“How long has Raynor been awake?”
Fiona kept her wits about her. She had no intention of lying to him, and she had no intention of succumbing to this sudden flush of desire that flooded her. “Several days.”
“And you said nothing to me?” he asked moving toward her.
Normally she would have stayed her ground, but the sheer breadth of him so overwhelmed her that she backed away. She did not know if the shadows rushed after him and made him appear an enormous winged bat in flight, or if it was the strong scent of earth, pine, and male that beset her senses. She only knew she needed to distance herself from him.
He seemed to feel the opposite for he moved closer to her.
“He was in no condition to talk.”
“I decide that not you.”
“He was no threat,” Fiona countered.
“Again my decision not yours.”
“Then do what you will with him.”
“You defend him no more?” Tarr asked unbelievingly.
“A healer heals; he heals well and soon will be fully recovered. I did what I had to do; now he is yours.”
“So opposite,” Tarr said, staring at her and moving his body so that he nearly imprisoned her against the stone wall. “One twin heals, the other wields a weapon with precision and intent.”
“Think what you will; it matters not to me.”
“Obviously since you kept the truth from me.”
“You asked me nothing of Raynor’s condition,” she said.
“And you told me nothing.”
“If you had asked—”
“Stop! I will not tolerate duplicity.”
“Tolerate?” she said her voice harsh. “I am to tolerate being taken from my home, threatened with being separated from my sister, forced to wed a stranger who wants me to bare him sons, and you expect me to care what you think of my actions?”
“You would be wise to,” he warned.
She stepped forward with such might that it forced him to retreat. “I have been threatened enough. I care not what you think of me or my actions and remember well, Fiona would not be a compliant wife, so take heed or you will find yourself saddled with a most undesirable woman.”
She pushed past him and entered her bedchambers. He followed behind her, entering before she could close the door.
“You are not welcome here.”
“This is my home.”
“And this is my room while I am forced to seek shelter here,” she said, her green eyes blazing like shimmering emeralds.
“Nothing here is yours.”
She walked up to him and poked him in the chest, her finger meeting solid muscle. “Nor would I want it to be.”
“What you want matters not.”
“Think again, Tarr of Hellewyk,” she said with another jab of her finger. “What I want will decide your fate.”
“No one decides my fate.”
“And no one decides mine,” she said with a final jab, and walked several feet past him then turned around. “Get out of my bedchamber.”
Tarr faced her from where he stood, a grin slowly surfacing. “You are Fiona, for only she would have the courage to poke at me and challenge my word.”
Fiona placed her hands on her hips and approached him. “If you are so sure, then get the cleric now and wed me.”
A moment of doubt flashed in his eyes and his grinned faded.
“You asked for this battle, Tarr, though I do not think you were prepared for such worthy opponents.”
“Stubborn opponents,” he said tersely.
“Thank you,” she said with a nod and a smile. “Stubborn opponents usually prove victorious.”
“And what of foolhardy ones?”
“You should not be so harsh on yourself.”
He was too fast; she did not even see him move. His hand grabbed her face and he gently squeezed her lips to pucker.
“Have your fun, but know now that this will be your home; you will be my wife, and I will do my damnedest to protect and provide for such an ornery woman.”
He released her and walked out of the room, leaving the door open. She walked over and peered past the door, watching him. She admired the thick muscles in his legs—and then there was his backside, not too large but perfectly rounded and firm. She liked that, drooping backsides or flat ones did nothing for her. The width of his shoulders always impressed her, and she favored his auburn hair for he kept it clean and combed.
She sighed when he turned the corner and closed her door, resting her back against it. She liked that he returned her challenge. Men either cowered when she challenged or thought her foolish and simply ignored her, or at least tried to.
Tarr did not back down. He actually respected her as an opponent, and that sparked excitement in her. She wanted to experience more with him, after all he just might prove worthy of being a husband.
Provide and protect would he?
She laughed. “Only if I let you.”
Chapter 10
Tarr watched the sisters from the front door of the keep. They walked among his clansmen as though they belonged, many calling out greetings to them. It did not seem to matter which twin was which. In two weeks time they both had earned the respect of his people, and they both answered to either name.
Would it really matter which twin he wed? His answer had been confirmed in a short time. He had found he enjoyed the sharp-tongued twin and the way she sparred with him. When the soft-natured twin surfaced, he lost interest. So he had a dilemma on his hands. He wanted to be sure he wed Fiona.
He grinned when a puppy came running to attack one twin’s skirt. She scooped him up, hugged him to her cheek, and kissed his brown furry face before placing him on the ground and giving his fat little rump a pat and a shove toward a group of children.
They continued walking side by side chatting the whole time, though taking time to acknowledge those who called out to them. The twins were close and that very closeness was the reason he had insisted they be parted. He wanted no competition for his wife’s attention to her duties.
