The Daring Twin

by Donna Fletcher

  Aliss stopped and turned a soft glance on her sister. “You and Tarr are much alike.”

  Fiona crunched her face, about to shake her head.

  “You cannot deny it. You are both skilled hunters, strong-willed, independent,” Aliss said. “You match each other perfectly.”

  “Where is love in all this?”

  “Perhaps it would grow if you wed and gave it a chance.”

  “And if it does not? I am stuck.”

  “The problem is that time is running out, and quickly,” Aliss said, addressing the obvious. “This ruse cannot go on for long, one of us is bound to make a mistake or Tarr, sharp-witted as he is, will figure out that he is actually spending more time with Fiona than Aliss. Then there is Raynor. I have not healed him only to see him die.”

  “Is it that you favor Raynor? He is a handsome man and well-endowed.” Fiona smirked.

  “He is an ill man in need of tending, nothing more. I told you many times that I, unlike you, am not interested in finding love. I wish to continue studying the healing arts, which means I have no room for a husband in my life.”

  “You may regret it one day.”

  “Then it will be mine to regret, but now I wish to pursue my interests.”

  “You know I will always support whatever choice you make,” Fiona assured her. “I think it would be wise of us to place a time limit on this charade.”

  “You mean a time limit to see if you could possibly fall in love with Tarr.”

  “Whatever way you wish to see it as.” Fiona shrugged. “One month’s time, then we leave or stay unless an earlier departure proves necessary.”

  “Tarr will not let us leave,” Aliss said.

  “I know someone who would probably welcome us and protect us.”

  Aliss looked perplexed.

  “Think about it, Aliss. Where is the perfect place to hide?”

  Aliss smiled. “Raynor.”

  “He would not deny us protection. He feels indebted to you.”

  “He would need our help.”

  “If we need his help, then so be it,” Fiona said. “How long before he is well enough to attempt an escape?”

  “Two, perhaps three weeks.”

  “See if you can stretch it into a month. If we time this right, all can fall into place easily.”

  By the time they were done, it was agreed that nothing would be said to Raynor until it was deemed necessary. As for Tarr? He was for Fiona to deal with; Aliss wanted nothing more to do with him.

  Aliss returned to Raynor and Fiona went to the pen where her mare was stabled.

  She grabbed a blanket and reins and prepared her horse for riding. Within minutes, she was flying across the meadow, a cool wind in her face, her raging red hair flying wildly about her head and the pure joy of freedom beating wildly in her heart.

  Fiona was not familiar with the land but that made no difference. She feared little, her knife sheathed at her waist and her sword strapped securely to her horse. Most men feared a woman with a sword, not knowing whether she was skilled or if it was simply a ruse. Once she unsheathed it, though, men quickly learned she knew exactly what to do with it.

  She rode with sheer abandonment until, spying a stream through sparse woods, she slowed her mare, guiding her to the water.

  Resting on the edge of the stream while the horse drank, she tossed a stone or two into the running water. “I know you follow me; show yourself.”

  A moment passed and no one emerged from behind the trees or bushes.

  “Have it your way, but I know you are there. For a fierce warrior, one would think you would be a good tracker, or is this another ruse like our hunting expedition?”

  The taunting did it; Tarr stepped out from behind the trees. His stallion headed straight for the stream.

  “How?” was all he asked.

  “I caught you from the corner of my eye when my sister and I parted. You followed me, and not as unobtrusively as you should have.”

  “You let me follow you?” Tarr asked.

  “I wanted to see what you were about, then I realized.” Fiona turned and threw another stone; it skipped clear across the stream. “You wanted to see how skilled I was with a horse to determine if I am Fiona or Aliss. I confuse you, and that annoys you. Or are you annoyed because you find you favor kissing me?”

  Tarr walked over to her, grabbed her arm, swung her around, and planted his lips on hers with a challenge to her to deny him.

  She did not give it a thought. She wanted to taste him as much as he wanted to taste her. The kiss was more a battle than a tender embrace. Their tongues darted, their lips demanded, and their bodies pressed into each other. Did one intend to emerge a victor?

  Fiona made no protest when his hand grabbed her firm around the neck and his mouth grinded against hers with a passion that sent her toes to tingling.

  Damn if he did not taste good like a flavor of the finest wine or the freshest fruit that tempted the soul and made you hunger for more. His strong fingers dug into the muscles at the back of her neck while he kissed her, and Damn, Damn if it did not feel as good as the kiss.

  She leaned into him and grabbed hold of his powerful arms, hugging them as if she needed their support. The kiss seemed to go on forever, and that was fine with Fiona until they both came to their senses and let the battle wane, their foreheads dropping to rest against one another.

  “I do not even know who I kiss,” Tarr said on a deep breath.

  “The question should be why do you kiss me?”

  “You tempt my soul, woman,” he said, and bit gently at her bottom lip.

  She grinned and licked the taste of him off her lip.

  Tarr shivered. “We could do well together.”

  “I could give you strong sons,” Fiona said, and stepped away from him.

  “We would enjoy creating them.” He sounded pleased.

  She stared blankly at him.

  He stepped forward. “I would be good to you.”

