Lily’s pretty brow furrowed. “Why so early?”
Mara sighed heavily, making a face. “I did not like it,” she said. “I lived at Rochdale Castle. Lord de Worth was an acquaintance of my father and when my father approached him to ask if my sister and I could foster in his household, he was very gracious. But we soon found out why; he was a vile old man who preferred young girls. His wife was an invalid so he did much as he pleased without her knowledge. He tried to… well, suffice it to say that when he approached my sister, we paid a soldier to escort us home.”
Lily’s eyes were wide with shock and sadness. “How terrible,” she said sincerely. “Yet you remain a strong and noble young woman. It did not affect you overly.”
It was a kind thing to say of a shameful situation. The more Mara spent time with Lily, the more her jealousy faded and the more she came to like the woman. Truth be told, Mara had never really spent any time around women other than her sister, so her experience with friends was limited. She wasn’t quite sure how to react.
“Where… where did you foster?” she asked timidly.
“Warwick Castle,” she replied. “I went there at nine years of age and returned home at sixteen.”
Mara lifted her arms as the maids began to work on the sleeves. “Did you like it at Warwick?”
Lily nodded, supervising the maids closely on the sapphire-blue coat. “It was a very big place,” she said. “Do you know much of Warwick, my lady?”
Mara shook her head. “I do not,” she admitted.
Lily helped the maid with the hem of the sleeve as she spoke. “It used to belong to the Earls of Warwick, but the last one died several years ago,” she said, happy to share her knowledge. “It belongs to the Crown now and the castellan is Sir Augbert de Gilles. Sir Augbert and his wife, the Lady Eve, were my hosts. The Lady Eve taught me to paint. She also taught me Latin, Italian, and Portuguese.”
Mara looked at the woman, feeling utterly inadequate in the presence of such an educated lady. But Lily didn’t speak boastfully. Her delivery was easy and almost dismissive. In fact, Mara found herself quite interested in what the woman was saying.
“You can speak Italian?” she said with some awe. “I have always wanted to go to Rome. Have you been there?”
Lily shook her head. “Nay,” she replied. “But I am to be married soon. Perhaps I can convince my husband to take me there.”
Mara smiled, a genuine gesture. “If he does, perhaps… perhaps you will tell me of your travels when you return.”
Lily was thoughtful. “Perhaps I will not need to,” she said as if concocting a great plan. “Perhaps Kirk will marry you soon and you can join us. Would that not be exciting? We could be traveling companions and spend all of our husbands’ money.”
She giggled and Mara found herself giggling, too. But it occurred to her that Kirk must have told Lily about their relationship during all of that time that Lily was monopolizing his time.
“Then he told you about… me?” she asked.
Lily grinned. “Even if he had not, fighting Spencer to the death would have told me everything I needed to know,” she replied, her blue eyes twinkling. “He is very fond of you, is he not?”
Mara flushed furiously, fighting off a grin. “I believe we are both very fond of each other.”
Lily laughed softly at Mara’s embarrassment. As the maids wandered away, she moved in close.
“I also know that you have been sleeping in his chamber,” she whispered, watching Mara’s uncertain expression. “My ladies have told me such things. They are terrible gossips.”
Mara cheeks flushed a dull red. “I notice you did not bring them with you.”
Lily shook her head, a dismissive gesture. “They are jealous of you,” she said. “I have told them to stay away from you and if I hear them whispering any more gossip, I will slap them all silly. They are amusing companions but at times they can be very petty.”
Mara was pleased by the woman’s defense of her. “Thank you, my lady,” she said sincerely. “But… but they have not told anyone else?”
“Never,” Lily insisted. “Have no fear; my father does not know. He also does not know that my betrothed and I have also shared the same bed. Wicked, are we not? Well, I do not care a lick. I like being wicked.”
It was a great secret and Mara’s smile hesitantly returned. “I did not look at it that way,” she murmured. “Kirk and I have such feelings for one another… we are in love, my lady. When there is love, I am not sure how sharing the bed of the man you love is wicked.”
