Authors: Deborah MacGillivray
“Why must you go?” Skena wanted to stomp her foot to emphasize her frustration, but knew it a wasted effort. “Men! None of you ever listen! Worse, you always assume you ken best. Though you are prettier than most, de Servian, you remain just as pigheaded.”
He cocked his head and flashed a wicked grin. “De Servian? What happened to Noel?”
“Nodcock.” She did stomp her foot. It felt good if naught else. “You have been ill for days, and with what you went through in opening the old wound, ’tis unwise for you to venture out into the cold so soon. Guillaume is to blame for this. He should have more sense than to encourage you to ride with the Challon men to hunt game.”
Leaning close he whispered, “Prettier than most, eh?”
Skena refused to yield to his charming ways. A comely man was dangerous to a woman’s peace of mind. Her head whipped around looking for something to brain him with. Short of the poker, she could not spot anything suitable to fill her need.
“The day wanes. With night coming early to your land, we shan’t be out long.” Noel merely continued buckling his baldric about his hips. “I am lord here now. I must do lordly things. Besides, I have a yen for something—anything—besides wolf meat stew for my sup.”
“Do not dare laugh at me, de Servian.” With a disgusted sigh, she straightened the mail grommet about his neck, knowing he would not be able to reach it with his side still tender.
“If I give you kissing lessons when I return may I be Noel again?” He placed a peck on her cheek.
“Save your wiles. You have me playing at squire because it pains you to lift your right arm. You were sick for days with fever.” Her mouth pressed into a frown. “And you are old, remember?”
Noel laughed loudly, then leaned over and caught her mouth in a bruising kiss, then ruined it by pulling back too soon. Oh, she wanted to keep kissing him! Clearly, her yearning was upon her face, for his eyes flashed arrogantly. Reaching out, he ran his thumb over her lower lip.
“If I stay, my love, I will end up giving you those kissing lessons, and if I do I shan’t stop with kissing.” As if he could not resist, he brushed his lips briefly against her stunned mouth. She did not return his kiss. Leaning back he frowned. “Already you tire of kisses from the old man?”
Skena put her quivering hand to his lips to stop him talking. “You are
not
old. You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen. More importantly, you are beautiful inside, Noel de Servian. You make children believe wishes come true. Make
me
believe.”
He kissed her fingertips, then took her wrists and pulled her to him. “Then why did you not want me to kiss you?”
“I want your kisses…and more.” She blushed at her boldness, almost looking away, fearful she would spot reproof in his eyes.
“Then why—”
Skena rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth softly. “You called me
my love
.” Her heart stopped and only beat again when she finally drew a small, ragged breath. Like Annis, she was snatching that ‘treat’ he offered. She recognized she was in love with him, the feeling only strengthened with every passing hour, but dare she hope he was coming to care for her?
Noel’s grin faded and seriousness formed his handsome face. “I do—love you, you know. I have never spoken the word to anyone before.” When she opened her mouth to talk, he did as she had, put his fingers to her lips to silence her. “Trust me. You say I use the word ‘beautiful’ too often and thus it has lost value. You are beautiful, no matter how many times I say it—outside and within, Skena. You give me such hope. ’Tis true we are but strangers yet, still, I feel Fate brought me to you. My life was empty ere coming here. I need you. You are that piece of my heart, which has been missing my whole sad life. I am sorry the journey to finding you has taken so long.”
“Oh…” was all she managed to say. Noel spoke the very words that had long ago formed in her heart—the sense a part of her had always been missing. Mayhap Fate had brought them together, for it would be too cruel for them both to live their lives needing the other and never having that spot filled.
Noel leaned to kiss her, but the door pushed open and Andrew came in, followed by Annis, who was pulling Guillaume along by his first finger. Skena had to smile. Already Noel’s early attention toward her daughter saw Annis accepting this other Englishman as well. Her darling child would never before have been so trusting, so bold, as to lead such an imposing warrior around by his finger.
“We caught a dragon, mama,” Andrew announced, patting Lord Challon’s thigh.
Guillaume rolled his eyes at the children’s antics. “I hate to interrupt, but we dragons needs must ride. Winter daylight here lasts but a wink, you will find.”