He, her husband and their children, would be her priority. He needed no interference, and having watched Fiona and Aliss it was obvious they were inseparable. How he would finally separate them he was not sure, though he could see about wedding Aliss to someone, preferably a distance away.
He would mention nothing of it until all was settled, since he knew Fiona would not be the only one to protest. His clansmen had begun to seek Aliss’s healing skills, and pleased they were with the results. He would worry about it later. First he needed to determine which one was Fiona.
Kirk joined him. “They look as one.”
“I know. I can find no difference between them; they play their roles well.”
“They should; they are twins.” Kirk laughed.
“I need no reminding; they tempt my sanity.”
“Everyone seems fine with them,” Kirk said.
“Because they do not care which twin is which!”
“They simply accept them.”
“What are you implying, Kirk?” Tarr asked.
“I know not who helped my Erin, but it matters not to me for she was tended for several days with a generous and loving heart, and my wife has improved much.”
“What you say is that it matters not which twin I wed.”
“Your stubbornness has you resisting. You picked Fiona so you want Fiona. Pick one and wed her and be done with it.”
“They are different,” Tarr insisted.
“How?” Kirk asked, and looked to the twins. “Their walk is identical, their laughter is identical, and their speech is identical.”
“They are different,” Tarr repeated. “I know it and I will prove it.”
“To whom; it matters to no one.”
“It matters to me.” Tarr marched off, leaving Kirk shaking his head.
Tarr approached the twins and before he could say a word one spoke.
“I’ll go see to Rayn
or; you tend to Tarr.” One twin hurried off and disappeared into the keep.
“You remain apart more then together when around me. Do you fear me discovering the difference between you?” he asked, and watched for the familiar sparkle that shined in her green eyes when he confronted her.
There it was, like the sun reflecting off a shimmering emerald; he smiled.
“Do I entertain you?”
He held his tongue and took control of his smile.
She leaned into him, her shoulder nudging his. “I know what you think, but I wonder if you can satisfy my lusty thirst.”
His eyes rounded.
“Do not look at me with an accusatory glare. I have known no man intimately, but I am not ignorant of sex. I do not fear it and—” she lowered her voice—“I pray the man I love has much stamina, for sex is something I intend to master.”
Damn, if she did not set his loins to fire.
“Be careful or you will have lessons before you are wed.”
She grinned. “The lessons will be my choice.”
He stared at her swaying backside as she sauntered off.
“I am healed,” Raynor said after Aliss examined his head wound.
“That does not sound like a question.”
“I know I have healed. I walk the room without growing dizzy.”
Aliss watched him puff his chest in pride, an impressive chest fraught with muscles. He was a fine-looking man. Women probably would find his mixed Scottish and Viking features handsome, and his strange accent lyrical. She, however, thought of him only as an ill man needing tending.
He tugged at her hand. “I wait for confirmation.”
“There is no dizziness at all?” she asked. “And be honest. It will do you no good if you are not honest with me.”
“Damn, you have a way of making me feel guilty if I attempt to lie.”
“I guess I have my answer.” She walked away from him.
He swung his legs off the bed and braced his hands on either side of him as if preparing to stand. “I barely realize the dizziness.”
“But it is there.”
“How long before it is gone completely?” He stood slowly.
Aliss shrugged and sat at the table to work with her herbs. “That is difficult to know. It could be a day or two or a week or two. You will know when you feel your full strength return.”
He began to walk around the room.
Aliss noticed how his steps faltered now and again, though not as badly as when he had first attempted to walk. He had had to lean on her, take short steps, day after day until he could finally stand on his own.
She had thought he would protest being dependent on her, but he seemed comfortable with her assistance.
He talked as he walked. “Tell me about yourself, Aliss.”
“There is not much to tell.”
“Tell me anyway,” he urged. “Your voice has a way of soothing the soul, which I have no doubt aids in healing.”
Aliss was never comfortable with compliments. Healing to her was a privilege and she respected her learned skill, and did all she could to learn more. She derived a sense of satisfaction and self-worth from her healing work and intended to continue with it for as long as she could.
“Where were you born?”
“Northwest of here, where the mountains rise so high you would think they reach to the heavens.”
“Your parents still live there?”
“My parents passed on ten years ago, and what of you?”
“We talk of you not me.”
She smiled. “Why do you and Tarr battle?”
Raynor broke into a huge grin. “Tarr is foolish to think that one twin is stronger than the other.”
“My sister is much stronger than I.”
“I see a balance of strength between the two of you,” he said. “And I do not understand how Tarr cannot see the obvious differences between you.”
“He does not look closely enough.”
“I heard the differences,” he said proudly.
“What did you hear?” she asked curiously.
