Forbidden Kisses
Page 20
A small door on the side of the rocked portal opened. “Welcome to Raasay House. We’ve been expecting ye.” A young woman waved the group closer. “Mind ye dinnae let the cold inside.”
They quickened their pace, jostling their bags from one hand to the other. One of the men took a stance in the doorway, holding it ajar for the others. I hurried, only a few paces behind the last as they filed inside. With respect for the solid portal, I jumped over the threshold as the man released it to swing shut in my face. I flinched against the anticipated crack of the wood against my elbow as I raised it to counter the closing door, wanting a moment alone with the lad for a chat about his rudeness. But the sting of injury never struck, and I watched, mouth agape, as the door passed seamlessly over me and closed behind.
It had happened enough times in the past two hundred and seventy years at the Culloden Visitors’ Centre that I shouldnae have been startled. But I’d anticipated a return to my earthly body in my quest to do my heroic deed. ’Twas not to be. I was clearly still a ghost.
SWEET TASTE OF LOVE
FitzRam Family~Book II
by
Anna Markland
©Copyright Anna Markland 2012
Digital Version
Cover Art by Steven Novak
DEDICATION
My son, eat honey, because it is good,
and the honeycomb, which is sweet to taste.
So shall the knowledge of wisdom be to your soul.
When you have found it, then there shall be a reward.
~Proverbs 24:13/14
For Jane Lockie McIntyre Kincaid
~a true Scot
COPYRIGHT
Sweet Taste of Love by Anna Markland
Book Two, The FitzRam Family Trilogy
© 2012 Anna Markland
www.annamarkland.com
All rights reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
For permissions contact: anna@annamarkland.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
©Copyright Anna Markland 2012
I would like to acknowledge the assistance of Ruth Digby, Johanna Armstrong, Nancy Burt and Heather Andrews in the preparation of this manuscript.
MORE ANNA MARKLAND
If you're intrigued by Ingram Maknab, his story is Maknab’s Revenge.
The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition (2018-2019)
I Conquest—Ram & Mabelle, Rhodri & Rhonwen
II Defiance—Hugh & Devona, Antoine & Sybilla
III Redemption—Caedmon & Agneta
IV Vengeance—Ronan & Rhoni
V Birthright—Adam & Rosamunda, Denis & Paulina
VI Star-Crossed— Robert & Dorianne, Baudoin & Carys
VII Allegiance—Rhys & Annalise
VIII Crescendo—Izzy & Farah
IX Infidelity—Gallien & Peridotte
The Montbryce Legacy First Edition (2011-2014)
Carried Away—Blythe & Dieter
Sweet Taste of Love—Aidan & Nolana
Wild Viking Princess—Ragna & Reider
Fatal Truths—Alex & Elayne
Sinful Passions—Bronson & Grace; Rodrick & Swan
Series featuring the stories of the Viking ancestors of my Norman families
The Rover Bold—Bryk & Cathryn
The Rover Defiant—Torstein & Sonja
The Rover Betrayed—Magnus & Judith
Novellas
Maknab’s Revenge—Ingram & Ruby
Passion’s Fire—Matthew & Brigandine
Banished—Sigmar & Audra
Hungry Like De Wolfe—Blaise & Anne
Unkissable Knight—Dervenn & Victorine
The Marauder—Santiago & Valentina
Caledonia Chronicles (Scotland)
Book I Pride of the Clan—Rheade & Margaret
Book II Highland Tides—Braden & Charlotte
Book III Highland Dawn—Keith & Aurora
Book IV Roses Among the Heather—Blair & Susanna, Craig & Timothea
The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty (medieval Europe)
Book 1 Loyal Heart—Sophia & Brandt
Book 2 Courageous Heart—Luther & Francesca
Book 3 Faithful Heart—Kon & Zara
Myth & Mystery
The Taking of Ireland —Sibràn & Aislinn
Clash of the Tartans
Kilty Secrets—Ewan & Shona
Kilted at the Altar—Darroch & Isabel
Kilty Pleasures—Broderick & Kyla
The House of Pendray
Highland Betrayal—Morgan & Hannah (audiobook available)
Kingslayer’s Daughter—Munro & Sarah
Highland Jewel—Garnet & Jewel
Link to Amazon page
PROLOGUE
The Narrow Sea,
25th day of November, 1120 A.D.
The doomed vessel splintered on the jagged rocks of Quilleboeuf, tossing screaming revelers into the snarling sea. Caedmon grabbed Agneta when he felt the first shuddering groan of the floundering ship, but she was torn from his arms as they plunged into the dark, frigid depths.
“Agneta,” he shouted as he surfaced, gasping for air, tasting salt. “Agneta.”
Heads bobbed, arms flailed, people screamed in the seething darkness, but he could not find his wife. A cold wave swamped him and something struck the back of his head. He had a fleeting recollection of the bloody battlefield at Alnwick where he had been severely wounded thirty years before. Agneta had rescued him, nursed him back to health.
Dazed and panting for breath, he groped for whatever had hit him and clung to it. It was part of the broken ship.