Skena glared at them both, then threw up her hands in exasperation. “Fine. Run along. When de Servian sickens because he is out chasing game, instead of resting in bed—where he should be—then you may nurse him, Lord Dragon!”
Noel’s foster brother smiled at her flair of temper. “I warned you, Noel, these Ogilvie women are no end of trouble. Lady Skena, I promise to return him to the keep at the first sign he is unfit to be out.”
Noel tried to kiss her, but she turned her cheek, furious he was ignoring her concerns. The side of his mouth crooked up. “The woman is in need of kissing lessons, Guillaume. Methinks I shall have my work cut out for me.” He quickly pressed his lips to her forehead, then patted both children on the heads before leaving the chamber with Lord Challon.
“Noel, I love you,” she called after him, but the words were drowned out by the men’s laughter echoing in the hall.
With a lightness of heart, Skena threw herself into preparations for the Yuletide celebration while the men were off hunting. Her time had been tied up tending Noel since they found him, thus her daily chores had been left to wait. The tally of things needing attention seemed endless. Distracting her from mundane tasks, the sight of holly and evergreen boughs, tied with red yarn around the posts and hung on the doors, lent color and cheer to the gloomy hall. Everything seemed so festive and happy. For the first time in months, Craigendan thrummed with hope instead of fear.
Elspeth rushed up, lacing her fingers together before her to contain her excitement. For a change, color had returned to the girl’s cheeks. Not since the news of Dunbar and David’s death reached them had Skena witnessed the shine of life in her cousin’s eyes. “Skena, might I trouble you for sprigs of juniper for the fire? It would be a promise of new beginnings if we burned some in the fireplace to cleanse Craigendan of evil shades.”
A shiver rippled up Skena’s spine at Elspeth’s speaking of lingering ghosts. Instantly, that shadowy image standing at the top of the stairs filled her mind. No matter how firmly she told herself that it had not been Angus, she failed to accept the conviction. A last shred of doubt refused to be banished.
She squeezed Elspeth’s upper arm. “Grand idea, lass. You appear well. Might the twinkle in your eyes have something to do with that handsome squire of Lord Challon?”
Elspeth lowered her gaze and blushed. “Is it wrong, Skena? I loved David, but…he is not coming back. I wanted to die for so long.” Her voice choked on the words. “Now, my heart beats again.”
“What is this handsome squire’s name? He has not been made known to me.”
“Emory Maynet. He is old enough to be knighted, but does not have coin to maintain that station. Lord Challon suggested that he might wish to stay and become Lord de Servian’s man, since he will need to import soldiery to protect us.” Again, she lowered her lashes as if afraid to hope. “If things come to pass…”
Skena smiled. “The old broch?”
Elspeth’s head bobbed in answer. “It comes to me through my Ogilvie blood when I wed. David and I had hoped to refit it with the Earl Challon’s blessing. It just…” Her cousin shrugged, confused by the ties to the past pushing against the yearning for a future.
Skena understood those emotions only too well. “Times change, Elspeth. Life sometimes allows us no choices. Seize them with both hands when they do come to you. Nay, such wishes are not wrong, dear heart. ’Tis life going on.”
“I have seen the way Lord de Servian looks at you. Methinks he will make a good lord here, Skena. More important, I sense he will make you happy. Angus was a good man, I suppose, a good provider, but he never made you blush. Sometimes…he hurt you not really meaning to.”
Skena sighed at the truth. “De Servian is gentle with Annis. That touches my heart. For so long she has stood in the shadows, cringed when Angus bellowed at her.” Skena brushed her thumb over the small dip in her cousin’s chin. “You open your heart to Emory Maynet, if it feels right. Bring him to meet me. Mayhap by spring’s bloom you will start work on the old broch.”
Impulsively, Elspeth grabbed Skena in a tight hug. “’Tis good to live again. Scary, but good.”
As Skena headed down the dimly lit hallway, she spotted Ella coming in the opposite direction. She almost steeled herself for their passing. A strange woman, Ella was in charge of the geese and the pigs, and mostly kept to herself. Her pale hair was chopped short, unlike that of most women, not even touching her shoulders, and so coarse and straight that it held no natural softness. Her neck was thick and short, her features almost gnomish. Skena knew everyone could not be pleasing to the eye, but it was not merely Ella’s appearance that was off-putting; there was a baleful air about her that caused Skena to distrust her.
