by Jackie Ivie
“He’s on his way, my laird. Angus! Hurry up, mon!”
The man came running from the back corridor, crossing the room at a jog. He was clearly winded. Rhoenne’s glance raked him.
“My laird! Welcome back! We were just awaiting word of—”
He probably would have said more if Rhoenne hadn’t interrupted, barking his next words. “Where is she?”
“Uh...the wife?”
“Of course, the wife!” Rhoenne burst out.
“I believe she will be in...the tower.”
“Which. Tower?” Rhoenne separated the words through clenched teeth.
“Oh. Yours. Of course.”
Rhoenne was across the great hall before Angus finished.
Chapter Thirty
Nothing fit right. Everything made her look large. And sloppy. And unattractive. Why – when it mattered so much – could she find nothing flattering?
Every outfit Nessa brought over looked more voluminous and cumbersome than the last. Her breasts even seemed larger, and strained against beautifully embroidered bodices that had just been fitted and stitched. Every color she tried seemed to turn her skin sallow and her hair dull. No one knew what she meant when she’d requested kohl. Cassandra had tried mixing a dot of candle wax, a smear of grease, and some dusty soot for an alternative. That failed abysmally. The result looked garish, worse than any done by the most inept harem slave. She couldn’t remember having such trouble with her appearance. Everything felt wrong. She needed to enhance, not detract. And she hadn’t much time. The last message she’d received alerted her that the laird would be arriving at any moment.
And just look!
She wore a shapeless linen shift, a kirtle of light blue atop it that she had yet to fasten, and her hair in a long braid down her back that hadn’t any definition to it. For the first time she was having issues with her appearance. She’d never felt so unattractive. She suspected why, too.
Aileen.
Cassandra was in competition, her rival was a stunning woman...and she resembled a large-bellied sow. She didn’t know what else to try. She’d never been this worried over her appearance. Ever.
Nessa finished hanging the last dress Cassandra had discarded. It was a beautifully woven woolen dress, in a dark green color. Cassandra had felt like she wore a tent.
There was no help for it.
She’d just have to start over.
She splashed water onto her face, washed, patted dry, and then stared in consternation at what looked like an actual blemish on one cheek! This was disastrous. Even her skin was in rebellion? What mischief of fate would mar her beauty when she needed it most? But, perhaps the hand-held silvered mirror had the mark. Cassandra huffed a moist warm breath onto the mirrored surface, and rubbed it with her sleeve. The spot looked different. A little less red...
Was she imaging things now?
Her hand trembled as she set the mirror onto the table. She picked up the next option Nessa had brought for her. This dress was crafted of burgundy wool, the strands so thinly spun the material fell like water from her hands.
“Can I get you anything, my lady?” Nessa asked.
“Some...water?”
Cassandra watched Nessa pour her a mug from the pitcher. They spoke meaningless words, wasting precious seconds, when every moment added edginess she could almost touch. It was so hard to be calm and collected! Everything inside was alert and tense! Jumpy with anticipation. Alive with something that didn’t just tingle; it sizzled as if ready to burst into flame. The babe experienced it, too. Cassandra caught a breath and put her hand to the mound as a series of vigorous kicks and shifting moves happened. The babe settled. She lifted the shoulders of the dress up to hers, holding it in place as she stuck out a leg, evaluating the drape.
“Cassandra!”
She heard his shout a moment before the door opened. Emin held it wide so Rhoenne could barrel past him. Nessa squealed and dropped the mug. Rhoenne flew past, breathing heavily and rapidly. Hair unbound and unkempt. Damp. Large. Raw. She didn’t see more. The next moment she was in his arms, lifted and held in an embrace of iron and muscle. An instant film of tears filled her vision just before his lips swooped down to capture hers.
Light burst behind her closed eyelids, accompanied by absolute rapture. His groan combined with hers, the sound swelling outward until the walls seemed to pulsate with it. And then he lifted his head, nuzzled her neck, and murmured words touched with sweetness.
“Oh, Cassandra. My dearest! My lady. My only—! I thought I’d lost you!”
