Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection

by Lana Williams

  “How will the guards not see him if he is inside the castle walls?” She answered her own question as she looked upward, and in the darkening sky saw Onyx scaling the wall of the tower. She didn’t see a rope on him, and noticed him holding onto a few vines trialing upwards, as well as using the arrow slits for footholds as he made his way to the open window at the top. “What in Heaven’s name is he doing?” she asked.

  “Sneakin’ in,” said Aidan. “What else?”

  “He knows the windows at the top are larger and no’ barred,” said Ian. “’Tis a wonderful idea. I wish I woulda thought o’ it meself.”

  Lovelle felt queasy in her stomach and prayed for Onyx’s safety. She also prayed that they’d get inside in enough time to stop him from killing his father.

  * * *

  Onyx used the vines to climb as far as he could, his feet using the arrow slits as well as the scaffold holes left in the wall from when the castle was built. He finally made it to the top. But when the vines ended and he was still just out of reach of the window, he knew he’d have to come up with another plan.

  He spied a pole sticking out from under the window with a flag on it, but it was just out of reach. If he could just . . . he pulled his plaid from around his shoulder, and tied a loop at the end. Then balancing precariously, he managed to swing the end, catching the pole, using his plaid to pull himself upwards. Swinging his feet up to the sill of the window, he retrieved his clothing and put it back into place. Then pulling his gemstone dagger from his side, he stepped into the room lit by only one small candle.

  He heard voices in the corridor, and then his heart almost stopped as someone knocked on the door.

  “Healer,” he heard a woman’s voice from just outside. “You are needed in the earl’s chamber at once.” Then another knock. “Healer, are you in there?”

  He looked around the room, realizing the healer was nowhere to be found. But he saw his bag of herbs and ointments lying on the bed, as well as his long, black cloak and bird mask stuffed full of dried posies and herbs that was worn by all healers when coming in contact with the plague. This was his chance, he realized. The woman said the healer was needed in the earl’s chamber. He had an idea.

  He hurriedly slipped into the cloak, pulling it closed over his plaid. Then he checked his dagger at his waist next to his sword to make sure they were hidden. He put the mask over his face and pulled the hood up to cover his hair. He hurried to the door and pulled it open.

  “Oh!” said the woman, startled. “I will never get used to that mask. Follow me, please, as the earl needs you right away.”

  “Of course,” he said in a low voice, feeling good that his identity was concealed. He would kill his father and slip out of the castle unnoticed. This was going to work out better than he’d even planned.

  He followed the girl into the room and saw the back of a man as he sat in a chair by the fire. When he turned around, Onyx recognized him immediately as the man he’d seen four years ago at Montclair Castle. The same man who’d vowed to kill him. His father.

  “Thank you,” the earl said, dismissing the girl. When the door closed, he knew this was his chance. He took a few steps forward toward the man. His hand slipped under his robe, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of his dagger as he walked.

  “It’s about time you got here,” said the earl. “I called for you a while ago. You know I don’t like to have to wait.” He turned around, his back toward Onyx once again. He was making this way too easy.

  “Well, I assure ye, ye didna wait as long as me fer this moment.”

  “You’re a bloody Scot?” Surprised by this, the man stood and turned, his hand wavering above the hilt of his sword as he looked at him curiously. “I hate the Scots.”

  “Some think I’m a Scot,” Onyx replied. “But then again, some also say I’m really English.” He tore off his mask and threw it to the ground. When the earl saw his eyes, he gasped and pulled his sword from his waistbelt. But Onyx was faster, and kicked it from his hand, sending it sliding across the floor.

  “It’s you!” The earl said, backing away from the tip of Onyx’s dagger now at his throat.

  “Aye, ’tis me dear auld Da, or should I say . . . murderer?”

  “Son? Is it really you? I can’t believe you’re still alive.”

  Onyx backed him toward the bed as he spoke. The bedcurtains were drawn closed, blocking it from his view.

