But was there an end?
What had caused the explosion? How had the fire begun?
She sat there for what she thought to be no more than moments when she heard a soft knock at her door.
She answered it. Rowan stood there, face smudged with soot and ash from the fire.
“You put it out,” he said softly.
“I—”
“People believe the rain just began, perhaps the very heavens knowing we were in dire need, and we fight for life.”
“It might have been just rain,” she said softly.
He kept looking at her. She smiled. “Hold, please,” she said, and going to her water basin, she soaked a rag and walked back, cleaning his face. He allowed her to do so for a while, then he caught hold of her wrist and drew her against him.
She felt tension in him, a heat and vibrance that seemed to streak from his form into hers.
“Do you wish to be with Padraic?” he asked her.
“What? I—no!”
“You care for him; it is evident.”
“Yes, I care for him. Like a—like a brother,” she said dryly. “But what—”
She did not say more.
He pulled her harder against him. His mouth came upon hers and he kissed her. She felt his lips and marveled at the power in them, in the feel of his hold, in the way it seemed she could no longer stand if he were not supporting her. His tongue parted her lips, moved in her mouth evocatively. Shaking, she returned the kiss, feeling then as if she was supported by clouds, knowing what the girls in the village had whispered about, the strange longing for more and more, to be touched, and to be touched intimately.
He pressed her into the room, closing the door without losing his hold or the power of his kiss. But when he was inside, he broke from her, his eyes touching hers with both agony and longing. “Would you have this?” he asked her. “Me, here, with you.”
She tried for words, but they would not come. She nodded and embraced him.
He let his cloak fall away swept her up again, laying her upon the bed. His lips found her once more, then descended to her throat, and then kissing her breast, his touch still moist through the linen of her gown, creating a growing urgency in her. She worked her fingers into the richness of his hair, felt as if every inch of her came to life, as if...
She had truly found magic.
A magic that continued, for she felt the strong and tender touch of his fingers and hands, gentle and powerful, touching her, guiding her. She felt the delicious and wicked movement of his lips and tongue, and instinct and longing taught her how to respond. She was bathed, not by the rain, but by his touch, and when he helped her cast aside the linen garment, it was soaking and she felt as if she was afire herself. His clothing went more awkwardly, for she attempted to help in something of a frenzy. They both managed to laugh when his tunic twisted over his head, and the laughter turned to smiles as he looked down at her, as he parted her limbs with a knee, and watched her eyes as he carefully moved into her.
They said it hurt the first time.
If it did, it was fleeting. She might have wanted him from the first time she saw him; she might have been falling in love with him even when they were at odds. She knew with him that this—this sweating, writhing urgency and need—was beautiful, and if she died come the morning, she would have known what it was to live and love that night.
Then there was that moment—that spectacular moment when it seemed stars collided and dripped sweet honeyed ecstasy into her. A shudder ripped through his length, and he collapsed against her then quickly remembered his weight and edged to the side so he could cradle her against him.
He was silent, and at first, she thought she had somehow failed. She was too naïve, too inexperienced. She had not known how to love a man.
But his fingers on her hair were idle but gentle. She feared his thoughts. Feared he would leave and never return.
“I did not know,” he murmured.
“Did not know...”
“I was your first. I never intended to offend or disrespect you,” he said softly.
“You did neither.”
He was silent a while more.
“I had thought...well, Alistair had told me you had refused all offers in the village, but that did not mean...then, as I said, I thought you wanted Padraic...that you cared for him.”
“What I said is true; I care about Padraic. As I would care about a brother,” she said, hoping the dryness she felt did not come into her voice.
“Then I am glad, for at arms against this enemy, Padraic is someone I see as a brother, too,” he murmured. “A good man, and a Celt.”
Kyleigh was silent, torn between her amazement and delight at lying here beside him so, and his comment that Padraic was a Celt.
“I believe many among the Celtic peoples are good people,” she said. “I believe that is true of most peoples. The villagers are largely of Saxon stock—and yet a Saxon sought to slay them all.”
“How wise, my little sorceress,” he said. “It matters not where a man comes from, nor what his tribe may be. But though time...”
“Through time?”
“My father said that once the world was filled with magic. The earth and the sky and the forests were out gods. The earth gave to us food and sustenance and herbs so we might try to heal those who became sick. Then the Roman empire came, and with it a new God, a single God, with a Son, and a Holy Ghost.”
“Are you not a Christian?”
“I am. But in my father’s time—in those days soon after the Romans left—great men from many places came here to trade. Muslims from faraway countries, and those who followed the Jewish faith. I have discovered in all those religions men are taught to be kind to those who are innocent. Sometimes a great God calls upon vengeance. I like the stories about Christ; he practiced his own teachings. But there are those who can twist religion. They find that they kill in the name of God; and from what I have studied and read, He does not ask us to kill for Him.”
“But we may defend ourselves!”
She felt him nod.
“We may and we must. Defend the innocent. And,” he added dryly, “sometimes, the not so innocent. But we will defend Kenzie. Those who have come here have sought sanctuary, and we will defend them and our own with everything we have.”