“Rhoenne!” Cassandra said.
“Oh, sweet. I was a-feared I’d never see you again. This is...almost too much!”
He lifted her closer. Put his nose to her throat and inhaled a huge breath. Blew it out his mouth. Did it again. The second time his exhalation carried more words.
“Oh, dearest God, thank you! There are nae words I can offer! Nae prayers or praises—!”
His voice stopped. His breath halted as well. He wore a shirt beneath his feile brecan, but it was damp. The material might as well have been painted onto him. She was pressed tightly against his abdomen. The babe made a healthy barrage of thumps against him. Rhoenne’s head lifted. His gaze caught hers. His eyes went wide. He blinked and stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment before looking down at where the mound of babe was pressed to him.
Back up to her face.
Down to the mound again.
Back to her face.
Comprehension brought a stunned, thunderstruck expression. “You carry...a bairn?”
The last word was a whisper, an octave higher than his normal vocal range. Cassandra pulled her lower lip into her mouth. Lifted her eyebrows. Smiled. And then nodded.
“Ah. Ah. Ah! Ah! Ah!”
He shoved his head and shoulders back farther with each repetition. His knees bent, his back arched. The cries grew in volume and timbre. The last one was roared until he ran out of breath. And then he just stood there. Trembling. His head flung back. Every bit of him taut. Defined. Sculpted.
He pulled in a breath, moved his gaze back to hers, and held it. His eyes weren’t just the vivid blue she adored, they were much hotter. Much more intense. And filled with a heart-stopping emotion that touched on the divine. She’d never seen anything like the look he gave her. She didn’t think anyone had.
He shook his head slightly, stood upright and shifted her in his arms, loosening his hold slightly. Then he backed to the bed and sat, holding her atop his lap. He was breathing hard, moving her up with each inhalation, dropping her with the exhalation. His right arm held her sealed to him, while he moved the other, tilting her chin up. And then he lowered his head and matched his forehead to hers, to gaze deep into her eyes.
Exactly as he’d done the night he’d proposed.
It sent almost exactly the same rush of emotion, too. Excitement. Enticement. Adoration. All amidst a flood of liquid heat. The door shut softly. Cassandra barely heard it.
“Oh, my sweet. Cassandra.”
He closed his eyes. Lifted his head away. Several seconds passed as Cassandra looked him over. He was thinner, but that just made him much more defined. He’d shaved fairly recently, too. A slight growth of whisker shadowed his lower jaw and upper lip, giving him a rakish appearance. The man was entirely gorgeous...just so handsome. He possessed heart-stopping features. A palace champion physique. Memories of him had awakened her in the throes of dream-filled passion more than once. Moist with desire. Beset with yearnings.
The reality of being with him - actually looking at him - brought it all back. He moved his head down and caught her glance. His lips twisted and he colored slightly as if he knew her thoughts.
“I can na’ believe this,” he whispered. “I can na’. ’Tis a dream. I’m half a-feared if I move wrong, I’ll awaken.”
“My thoughts exactly,” she answered.
“There are nae words...or my tongue cannot find them.” His voice got hard. It matched how h
is chest tensed. “Na’ three nights ago I was filled with such blackness! I was setting plans in motion. Changing destiny. I was going back to find you. No matter how long it took, or where the search sent me.”
“Find me?”
He lifted his left arm. Her armband was on his wrist.
“We bought this at the marketplace. They said—! They said—!” He gave a sobbed sound before continuing, “I was told you’d been sold!” He scrunched his eyes shut and shook for several moments.
“Oh, no. No. Rhoenne, No.” Cassandra cried.
Rhoenne took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. There was a definite film atop them, making the blue sparkle. “I can na’ tell you what I have envisioned. The nightmares I’ve had. I can’t. There are nae words dark enough.”
“I was never sold. My grandmother had me imprisoned! Emin was supposed to see that armband got to you...along with a lock of hair and my missive.”
He sighed heavily. “Well. For once. It appears Emin failed.”
“No. He wouldn’t. He said it got to your man!”
