The Darkland (17 page)

Corwin struggled with
his control. "Your death is what will happen if you leave. Kirk will
return in two days and we must wait for him. Until that time, you must stay
here and remain completely silent. No one must know of your presence." He
suddenly grabbed her by the arms, shouting. "Tell me you understand what I
have told you!"

Micheline burst into
terrified tears. "I do," she sobbed. "Did Edmund... is
he...?"

Corwin did not answer.
Releasing the dazed woman, he stumbled from the chamber and slammed the door.
Micheline heard the rusty bolt as it slid across the panel, locking her in. His
footfalls faded down the stairs, leaving Micheline confused and scared.

Looking about the
cobwebs and broken furniture of her new home, she covered her face and wept.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The rain had returned by
the time evening fell. Quernmore Castle was only a few more hours, but as the
weather worsened, Kirk decided to seek shelter for the night. With Mara wrapped
up in her worn cloak, snoring softly in his arms, he ordered his men to find
shelter in a grove of oak trees.

There was a small
village in the distance, the smoke from cooking fires choking the damp air.
Leaving Niles in charge of the camp, Kirk spurred his charger in the direction
of the settlement.

The few merchants along
the main avenue had closed shop for the night. The massive destrier plodded
along the muddied street, his hooves echoing off the small homes as Kirk went
in search of proper shelter for Mara.  She had shivered and sneezed all
afternoon and he was unwilling to allow her to spend the night in the freezing
rain.

On the opposite side of
the berg sat a small tavern, a warm light emitting from a partially-open door.
Kirk reined his charger around the side of the establishment, providing the
animal with shelter from the rain. There was a pool of water collecting from
the rain gutters and the animal drank noisily as Kirk gently roused Mara.

"Mara," he
murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek. "Wake up,
lass."

She stirred, but mostly
she ignored him. Sighing, he managed to dismount with her still in his arms. As
the rain pounded and the wind began to whip up, he walked to the front of the
inn and opened the door with his boot. Hit in the face by a blast of warm,
stale air, he ducked beneath the doorjamb.

There were several
people enjoying their ale and food, hardly glancing up when the massive man
with the lady in his arms entered. The innkeeper looked up from behind his bar,
wiping his hands on his stained tunic.

"What'll it be,
m'lord?"

Kirk shifted Mara, who
was beginning to come around. "A room on this hellish night."

The innkeeper nodded,
shoving a nearby serving wench on the arm to get her moving. "Verenia'll
show ye a room," he said, eyeing Kirk more closely now that Mara seemed to
be showing signs of life. "Food for ye, then? A bath for yer lady?"

Before Kirk could
answer, Mara suddenly raised her head and scowled viciously. "Good Lord,
no food!" she put her hands to her head, groaning. "My head is
threatening to explode. Why is this damnable room spinning?"

Kirk couldn't help but
grin. He wasn't feeling particularly well, either, but he knew that in their
current state, food would be the best thing for them both.

"Send it to my
room," he told the innkeeper.

The man nodded,
listening to Mara moan and grumble as Kirk carried her down a short corridor,
following the direction of the serving wench. Snapping his fingers to his
toothless wife, the woman began to serve up the knight's supper as ordered.

The chamber provided was
small. Kirk could hardly move about as he set Mara to unsteady feet, glancing
around their dismal surroundings. But Mara ignored the state of the room,
smelling of sweat and dirt, as the serving wench turned back the bed and quit
the room. Finally alone, Mara sat down on the lumpy bed and fell backward.

"My head," she
groaned softly. "It hurts so!"

Kirk unlatched his helm,
removing it with a grunt of relief. "Let this be your lesson against the
evils of whisky."

The bright blue eyes
were closed against the rocking room. After a moment, she peeped open a lid.
"It was medicine," she insisted softly. The other eye opened and she
focused on him as he went to work removing his armor. "Where are we?"

He did not look up as he
dislodged his gauntlets, his chaffing breastplate. "At an inn," he
cocked an eyebrow, meeting her gaze. "I seem to remember a certain young
lady telling me that sleeping on the damp grass like a hardened soldier was
unacceptable."

