Authors: Kathryn le Veque
Micheline laughed
softly, eased by Kirk's gentle manner. "Paris will not be necessary, I
think. Mayhap it is best if I simply get this over with."
Mara couldn't stand it;
she turned away, closing her eyes against the injustice about to happen.
"Connaught, if you have any sympathy at all, you will take her back to our
chamber and bolt the door,” she hissed.
Kirk gazed at her dark
head. "Lord Edmund is her husband, Lady Mara. He has every right to his
bride." Putting Micheline's hand on his elbow, he smiled encouragingly as
he led her away. "Have you ever been to Paris, my lady?"
Mara listened to their
conversation as they neared the stairs, her heart shattering for her sister's
plight. She could only imagine the horrors Micheline would be going through in
the next few hours. And Kirk was speaking so gently to her, as if nothing in
the world was awry. She adored and hated him all the more for it.
She heard the
conversation fade as they mounted the stairs. She sat in the vacant hall for
some time after that, pondering the misery the future had brought. For both of
them. When Kirk did not return after a nominal amount of time, she rose and
went into the kitchens in search of her four little friends. Wondering, and
hoping, if they could distract her from her sorrows.
CHAPTER EIGHT
By the time Kirk reached
Edmund’s chamber with a composed Micheline on his arm, thoughts of Mara were
faded and he was more reluctant than ever to subject the woman to her husband's
callous attentions. He felt as if he was leading her into the lion's den. But
he had no choice in the matter, a sense of duty that did not falter even as he
knocked on the door and Johanne answered.
Micheline seemed
comforted by the fact that Johanne was present; mayhap she believed there was
safety in numbers. Whatever the case, she gave Kirk a brave smile and entered
the room with her customary dignity. Kirk watched, feeling sickened, wishing he
could warn her of the appalling reality she was about to face. But his sense of
duty prevented him from doing so. Still, it did not stop him from assuring her
he would be right outside the door should she require him.
A statement that seemed
to anger Edmund. Kirk's strange loyalty to the le Bec sisters was something he
had not anticipated, nor desired, considering he needed the man now more than
ever. The Irish were preparing to rebel and he needed his captain's strength
and military wisdom if he were going to protect his holdings; clearly, the last
thing he wanted was a souring relationship.
Although he did not want
to argue with the man he admired above all else, the fact remained that Kirk
was sworn to obey him and not the other way around. But the arrival of
Micheline and Mara le Bec was creating division between him and his mighty
captain, an uncomfortable situation that Edmund was struggling to come to terms
with. A division that seemed to be growing wider by the moment and Edmund was
desperate to stop the rift.
A rift that was apparent
as Micheline entered the bridal chamber, accompanied by her new sister-in-law,
and Edmund and Kirk locked gazes. Edmund had no idea what to say to the
obviously displeased knight, waiting for him to shut the door, but instead Kirk
beckoned him with a crooked finger.
Edmund labored to remain
neutral of expression as he graciously honored the request. Quietly, Kirk
pulled him into the corridor where their conversation could not be heard.
"Lady Johanne will
be leaving, I trust?" Kirk asked.
Edmund nodded.
"After she prepares my bride. Truly, Kirk, this is of no concern to you.
She is my wife, after all."
Kirk's gaze was cold. He
had always disengaged himself with Edmund’s personal habits but found at this
moment he could not. He had promised Mara that he would protect her sister and
felt strongly, even above his oath of fealty to Edmund, that he enforce his
promise. Especially when he knew what Edmund was capable of.
"That may be, Lord Edmund,"
his voice was a growl. "But Lady Micheline is a fine and dignified woman
and I shall be most displeased if I discover the marriage bed does not meet
with her expectations."
Edmund tried not to
appear intimidated. "And what does that mean?"
Kirk's jaw ticked,
dangerously close to insubordination. "I believe you already know,"
he moved to the opposite side of the corridor, assuming his post at a discreet
distance. "Congratulations on your marriage, my lord. May you be truly
blessed."
Edmund stared at him;
thinly veiled threats one moment, best wishes the next. But his apprehension
quickly turned to rage and he whirled about, slamming the door to his chamber
hard enough to rattle the walls.