“Whoever he gave it to, it was nae Ramhurst. Emin must have trusted the wrong man, and the blackguard sold it. And then disappeared. Not one soul knew where you’d gone! Or in what direction.” He swiped a hand across his face. “I cannot finish with this. ’Twas absolute hell. Trust me.”
“Oh, Rhoenne, no.” She fought tears. A sniff betrayed it.
“’Tis nae time for tears. And it does na’ matter who or what or how. Emin has more than atoned for any lapse. I owe that man everything. He kept you safe. In a world of dangers...I cannot even begin to comprehend.”
He scooted along the mattress edge toward the headboard, turning so he leaned back against it, holding her against him the entire time. The coverlet bunched as it was pulled beneath him. The burgundy dress was still scrunched against her front. The kirtle gapped where it hadn’t been fastened.
“This is too much to absorb. I am with you. You are right here. In my arms! And then. I find out—.” He stopped. Swallowed audibly. His voice warbled when he continued, “I find that you carry...my bairn? Oh, sweet! There is nae homage for how blest I feel at this moment. I may...uh. I can na’—. I think I—. Can I touch him?”
“Why does everyone think it a son?” She teased.
Rhoenne’s hand trembled as he held it above the babe for a few moments, and then he lowered it to her belly. The response was immediate. Several kicks were delivered with accuracy against his palm. Rhoenne’s eyes glowed as though lit from within as he felt it. It was her turn to blink back tears.
Rhoenne cleared his throat. “He is strong, yes? Looks to be a...healthy size. That does na’ bode well. We may have a new worry, love.”
“I am very large for just over four months, but...Mother FitzHugh thinks it’s because...there are two babies. Emin is in agreement.”
His eyes went even wider. “Two? We are expecting...twins?”
“’Tis what is suspected.”
He sucked in a shaky breath. Tilted his head back. Every muscle tensed. She waited several moments before he looked back down at her. The film atop his eyes was back. Her eyes filled in response.
“Oh, Cassandra. I can na’ take much more,” he whispered. “I can na’. My heart feels like it may burst.”
Cassandra lifted a hand to smooth a stray lock of black hair behind his ear. He blinked rapidly. Trembled even harder.
“I do na’ ken how to handle any of this. I have been the ‘Dark One’ for so long. Emotionless. Heartless. I thought I was damned. There was nae salvation for me...so it mattered little what I did. I tried to kill everything. My conscience. My heart. And then my soul.”
“Because of Aileen?”
He went still. When he spoke his voice was raw. Angered. Tormented. And he searched for words. “She—! You do na’ ken! She—!”
“You needn’t explain it to me. I knew the moment I met her. That woman is evil to the core. The harem was full of women just like her. They’d pawn their souls to gain and hold power. Why do you think I hid?”
He lifted her with a sigh. “Well. I thought that of all women.”
“I know. You told me...even without words. But it wasn’t your fault. You could not have been very old when your father wed her.”
“Sixteen.” The word was harsh.
“Well, I see the trouble already. She met you at sixteen? That is not much younger than me. You were no doubt big, strong, and handsome, for a-certain. Yes?”
Rhoenne sent a glance toward her. His lips twisted. “You think I’m handsome, do you?”
“Immensely. But I am not the lone one,” Cassandra told him. “I completely understand why she set her sight on you. You did na’ stand a chance. But...whatever happened with her, it does not matter, Rhoenne. It is in the past.”
Rhoenne smiled with a gentle expression that reached his eyes. “I have something to tell you. Something I did na’ think I would ever be worthy enough to say.”
“You? Unworthy?”
“Aye. Me. You see...,” he gave a heavy sigh. “I had — I mean, I have an odd issue with...sleep.”
He glanced away. A slight flush started up his neck. A beard would have hidden it. Cassandra’s lips quirked. She barely caught the smile. “Really?” she queried.
“I sometimes leave my bed and wander. Move. Speak. Do things I have little to no recollection of once I awaken.”
“Such as...our first kiss?”
Rhoenne moved his gaze back to hers. Regarded her for some time. His eyes grew even warmer, and supremely gentle. He smiled finally. “That was amazing, wasn’t it?” he asked her.