Raynor paced slowly beside the table. “I heard a gentle caring in your voice.” He laughed. “I actually thought I had died and an angel spoke to me, then I heard your sister.” He laughed again. “For a moment I thought perhaps heaven and hell fought over me.”
Aliss could not prevent herself from laughing, though she was quick to defend her sister. “Fiona has a good heart.”
“I have learned that, but at the time the sharp tone of her voice warned me that she was not to be taken lightly. Where your hands healed, hers could do damage. You also have patience—”
“Fiona has—”
“Patience when it suits her,” Raynor finished. “Your strength comes in your tender, caring nature. Fiona’s strength comes in her quick mind and actions. She would defend you with her life.”
“As I would her.”
“A bond like yours is rare and I dare say cannot be broken.”
“We will not let it be,” Aliss said adamantly.
He walked over to her. “You and your sister can live in peace on my land. My people would welcome your healing skills, and they would welcome a warrior such as your sister.”
“You tempt me with your generous offer, but the choice must be Fiona’s. If she finds Tarr to her liking, then she will convince Tarr that we are not to be separated. Wherever we go, we go together.”
“There are no conditions to my offer.”
“I appreciate your generosity,” she said, comfortable that he spoke the truth to her. He was a warrior in strength, demeanor and word, which made him an honorable man and why she was curious as to his battle with Tarr.
“I have little time here.”
She held up her hand. “Tell me no more, for I will speak the truth when questioned.”
“When the time is right, I will tell you everything, and you must trust me.”
She was surprised by his adamancy. “I would trust that any decisions would be left to me.”
“You are wise beyond your years, and I believe you would make a wise choice.”
His answer disturbed her for it sounded more like a warning. She watched him make his way back to the bed, fighting to regain his strength in each step he took. Soon he would be fully recovered. She felt he probably was already planning his escape. Did he expect Fiona and her to go with him? And if they did not, what then?
She would speak with Fiona about this conversation and see what she thought. It seemed that they needed to be aware of everyone around them. But then they had faced such a situation once before together.
She remembered when they had first arrived at the clan MacElders. Uncle Tavish had told them it would be their home and they need never worry again. The clan was their family and would always be their family.
While they had been accepted and treated well by the clan, they themselves always felt different. They remained close, doing everything together. They were sisters and best friends, and they allowed nothing to come between.
Fiona had sensed there would be trouble when Uncle Tavish passed on. He was a man who gave thought to his actions and consideration to his clan. His son Leith did not think on things; his actions were not always wise or beneficial to all, and he often considered himself before anyone else.
Aliss had known trouble was brewing, for Uncle Tavish and Fiona had talked often, he respecting her intelligence and forthright manner. It was obvious Leith had been jealous, and Aliss wondered, if it had been possible, would Uncle Tavish have left the leadership of the clan to Fiona?
Uncle Tavish had not been dead more than three days when Leith’s rule could be felt and she and Fiona knew that it would take little time and effort on his part to bring the clan to ruin. If it were not for the match between Fiona and Tarr, the MacElder clan would know much unrest and suffering.
While neither she nor Fiona would wish such a plight on their clan, it was not right that Fiona bare the sole burden of
Leith’s ignorance.
Aliss turned and glanced at Raynor stretched out and sound asleep on the bed. Had fate brought him into their lives? If this matter did not go the way Fiona wished, would this stranger be their escape to a more peaceful life?
She wasn’t sure. She was just grateful that they would have a choice.
Chapter 11
“Which one rides with me today?”
The twins stopped talking to glance up at him from where they sat at a table near the huge stone fireplace in the great hall. Tarr had learned that they had arrived in the hall before dawn. The cook had advised him that they had seen to preparing their own breakfast, which they had taken to the table where they have been talking ever since the sun rose a couple of hours ago.
They looked at one another as though deciding, then one stood.
“I would like to ride.”
“I will have the horses made ready.” He glanced at the other twin. “How does Raynor fair?”
The twin that stood spoke, “Why not ask him yourself?”
“In time.”
“You let him wonder over his fate.”
Tarr turned to the twin who sat. “A warrior knows his fate; it is the consequence of battle.”
“We decide our own fate,” the other twin said.
“It is not always left for us to decide,” Tarr said. “Fate sometimes has the right answer, we are just too stubborn to see it.”
The other sister stood. “Then fate has a busy day today.” She smiled and walked off.
He was not surprised to see her leave the keep. Each morning one of the twins would stroll the village and look in on those who were ill. He was not certain which twin repeated the daily routine or if they took turns. It was impossible to tell them apart. Their dress was always the same, either a green skirt or brown one, their blouses white or yellow and their red hair fashioned the same, swept up, tied back, or free to spill over their shoulders; today it was worn free.
Tarr extended his hand for Fiona to take the lead. “Let us meet our fate.”
The Daring Twin Page 7