Kingdom Come (46 page)

“God save us,” he breathed. “Kieran, I truly thought you were mad. But looking at these items… I cannot dispute your story. I have never seen anything like this.”

“Nor will you again.”

Sean struggled to come to grips with a miracle. “And you say that Simon mortally wounded you?”

Kieran nodded faintly. “Had Time taken its normal path, I would not be with you right now. You would not know I was dead until years later when I simply did not return home.”

That thought distressed Sean a great deal; it was obvious in his expression. “But you are here,” he shook his head, baffled. “For some reason, you have returned. God’s Blood, is this really true? Did this really happen to you?”

Kieran smiled faintly. “If you do not believe the evidence in your hand, Libby has clothing items as well. She is, in fact, wearing two of them.”

Sean looked at Rory curiously but she backed off, knowing that Kieran meant her bra and panties. She put up her hands. “No way,” she looked at her husband. “I’m not showing him what I’m wearing.”

Kieran laughed softly but Sean didn’t get the joke.  Kieran shook his head at his brother and tried to use his hands to describe what his wife was wearing.

“These garments go… well, they go here,” he motioned to his chest. “And then there are others that cover… they cover around here….”

Rory had had enough; she went to her husband and held his hands still. “Never mind,” she lifted her eyebrows at him to suggest if he continued, he would be in a good deal of trouble.  “He doesn’t need to know and I’m sure he doesn’t care.”

Kieran stopped his charades game, fearful of an angry wife. He raised his eyebrows at his brother as Sean grinned.

“Nay, Lady Hage, I do not need to know,” Sean assured her. “But I find my brother’s story quite fascinating.”

Rory simply nodded, not knowing what more to say to him. She really wasn’t comfortable that Kieran had told him their story but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.  Slowly, she returned to her wardrobe and finally found the soft white shift she was looking for.  When she came back over to the bed where Sean was still sitting, she saw that he had removed one of his massive boots and had put on a construction boot. Kieran was explaining the advantages of such a shoe as she came upon them.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she told him. “Can you please find Bud and David and bring them up here? I don’t want them running around in a strange castle. Too many things can happen.”

Kieran put a massive hand on her head, pulling it to his lips for a kiss. “Aye, Mother,” he said patiently. “I shall send for the boys.  But keep in mind that they must grow up sometime; you cannot keep them against your bosom forever.”

She frowned at him. “They’re still children,” she insisted. But even as she said it, she was suddenly reminded of what Margaret had told her about Christian’s child bride locked up in her chamber below.  “And speaking of children, what’s this about Christian keeping his betrothed locked up and not letting anyone speak with her?”

Kieran had no idea what she was talking about but Sean did; he paused as he tied up the shoe. “Who told you this?” he asked.

Rory was about to tell him but thought better of it; she didn’t want to get Margaret in trouble if, in fact, she wasn’t supposed to say anything. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Is it true?”

Sean glanced at Kieran before refocusing on the shoe lace. “That is Christian’s affair,” he replied evenly. “We do not interfere.”

“Christian is betrothed?” Kieran interrupted before Rory could speak.

Sean nodded. “To the Lady Charlotte de Longley, an heiress from the Lords of Northwood. She came to Southwell about three months ago.”

“But she’s kept locked up and Christian won’t let anyone speak to her,” Rory jumped in. “Why in the world does he keep this girl isolated?”

Sean finished tying the shoe. “That is his business, Lady Hage,” he said, putting his foot on the floor and inspecting the fit. “As I said, we do not interfere.”

“But she’s only thirteen years old,” Rory wouldn’t let the subject go. “That’s cruel and abusive. He can’t keep her locked up like a prisoner.”

Kieran didn’t know the story behind his brother’s betrothal but he could see that Rory was growing distressed about it.  He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her.

“Go tend your bath, sweetheart,” he said, trying to both distract and soothe her. “If it will ease your mind, I will speak with Christian about his betrothed.”

“Please do,” she looked up at him. “He can’t keep that girl locked up unless she’s crazy or something. It’s just cruel.”

“I understand,” he said patiently. “Go and take your bath. Bud and David will be here when you finish.”

Sensing there was nothing more for her to say about Christian, Rory obediently retreated into the big bathing chamber and, as Kieran had done, opened up the dumbwaiter and shouted for a bath.  Back in the bed chamber, Kieran and Sean went back to discussing the remarkable shoes with the steel toes.  But Kieran knew, even as he praised the quality of the shoe, that the issue with Christian’s betrothed was likely to become a sore subject if he didn’t do as he promised. He would have to speak with Christian about the situation. 

Otherwise, he knew his wife well enough to know that there would be trouble.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The next day brought snow and sleet like Rory had never seen.  Growing up in Southern California, she was only marginally familiar with snow as it pertained to skiing at local resorts, so the storm that blew in overnight was something to behold.

The morning started out innocently enough. She and Kieran had slept wrapped up in each other as they usually did but when dawn came and he tried to disengage himself, she refused to let him go.  He was so warm that she fought him tooth and nail, so he relented and stayed in bed with her a while longer.  Rory was clever, however, and knew that once she started touching him intimately, he would stay until his lust was satisfied so she burrowed beneath the soft linen coverlet and pleasured him with her mouth until the man could take no more.  He rolled her on to her back, quietly, and made love to her as the sun rose amidst the storm clouds. 

