The Darkland (6 page)

"Would you mind
letting me stand?" she asked.

He obliged, aware that
he liked her much better in his arms. Mara straightened her surcoat before
fixing him in the eye, far calmer than she had been when they had entered the
deserted corridor.

"It means that old
habits die hard," she said frankly. "I am used to speaking my mind,
Sir Kirk, and...."

"Kirk."

"Beg pardon, my
lord?"

"You will call me
simply Kirk," he said without a hint of warmth. "Now continue."

Mara looked strangely at
him but did as he asked. "I... very well, if you insist. As I said, I am
used to speaking my mind and it will be quite difficult for me to rein my
natural actions."

"Unbridled
responses are not natural. They are the result of a complete lack of
discipline. Did not your father maintain any control over you whatsoever?"

Mara looked away from
him, studying the walls, the floor. "Nay," she said. "He was too
busy losing money. Or drunk. And mother was sick most of the time, too ill to
deal with me."

Kirk's hard stance
softened as he watched her emotional vulnerability come through yet again. Last
night in the inn had been only a foretaste.

"So you and
Micheline took care of each other," he finished quietly. "And from
what I have seen of your sister, she is hardly able to take a stand against
you."

Mara nodded, leaning
against the opposite wall. "We have always taken care of one another
because no one else could." She fixed him in the eye, her lovely face soft
with emotion. "That is why I cannot allow her to marry a man who would
treat her with such disrespect. Can't you understand that I must protect
her?"

Kirk sighed, resting
against the wall. "You do not have a choice, love. This betrothal contract
has nothing to do with you."

Mara heard the
affectionate term, unsure how to react. A name that seemed to intensify the
odd, quivering warmth she was already experiencing.

"I realize that,
but it does not discourage my determination," she replied, her heart
leaping strangely against her ribcage. "Misha is... delicate. She cannot
take care of herself as I am able. And I refuse to allow this... I mean, Lord Edmund
to humiliate her further. She's known enough degradation in her time."

Kirk crossed his
muscular arms, his expression curious. "What does this mean? How else has
your sister met with humiliation?"

For the first time since
he had known her, Mara seemed to falter. She refused to look at him as she
spoke.

"Father... he used
Misha to support his gambling habit by forcing her to dance and sing for
coin." She kicked distractedly at the stone. "That is why she did not
want to sleep in an inn last night. Father used to take her into taverns to
entertain the soldiers while he left me on the street, pretending to be an
orphan. Somehow I always managed to make more money begging than Misha did with
her talents, which only added to her shame."

He did not reply. When
Mara finally looked up from her feet, she was surprised to note his expression
harsh. She cocked her head curiously, gazing into eyes as cold as steel.

"Why do you look
like that?"

Kirk seemed to stare at
her a long, long time. "Because your father was a cruel man. And his
cruelty continues as he forces his eldest to wed in order to settle a gambling
debt."

Mara nodded, moving closer
to him. When he wasn't taunting or threatening her, he was quite approachable.
"Now you see why I cannot permit her to wed a man who will only continue
to humiliate her. Our parents died within weeks of each other two years ago and
since that time, we've known our only measure of peace. Now the cycle of shame
threatens all over again."

She was standing beside
the stone seat, level with his eyes. He found himself devouring every contour
of her face. "I will speak to Lord Edmund. Have no doubt that he will be
considerate of your sister's feelings when I explain the situation."

Mara frowned. "If
he wasn't considerate of her feelings the moment he met her, why should your
explanation make any difference?"

"Because Edmund
trusts me."

"And based on the
word of his servant, he is supposed to amend his attitude?"

This time, Kirk frowned.
"I am not his servant."

Mara sat down on the
edge of the seat, yelping when her sore bum touched the cold surface. Leaping
up, she rubbed her backside as she spoke. "If you are not his servant,
then what are you?"

Kirk crossed his thick
arms. "My father and grandfather came into service through lands in
Ireland that were a wedding dowry to Lord Edmund’s grandsire. I have freely
pledged my loyalty to the House of de Cleveley and I am certainly not a
servant."