“Agneta,” he shouted again, shoving his hair off his face, peering into the darkness. She must not die alone.
He recognised her choking cough. Her illness had robbed her of breath before this. “Agneta.”
“Caed....”
He caught sight of her just before her head disappeared beneath the waves. Clinging to the wreckage, he struck out with one arm. Fewer heads were visible now, many drunken victims claimed by the sea.
He exclaimed with relief when she struggled back to the surface. It amazed him she had found the strength. Willing his numbed legs to kick, he threw one arm around her ribs and dragged her to the wreckage. The heavy winter cloak twisted around her frail body worked against him. Her hair covered her face and she shivered uncontrollably.
She took in great gulps of air. “I want to die with you, Caedmon. I’m...cold.”
He held her tightly, smoothing back her hair, but every wave forced the now grey strands over her face.
He tried to keep his fear for her out of his voice as his numbed hands sought to free the ties of her cloak from around her neck. “Hold onto the wreckage.”
She clamped a death grip on his shoulders, gasping for breath. “Caedmon...we are going...to die.”
Another swell hit them. He coughed, the salt burning his nose. “No, we are not. Hold on to me. I have you. I’ll never...let you go.”
Cold seeped into his bones. With a last desperate surge of determination, he clenched his jaw and forced Agneta against the wreckage. He covered her body, locking his arms around the wood. Lungs afire, his numbed legs would no longer tread water.
They drifted, clinging to the flimsy piece of splintered wood. The current carried them a
way from the rock where La Blanche Nef had run aground. Soon, there was only terrifying silence. He prayed they were being carried to shore, but had no sense of how long they had drifted. The salt water blurred his vision.
“Agneta. Stay awake. We will...be rescued.”
“I cannot, Caedmon...I’m freezing. I want to sleep.”
“No. Talk to me. Stay awake.”
“I love you...Caedmon...there’s no better place to die...than in your arms. Hold me. Hold me fast. Death has stalked me for many a month.”
Her words tore at his heart, but she was right. Better to die together. There would be no rescue. He thought of his children and bade them a silent farewell, heartbroken that he would never see them again. He had done his best to be a good father, to set them on the right path. Agneta had, after six years, finally insisted on making the long journey to Saxony to meet her son-by-marriage and Blythe’s three children. She had seen for herself how happy their daughter was with Dieter. Praise be to God he and Agneta had taken their children’s place on this voyage home.
His sons and daughter had given up the coveted chance to sail aboard the luxurious White Ship with the other young people, knowing their mother was unwell. It was an uncharacteristic self-sacrifice on the part of his wilful daughter that had saved their lives. Ragna had talked of nothing else but accompanying the Crown Prince and his retinue. Aidan, Edwin and Ragna would not die with the hundreds of other doomed noblemen and women aboard the famed vessel. They were safe aboard an older, less comfortable longboat.
The knowledge brought him peace. He and Agneta had lived long, happy lives. It was fitting they should die instead of their children. He prayed the captain of their ship was not a drunken sot like the White Ship’s commander. He’d had a bad feeling about the voyage from the moment they had embarked.
Caedmon wondered fleetingly if the heir to the English throne had been lost. Last he had seen of William, he was frantically trying to haul people into the only lifeboat. Pray God he had survived. King Henry would be devastated at the loss of his only son. And what of England, if the succession were put in jeopardy?
That could not be Caedmon’s concern now. He thanked God he and Agneta would die together. He would not have lived long without her. “I love you, Agneta. Thank you for the love and passion we have shared.”
She pressed her cold lips to his, loosened her grip on his shoulders and put her arms around his neck. “Caedmon.”
“Agneta,” he rasped in reply, drifting into sleep. When he awoke, his beloved had slipped from life. He kissed her. “Even in death you are beautiful, my Agneta.”
He tipped his head back to look at the stars, then let go of the debris. He had come close to drowning twice before, once in the River Dee and again in the Balkans during the Crusade. It was meant to be. Holding Agneta to his body for the last time, he allowed the icy waters to carry them to the resurrection in which they firmly believed.
ATONEMENT
Lindisfarne Abbey, Holy Island, Northumbria
Two Months Later.
Ragna pouted. “Your decision is ridiculous, Aidan. I have no intention of entering a nunnery.”
Aidan FitzRam inhaled deeply. Arguing with his sister was never easy. She was used to getting her own way. His sullen-faced younger brother leaned against the wall. Neither sibling was happy with his choice. He pulled the irritating cowl away from his neck. “No one expects you to. It is my decision to enter the monastery. It is my fault mother and father died in the White Ship disaster. I must atone.”
Ragna stamped her foot. “But you will chafe at the monastic life.”
Aidan rolled his eyes. “That’s why it’s an atonement. Lindisfarne Abbey is dedicated to St. Aidan. I was meant to live my life on Holy Island.”