“Am I something that you have?” she whispered.
He stroked her hair. “I do not believe that anyone will have ever have you, Kyleigh.”
“An asset,” she murmured.
He drew her up to meet his gaze, frowning as he studied her. “Your powers are a gift. I do thank God for them. But that has nothing to do with...this.”
She smiled. “Really?”
He nodded. “Without power you are...fire and emeralds,” he said softly. He grinned. “An enchanting enchantress.”
“And you are Lord Rowan,” she murmured.
“Kyleigh—”
“You need not protest. I am grateful for this night. Tomorrow, we may die.”
He shook his head. “I do not intend that we should die.” He smiled again. “But since you are enjoying the night...”
He captured her mouth again in a quickly passionate and urgent kiss. She dared to touch with her lips and fingertips, stroking, caressing...
He made it an amazing experience, allowing her to easily learn the art of making love.
It would not have been so with anyone else.
She wondered if he knew how she had longed for him, what jealousy she had felt for others.
When they lay together again, he murmured, “You are quite certain you are enjoying the evening?”
“Quite.” She hesitated a minute. “I had thought—”
“Aye?”
“I believe Aileen cares for you. And the Celt, Caitlin. Together, you two—”
“Laughed and enjoyed archery. It is the best way to teach.”
“But Aileen was married to a knight and—”
“My heart is w
ith her. She has lost so much.”
“Then—”
“She is not you. Fire and emerald ice.”
“But—”
“I am here because I choose to be with you, and I am grateful you have chosen to be with me. I despise those lords and lairds who believe every woman within their land is theirs for a minute, if they so choose, even a woman betrothed to wed. It is not my way. But now, I will slip away.”
“You must not be found here in the morning—”
“I must sleep. And I fear I will not do so if I stay,” he said, smiling.
He rose and dressed. Before he left, he paused to kiss her lips again and study her face. “Fire and emerald ice,” he told her. “I thank you with all my heart. Now, we face the day.”
He left her.
And she lay awake, wondering if it was wrong to feel such amazement and happiness when they faced such terror, and when they knew that within the fortress some were doomed to die.
Indeed, she might die.
But as she had said to him, if she died...
At least she had had the night.
***
“We cannot find any reason for it,” Matthew told Rowan. He shook his head. “I was in the courtyard; Col was atop the wall. When you are out, he insists he must keep guard. Most were in the towers, sleeping. Only a few men who could not sleep honed weapons or lay about, leaned against the walls, trying for rest. But I was here, Rowan, and I saw nothing.”
“Was oil kept anywhere near the smithy?” Rowan asked.
They stood atop the wall. Rowan had set about directions for repairing the smithy and salvaging all that might be saved and setting up a smithy in one of the cook houses until they could finish resetting the structure that had been the smithy.
Matthew looked at him and shook his head. “I cannot believe it was any carelessness that caused this. Everyone knows you demand oil and other flammable substances be kept away from the smithy.”
“And you saw no one moving about?” Rowan asked.
Matthew shook his head sorrowfully. “I did not. Then again, I was not looking for trouble from within.”
“There had to have been a natural cause,” Rowan said thoughtfully.
The sun was barely up. But already, men worked hard repairing the smithy.
“Thank God the horses were all stabled for the night.”
“We were very lucky,” Matthew said. “We lost two chickens and they were promptly eaten.”
Rowan nodded. “We will repair, and we will move on.”
Matthew was quiet a minute and then said, “There are already rumors about.”
“Rumors?”
“That your sorceress is a witch. That she has ingratiated herself here, but she is in league with Brogan, and she is the magic he has brought with him.”
“That is ridiculous!” Rowan said angrily. “She was implemental when we destroyed the catapults. She saved countless men on the battlefield.”
“And yet Brogan remains camped at the edge of our forest,” Matthew said.
Anger seethed tightly in Rowan. Anger and indignation.
Yes, he was enamored. As he had told Kyleigh, he was completely enchanted. Now more so than ever. He cared for her and he had wanted her with an ache that had at last been soothed and yet would never be sated.
“Nothing you say makes sense, for the girl has been in the village her entire life. She was raised by Alistair and Mary.”
“But where did she come from?” Matthew asked. He sighed deeply. “Lord Rowan, she is a beautiful young woman. She appears as a fiery angel for our cause. Most of the men are enamored of her from afar. She is everything. But that is just it—perhaps it is a dark magic cloaked in the wings of an angel.”
“No,” Rowan said flatly.
“You are too close—”
“I am no man’s fool!” Rowan snapped.
Col came hurrying up the stairs.
“The damage is not so severe as we thought. We will quickly be done,” he assured Rowan.
“What do you think?” Rowan asked his cousin. “Matthew accuses Kyleigh of the Village of being Brogan’s witch, pretending only her fierce loyalty to our cause, to me, to her foster father, and mother, to all the friends she has known since birth.”
Col swallowed, looking uncomfortable.