She continued to gaze at
him and he could literally see the thoughts tumbling through her mind.
"But you had little choice in the matter to serve the House of de Cleveley
if you were part of a marriage contract."

"I do not consider
my fealty a matter of choice. I wanted to serve the House of de Cleveley, as it
was my family's legacy. I fostered at Kenilworth at a very young age and came
into Monroe de Cleveley's service as soon as I was knighted."

"Monroe de Cleveley?"

"Edmund’s
father."

Mara nodded, eyeing him
thoughtfully. "So you fostered at Kenilworth with a host of arrogant
English boys. Then why do you still possess an Irish brogue? Did not your
trainers whip it out of you?"

He smiled faintly.
"They tried." He scratched his ear. "God only knows, I was
beaten, starved, belittled and tortured. But they could not take it out of me.
The more they tried, the more I refused."

Mara's eyes widened.
"They did that?"

"They did."

She stared at him, the
strong lines of his face, the square angle of his jaw. "Then you have
known the same shame as Micheline and I have."

He shrugged. "What
my trainers did to me was not considered shameful. It was considered
necessary."

Mara continued to watch
him as he scratched his head again, emitting a weary sigh. Now that the chaos
of their journey had ended, he seemed fatigued and Mara impulsively knelt
beside him, her small hands on his tree-sized legs. Considering she couldn't
sit, it was the only possible position.

"Please, Sir
Kirk," she said softly. "Please help me take Micheline away from
here. If you understand humiliation as you said you have, then you should be
eager to help."

He gazed down at her. A
massive gauntlet reached out, stroking her cheek before he could stop himself.

"I cannot," he
murmured. "But I promise that I will speak to Edmund. He is not an
unreasonable man."

Mara stared at him as he
continued to caress her cheek, the strange warmth in her belly igniting into a
raging fire. But it wasn't enough to overcome her frustration and she jerked
away, turning her back on him.

"You will not touch
me that way," she said, her quaking voice belying the thrill of his touch.
"I do not think I like it."

He laughed. Startled,
Mara turned in time to see him rising to his feet, snorting with mirth.

"Aye, you do, but
you're too stubborn to admit it," he said, meeting her gaze. "Tell
me, Mara; does your guard never go down?"

She turned her nose up
at him. "I have never been given reason enough to lower it."

He laughed again.
"Fair enough. Mayhap someday, if I am in the right mood, I shall give you
reason enough."

She did not like his
smug attitude. But he made her grin just the same and she kept her face averted
as she picked at her nails. "Mayhap I have already had a better
offer," she said, simply to poke holes in his confidence. "Mayhap
another knight will declare his interest. Sir Niles, or someone else."

Kirk's smile vanished.
Mara continued picking at her nails but she could feel his presence behind her,
hovering.

"Did Niles declare his
interest?"

She shrugged carelessly,
biting her lower lip to keep the smile from spreading. "Not yet. But I
have seen the expression on his face when he looks at me. Yet, I suppose it
would be foolish of him to believe he could tolerate my lively nature."

It took him a moment to
realize she was goading him. Staring at the back of her luscious head, he
raised an eyebrow.

"I am the only man
alive who would be able to tolerate your lively nature, as you call it."
He turned for the door that led back into the bailey. "And I shall, when
the time is right."

She cast him a long
glance, somewhere between coy and doubtful. "What does that mean?"

He paused in the
doorway, the light beyond giving him a surreal silhouette. Mara could see the
gleam in the stone-gray eyes. "It means that someday, when I am feeling
particularly foolish, I might take you off Edmund’s hands."

She her lips twitched
with the threat of a smile. She did not want to give into the grin, knowing
that he was speaking of marriage, but somehow the thought of marriage to Kirk
Connaught wasn't entirely repulsive. As much as she professed her hatred for
the man, still, he intrigued her like no one ever had.

"I do not want
you," she sniffed. "I would rather marry a pig."

He grinned. "I will
give you time to reconsider. Or mayhap I shan't marry you at all. I haven't yet
decided."