Kirk continued to stare
at the door, wondering if his intimidation would do any good for Micheline's
sake. Wondering, upon reflection, if Edmund would do unspeakable things to the
woman simply to show his captain who was truly in charge of Anchorsholme Castle.
A battle of wills had begun, the lines of conflict drawn, and Kirk knew there
could only be one winner.
And it would not be Edmund.
***
Mara was trying
desperately not to think of her sister's plight as she strolled the kitchen
yard, searching for the quartet of dirty children. The more she walked,
however, the more difficult it became for her to forget what was happening.
Micheline had married a fiend, Kirk had decided she was indeed a hellion, and
the world in general was looking rather dismal.
Dismal and depressing
until four familiar faces suddenly appeared out of the buttery. The younger
children shrieked and danced around Mara, delighted to see her, while Robert
greeted her with a dignified bow. He had seen the knights offer the gesture to
fine young ladies and mimicked their manners perfectly.
"Heard there was a
marriage this morning," he said. "Was it your sister?"
Mara nodded, he smile
fading. "She had no choice, Robert. But Kirk has promised to protect
her."
Robert shook his head
sadly. "He canna. Not if Edmund wants to kill her. Nothing can protect
her. Or you."
Mara stiffened, turning
away. "I can protect myself." In the distance, Niles caught her
attention, waving at her as his charger was brought around. She waved back,
shading her eyes against the bright sun. "He's dressed in full armor. I
wonder where he's going?"
Robert followed her
gaze. "To hell, most likely."
Mara turned to him
sharply. "Why do you say that?"
The lad cocked an
eyebrow. "Because he's evil, like Edmund."
"How do you
know?"
"Everyone
knows."
"Knows
what
?"
Robert looked around to
make sure no one was listening. Moving close to Mara, she tried not to shy away
from his strong stench. "They say that Niles helps Edmund murder the young
ladies," he said quietly. "You should stay away from him."
Mara's eyes widened.
"He does? Why did not you tell me this yesterday?"
"Would you have
believed me?"
Mara continued to stare
at him, shaking her head after a moment. "You must be mistaken, Robert.
He's a fine knight and a kind man. Kirk trusts him implicitly."
"He blinds Kirk to
the truth. He has a dark, dark soul."
Sighing heavily, Mara
put her hands on her hips. "Is that all you do, spout words of doom and
gloom? Yesterday, you told me stories of the Darkland and today, you weave
tales of Niles' dark soul. Is there anything else so terrible around
here?"
"I have lived at Anchorsholme
a long time, Lady Mara," Robert said, an odd wisdom flickering in his
eyes. "Sometimes we servants know more than the lord. Or the Master."
"You mean
Kirk?"
The lad nodded, hushing
his sister impatiently when she tugged on his sleeve. "Fiona found a
litter of fox pups yesterday. She wants you to come and see them."
Distracted from stories
of Niles, Mara found herself gazing at the thin young girl, perhaps seven years
of age. Her eyes were a pale blue, the same color as Micheline's, and Mara
suddenly found herself lamenting her sister's situation all over again. Her
depression threatened, even as Fiona politely begged her to come and see the
pups, and Mara forced herself to put her fears aside for the moment.
After all, she had come
to the kitchen yards in search of distraction. Now that she had been provided
with four lively distractions, she realized she might as well allow the
diversion to swallow her. If not, surely she would make herself ill with
thoughts of Micheline. And of Kirk.
Sighing, she took
Fiona's offered hand and permitted the giggling girl to lead her from the
shielding walls of Anchorsholme. Flanked by her escorts, the soothing bramble
of Lancashire served to ease her cares for the moment. Away from the turmoil,
the anguish, of the Darkland.
***
If he was any judge of
time, Kirk had been standing guard outside of Edmund’s chamber for a little
more than an hour. In that time, he had heard no sound whatsoever coming from
the bridal bed and he was increasingly curious as to what was transpiring. Johanne
had yet to leave the chamber, as Edmund had promised, and Kirk seriously
wondered if all was proceeding smoothly.
