The Darkland (10 page)

"I am
leaving!" she gasped, the tears that has so recently fled returning with a
vengeance. "And Micheline is going with me!"

He moved toward her
simply to comfort her but she screamed, moving away from him as if he carried
the plague. "Stay away from me!"

He froze, his gaze
tracking her like a cat watching a mouse. "What is the matter, Mara? What
have I done?"

She was standing next to
the bed, sobbing. "You..," she gasped, hardly able to continue.
"You are cursed!"

He stared at her.
"What do you mean?"

She wept into her hand,
close to hysteria. But the bright blue eyes were intense. "The Darkland,
Kirk. I know why Anchorsholme Castle is called the House of the Death."

He did not say anything.
Outwardly, his composure never wavered, but inwardly, his heart was breaking. He'd
never known it to break before.

"Why is that, love?"

His gentle tone inflamed
her. "Because young women die here!" she nearly shouted, angry that
he would act as if he had no idea what she was talking about. "Nine young
ladies who have come here to serve Johanne, women who have simply vanished into
the night. Why did you tell us the truth from the beginning?"

He took a deep breath,
aware that his control was slowly weakening. And that had never happened,
either. Especially not where a woman was concerned. Carefully, he pondered his
reply.

"Is that what you
wanted?" his voice was oddly hoarse. "To hear stories of Anchorsholme
Castle, frightening you to death when you were already reluctant to come?"

Near the wardrobe,
Micheline nearly collapsed with the confirmation of Mara's wild stories.

"Dear God,"
she gasped, groping for the nearest chair. "Then what she has told me is
true."

Kirk eyed the woman a
brief moment before returning his attention to Mara. She was sitting on the bed
now, facing away from and sobbing pitifully.

"I do not know the
extent of what she has told you, Lady Micheline," he said softly, moving
slowly for the bed. "But I would like to hear everything."

Mara could feel him
standing by the foot of the bed, too weak to resist him. Face in her hands, she
simply shook her head. "Dead women, Kirk. Ladies come to Anchorsholme
Castle but they never leave. Isn't that so?"

"There's more to it
than that, lass."

"But what of Johanne?”
she demanded. “You told me to stay away from her because she was dangerous. Now
I know she burns people and bites off fingers!"

He sighed deeply, gazing
at her glorious black head. After a moment, he turned away and marched to the
chamber door, calling for a servant. When two women appeared, wide-eyed and
eager to do his bidding, he instructed them to escort Micheline to Lady Wanda's
chamber. He wanted to speak with Mara, alone. To see if he could undo, or at
least ease, the damage done.

Micheline was reluctant
to leave, but did so obediently. Kirk closed the door, returning his attention
to the bed where Mara remained huddled and weeping. Silently, he approached.

"Did you kill
them?" she asked.,

Her voice was soft. Kirk
sat down on the mattress beside her before replying. "Of course not,” he
said softly. “I would know who has told you the tales of Anchorsholme Castle."

She sniffled, struggling
to calm herself. She had a terrible headache as a result of her crying jag.
"It does not matter,” she said, with less force. “But I know everything
and I demand that you let Micheline and I leave before we fall victim,
too."

"That is not going
to happen," he said firmly. "I would never allow any harm to befall
you."

"It befell the
other women."

"If you know the
tales as you have said, then you would also know that I wasn't at Anchorsholme
Castle at the time of their disappearances. Had I been here, I most certainly
would have protected them."

"Did you never try
to find out what happened to them?"

"By the time I
returned, all evidence had been removed. And Edmund’s story was always solid.
As my liege, it was not my place to question him. But, unfortunately, there was
no one who could tell me much more than what I already knew."

"So you ignored the
disappearances?"

"I wasn't given
much choice, Mara. One does not question the activities of one's liege, no
matter what the circumstances. I realize that excuse is weak, but you must
understand that as lord of Anchorsholme Castle and head of the House of de Cleveley,
Edmund is answerable only to his liege, the Earl of Carlisle, to the king, and to
God. I have no right accusing him of something I cannot prove."

“But did you ever
try,
Kirk?”

He nodded. “I did as
much as I could,” he replied. “I would follow clues that servants or soldiers
would tell me but they always led to a dead-end.  After the last disappearance,
I had some of my men dig around in newly disturbed earth outside of the walls
in the dead of night to see if we could come up with a corpse, but there was
nothing. Mara, lass, I am not an ignorant or cowering wretch. I understand what
justice is. But even if I were to find the bodies of the women who had
disappeared, what could I do with them? Confront Edmund? If he denies any
knowledge, then I must believe him. I have no choice because no one, save God
himself, will bring him to justice because I promise you the earl and the king
would do nothing.  Edmund is nobility and he is untouchable. ‘Tis the way of
the world.”