She continued to gaze at
him as the plate protection came off piece by piece, carefully set aside
against the wall to drain. Slowly, she sat up, gripping the bed when the room
swayed. Kirk pretended to ignore her as she unfastened her worn cloak, laying
it by the small hearth. He finished removing his mail hauberk when he noticed
she was staring at her shoes.

"What's the
matter?"

She kicked off the shoes
in response, setting them by the cloak. As Kirk watched, she reached up her
skirt and fumbled about, coming away with two ribbon garters. As he watched
with increasing interest, she proceeded to peel off her woolen stockings.

They were wet and she
lay them carefully on the warm stone. They were also full of holes. Kirk
continued to watch her, distractedly removing his damp tunic, as she
meticulously flattened out the wool so that it would dry better.

"I did not realize
you had gotten wet," he said softly. "Wrap yourself in the coverlet
if you are chilled."

She shook her head, her
bare feet sticking out from beneath her surcoat as she knelt beside the fire.
"I am used to the wet and the cold."

She had made the
statement without a hint of self-pity. Simply stating a fact. Kirk moved up
behind her, tearing his eyes away from her long enough to glance at the
saturated cloak, her worn shoes. Scratching his dark head, he fingered the
cloak.

"I shall have to
see about purchasing you some new clothes," he said. "Bright colors,
I think. Your coloring is far too striking for unspectacular shades."

He seemed rather
nonchalant in his statement, almost normal in fact. As if they hadn't spent a
day and a night in violent conflict. As Mara glanced up to reply, she noticed
that he had removed his tunic.

 Suddenly, it was very
warm in the little room. Mara had never seen a man's naked chest before, tanned
skin as it covered bulging muscles and hair that matted his chest and trailed
down his abdomen. She couldn't help but stare at his trim belly and arms that
were as large as oak branches. In fact, she was so involved in her observations
of Kirk's magnificent form that she had yet to notice his amused smile.

"What's the matter,
lass?" his voice was soft. "Have you never seen a man before?"

Her cheeks flushed a
brilliant red and she looked away, fumbling with her hose once again.
"You... you have removed nearly all of your clothing," she stammered.
"I was merely... what I mean to say is that... Oh!"

She grunted in
frustration, angry that he had caught her staring at him and saw fit to laugh
at her innocence. Kirk continued to chuckle.

"What was I
supposed to do? Leave the wet garments on?" he gestured at her. "You
yourself treated me to a titillating show when you removed your hose as if I
was not in the room."

Her gaze was fixed on
the hearth, her cheeks glowing like the white-hot embers. "I...I simply
wasn't thinking," she said. "I am not used to having men about. Only
Micheline."

He snorted. "No
more, lass. Had you put your hands up your skirt in Niles' company, the man
would have attacked you in a fit of lust and I would have been forced to kill
him."

She pursed her lips with
embarrassment, defiance. "I would have never done such a thing in front of
him. I simply did not think, I tell you. It's nothing to laugh over!"

The more agitated she
became, the more he snorted. "Aye, it is. You are more comfortable with me
than you care to admit."

She rose abruptly,
moving to the large bed and throwing herself on the coverlet. Annoyed with
Kirk, she was in the process of wrapping her cold feet in the smelly warmth of
the blankets when Kirk leaned over the bed, collecting both sides of the
coverlet and winding them around her. Before Mara could protest, he had her
snuggly swaddled in the linens.

"There," he
stood back, hands on his hips. "Is that better?"

Mara lifted a black
eyebrow. Christ, how he knew that expression. "If I do not suffocate
first, I suppose it is."

A faint smile continued
to play on his lips as he turned away, laying his tunic next to her hose.
Outside, the rain continued to beat and the wind to howl, but the stenchy
little room was remarkably cozy. And in spite of her aching head and
irritation, Mara realized she was rather comfortable. And hungry.