He soon received his
answer. When the door finally opened, he was not surprised to see Johanne
emerge. But he was terribly surprised to see Edmund on her heels, closing the
door behind them. Puzzled, Kirk moved forward to inquire if everything was all
right when Edmund looked him in the eye, his expression uncharacteristically
hard.
"I would assume the
escort is ready to ride to Quernmore Castle on the morrow?" he asked.
Off-guard, Kirk slowly
lifted an eyebrow. "As we discussed this morning, Niles is in charge and I
am sure the escort is set. Is... is everything well, my lord?"
Edmund was decidedly
defensive. "That is none of your concern, Kirk. My sister and I are going
for a stroll about the grounds and my wife, when she is recovered, shall join
us for the nooning meal."
Kirk did not like the
emotions he was sensing, hard and careless and defiant. "Is Micheline all
right?"
Edmund paused a moment
before answering, his dull green eyes intense. "Listen to me well,
Connaught. What transpires in the bedchamber between my wife and me is none of
your concern. If you try to interfere, I shall have you clapped in irons for
insubordination. And if you still insist on continuing this role of protector
for Lady Micheline, then I will have no choice but to send you back to your
father. He has other sons who will serve me quite well in your stead."
Kirk remained calm. He
knew that Edmund relied on him too strongly to carry out his threat.
"Steven is crippled and Drew is still a boy. There is no one in England or
Ireland who would serve you with as much strength and devotion as I have,"
he paused, surprised that Edmund’s expression remained firm. "If you
believe I am interfering, then I apologize. It was not my intent. My intent was
simply to make sure the lady was treated with the respect deserving Baroness
Bowland."
Edmund studied him a
moment. Then, he cocked his head as if a thought suddenly occurred to him.
"Are you in love with her, Kirk?"
"Nay."
"Then why do you
insist on protecting her?"
"Because she needs
protecting."
"From me?"
Kirk stared at him a
moment. Then, he smiled humorlessly. "Most of all."
It wasn't an insult,
simply the truth. Edmund continued to gaze at the man a moment longer before
turning away, moving quickly down the hall. Johanne skipped after him and Kirk
watched the pair until they disappeared from view. Then, his attention turned
to the closed door. He couldn't help but open it.
The room was dark. The
oilcloths remained secured over the lancet windows and the hearth was dark and
sooty. Kirk paused a moment as his eyes grew accustom to the dim light,
noticing a slight figure seated on the edge of the bed. Puzzled, not to mention
concerned, he moved for the heavy window dressings.
"My lady," he
said. "Allow me to open the..."
"Nay,"
Micheline's voice was loud and dull.
Kirk paused in the
middle of the room, looking at the woman as she sat motionless. Her eyes were
distant, her back straight and proud. Kirk could sense a terrible sorrow.
"Misha," he
said softly. "Are you well, lass?"
She blinked. Then, she
looked as if the question confused her. "Is this what it will always be
like?"
"Will what be
like?"
She turned to him, then.
"My marriage. Is this is what it is meant to be?"
He shook his head,
unsure of the question. Slowly, he lowered himself into an oaken chair next to
the bed. "I do not understand you, lass. What do you mean?"
Micheline stared at him
and he could see the tears coming. Closing her eyes, as if she could hardly
stand to recall the events of the past hour, she turned away from him in soft
sobs.
"My dear God...,"
she gasped.
Kirk swallowed.
"What happened, Misha? Can you tell me?"
She shook her head, her
entire body trembling. "I... I cannot," she whispered. "It is
too... too...."
"Did he hurt
you?"
She did not reply for a
moment. "There was supposed to be pain."
Kirk was struggling to
help her without squeezing the truth free. It wasn't any of his business, yet,
he was eager to know. Almost frantic. "That's not what I mean, lass. Other
than the obvious, did he hurt you?"
She remained silent,
sobbing into her hands. Kirk was preparing to ask again when her voice, muffled
and faint, suddenly filled the room. "He made me... watch."
He gazed at her,
laboring to maintain his composure as a creeping sense of dread took hold.
"What did he make you watch?"
She wept painfully,
believing that the mere words describing her torment would surely make her
vomit.
"He... he and Johanne,”
she whispered. “He made me watch them, together, and told me to learn well from
their actions. He expects the same from me."