Mara continued to
sniffle, wiping her eyes and digesting his words. She could tell that he was
pained by his helplessness, a big dark shadow that he was unable to shake.
After a moment, she cast him a long glance.

"I was told that
all of the women had eyes for you,” she said quietly.

He met her gaze, a smile
creeping over his lips. "Now I see why you are so worried. Certainly you
fit the pattern."

She frowned. "What
pattern?"

"Having eyes for
me."

Her bow-shaped mouth
opened in outrage. "I do not!"

He grinned. "Pity.
After all, I have eyes for you."

She turned her nose up
at him, looking away. It was purely a defensive reaction, however; she did not
want him to see that his words had pleased her.

"You are wasting
your time, Kirk Connaught," she said, though she did not mean a word of
it. "I have no interest in you."

"You do. Admit
it."

"I will not."

He leaned close, burying
his face in her silken hair and inhaling deeply. Mara froze, feeling his hot
breath against the back of her head as chills enveloped her body. Closing her
eyes, she could hardly repress the mad trembling that had suddenly taken
control.

Kirk smiled into her
hair, taking an inky tendril and wrapping it around his finger. "Then if
you have no interest in me, kindly explain why rumors of my curse have upset
you so?"

Mara shuddered
violently, scarcely able to reply as his massive body pressed against her back.
"I... I was afraid."

"Afraid of
me?"

She nodded, unaware that
she was listing against him. As her eyes remained closed, she had no idea that
she was literally collapsing in his arms. "Afraid of you."

Mara was cognizant of
his lips against her temple. Somehow, she was falling, falling into the curve
of his strong embrace and she had neither the desire nor the strength to resist
him. And if she had learned one thing from the very beginning of their
association, it was that Kirk Connaught had strong, warm, wonderful arms. Arms
that made her feel more protected, more cherished, than anything on this earth.

"You need never
fear me, love," his mouth was moving down her face, his hands caressing
her cheeks. "I am the last person you need dread. But you, on the other
hand..."

She was lost as his lips
roved her chin. "What... what of me?"

His mouth hovered above
her luscious lips, quivering with desire. Mara opened her eyes long enough to
meet his liquid gaze.

"You scare me to
death."

It was the truth.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mara had no idea what
Kirk meant by his strange statement. And he never gave her the chance to ask.
One moment she was gazing into his stone gray eyes, and in the next his mouth
was consuming her luscious lips with a hunger. It was the first time a man had
ever kissed her, slow and warm and insistent, and before Mara realized her
actions, small hands were weaving themselves into his hair.

He was oh so tender with
her, like a tiny fragile flower. He tasted gently, tickling her lips with his
tongue until she opened wide to his seeking warmth. Mara gasped, squirmed, and
gasped anew as his massive arms pulled her against his chest. Focused on the
new experience of his wonderful mouth, she was unaware when he lay her on the
bed, partially covering her with his enormous body.

One hand still held her
tightly as the other forged into virgin territory. Delicately, he touched the
swell of her breast, listening to her purr like a kitten. Feeling bolder, he
gently enclosed the entire breast, his kisses more passionate, more forceful,
as she responded. He released her lips, intending to taste every inch of her
beautiful face when she suddenly turned the tables on him, peppering his jaw
and cheeks with hot little kisses.

"Dear God," he
breathed, caressing the firmness of her breast as she attacked his face.
"Mara, Mara... you're a hellion more than you know, lass."

She heard him, kissing
his eyes, clinging to him with a fervor. For a sheltered young lady who had
known little of the ways between men and women, it was apparent that Kirk
brought out her animal instincts. Fingers anchored in his dark hair, she was in
the process of raining kisses across his forehead when he suddenly lowered his
head, dragging his mouth over the swell of her breasts.

The too-long surcoat was
loosening. Kirk pulled Mara away from his face, forcing her back onto the
mattress as his hands sought her bare breasts. She moaned softly as he pinched
a nipple, rolling it into a hot little bud. Consumed with the need to taste
her, to suckle the life from her pert breasts, Kirk realized through his haze
of lust that the neckline of the surcoat was too constricting for his needs.
But the moment he moved to lift her skirts, she balked.

"Nay!" she
gasped, slapping at his hands. "Not... not that!"

He frowned with concern.
"Not what, love?"