When their bodies cooled and their passion was satisfied for the moment, Kieran pulled back the great curtains, immediately looking over to Bud and David, sleeping in piles of linens and furs next to the glowing hearth.  He and Rory had kept quiet through their lovemaking purposely so they would not to wake the boys.   Kieran still couldn’t convince her to let the boys sleep with the rest of the pages but until such time as he could do that, he was not about to sacrifice his bedroom behavior towards his wife.  The compromise was to stay as quiet as they could even though, for Rory, it was difficult.  Kieran either kissed her or had her suck his fingers the entire time because if her mouth was occupied, it was more difficult for her to make noise.

After Kieran left to join his brothers in the hall, Rory fell back asleep for a short time before waking surprisingly bright and alert. She hadn’t felt so good in weeks and she threw back the coverlet, hooting softly at the chill of the room.  A glance over at the hearth showed that Bud and David were gone, so she guessed they had gone with Kieran.  Eager to look around Southwell for the first time since her arrival, Rory ran to the bathing room and shouted down the dumbwaiter.

Kieran had already told the servants that his wife would bathe daily, so they were prepared. It was only a matter of minutes before the first servants appeared bearing hot water.  So they filled up the tub, she bathed and went through the daily ritual of washing her panties, and then used the sesame oil to soothe her skin.  She honestly couldn’t remember her skin ever being so smooth and soft; water without chemicals and oils without preservatives had advantages.

Because of the snow, she dressed in the warmest thing she had.  Her panties had dried by the fire, which Kieran must have stoked into a serious blaze before he left, so she put on her panties and bra, followed by a pair of soft linen pantalets that her husband had purchased for her in Paris.  She thought the pantalets were kind of goofy looking but they protected her skin against the shifts and surcoats, which could be rough.  There were no fabric softeners.  And there were no real undergarments for her torso underneath the shift other than corsets, which she wouldn’t wear.  As she put the shift on and the lovely orange surcoat made of a heavily brocaded linen, she smoothed the garments down and was beginning to feel the expansion of her belly.  She rubbed her hand over the small bulge right around her belly button, feeling the evidence for the pregnancy for the first time.  She was both thrilled and terrified.

Her long chestnut hair had undergone a transformation over the past seven weeks; with no hair products like mousse, or gels, or shampoos or hairsprays, her hair was taking on a natural curl all its own.  Rory had no idea her hair had curl to it but the lack of modern products and the pure water she had been washing with had brought the quality to light. To accentuate it, she had taken to sleeping with her hair rolled up in strips of cloth she had torn from the towel she owned.  It was an idea she had, since she was without her curling iron, and Kieran had laughed at her the first time she had done it.  But he found the result so beautiful that he couldn’t keep his hands out of her hair.

So she unrolled the rags in her hair and ran a comb through it, creating a lustrously full head of curls. Then she used the comb to make them long and spiral, shaping them around her hand. Pulling the section over her forehead back and securing it with a real tortoise shell comb, she finished off with a few of the precious cosmetics they had purchased in Tyre.  And with all that done, Rory was finally ready to face Southwell.

Once she opened the chamber door, a blast of freezing air hit her in the face. Shuddering, she hunted down the cloak she had stolen from Hut’s hostel on that night so long ago, the off-white wool that was incredibly warm.  She had practically slept in the thing during their travels and she had grown attached to it. Since she hadn’t really been out of the keep since their arrival, she moved slowly and cautiously.  Her intent was to explore but if anyone saw her, she would use the excuse that she was looking for her husband. There was a certain thrill in exploring the massive stone keep by herself.

The fourth floor was empty.  She peeked inside Sean and Margaret’s room where Jeffrey lay sleeping; there was a male servant at his side and she slipped away unnoticed. She also peeked inside a narrow door that led into a very small, very messy chamber that she assumed was Andrew’s.  It smelled like a teenage boy lived there.  Moving down the steep stairs, she ended up on the third floor where the floor plan was pretty much identical. There was a room in front of her that would have been directly below Kieran’s bedchamber and then another chamber down a short corridor to the left. She noticed servants coming out of the door down the hall and disappearing into what looked like a slit in the wall; when she walked down to take a look at it, it was actually an opening for an extremely steep set of stone steps leading down into the darkness.  She had no idea what lay beyond.  Too intimidated to take the stairs, she moved to return to the main spiral staircase when her gaze fell on a narrow door just to the left of the servant’s staircase. 

It was bolted from the outside; she could see the big iron bolt wedged into a socket. He gazed at the door, realizing that Christian’s betrothed must be inside. Hesitantly, she approached the door and put her hand on it, wondering if she should knock.  Everyone had told her that it was Christian’s business.  It had been made clear to her. But she couldn’t stand the thought of a thirteen year old caged up like a criminal because the man she was betrothed to had no interest in her. It was cruel and horrible.  More than that, it was barbaric and inhumane.  In her world, they threw people in jail for this kind of thing.   Waffling with indecision, she finally threw caution to the wind and unbolted the door.