  “Surprised te see thet I’m still here, after ye worked so hard te have me killed, arena ye?”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t kill you. You died during birth. I saw your lifeless blue body with my own eyes.”

  “Thet is obviously a lie since I now stand here with me dagger te yer throat. And I herd ye tell me four years ago thet if yer son was still alive, ye’d kill him for the deith o’ yer wife.”

  “That’s not true. I only said that because I was upset. I don’t want you dead, that’s a lie I tell you.”

  “I’ll tell ye what isna a lie. The fact thet I am now goin’ te kill ye fer ruinin’ me life.”

  But before he could do the deed, a young boy pulled back the bed curtains and looked at him with sunken, dark eyes.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill the man he hated right now more than anything in life. Not with a child staring at him with those large, lonely eyes.

  In the moment it took to distract him, the earl lunged forward bringing Onyx to the ground. They rolled across the rushes, punching each other, and the dagger was knocked from Onyx’s hand. And just as Onyx was reaching for his sword, the earl retrieved his weapon from the floor, and jumped up and held the tip of his sword to Onyx’s heart.

  “Go ahead, ye bastard,” spat Onyx, staring into the eyes of the man who was about to kill him. “Kill me, jest like ye tried te do twenty years ago when ye put me in a box and ordered it thrown inte the sea.”

  “I didn’t do that,” he said. “You were already dead, or so I thought. I see now that I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

  “Then why dinna ye finish the job ye started so many years ago?”

  He was expecting to feel the stab of a sword through his chest, but instead, surprise overtook him as he noticed a tear slip from the man’s eye.

  “I won’t kill you, though I can’t say you don’t deserve it for trying to kill me. But you are my son. The son I thought I’d lost so many years ago. And the only reason I ordered you to be thrown into the sea . . .”

  “Was becooz of me eyes, admit it. Ye thought I was a demon like everyone else.”

  “I did think that, I admit,” he said softly, nodding his head. “But I would have gladly taken you into my arms even though you looked possessed. The reason I gave the order, son, was because you were the cause of my wife’s death. You see, she died giving birth to you, and that is something I could never accept. I loved Mirabelle more than life itself, and I couldn’t believe that she was gone.”

  Onyx didn’t know how to answer, and neither did he have to. The door to the room burst open and in rushed not only Lovelle, but Aidan and Ian too. His friends noticed the earl holding a sword to him and their swords were drawn instantly.

  “Nay!” shouted Lovelle, rushing between the earl and Onyx. “No one will die here today. Now everyone, put away your swords.”

  “Love, move away afore ye’re hurt,” said Onyx.

  “Why would you try to kill your father?” she shouted. “I miss my father every day, and would do anything to have him back. And earl, why are you holding a sword to your own son?”

  “Mama?” came a small voice from the bed, and Onyx realized that the boy he’d seen was Lovelle’s son.

  “Charles,” she said, taking a step toward him, but the earl grabbed her arm, moving his sword from Onyx in the process.

  “Don’t go near him,” the earl warned her. “I believe the boy has caught the plague.”

  Chapter 22

  “Nay!” screamed Lovelle, trying to pull away from the earl and
rush to her son. Onyx jumped to his feet and threw his arms around her.

  “Dinna do it, Love. He could be the cause of yer deith.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do. Now let go of me, he is my son.”

  The healer appeared at the door just then, surprise showing on his face that Onyx was wearing his robe.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked, entering the room.

  “I believe the boy may have the plague,” said the earl.

  “Then everyone out,” said the healer, bending down to pick up his mask. When no one moved, he said it again. “Out! This is nothing to be taken lightly.”

  “I won’t leave,” Lovelle cried. Her son just looked at her with those big, sad eyes.

  “Mama,” he said. “I’m scared.”

  Onyx pulled her from the room as she tried to fight him off. Aidan, Ian, and the earl followed. The earl shut the door as they stepped into the corridor, and she reached out and slapped Onyx across the face.