Her eyebrows rose to his
careless statement. "Is that so? Then I shall decide for you. The answer
is no!"

She gathered her skirts
and pushed past him, out into the bailey. Smirking, he followed. "Now you
make my decisions for me? Ah, just like a good wife."

She glared at him as
they crossed the urine-soaked mud. "Do not say that."

"Why not?"

"Because I shall
not have you!"

He nudged her with a big
arm. "Admit it, Mara. You would have only me."

She shrieked with
frustration, gaining speed to out-walk him. "No!"

Laughing, he followed.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mara had had enough of
Kirk's badgering by the time they reached the chamber she and Micheline would
occupy. Leaving the flushing young lady in the care of her sister, Kirk went in
search of Edmund. As promised, he intended to inform his lord the details of
the situation and would waste no time in doing so.

He knew exactly where to
find the man and knew without a doubt that he would not be alone. Knocking
loudly on Edmund’s chamber door, he was met with Johanne's pale, smiling face.

"Welcome home,
Kirk," she purred, gesturing him into the room. "My brother and I
were just discussing you. I hope the trip to Haslingden went well?"

He eyed the woman he
could hardly stand. A foul woman who leered at him as if he was something of a
delightful confection. 

"Well enough, my
lady." He looked at Edmund, standing by the windows with a goblet of fine wine
in his hand. "I would speak with you, my lord. Alone, if I may."

Edmund smiled cordially
at his captain, moving to the decanter of alcohol. "Of course," he
said, pouring a second cup for his knight. "I have a need to speak with
you as well. Johanne, please leave us."

Johanne was staring at
Kirk, a foolish grin on her face. Prancing a wide circle around the man,
inspecting him closely as the knight stood stock-still, she ran an index finger
down his massive forearm on her way to the door.

"We are pleased you
have returned, Kirk," she said, licking the finger that had stroked his
arm. Kirk refused to look at her as she opened the carved panel. "Mayhap
you will tell us of the adventure tonight at the feast?"

The only thing requiring
Kirk to give a decent answer was his sworn loyalty to the House of de Cleveley.
Were it not for his oath, he would just as well ignore the woman.

"Mayhap." He
replied, still focused on Edmund. 

Johanne slipped from the
room without another word. Kirk knew when she had gone because her repulsive
odor immediately vanished. Whether or not it was an imagined stench, still, it
seemed to reek from her like a roaring river. It was all Kirk could do to keep
from gagging.

Edmund had the odor,
too. But for the simple fact that he was Kirk's liege, the knight could do
nothing but tolerate the fetor. He had known Edmund the better part of his
life, a young man with a remarkably level head in spite of a personal life that
went beyond the boundaries of acceptable existence. Were the man not carrying
on an incestuous liaison with his step-sister, Kirk might have found him
likable at times.

Kirk refused the goblet Edmund
offered, instead, removing his helm and setting it next to the door. He would
have thrown it on the bed had he not feared contracting some of the hideous
filth Johanne had left on the sheets. Scratching his head with fatigue, he
waited for Edmund to speak.

Edmund eyed his moody
captain, knowing the man's thoughts without being told. Kirk had long
recognized the relationship between Edmund and his step-sister, a concept that
distressed him now as it had from the beginning. But being a discreet man, he
had never said a word. Edmund knew the tact wasn't for the benefit of his
liege; it was simply because Kirk couldn't bring himself to verbally
acknowledge the situation.

"Well, then," Edmund
said after a moment. "What is it you wished to discuss?"

"The Lady
Micheline, my lord," Kirk replied.

Edmund raised an
eyebrow. "Oh, yes. My new bride." He shook his head, turning back to
the decanter of liquor. "You should have left her at Haslingden, Kirk. She
certainly isn't what I'd hoped for."

Kirk watched his young
lord take another drink of wine. "I am sorry you feel that way," he
said quietly. "She's a nice young woman, kind and obedient. She'll make a
fine chatelaine for Anchorsholme."

"What of Johanne?"
Edmund turned to him. "She is an excellent chatelaine. How can I ask her
to share the reins of power with an outsider?"