  “Would you love me?” she demanded.

  “In my own way.”

  Fiona’s blank stare remained as she grabbed her mare’s reins and mounted her horse without assistance from him. She rode off and did not look back.

  She felt her emotions well up inside her. She enjoyed their kisses more than she cared to admit. She enjoyed the strength of his massive arms around her, the feel of his strong fingers kneading her neck and the heated intensity of his kiss and how it stirred her passion beyond reason.

  Tarr was more than she bargained for, and the idea that she could be attracted to him troubled her. It could interfere with her choices if she was not careful. She could very well be tempted to justify a joining with him for no good reason, and live to regret it.

  Her mother had filled her and Aliss’s heads with tales of chivalrous men who wooed and won maiden hearts, and how in the end love conquered all, a tiresome tale to some, a poetic beauty to others.

  To Fiona love was beauty in its purest form. She had watched the beauty of the way her mother and father laughed and loved together every day of their lives. When they argued, which had been rare, they both would be apologizing and hugging and laughing in no time. When her father had taken ill, her mother had tended him with loving care, never complaining, never crying in self-pity but sharing as much time and joy with him as she could right up until the very end.

  They had shared the joys and sorrows with the same enthusiasm and had been content in each other’s arms.

  Fiona wanted a bond like her parents, a lasting bond that would travel beyond these earthly planes to the heavens above. She liked to think that her mother and father were happy, safe, and finally sharing an eternal love.

  She choked back a tear, crying just did not suit her character and she rarely shed tears, the last being when her mother died.

  Was she foolish to think that she could find such an everlasting love? She had no answer; she only knew that if she did not try she would always regret it. She found Tarr
of Hellewyk attractive, and she knew there was more to the man than he let most see.

  She wanted to know what lurked beneath the surface of the fierce chieftain that stirred fear and respect in the hearts of his enemies. And she had one month to do it.

  Fiona smiled as she approached the keep. This was one challenge she looked forward to.

  “A bit more and it will be done,” Aliss assured Raynor.

  “It takes too long,” he said annoyed,

  “The blood you lost from your head wound pooled in your eyes and since there was no time to clean them it crusted over your eyelashes good and hard. It takes time to remove it. There is not much left. You will see soon enough.”

  “Just rip my eyes open.”

  “No,” Aliss said firmly. “The pain would be like you have never felt before.”

  “I do not care; I want this done.”

  “Why? So you can escape? You are not well enough to go anywhere. Your head wound is healing but you require more rest.”

  “I will be the judge of that.”

  “You will not.”

  “You think to dictate to me?” he asked firmly.

  “Nay, I simply speak the truth and advise you wisely. If you think to make haste and escape, you will collapse in no time along the trail and make your condition worse. But then I suppose few warriors have the good sense to be sensible.”

  “You are direct.”

  “I am honest.”

  “I look forward to setting my eyes on you,” he said gently.

  “You will have your wish shortly.”

  “How long?” he asked anxiously.

  “An hour or so.”

  “Too long,” he whispered harshly and shoved her hands away, ripping his eyelids apart before Aliss could stop him.

  Aliss watched the pain wash over him and his eyes blink several times. He fought to keep them open. Finally, he settled a stare on her face.

  “Oh my God,” he said before he passed out.

  Chapter 9

  Tarr stood by the window in his bedchamber looking out at the starless night. All was not going as he had expected. He thought to have the twins’ charade settled within a few days. A week and a half, and he was more perplexed than when this all began.

  His desire was simple, a strong wife to bear strong sons. Instead he got twins who he could not possibly tell apart. Just when he thought he had it figured out, he realized he had not, and he would once again be back where he started.

  He had even yet to determine if he spent time with the same woman or if they took turns. Their features were identical, and while their beauty appealed to him, what attracted him more was the bold nature displayed by one of the twins. Which one he was not certain, but it had to be Fiona. She was the sister with the bold personality. The one who would stand up to a man and, without fear, challenge him.

  When presented with this ruse, he had given brief thought to wedding either twin. But he recalled the difference between them, and while he respected the skill of the twin who was the healer, he favored a wife whose confidence and bravery he respected.

  He had not considered love; it was a useless emotion serving no good purpose. It caused intelligent men to make foolish mistakes. He had no time for such foolishness and definitely not for mistakes. He had a clan to consider and protect; he could not, nor would not allow, anything to stand in the way of his chieftain duties.

  He rubbed his square chin then crossed his arms over his chest. The twins’ face drifted in front of his eyes. It had to be Fiona who always spent time with him and the one who stirred his blood when they kissed.

  Her passion matched his own, and there was no doubt they had desired each other. A good start for an arranged union; it bode well for their future together.

  Fiona.

  He had to have kissed Fiona.

  He rubbed his chin harder, kneading his flesh with his fingers while staring off into the dark night, wondering who the devil he had enjoyed kissing.

  A scream suddenly jolted the silence and had him running out of his bedchamber, across the hall, and into the room that held Raynor. The two guards who had been posted outside the door had already entered the room and were presently being held at bay by a twin who looked ready to do harm if anyone dared to touch the unconscious man in the bed.

  “What goes on here?’ Tarr demanded.