“’Twas my first. And...very intriguing.”
She ran her index finger along his lip. He nipped it. Shivers raced her skin. And a babe thumped against Rhoenne’s hand where it still rested.
“You are still a vixen, I see.” He gave another sigh. “Desirable. Passionate. Beautiful. I would like nothing better than to...hide in this chamber with you. Right now. But...alas. I am the laird. Newly returned. And I’ve run from the responsibility long enough. Why...the witch awaits me now in the great hall. I shall need my wits about me and a good number of guards.”
“Guards?” Cassandra moved her gaze back to his.
“Aye. To keep me from strangling her.”
Cassandra smiled. “I see. But...wait. You say she’s in the great hall?”
“I did. And she is.”
“She actually came out of her rooms? Now?”
“I was told she has given you little trouble. Was that a lie?”
Cassandra shook her head. “No. Thanks to Emin, she was no trouble at all. She just has not come from her area since my arrival. I didn’t let it bother me. I thought it a blessing.”
“But the great hall is her area. Her chamber is above it.”
“Not anymore, it’s not.”
“She’s na’ in the chieftain chamber?”
“No. I had her moved to the east tower...the one your brother used. She is his widow. That is her station. I have had the chieftain rooms cleared and cleaned. And then I had them blessed.”
Rhoenne considered her for a long moment. “That must have incensed her.”
“One can hope.”
He grinned. “So, the witch has been in the east tower. And she is now out in the open. Was she under orders to stay?” His voice hardened. As did everything about his frame. His muscles twitched.
“Not from me. She stayed of her own accord. It was an act. She portrayed suffering for those who still believe her. We’ve intercepted several missives to...certain men...as to her imprisonment and unfair treatment at my hands, as if ’twere true.”
“Tell me the names. I’ll round them up.”
“No need. Angus FitzHugh is a verra good steward and his brother, Rory is a competent captain. There are eight men in the dungeons thus far.”
Rhoenne grunted. “Only eight? She must be slowing down.”
“That’s...disgusting, but not s
urprising. You say she is in the great hall?”
“Aye. Under guard.”
“Was she dressed and arrayed with care? To show off her slim perfection?”
“That witch? We can na’ be speaking of the same creature.”
“She is a beautiful and desirable woman, Rhoenne.”
“Na’ to me.”
She put a hand to her breast. “Oh, Rhoenne. How I love you. But...look at me. Just look. I am already large and ungainly. I have never been so—so cumbersome. And I just found a blemish on my face!” She pointed to her cheek.
He held her closer and huffed something that sounded like amusement. “Cassandra. Love. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And now that you carry my sons—? Oh. That gives me such thrill to say! I may puff out my chest with pride. Just watch me.” He licked his lips and took a breath that trembled. “I vow...this ungainliness you speak of? The size my sons have caused? It makes you even more beautiful than afore...if such a thing is possible.”
“You truly think so? I have been so troubled. Worried. Of what would happen when you saw me again...compared me to her. She is very interested in you. She will wish you back. And...she has a lot of—”
“Back?”
He interrupted, pulling his head away and regarding her for long moments. His eyelids narrowed. His cheeks sucked in. “Cassandra Alexandria Ramhurst. My lady wife. I do na’ ken what she has told you, but anything other than complete disgust is a lie. I swear to you – on everything I hold most holy – that I never touched that woman.”
“Never?” she asked.
“Ever. I thought I had. I believed I’d forced myself on her during a sleep walk. I have since learned that she placed me and acted a part...in order to be discovered by my own sire. ’Twas that which caused his death.”
Cassandra gasped. “Oh, dear God. How...vile.”
“Vileness is simply her beginning point. Grant said she is akin to a mud puddle. Ugly with filth. Dark with ooze. The man was na’ wrong. Now that I think on it, strangling is too good. That woman plants destructive thoughts in men’s heads.” He hung his head. “I believed I was a brute. Capable of...vicious things. Bestial. And so, I lived accordingly...especially in regard to women.”