His sister threw her hands in the air, then pointed an accusing finger. “Mother would be devastated by this, Aidan. It was not your fault nor mine nor Edwin’s that our parents drowned with Prince William and the flower of English nobility. Don’t you see their deaths gave us a chance to live? Our parents never intended you to be a monk. You’re the heir to Kirkthwaite Manor and Shelfhoc Hall, not to mention the Sussex estates. You must sire sons.”
Aidan chewed his bottom lip. “I am responsible for their deaths. It was I who suggested they take our places. Edwin can have whichever hall he wants. I’ll cede my right to the remaining property in favor of your husband, or Blythe’s husband or their sons.”
Edwin raked his fingers through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck. He drew a breath, looked at his sister, turned on his heel and left.
Ragna shook her head vigorously as she paced. “I’m not married, nor do I intend to wed. Dieter won’t want either English property. You have no right. You can see how Edwin feels. Godemite.”
Aidan stuffed his hands into the sleeves of his robe, digging his fingers into his forearms. “I have every right, and you shouldn’t blaspheme. It’s not becoming of a lady.”
Ragna snorted.
Aidan sighed. “You can live at Kirkthwaite or Shelfhoc, married or not. I intend to remain here and devote my life to God. Now go.”
A tear trickled down Ragna’s cheek. “You’re four and twenty. You have a lifetime ahead of you. Blythe will never forgive me. I cannot leave you here, Aidan.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “You have no choice.”
She tore away from him and rested her forehead against the stone wall of the dormitory. “If you will not take up your rightful place for me, then do it for England. Your country needs strong barons now the succession is in jeopardy. You were born to follow in Father’s footsteps.”
Aidan shook his head and held out his arms, wondering what he had eaten earlier to make his belly churn. “Try to understand, Ragna. I must do this. Please leave now. Kiss me before you go. Give me your blessing.”
She whirled around, gritted her teeth and stormed out, slamming the door.
Aidan’s shoulders tightened further. He fell to his knees, praying for fortitude to bear the lonely years ahead. He missed his father’s guidance. Caedmon FitzRam had been the rock of the family. Perhaps Ragna was right. He was avoiding his responsibilities by becoming a religious. Or was the devil tempting him away from his vocation? He had heard the call when he learned the devastating news. He must atone. Their deaths were his fault. He should have died instead.
~~~
Ragna was forced to pause in her flight from the confines of Lindisfarne. Edwin had ridden off alone in the direction of Kirkthwaite. She was distraught and feared she might fall from her horse. She instructed the captain of her guard to halt his men. “I cannot leave Aidan there, Leofric.”
Leofric Deacon took hold of her steed’s reins with his good hand. “Caedmon and I endured many difficulties together, Ragna. I mourn his loss. Aidan is seeking his way, as your father did when he joined Peter the Hermit’s Crusade before you were born. You must have faith he will find it.”
She blinked away tears and accepted the kerchief he offered, covering her face. Since the awful news had come she had cried a great deal, something she had rarely done before. Where was the courage that had earned her the nickname Wild Viking Princess?
This lifelong friend of her father’s was always positive, despite the cruel disfigurements suffered in the Battle of Alnwick long ago.
She blew her nose. “We must cling to the hope he will come to his senses, Leofric. I need him. Blythe is far away in Germany. I feel bereft. He does not care that he is leaving me alone with the immense responsibilities of father’s holdings. Edwin is not strong and would make a better monk.”
“Aidan sees nothing now but his own grieving guilt. Never fear, Ragna. You’re not alone. The Montbryces will help you and I’m still here, though no longer a young man.”
Ragna smiled bitterly as she looked sadly at Leofric’s bald head, his skin withered over his missing ear and eye. He was alone now, Coventina having died two years before, devoted to her beloved Leofric to
the last. Ragna would miss his steadfast support when he too was gone.
It was true her father’s powerful paternal family would help her, but she had never felt so alone. Anger at Aidan’s selfishness burned in her heart.
SOPPING WET
Northumbria, April, 1121 A.D.
Nolana Kyncade squeezed her eyes tight shut, frantically wondering how long she could hold her breath underwater. Was that the echo of horses’ hooves still crossing the stone bridge above her, or the thudding of her own heart?
It was vital she evade her stepfather’s men. The dastard intended to marry her to Baron Grouchet, a man two score years her senior. The auld bugger needed an heir, his only son having gone down with the White Ship. Her stepfather wanted the coin the Norman would pay and to be rid of the stepdaughter who chafed under his leash. She never understood what her dead mother saw in the man.
She had run, her only plan to escape to a place of sanctuary until...until what? She had fled without coin, without even a dagger. Her stepfather made sure she never had access to either. He was a man who kept tight control of his purse and his armory. The future looked bleak. Men made all the decisions for women. Perhaps the novitiate was a solution. Then she wouldn’t worry about men ruling her life ever again.
A religious life would also mean abandoning her dreams of a family and children.
Lungs bursting, she broke the surface and gulped in great breaths. Birds chirped. Leaves rustled. Water dripped from her nose and streamed from her hair. No sound of horses. She pressed her elbows into her ribs in an effort to stop the uncontrollable trembling.