  Before she could respond the other twin entered the room with a flourish and settled herself beside her sister. Their identical features startled the senses. There was no physical trait that could distinguish them. It was as if they were mirror images.

  Raynor groaned, coming out of his faint.

  Tarr stepped forward and Fiona braced her hands on her hips as if daring him to try and pass her.

  “I will speak with him,” Tarr commanded.

  “Not now,” Aliss said, and leaned over Raynor to whisper in his ear.

  “Now!” Tarr was angry. How dare she dictate to him.

  “He will make no sense,” Aliss snapped. “Give him until morning. His head will clear and you will get answers from him then.”

  “Leave now, both of you.”

  “Go,” Raynor ordered. “I will talk with Tarr.”

  Fiona took her sister’s arm and nearly dragged her out of the room, but not before sending Tarr a scathing look.

  He returned it in kind as the door slammed.

  Tarr and Raynor were alone, the two guards having disappeared when they recognized the warning tremor in their chieftain’s voice.

  Raynor pulled himself up to a slumping position.

  Tarr kept his eyes on his enemy’s every move. He remained at the side edge of the bed, and though he lacked a weapon he did not fear. He knew Raynor was in no condition to fight him, and besides, he was confident in his ability to defeat him.

  “You will answer my questions.”

  “You will tell me how many of my men you hold.”

  “I will tell you nothing,” Tarr said through gritted teeth.

  “I say nothing until I know of my men.”

  “My dungeon would better suit you.”

  “If you have any of my men there, I will join them.”

  “What brought you to my land?” Tarr asked, ignoring his demand.

  “To claim what is rightfully mine.”

  “We have been through this, Raynor. The Isle of Non belongs to me.”

  “It connects to Blackshaw land—”

  “And Hellewyk land. It is mine and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  Raynor smiled. “Aye, there is.”

  Tarr’s laugh challenged. “You ride on my land with a small troop of warriors, attack me, get captured, and think you will claim my land? The blow to your head has made you delusional.”

  “We shall see.”

  Tarr did not care for the confidence in Raynor’s voice. Something was wrong, and the only reason he did not overly concern himself with it was because he held Raynor prisoner. He held the upper hand.

  “Why did you not attack my keep?”

  “My plans did not call for attacking your keep.”

  So he had had plans, and from his calm response it appeared he was not concerned with the failure of those plans.

  The door suddenly burst open and one twin followed close on the heels of the other twin.

  “You have had your time,” Aliss said. “He needs to rest.”

  Tarr did not argue this time. He would bide his time with Raynor and learn precisely what he was up to, in whatever way was necessary.

  “We will speak again,” Tarr said.

  “Of that I am sure,” Raynor replied in a challenging tone.

  Tarr nodded, accepting his dare, turned and left the room. He did not go directly to his room; instead he went down to the next floor and waited by the twins’ bedchamber door.

  Fiona turned on Raynor. “You heeded my warning?”

  “I spoke not of you or Aliss,” he assured her. “Your secret is safe with me.”

 
“Why should we believe you?” Fiona asked skeptically.

  “Why should we not?” Aliss said, assisting him and carefully sliding him down to rest his head against the soft pillow.

  “You trust too easily,” Fiona said to her sister. “He is the enemy.”

  “Like Tarr?” Aliss asked. “Do you trust him?”

  “It seems to me that you both find it difficult to trust,” Raynor said, looking from one to the other twin. “Did your parents not teach you of trust?”

  “Our parents were loving and wonderful people,” Aliss said as Fiona shook her head. “What have I said wrong now?”

  Raynor answered. “Your sister thinks you share too much information with the enemy. She does not realize I am simply grateful for having had such a skilled healer save my life.”

  “Remember that well and hold your tongue where my sister and I are concerned.”

  “You do not need to keep warning me. I have told you your secret is safe with me and I mean it. I will not tell Tarr the ease in which he can tell you apart.”

  “You are so sure of that?” Fiona asked.

  “Aye, that I am,” he said and yawned.

  “Enough,” Aliss said. “You must rest and I wish to bathe your eyes again to make certain they are fully cleansed.”

  Fiona ignored her sister’s decree. “What did Tarr and you discuss?”

  “My capture and my men he holds prisoner.”

  “Conrad and Ivan have healed nicely and are doing well,” Aliss said proudly.

  Fiona groaned. “Keep giving him information.”

  “He is as much a prisoner as his men. Does he not always have two men outside this door?”

  Fiona threw her hands up in the air. “I give up. Tell him everything. This way he can plan his escape.” She turned and stormed out of the room.

  “I could take you and your sister with me,” Raynor said.

  He sounded more like he urged Aliss to join him. “You need a few weeks yet to recover. Make your plans but tell me nothing; when it is time I will let you know if we will go with you.”

  Fiona stomped down the stairs, turned the corner, and caught a shadow from the corner of her eye. Her hand went to the knife at her waist. Before she could draw it Tarr stepped forward, the shadows clinging to his wide shoulders as though they refused to release him. One more stride and he was free; his features suddenly stronger, his strength more potent, his scent more alluring—and a faint passion lurking in his eyes.