  She saw the disappointment in his eyes, but she no longer cared.

  “What was thet fer?” he asked.

  “Because, Onyx, you won’t let me near my son.”

  “I am tryin’ te save yer life, lassie.”

  “What do you care about lives? You came here to kill your own father.”

  “So, Onyx is your name then?” the earl asked him, looking at his plaid. “And you are a MacKeefe, just like my daughter Amethyst told me four years ago. You know, you have four sisters named after gemstones too.”

  “I dinna care, and I dinna want te see nor talk te ye, ever again.” Onyx took off down the hall, and Lovelle just let him go.

  “What do we do now?” asked Aidan.

  “Up until today, if I saw a Scotsman in my castle, I’d run my sword right through him without asking questions,” said the earl, surveying Aidan and Ian.

  Their swords were raised in an instant at that comment, and Lovelle stepped between them and the earl. “Stop it, all of you,” she scolded. “My son is in there possibly dying, and no one even cares.”

  “Mayhap we should jest leave,” said Ian to Aidan.

  “No. Please stay,” said the earl. “If you are friends of my son’s, then I accept you here . . . as long as you are not going to try to kill me too.”

  “We’re no’ here te kill anyone,” said Aidan.

  “I once hated the Scots so much, I never even let my daughters see their mother’s Scottish cousin, Clarista.”

  “Clarista is our chieftain’s wife. The MacKeefe,” Aidan told him.

  “That’s right,” said the earl. “We had ill feelings between us for many years. Had I known my own son was a . . . was a MacKeefe, things would have been different. I just wish my son would accept me, and forgive me for making such a bad mistake.”

  “Give the lad some time,” said Ian. “He is goin’ thru some hard times lately.”

  “And how about me?” asked Lovelle, the tears welling in her eyes. “My son is in there and probably dying, yet none of you will let me be with him.”

  “You are a noble,” the earl told her. “And you’ve already lost your husband. You can’t take the chance. The healer is in there with him and he’ll let us know more in a while. Now come, all of you, and let’s go to the great hall and get something to eat.”

  * * *

  Onyx rushed out the postern gate to get his horse. He was feeling suffocated again and needed to ride with the wind blowing through his hair to clear his head. He wasn’t sure just what happened, but all he knew was that he failed at what he’d come here to do. And he didn’t like to fail at anything.

  He felt awful for walking out on Lovelle when she needed him the most, but he really didn’t want to be anywhere near the man he couldn’t kill though he wanted to – his father.

  He was about to mount his horse when he heard the crackly voice of the old, blind hag from behind him once again. “Couldn’t do it, could you?”

  “Go pester someone else, auld woman, or do ye enjoy followin’ me around te tell me I made the wrong choice?”

  “I said nothing of the sort,” she said with a slight chuckle. “But obviously you think you’ve made a wrong choice, so what was it that changed your mind?”

  “I dinna ken ye, so there is no need te tell ye anythin’. Now go away. And stop all yer clishmaclaver already.”

  “Oh, but you do know me, though you were too young to remember.”

  His foot was in the stirrup and his hands atop the horse, but he stopped when he heard her words. His bones were aching again, and this told him he was about to hear something he wouldn’t like.

  “What the clootie does thet mean?” he asked.

  “It means I was the one to put the dagger in the chest with you when you were a baby.” She walked over to him, and he turned around slowly.

  “’Twas ye, and no’ me faither?”

  “Aye, it was.”

  “So ye ken what happened, then?”

  “I know that you think your father wanted to kill you, but in fact he thought you died in birth.”

  “Thet’s what he said, but I dinna believe it.”

  “You were dead. For a short while. I felt your body when I opened the box and it was cold and lifeless. I rubbed your little chest and willed lifeforce into your body, and you came back to life.”

  He thought about this, and somehow knew it was true. He’d been having these little death spells his entire life. They could have started from the very day he was born.