There was plenty of room for them to pass without touching, but as they did, the squat woman’s shoulder knocked hard against Skena’s, causing her to back up a step to brace from losing balance. Frowning, she glared at the strange woman, wondering why she had done that.
“Beg pardon, my lady. Me feets is so clumsy. Got a bad ankle, see. Goes out on me sometimes, it does,” she offered in a way of explanation. “I meant no harm.”
Skena gave a nod, but failed to accept her words. An odd glint in the woman’s hooded eyes bespoke insolence, which in turn set off an alarm at the back of her mind. Skena had never liked Ella, but the woman generally stayed out of the way.
“By your leave,” she gave an awkward bob, half-curtsey, half-bow, as if not sure which was proper, and then continued down the hall.
At the stillroom door, Skena paused to ponder what Ella was doing in this part of the fortress. The woman only came into the Great Hall about once a fortnight; the remainder of her time was spent in the small hut on the edge of the outer bailey. Disquiet rippled through Skena. The peculiar woman had no purpose for being in the back part of Craigendan.
Shrugging off questions, she untied her chatelaine from her belt and sorted through the keys. Just as she found the correct one, her movements froze. Though she could not say why, Skena suddenly felt she was no longer alone in the dark hallway. Prickles crawled up her neck as though she was being watched. Ella? Slowly, she lifted her head and looked down the hallway toward the kitchen to see if the woman lingered, spying on her. No one was in the long corridor. The hall was silent, save kitchen noises and Cook whistling while he went about preparing supper. She watched for a few heartbeats, but no one appeared. Telling herself it had been naught more than a servant going about chores, she started to insert the key, but then hesitated, so strong was the sense of someone’s being near. The ring fell from her fingers.
As she stooped down to pick up the keys, Skena turned her head and stared into the long shadows. Since the torchlight did little to banish the darkness, she kept her eyes fixed there to adjust to the heavy gloom. Dizziness whirled through her mind, making her light-headed. She rose, fighting the sense of unreality brushing her mind. The strange sensation did not lessen, but increased with every draw of air. The kenning. That fey sense was alive now Noel had opened her heart, and it was warning her with a strength that compelled her to flee. No fool, she knew better than to ignore the presentiment.
Skena considered her next step. Should she go investigate, or give pretense she was unaware something was off? Urgently seeking the right key, she quietly went through the ring again, but could barely focus on the shape of each.
“Skena…”
Gooseflesh rippled up her neck. Yet again, she looked in both directions. No one was there. Her name had been naught but a ghostly whisper, one easily conjured in the mind when rattled. She held perfectly still and listened. Oddly, she felt like a doe scenting the danger of a human.
Then the dimness shifted.
Her heart stopped, and everything seemed to bend in on itself. Shadows distorted, twisted, and reformed into a man, standing at the turn in the corridor. A force slammed into her as she stared at the silhouette that was only too familiar. “Angus.”
Emotions swam through her, too many to sort out. Fear. Pain. Her soul howling,
no!
She would never wish him harm. Yet, for the first time in her life she held hope that true happiness had come to her, seeing Annis embracing that same possibility, instead of growing up beaten down, unloved, and feeling unworthy because she was only ‘the girl.’ To have that snatched away now would be too cruel.
Willing the figure to be naught more than her imaginings, she closed her eyelids and squeezed them tight. “He will be gone when I open them,” she said lowly, almost a prayer to make it so. When she opened them, the dark figure remained.
“Skena…” His hissed whisper sent a chill to undulate over her.
This could not be! Noel assured her Angus was dead. Was there some way he escaped the madness at Dunbar? Mayhap they were mistaken. He was not dead, but merely wounded, and it had taken him until now to make it back to Craigendan. Had not Noel’s injury taken so long to heal? Angus was older than him by ten years, thus he might mend even more slowly. The kenning swam through her, warning her, but she was determined to know the truth. She refused to have this shadow hanging over her life, her future.
With misgivings, she started down the passageway with slow steps. She did not want to go, but was driven by the need to know if this was Angus, or if her mind conjured his shade out of guilt, simply because her life was moving on. As she neared, he vanished around the corner.