he said quietly. “Mayhap he will listen to me.”
“And mayhap he will take your interest out on my hide,” Micheline looked at him, amazingly composed now that her cleansing cry was complete. “For my sake, I ask that you not intervene. This is my marriage and I must take responsibility as best I am able.”
Kirk sighed heavily; there was nothing he could say against her sound logic. “As you request, my lady,” the stone-gray eyes twinkled. “Tell me; did you inherit all of the common sense in your family?”
Micheline smiled. “Mara has a good deal of common sense, though she pretends otherwise. Have you never shared a calm conversation with her, Kirk?”
Now he grinned. “Once, after I spanked her. She harbors a great deal of wisdom in her little brain, wisdom I should like to nurture. Mayhap it will overshadow the wild nature, someday.”
“But not entirely.”
He chuckled. “Nay, not entirely. I rather like a hellion.”
Micheline laughed with him, holding out her hand. He collected it gently, so very respectful of the new Baroness Bowland. Edmund did not deserve the woman in the least and if the man was standing before him at this very minute, he wasn’t at all sure he could refrain from killing him.
“And I rather like the hellion’s beau,” Micheline said softly, laughing again when he shrugged modestly. “Thank you, Sir Kirk. For everything you have done for my sister and I, I thank you.”
The moment was genuinely warm and Kirk maintained his smile, hating Edmund more by the second for subjecting Micheline to his immorality. It was a battle not to become grieved with the circumstance all over again. “My pleasure, my lady.”
*
The seasonal rains had greened the countryside now basking under the new winter sun. Mara had spent well over an hour inspecting the fox pups that Fiona had so delightfully discovered, hiding in the bramble as the mother fox nursed her young. In fact, the magnificent morning had been enough to distract her from her depression and by the time she returned to the keep, her fragile composure was well fortified.
Her hands were full of winter blooms that she had discovered in the foliage, small flowers with blue and white petals she did not have a name for. Robert and his siblings followed her into the kitchen yards, demanding she lay the flowers aside and play a game with them, but Mara declined.
Even though her frame of mind had been calmed by the lovely weather and playful children, she was nonetheless eager to see to her sister. And possibly see what had become of Kirk if she could spare the time. Bidding her friends farewell, she crossed into the inner bailey only to come face to face with Edmund and Johanne.
Immediately, her fine mood dissolved, replaced instead by a burgeoning dislike. The bright blue eyes simmered with hostility as Edmund and Johanne came to a halt, hand in hand, before her.
“Ah, Lady Mara,” Johanne said with feigned delight. “Out foraging in the fields, I see.”
Mara’s gaze moved between the two pasty-faced siblings. “I was enjoying the day. At least, I was until this moment.”
Edmund shook his head. “Are you always so confrontational? My sister was merely making an observation.”
Mara fixed on him. “Speaking of sisters, where is mine?”
Johanne shrugged lightly, snuggling up to her brother in more than companionable gesture. “In my brother’s bower, where we left her, I suppose,” she looked to her brother, touching his cheek. “Shall we continue our walk, dear? I do not think I like the atmosphere here.”
But Mara refused to allow them to pass. Clearly, she was uncomfortable with Johanne’s flippant answer. “What do you mean ‘where we left her’? Is she well?”
Johanne’s green eyes focused on her. She seemed to do most of the talking while Edmund smirked and gloated. “Well enough. What would you expect after surrendering her virginal body to her husband?”
Mara visibly paled, her pulse quickening. When she spoke, it was directed at Edmund. “You were… kind to her, my lord?”
“That is none of your affair.”
“I realize that. But I am asking nonetheless.”
Edmund sighed, eyeing her a moment before replying. “Kind enough, I suppose. Far more than I was willing. Was that the answer you were seeking?”
Mara swallowed hard, seeing the carelessness in his eyes and it only served to inflame her. “You never wanted her to begin with. Why did not you simply dissolve the contract or sell her to another? Why must you insist on continuing this… this torment?”
Edmund cocked an eyebrow, suddenly realizing why Kirk was so protective of Lady Micheline. The little sister was quite defensive of her sibling, echoing Kirk’s actions perfectly. Or, as Edmund’s suspected, Kirk was merely echoing Lady Mara’s. Leaping to defend the sister of the woman he was smitten with.
He did not know why he hadn’t realized the truth before; the actions in the dining hall when Kirk had prevented him from striking the wench, or the constant attention he paid her, pretending to be stern. Mayhap with his concern over his unwanted bride, he simply hadn’t giv
en thought to anything else. Even something as obvious as Kirk’s infatuation.
Aye, the knight’s shift of loyalty made sense now. And truthfully, he couldn’t blame the man. In spite of her unruly mouth, Mara was a lovely creature. Too lovely to kill should Johanne figure out what Edmund now understood. But his sister, too, had been focused on Micheline’s arrival. Enough to deter her from her usual scrutiny of Kirk. For the moment, at least, and unless Edmund intended to commit murder in the near future, he had better plan for the girl’s immediate removal.
“You call your sister’s plight torment?” He let go of Johanne’s hand, moving to stand before a shaken Mara. Gazing over her lovely face, he realized well what Kirk saw in the girl. “Think of my plight, if you would. Betrothed to a woman I never wanted, forced to wed against my will. Sound familiar?”
Mara refused to step back from him, although his foul breath was turning her stomach. “Indeed. But do you have to make an undesirable situation worse with your treatment of my sister? She simply wants to be a good wife.”
Edmund stared at her a moment. Then, turning to glance at his sister, he laughed. “She was good. For both of us.”
Mara had no idea what he meant. But she certainly did not like the tone of his voice. “Both of you? How do you mean?”
Edmund continued to snicker, returning to his snorting sister. “Precisely that. A rather tasty bit of flesh. Unseasoned, but tasty.”
Mara was lost to their meaning as Johanne latched on to her brother again, rubbing against him in a manner that made Mara’s skin crawl. “She’s simply inexperienced,” she murmured, loud enough for Mara to hear. “Time will improve her performance. And I will teach her what she needs to know in order to please you.”
Mara stared at them, baffled and nauseated. “How… how can you teach… those things? How would you know…?”
Johanne laughed, looking at Mara as if she were the most foolish creature on the face of the earth. “Ask your sister what I know, Mara. If she’s brave enough to tell you.”
They turned away from the perplexed young lady in a snickering pair, continuing their walk of Anchorsholme’s grounds. Mara was about to follow them to demand clarification when a rumbling male voice caught her attention.
Lords of the Isles Page 11