"As your wife, the
Lady Micheline should have sole power. You are, after all, the baron. And she
will be the baroness."

Edmund did not like that
thought. Pursing his lips, he strolled to the long windows. "Curse my
father for accepting this betrothal," he muttered, gazing over the
landscape. "I wanted no part of this, Kirk. I would have welcomed the
black-haired girl, but her sister is below my expectations."

"Edmund,"
Kirk's voice was soft. Firm. "The Lady Micheline has had a difficult life.
You are making it far more difficult with your obvious displeasure. But you
have no choice in the matter, as she does not. If you will simply accept the
situation and take comfort in the lands she brings, I am sure you will come to
terms with this. I must say, I was rather embarrassed by your reaction in the
bailey. You left me to make excuses for your behavior."

Edmund looked at the
knight; at thirty-two years of age, he was everything Edmund could never be if
he lived to one hundred. The big brother he never knew, the mentor he never
had. Edmund knew Kirk respected him simply because he was sworn to him; but
true respect, something that had to be earned, was non-existent. Given his
relationship with Johanne, Edmund suspected he would never earn it.

"I apologize for
that," he said softly. "I suppose I am not very good at masking my
emotions. After witnessing her beauteous sister, the lady's average features
caught me off-guard."

Kirk cocked an eyebrow.
"I am not the one you should apologize to."

Edmund nodded
reluctantly. "You are right, of course." He refused to elaborate
further. Taking a deep breath, he moved away from the window. "We have
other things to discuss, Kirk. I received a missive from your father
yesterday."

Kirk was veered off the
subject of Lady Micheline by mention of his father. "What did he
say?"

Edmund did not look
pleased. "He seems to think there is a rebellion brewing among my vassals.
The harvest was poor, as you know, and winter stores are not plentiful. The
serfs resent the taxes I impose on them and are growing restless as the cold spell
deepens. Your father believes a revolt is imminent."

Kirk's eyebrows rose.
"A revolt? Ridiculous! The House of De Cleveley has always treated her
vassals fairly."

Edmund shrugged. "I
take half of all harvests from my Irish subjects, which is less than some
English overlords. Even so, with the countryside bordering on famine, the
people are looking for someone to blame and that person, apparently, is
me."

Kirk's jaw ticked.
"Would you have me rally support from our allies and ride to my father's
aid?"

Edmund shook his head.
"Not yet." He poured himself more liquor. "Ryan Connaught is
content to wait out the situation for the moment. If it intensifies, then we
will have no choice."

Kirk knew is father to
be an intelligent warrior, not one to panic prematurely. If Ryan said a revolt
was imminent, then Kirk was inclined to believe immediate action was necessary
regardless of Edmund’s caution. "I shall send word to our allies
nonetheless, preparing them for the potentiality," he said. "Did my
father say anything about my brothers or mother? Are they in danger?"

"He did not mention
the fact." Edmund went to the wardrobe and, rummaging about, drew forth
the missive from Ireland. Kirk accepted it eagerly. "I am sure your
younger brothers are well. Drew recently returned from fostering in Devon, did
he not?"

Kirk nodded, scanning
the contents of the vellum. "After Steven injured his hand in a riding
accident, my father was without the power of a son by his side. But now with
Drew returned...." He suddenly re-rolled the vellum, frustrated.
"This missive tells me nothing. It's as if... as if he is holding something
back."

"Your father holds
nothing back," Edmund replied. "The missive is quite frank."

Kirk shook his head, his
fatigue fading as frustration took hold. "He probably does not want to
worry me. He knows I shall sail for Ireland with half of England under my
command at the first sign of trouble."

 Edmund watched the man
work himself into a substantial fret. "According to your father, there is
no trouble - yet. Trust that the man will inform us when he needs
reinforcements." Kirk continued to pace, the missive clutched in his hand,
and Edmund set his goblet down. "Retire to your chambers, Kirk. Rest,
relax. We shall have a grand feast this night to celebrate your return."