Lily giggled. “It is wicked before the marriage bed,” she said. “Perhaps it even makes me a whore. I do not care, I tell you!”
She said it with such glee that Mara couldn’t help but giggle. “Tell me of your betrothed,” she said, feeling a kindred spirit with Lily now that they had shared their naughty secrets. She’d never known female companionship like this in her life. “Is he strong and handsome?”
Lily half-shrugged, half-nodded as she began to fuss with the collar of Mara’s dress. “He is quite handsome and strong,” she replied. “His name is Sir Thomas de Ryce and his brother is very close to King Henry. Thomas is Welsh and his family is very powerful. It will be a wonderful marriage, I am sure.”
She said it as if she was trying to convince herself. Mara watched the woman’s face as she fingered the surcoat. “Do you love him?”
Lily met her gaze. “I am quite fond of him,” she said softly. “He is kind and generous. He will make a good husband.”
Mara nodded faintly, silently accepting the explanation although she didn’t believe the woman. She spoke without much enthusiasm.
“Then perhaps we can convince Thomas and Kirk to take us to Rome,” she said. “Kirk has spoken of taking me to Ireland but I would much rather go to Italy.”
The twinkle returned to Lily’s eyes but before she could speak, the chamber door opened and Kirk stood in the doorway. As the women turned to him, he surveyed the chaotic state of the room with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
“What goes on here?” he asked.
Lily, ever-chatty and right with wording, moved in his direction. “Lady Mara is doing me a great favor,” she insisted. “When my mother passed away, she left a great many fine garments that I have had to store. Mara has agreed to take them off my hands. Does she not look marvelous?”
Lily pointed proudly to Mara, who was still standing in the middle of the chamber where she had left her, arms up as the maids finished with the sleeves of the too-long gown. Kirk lifted an appraising eyebrow as he sauntered in her direction, inspecting her closely.
“She does indeed,” he said with appreciation. “She looks beautiful.”
Mara, who had been watching Kirk with some trepidation when he first entered the room, grinned when he gave his approval. With a still-upraised arm, she pointed to the bed.
“Look at all of the garments,” she said eagerly. “Lady Lily has had them all this time with no one to give them to. Are they not lovely?”
Kirk glanced over at the pile of clothing on the bed. “Indeed,” he said, but his gaze returned to her in the exquisite blue silk. His eyes were warm on her. “Do you like them, love?”
Mara nodded excitedly. “I love them all,” she said. “Lady Lily was very kind to think of me.”
“Indeed she was,” Kirk said, turning to look at Lily. “My lady, you are most generous. We thank you.”
Lily smiled broadly as she went to Kirk and looped a hand through his elbow. “Marry her soon, Kirk. I like her very much. In fact, you are going to escort her to Rome when my husband and I go. Mara and I will travel very well together and I forbid you to deny her the journey, do you hear?”
Kirk fought off a grin. “You sound much like Mara when you say it that way.”
“What way?”
“Demanding.”
Lily laughed. “She is not demanding,” she said as she let go of Kirk’s elbow. She moved back over to the bed and began c
ollecting the surcoats. “My maids will finish with these dresses, my lady, and will return them in time for supper. I should love to see you looking finely dressed tonight.”
Mara nodded. “As would I,” she replied. “Do you want to take this blue dress with you?”
Lily handed over the garments in her arms to the nearest maid. “I think not,” she said, her gaze warm. “It fits you well enough. Kirk can hardly keep his eyes off of you. I do believe you should keep it on. I shall return to finish it later.”
Mara smiled at the woman as she finished collecting the shifts and surcoats, chasing her maids out and closing the door softly behind her. When they were finally alone, Mara turned to Kirk.
“Do you really like the dress?” she asked.