But she was more
interested in watching Kirk at the moment. On his haunches next to the fire,
she watched his naked back as he stoked the hearth, coaxing it into a blaze.
She could see every muscle as it moved beneath the tanned skin, shoulders so
broad that they were wider than a door. As the warmth of the room and blankets
saturated her, the harsh emotions, the churning of her stomach, seemed to fade.

"Kirk?"

He turned around, his
face illuminated by the glowing fire. "Hmm?"

"Have you realized
that Micheline is alone at Anchorsholme?"

He shook his head.
"She is not alone. I left Corwin behind to see to her."

Mara did not seem
particularly comforted by his answer but remained silent. He returned his
attention to the fire when she spoke again, softly.

"Why am I
here?"

He gazed at her a
moment, setting the poker aside. "Because it is raining."

"Nay," she
shook her head. "Why am I going to Quernmore? Am I to be banished
there?"

His brow furrowed as he
rose. "Banished? Who told you such nonsense?"

"No one," she
watched him move for the bed, his weight sinking the mattress dangerously as he
sat. "Niles said that Lord Edmund ordered me to travel to Quernmore, but
he gave no reason. Do you know why?"

Kirk scratched his head,
averting his gaze. "Most likely because I told him I was going to take you
with me."

She frowned. "
You
wanted to take me with you? Why?"

The scratching hand dropped
to his side. "Foremost, because I was afraid of what would happen if I
left you alone, without my guidance. I thought a few days away from the
situation would settle your emotions. When I broached the subject with Edmund
last night, he heartily agreed.  It seems that he wants you away from Anchorsholme
as well, although I cannot understand why."

The last few words were
delivered sarcastically. Mara's frown deepened and she unwound herself from the
covers. "Settle my emotions? The need to protect my sister from her
deviant husband will never be settled!"

Kirk did not want
another argument on his hands, not when the peace between them was new and
easily damaged. "We have been through this, Mara. This is Micheline's
marriage and she does not want any interference, from you or from me."

Mara was working herself
into a righteous rage when she saw the expression on his face; it was somewhat
saddened. "Did she tell you this?" she asked.

He nodded, his
stone-gray eyes gazing into the fire. "She is correct. It is her marriage
and if there is to be any respect at all, she must be the one to establish it.
As much as I am reluctant to obey her wishes, I will not always be around to
make sure Edmund treats her well. Misha must do that for herself, I am
afraid."

Mara stared at him,
sensing his frustration. He had wanted to help Micheline, but her sister had
firmly declined his offer. And she could see that the rejection bothered him
deeply.

"You called her
Misha?" she reached out, touching his arm.

Kirk tore his gaze away
from the hearth, finding himself swallowed whole by brilliant blue eyes.
"I have heard you address her as such. 'Tis an endearing term of affection
between family."

Mara's cheeks flamed
again, the heat from his naked arm sending a blaze of excitement through her
body. "But you are not family."

"Not yet."

She raised an eyebrow.
"I thought you were reluctant to reconsider your marriage proposal."

He couldn't have removed
his gaze from her if he had tried. He did not want to try; the magnetism
between them was more powerful, more intense, than he had ever known it to be.
"There was truly nothing to reconsider, lass," he sighed; it was
useless to resist the obvious. "God help me, I cannot stay away from you,
not even if my common sense tells me otherwise."

She smiled radiantly.
Great hands suddenly came up and the bed shifted heavily as he pulled her
against him, his lips devouring her tender mouth. Mara gasped with delight,
feeling his overwhelming warmth envelope her, melting her completely. All of
the heartache of the past two days was forgotten as his seeking lips told her
how eager he was to make all between them well again.

"Kirk, Kirk,"
she moaned, her hands in his hair as his teeth nibbled on her jaw. "I am
so glad you have not abandoned me. I was afraid I had driven you away."

"Never," his
voice was muffled against her flesh. "The more you abuse me, the more I
want you."

She giggled, quickly
turning to sighs of pleasure as he devoured her neck. "You're insane to
think so," she whispered. "But know... know I truly never meant to
hurt you."