Panting with desire and
a surge of fright, she tried to squirm away from him. Kirk grasped her wrists
to prevent her from leaping off the bed.

"What is the
matter?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm. "What have I done,
Mara?"

She refused to look him
in the eye, her cheeks flushing bright. Seeing her obvious discomfort, and
fear, Kirk gently kissed her hands, hoping to ease her. Not a moment ago she
had been alive with awakening desire; now she was withdrawn and fearful. And he
would know why.

"Tell me,
lass," he whispered, straightening the neckline of her surcoat where it
drooped. "I would know what I have done to upset you so."

She struggled with
herself for a moment. Finally, the bright blue gaze lifted hesitantly.
"I... I do not want you to touch me... there."

"Where?"

She lifted an eyebrow
with as much force as she could muster. "
There."

He understood immediately.
"I wasn't going to," mostly truth, although it had been his next
target after her delicious breasts. Still clutching her wrists, he pulled her
toward him in a gentle, comforting manner. "Mara, you realize that when
men and women mate, at some point, touching is necessary. And when we
marry..."

"I never said I'd
marry you."

He acted as if he hadn't
heard her. "
When
we marry, it will be necessary for me to touch you
there in order to produce children. It's perfectly natural, lass. Why does it
frighten you so?"

Her expression was
suddenly filled with shame and she turned her face away. True to her forthright
nature, however, she made no attempt to cover the truth. No matter how
humiliating. "The soldier in the inn... he touched me there and it was painful,"
she could feel his gaze on her. "I hated every minute of it."

Kirk was quiet a moment.
"You told me that he did not take your maidenhood."

"He did not,"
she forced herself to look at him. "But his fingers...
they
touched
me."

He did not say any more.
Pulling her stiff body against him, he lay back on the soft pillows, holding
her tightly. Mara gave in to his comfort, his heat, sighing with contentment as
he gently caressed her.

"Are you
angry?" her voice was small.

"Why should I
be?" he said softly. "I understand your fear and I am sorry that you
are frightened of something that can be quite wonderful. Obviously, your first
experience was dreadful. But you must realize that it will be different with
me."

"Why?"

"Because I will be
gentle, lass. I shall take the time needed to introduce you into the world of
desire."

"But it will hurt,
will it not? My mother told me once that it is painful for a woman to lose her
virginity."

"I have heard that
it is," his voice was quiet as he turned, capturing her against his chest
and gazing down into her wonderful eyes. "In truth, I have never bedded a
virgin before. I suppose this will be a new experience for the both of
us."

She raised an eyebrow
and he caught a glimpse of her stubborn nature returning. "You speak as if
I have already agreed to this. I told you quite clearly that I did not want to
marry you."

"Would you rather
have someone else?"

"And if I
did?"

"Then I will kill
him," Kirk sounded entirely sincere. "I shall kill any man who tries
to take you from me, Mara. I swear it."

The gently-taunting air
of their conversation had turned serious. Mara raised her head, leaning on an
elbow as she studied his strong, handsome face. "You once told me to jump
from the window ledge to entertain you," she said, reaching out a timid
hand to stroke his cheek. "I told you that I hated you. And still you want
me?"

He smiled faintly.
"I think I have from the moment I first saw you. I'd never seen anything
so beautiful in my entire life."

"Then why did you
tell me to jump?"

His smile broadened.
"So I could save you and you would be forever indebted to me. Why
else?"

She matched his smile,
giggling when he enfolded her in his arms and rolled across the bed. Mara ended
up with her head hanging over the side of the mattress, quickly succumbing to
the scorching kisses Kirk was depositing on her neck.

"I still say that I
do not want to marry you," she breathed, the blood rushing to her head.
"But supposing I have a weak moment and agree, will we live here?"

He grunted, tasting her
sweet flesh. "I think not. One of my brothers can come and serve Edmund
and Johanne. You and I shall return to Ireland. You will not stay at Anchorsholme
any longer than necessary."

"Because you fear
for me?"

He stopped kissing her.
Mara raised her head, gazing into intense gray eyes. "Because I fear what
I might do if you are threatened," he sighed heavily, his gaze raking her
face. "My family has served the House of de Cleveley for three
generations, Mara. I would hate to be the link in the chain that destroyed the
standards of service my father and grandfather set."

"By killing for
me?"

He nodded faintly.
"Aye, love," he whispered. "By killing for you. By killing them
all."