Kirk’s gaze was steady, but inside, the weight of the news he bore was dragging him down. He just needed a few moments with Mara to settle himself, to breathe, and perhaps even to grieve privately. His mind was whirling and his heart was heavy. His smile faded.
“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he said with soft sincerity. “No woman can compete with your glory.”
Mara smiled modestly, her cheeks flushing. She bobbed a stiff curtsy. “My thanks, my lord.”
He grinned, his gaze moving over her face, the lovely dress. “Am I to understand that you and Lily have become friends?”
She nodded, somewhat embarrassed. “She has been very kind.”
“She is a kind lady.”
“I am sorry I was so jealous of her before I came to know her. It was silly of me.”
Kirk’s attention lingered on her a moment longer before moving over to the bed. As he sat, heavily, he held out his hand to her.
“Come here,” he murmured.
Mara obeyed. When she came within arm’s length, he reached out and pulled her onto his lap. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he felt both comforted and weakened. The woman had the ability to stir emotion within him, making him feel vulnerable and strong at the same time. He buried his face against her shoulder and closed his eyes.
“You left early this morning,” Mara said softly, her cheek against the top of his head. “Where did you go?”
He was silent for a moment. “A missive came from Anchorsholme.”
Mara’s pleasant mood fled. She stiffened. “Micheline?” she asked in a panic. “Has something happened to my sister?”
Kirk calmed her. “Nay,” he assured her. “It contained nothing about Micheline. It was for me.”
Mara still wasn’t over her fright. Her hand was on her chest as if to soothe her racing heart. “Thank the Lord,” she said. “What did the missive say?”
He gazed into her blue eyes. “There has been a rebellion on de Cleveley’s Irish lands,” he said quietly. “Wicklow Castle fell. My father was killed.”
Mara’s eyes widened. “Oh… Kirk,” she breathed. “I am so terribly sorry.”
He went back to resting his head on her shoulder. “As am I,” he muttered. “I am sorry that he will never meet you. He would have liked you.”
“As I am sure I would have liked him,” she said, so very sad at Kirk’s obvious distress. “Did the missive say how it happened?”
Kirk lifted his big shoulders. “It does not matter how it happened, only that it has. My father is dead and nothing can bring him back.”
Mara wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t seem to want to discuss it. She held Kirk tightly, her arms around his neck.
“What will you do now?” she asked softly.
His embrace tightened as he turned his face against her skin, smelling her. “I am instructed to take le Vay’s troops to the docks at Fleetwood where we will meet de Cleveley troops, board de Cleveley vessels, and sail for Ireland on the morning tide.”
Mara processed the information. She could feel the angst rise, not wanting him to leave her. She was terrified for him going to war, terrified for herself because she was returning to Anchorsholme. But contrary to her nature, she didn’t voice her concerns. For the first time in her life, she kept her mouth shut because she knew Kirk had enough on his mind. His father’s murder was surely killing him.
“You leave tomorrow?” she asked softly.
“Aye. And so do you.”
“Back to Anchorsholme?”
“Aye.”
Mara didn’t say anymore after that. They’d already spoken of it and the subject was already settled. Still, she couldn’t help the tightening in her gut. She pressed her face into the top of his head.
“I am truly sorry about your father,” she whispered. “What of the rest of your family?”
“I do not know,” he replied. “The missive only mentioned my father.”
She sighed faintly. “I have spent nearly all my life at Haslingden,” she said softly. “I have never been around a battle. I would be lying if I said I was not frightened for you. Please take great care.”
He hugged her. “I will, I swear it,” he said. “I have much to live for.”
She pulled her face from his head, looking at him with a smile on her lips. “Me?”
He met her grin, gently tweaking her nose. “You.”
Her smile faded as she gazed into his eyes. “Will it be a big battle?”
He shrugged. “Possibly,” he said. “When the Irish are angry, there is no knowing how many will answer the call to aide.”
“Then mustn’t you go and muster your troops? Surely you have duties to attend to.”