Kirk looked up from his
pacing boots. "You mean the arrival of Lady Micheline."

Edmund met his gaze.
After a moment, he shrugged. "As you say. Regardless, I demand you rest
until the meal. You look as if it has been a hellish journey."

Kirk did not say what he
was thinking, thoughts turning from the situation in Ireland to the events of
the past two days.

Not hellish, Edmund.
Hellion.

                             
***

The first thing Mara was
aware of was the smell of roasting beef. A heavy, mouth-watering smell and she
realized she was famished. Seated in the great smoky hall at the table reserved
for the de Cleveley family, Mara and Micheline huddled together as the rumbled
of conversation filled the room.

Kirk had explained that
the guests this eve had been part of Johanne's birthday celebration a few days
prior. Most of them were older, a few young men and ladies in fine court dress.
Clad in the finest surcoats they owned, Mara and Micheline were sorely out of
place among the wealthy visitors.

Even though Micheline
was trying her best to remain dignified, Mara wanted no part of it. The crowd
had been staring and pointing since her arrival a half-hour before and she was
nearly wild with what she perceived to be negative attention. When Kirk passed
the table on his rounds of the room, she latched onto his hand and refused to
let go.

Smiling gently, he knelt
beside her chair. "What's the matter with you? Are you not enjoying
yourself?"

He could see she was
close to tears. "These people," she whispered. "They are staring
at Micheline and I. I want to leave!"

Micheline heard her
sister's plea, meeting Kirk's gaze. His expression was surprisingly gentle,
considering his usual reaction to Mara. Even after spanking her earlier in the
day, which her sister had explained with very little outrage, it was obvious he
was no longer angry. And Mara, too, apparently held no grudge.

"Relax, lass,"
he said. "They are simply curious and nothing more."

She shook her head,
still holding his hand. He had escorted Micheline to the dining hall, clean
shaven and without his armor. Mara had followed on Niles' arm, awed by the
sight of Kirk, combed and bathed and in gentlemen clothing, as he chatted
pleasantly with her sister. If she had thought him handsome before, the new
picture was enough to set her head spinning. And he smelled nice, too. A smell
of precious oils and pine that filled her nostrils even as he knelt beside the
chair and attempted to comfort her.

"They are laughing
at us," she hissed, her bright blue gaze full of uncharacteristic emotion.
"You promised there would be no more humiliation for Micheline!"

He sighed, patting her
hand. "They are not laughing, love. I would kill them all if they were
laughing."

Mara was not convinced,
frustrated that he could not see the truth of the situation. "Look at us,
Kirk." She let go of him and grabbed a fistful of her skirt. "Look at
this surcoat; it was my mother's and it is several years old. And Micheline;
she is wearing a silk surcoat that was once burgundy. Now it's pink. We're
shamefully dressed, I tell you!"

He took her chin between
his thumb and forefinger. "You could wear rags and you would both still outshine
every woman in this room." He caught a glimpse of Micheline's grateful
smile from the corner of his eye. But Mara was still frowning and he touched
her cheek gently, rising. "Do not worry so, Lady Mara. Enjoy the feast and
forget about these women who stare. They are simply jealous."

Mara rolled her eyes
miserably. Kirk smiled at her, enjoying her animated response, when Corwin and
two women approached the table. Before Mara could further lament the atmosphere
of the room, Kirk turned her in the direction of the visitors.

"Lady Mara, you
have not yet been introduced to Sir Corwin's wife and sister-in-law." He
gestured to the identical pale-faced women. "Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda,
may I present the Lady Mara le Bec."

Mara smiled weakly at
the woman on Corwin's arm, who bowed crisply. As she did so, the woman standing
next to her mimicked her actions perfectly. It was like watching two of the
same person.

"'Tis a pleasure to
meet you, Lady Valdine," she said. "Your husband's pleasant
conversation helped pass the time on our journey here."

"We..."

"... thank you, my
lady."

Mara blinked. Lady
Valdine had started the sentence; her sister had finished it. Puzzled, she
looked to Micheline for support. But her sister merely smiled.