  “I still die all the time,” he told her. “The feelin’ overcomes me when I get too anxious. I feel like I canna breathe – and then it happens.”

  “You don’t really die,” she told him. “Not since that first time. You are only reliving the feeling of what happened to you on that traumatic day of your birth. Once you learn to let go of the past, your little death spells will eventually disappear completely.”

  “How can ye ken this . . . are ye a witch?”

  “Why do you need to put a title on me?” she asked. “Don’t you hate when people call you a demon?”

  “Me faither said it was me fault me mathair died. How can I ferget aboot that?”

  “It was her own fault, so you can stop with the self pity.”

  “Why would ye say thet?” he asked, turning to look at her white, clouded eyes in the moonlight.

  “Because your mother, Mirabelle, came to me years ago, hearing the superstition that to buy daggers from a blind hag would ensure her conception. One child for each dagger bought. She bought four daggers and tried to steal the one you now have.”

  He fingered his dagger at his side. “Why would she want this one when it was cracked?”

  “It cracked when she dropped it, right when she pushed away a beggar boy four times. That’s why she only had daughters. The daggers would ensure they each found their true loves. But because she tried to deceive me, she’d cursed herself.”

  “I dinna understand.”

  “Because of her greed, she caused her own trouble. She pushed the boy out of her life, so she would never know her own son. And since she tried to steal a dagger that was meant to find true love, she lost her love – her husband – in the process.”

  Onyx ran a hand over the cracked stone, thinking of how his true mother had touched this at one time. And he’d never had the opportunity of knowing her. It wasn’t right. Not at all.

  “Ye witch! Ye were the one who cursed her.”

  “We bring our own curses upon ourselves by the choices we make or the things we say. You need to think about this, Dagger, before it’s too late.”

  He flinched in surprise when she called him by the name that only his close friends used.

  “You need to give your father a chance,” she told him. “He never did anything intentionally to hurt you.”

  “He tried te have me dumped into the sea.”

  “Only because he thought you were dead and didn’t want to see you, as you reminded him of the woman he loved so much and had
lost forever.”

  “He blames me for her deith.”

  “Does he?” she asked. “Mayhap he really blames himself and just doesn’t want to admit it.”

  “He disna care aboot me.”

  “He doesn’t know you. Neither do your four sisters. Aren’t you even curious as to who they are and the lives they’ve lived?”

  “Me one sister did try te talk te me four years ago,” he said. “But still, I was abandoned, and I willna go te them. I have me own family in Scotland now.”

  “It seems to me you just walked out on anyone who ever cared about you. That cracked stone in your dagger symbolizes the duality in you and your life, as do your eyes. So you have a choice,” she explained to him. “You can turn and walk away from your troubles, and at the same time the people who love you . . . or you can turn around and go back, and show love in return. The power of love is symbolized by the daggers that you and your sisters all possess. Love is in you as well as every one of your siblings, and you need to find a way to bring it out. The choice is yours. But if you think you’re going to find true love with the woman inside that castle, then you are going to have to show her that you love her in return.”

  “I dinna need this.” He turned to mount his horse again, then thought about what she said. Aidan and Ian were inside, and they were as close to him as any brothers. His father was there too, wanting to get to know him. And Lovelle. She had told him she loved him. She needed him now. And her little boy . . . he couldn’t leave. Who was he fooling? He had to help her. He knew now that whatever hurt he was feeling didn’t matter. Because although love was foreign to him, it was truly the only thing that mattered. He needed to turn around and go back in and not leave right now, just like the old hag told him.

  “Ye’re right, auld woman.” He turned to tell her, but she was gone.

  Chapter 23

  Lovelle didn’t even want to talk to Onyx at the meal. He’d come back into the castle, but he still held hatred toward his father, this was clear. Though the earl had offered to have all of them sit up at the dais, Onyx had refused, and sat down by the fire instead. Aidan and Ian of course chose to be by their friend, and that left Lovelle sitting alone with the earl, the priest, and several of the castle nobles.