“Rowan, it is a rumor that goes around. The explosion terrified many. They are seeking an explanation, and Kyleigh...does have great power.”
“And so, they think the woman who has helped us through so much is practicing evil against us?” Rowan demanded. “Why?”
“I do not know who first suggested Kyleigh might be in league with Brogan. I do not believe it,” Col said, adding, “I find the very concept unfathomable. But once someone whispers such a thing, a rumor like that takes flight.” He glanced at Matthew and winced.
“I had to tell him,” Matthew said. “There are those who will say it is only logic. It is known Brogan has a sorceress, and he was beaten in the village and beaten here. And still he stays as if confident he will win when the time comes. Kyleigh is a sorceress—and neither she nor Alistair has claimed to know anything of where she came from as a babe. She was a foundling, brought to them by a kindly old man who knew they longed for a child.”
“Rowan? What do we do?” Col asked.
“Find out what happened,” Rowan said.
“There was nothing wrong done at the smithy. And—”
“Kyleigh was with me,” Rowan said sharply. “She was with me when I went out to scout the enemy camp.”
Neither of them answered him; they just looked at him uncomfortably.
“She was with me,” he repeated.
“Rumor has it she can practice her magic from anywhere,” Col said at last.
“They are calling her a witch,” Matthew said. “They believe she can turn into a hare.”
“They are wrong. And I will stop these rumors,” Rowan said. “And I do not believe a hare caused the damage to the smithy!”
“We are with you, Rowan,” Col said.
Rowan turned to go down the stairs to the courtyard. An old woman caught him by the shoulder. When he spun around to look at her, she cowered back; and he knew his anger was apparent in his face.
“Forgive me, Lord Rowan!” she said. “Forgive me, but for the sake of us all, you must put that witch to death!”
He stared at her. He knew her; she and her husband had a farm just north of the fortress and her sons now worked the land. “Eleanor, I believe?” he said.
“Aye, my lord.”
“Eleanor, you are a God-fearing woman, are you not?”
“Christian, sire, yes I am.”
“Well, the church has decreed we pay no mind to rumor of superstition. Kyleigh of the Village is no witch. Nor has she caused destruction or ill to anyone here. She was with me when the smithy exploded. And those who seek harm against someone who has helped saved so many lives will have grave difficulty with me. Brogan has a sorcerer or sorceress at his disposal; we will find out who that evil person is, and then they shall be dealt with harshly. Good day.”
He continued on to the main tower, seething.
How had such a rumor started?
With evil intent, he thought. Someone wanted Kyleigh stopped.
What better way to stop a talented sorceress than have her own people condemn her and demand an execution?
***
Kyleigh still felt as if she walked on clouds when the fierce pounding sounded at her door.
She opened it.
Padraic stood there, and he was tense.
“We must go; we must go right away. I need to get you away from the fortress immediately. You are in horrible danger here.”
“What? Me? Danger—in the fortress? From who?”
“The people believe you are Brogan’s witch.”
“What? Why in God’s name would they believe such a thing? I have proven myself as an asset several times now—against Brogan!”
�
�They believe it is all a ruse. Come with me now, Kyleigh. I have friends on the rear wall. Once we are over, I will take you to a place of safety,” he said anxiously.
“I have done nothing wrong!” she said.
“Kyleigh, I know you have not! But truth means little when people have worked themselves into a state. The explosion and burning at the smithy terrified the people. They have felt safe in the fortress. And if Rowan believes such a rumor, or if he is forced to believe what they are saying—”
“How could he be forced to believe such a lie?”
“Forced by people when they become a herd—one that might force down a ruler if they are angry enough.”
She froze, not wanting to make anything harder for Rowan, but horrified anyone could believe such a thing.
Gareth came running up the stairs and started when he saw Padraic.
“We have come for the same reason,” Padraic told Gareth, seeing the stricken look on his face.
“It is a lie! I can tell people it is a lie! Who would say such a thing about me?” she demanded.
“No one seems to know who said it first,” Gareth told her. “But they are frightened and angry—and dangerous.”
They heard steps pounding up the stairs again. Padraic drew back, drawing his great sword, then lowering it quickly.
It was Rowan.
“We came to get Kyleigh out of here,” Padraic said.
Rowan nodded.
“There is no need,” he said.
“Rowan, I am fearful for myself, of course, but more fearful for you—”
“Now I will ask you to have faith in me,” he said.
“Rowan, we who support Kyleigh could all fall against—” Padraic began.
“No,” Rowan said flatly and softly, but cleanly interrupting Padraic’s words. “No. We fear the power of many, but there are many as well who know this is a lie. I have called the people to the courtyard. Padraic, Gareth, you will stand at my side as will Col, Matthew, and many others.” He reached for Kyleigh’s hand, looking into her eyes. “I have asked you to have faith in others; I have put my faith in you. Now I ask for your faith in me.”
She nodded. “I would not hurt you!” she told him. “Or Padraic, or Gareth, or any of the others who would support me!”
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