                            
***

The evening feast was a
less fanciful affair than it had been the previous evening. Most of the guests
had departed, leaving the cavernous grand hall rather empty. Aside from a few
senior soldiers, the knights and their ladies, all was silent and somber as the
meal of pork and boiled vegetables was served.

Mara and Micheline sat
at the head table, a bank of smoking tallow candles burning brightly before
them. They were clad in surcoats they had brought from Haslingden, faded
garments in contrast to Johanne's brilliant scarlet frock. But there was no
humiliation in their appearance this night; proudly, they wore the old dresses.
For no amount of convincing from Kirk or the twin ladies could convince them to
wear the beautiful dresses of the dead women.

Kirk sat between Edmund
and Micheline again this night, silently consuming his meal. Micheline ate
silently as well, as did Mara. The only conversation, soft and intimate, was
between Edmund and Johanne as they tittered and whispered privately.

Kirk ignored his young
lord, casting long glances at Mara as she picked at her food. And afternoon
spent in her arms had been more than enough to convince him that he could not,
would not, live without her whether or not she agreed to his marriage proposal.
He made feeble attempts to catch her attention, clearing his throat or banging
his spoon. But she deliberately ignored him, pretending not to hear his
overtures.

He had to grin at her,
stubborn little wench. The harder he tried, the more she ignored him. Just when
he was about to throw a piece of bread at her, Johanne broke from her
conversation with Edmund and focused on pale, subdued Micheline.

"I thought you
would like to know that wedding arrangements have been made," she said,
mockingly-sweet. "The priest will arrive on the morrow from Crosby and you
and my brother shall be wed."

Micheline's cheeks
flushed. "I... I thank you for making the arrangements, my lady," she
said politely. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble for you."

Johanne smiled thinly.
"Not at all. A simple missive sent to the priest was the only undertaking.
I would expect that by noon will see you and my brother as husband and
wife."

Micheline nodded
submissively, though the entire idea shocked and sickened her.
So soon.
"If I may be of any assistance to you in the final preparations, please
let me know. I should be happy to help."

"You're the bride,
dear, you're not supposed to help," Johanne said. "To marry my
brother and spread your legs is all that is required of you."

Kirk looked to Mara as Johanne
spouted her uncouth remark and was not surprised to note her turning shades of
red. But, remarkably and with a great deal of effort, she kept her mouth shut.

Micheline, ever
lady-like, refused to dignify the remark. Self-control and poise that impressed
Kirk tremendously. "I look forward to becoming a member of the House of De
Cleveley.” It was a lie. She wished she could run far, far away and never look
back.

Edmund finished his
wine, turning to look at Micheline for the first time since their introduction.
His green gaze was bland. "Did your mother only bear two daughters?"

Micheline looked up from
her trencher, aware that her betrothed was speaking to her and wondering what
sort of belittlement she would be facing now. "Aye, my lord."

He grunted, motioning
the serving wench for more drink. "Worthless. You will bear me only sons,
is that clear?"

Micheline's mottled
cheeks deepened. "I... I can only try, my lord."

"She has no control
over the sex of the child," Kirk was looking at Edmund, his gray eyes
glittering. "We take what God gives us, male or female."

Edmund looked at him.
"But your mother had three sons, Kirk. I have heard that there are things
women can do to assure the sex of the child."

Kirk sat back in his
chair, toying with his goblet. "Like what? I would be interested to
know."

Edmund shrugged.
"By eating certain foods or rinsing their womb with herbs. I have heard of
a woman in Liverpool who makes potions to insure male offspring. I do believe I
shall contact her."

Kirk snorted into his
chalice. "Fool's tales, my lord. I have never heard of such a thing."

Edmund gaze moved to
Micheline, sitting meek and submissive and red-cheeked. "Nonetheless, for
my bride's sake the potions had better work. I have no use for a woman who can
only bear females."

"Or what?"
Mara could keep silent no longer and Kirk visibly perked. "Or you will
kill her like you have killed all the rest?"

Kirk was on his feet,
coughing loudly to cover the impact of Mara's words. "My lady is fatigued
this night," he growled through clenched teeth. Before Mara could protest,
he was literally scooping her up by the arms in his haste to remove her from Edmund’s
rage. "Allow me to escort you to your chamber."

But his liege would not
be put off so easily. Edmund leapt to his feet before Kirk could move Mara from
the table. "Hold!" he commanded. "Whereby does she spout such nonsense?"

Kirk cast Mara an
expression that suggested nothing other than complete silence from her.
"The lady strolled the grounds this morn and was told some of the local
folklore," he said evenly. "Surely nothing you have not heard before,
my lord."