Kirk shook his head. “Le Vay has asked me to stay away from Spencer as he prepares the men,” he said. “I have nothing more to do than spend the remaining hours with you, for which I am grateful.”
Mara was thrilled. She toyed with his dark hair, memorizing the texture to tuck away in her memories for days when she was feeling particularly lonely. She watched Kirk’s expression, seeing such sorrow in it.
“When was the last time you were in Ireland?” she asked quietly.
“About four years ago. A lot can change in four years.”
“What… what should I do if you do not return?”
His gaze grew intense. “Raise my son in the manner you see fit.”
A twinkle came to her eye. “The son you gave me last night?”
“The same.”
“Are you so sure I carry your son?”
“I have prayed for it since last night.”
The humor vanished from the conversation. He was deeply sincere and it frightened her. The man was sailing into the unknown, to face tragic circumstances, and she could read his uncertainty. Without another word, she threw her arms around his neck and he swallowed her up in his big embrace. There wasn’t much more either one of them could say that hadn’t already been spoken of.
Fear of the future, grief from Kirk’s father’s murder, and their longing for one another came together in a cataclysmic clash. Kirk took Mara back to bed and didn’t leave her until he was forced to the following morning before dawn.
Mara’s last vision of Kirk was as he rode from Quernmore’s gatehouse, astride his massive charger as he faded out into the breaking dawn.
Chapter Seventeen
“My lord?” Spencer was startled to see Lionel in his chamber. “Have you need of me?”
It was early morning following the departure of Kirk and over half of Quernmore’s army for the green shores of Ireland. Now the bailey was a quiet and somewhat still place, drained of the men with weapons and knights on horseback.
Le Vay shook his head to Spencer’s question, holding out a hand as the knight tried to climb out of bed. Recovering from his bout with Kirk, he was still rather weak and the physic had prescribed bed rest. Still, the man was fully prepared to rise up and do his lord’s bidding no matter how poorly he was feeling. Mustering the troops to leave with Connaught had just about finished him.
“It has been years since I have entered the knight’s quarters,” Lionel said, eyeing the small, windowless chamber with its dark stone walls and dirt floor. It
was a dark chamber except for the fat tallow candle near the bed. “I had forgotten how dismal they are.”
Spencer looked around the room as well. “I have not noticed,” he replied. “Other than sleep, I do not spend any time in this room.”
Lionel wriggled his eyebrows as he looked around for a chair. “I shall have you moved into the keep. That is where you belong.”
Spencer didn’t reply. He was more interested in why le Vay had come. The man was correct; he hadn’t been to the knight’s quarters in years, so his appearance had Spencer curious and, if he thought about it, perhaps on edge. It was an odd happening. Something was afoot.
But le Vay wasn’t looking at him. He was more interested in finding a chair. All he could locate was a squat stool, so he pulled it up next to Spencer’s bed and sat heavily. He lifted the ends of his fine robes and tried to keep them out of the dirt. When he finally focused his attention on Spencer, the knight was watching him intently.
“How can I be of service, my lord?” Spencer asked quietly.
Le Vay shrugged. Then he sighed and scratched his head. “Are you well enough, Spencer?”
“I will heal. In fact, I suspect I will be back to my regular duties by this evening.”
“That is good.”
“Do you have a task for me, my lord?”
Le Vay sighed heavily again. He seemed contemplative or, at the very least, ill at ease. He paused for several seconds before replying.
“With all of the conflict between you and Kirk, I have not yet had the opportunity to tell you why the man came to Quernmore,” he said. “Kirk and I had a lengthy conference yesterday afternoon and it would seem that he came on behalf of Edmund to solicit support for a revolt on his lands in Ireland, as you well know. You saw the result last night and this morning when the army was mustered.”
Spencer nodded. “I know, my lord.”
Lionel eyed the young knight. “I told you to remain behind but I did not tell you why. I felt that your wound should be allowed to heal. You are still quite weak.”
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