The Darkland (8 page)

She craned her neck
back, gazing up at him. "Stay clear... why?"

He sighed, slowly,
lowering himself onto the bench beside her. After a moment, he collected her
small hand in his massive palm, turning it over, inspecting it.

"Because she is...
not right in the head," he murmured. "I cannot tell you more than
that. But know that she is dangerous. Already, she has a strong dislike for you
and I am concerned...."

"Concerned for what?"
Mara could barely speak as he toyed with her hand, warm sensations firing
through her small body and causing her limbs to ache.

He looked up from her
hand, staring into her bright blue eyes. Christ, she was such a lovely
creature. "Concerned that she might try to harm you somehow." When
Mara opened her mouth to question him, he shook his head firmly. "Please
trust me, lass. There are things about this place you do not understand and I
refuse to elaborate.  Suffice it to say that I want you to stay away from Johanne,
and away from Edmund if you can. Spend your time with me, or Lady Valdine and
Lady Wanda. Is this clear?"

There was something in
his eyes that suggested nothing but complete obedience. Without hesitation,
Mara nodded.

"It is," she
whispered. "But what of Micheline?"

He sighed again,
squeezing her hand tightly. "I will do what I can for her. This I
vow."

"Do
what
?"

He did not reply. Or
mayhap he couldn't reply. Mara did not know how long they sat there, hand in
hand, listening to the sentries call to one another or the occasional bark of a
dog.  The night around them was silent and still, the mold from the corridor
tickling her nose. In spite of the fact that it was cold, damp, and eerily
dark, there was no place else on earth Mara would have rather been at that
moment.

CHAPTER SIX

The snorting, the
grunting, had ceased for the moment. Deep in the folds of the moonless night, Edmund
and Johanne lay wrapped in each other’s arms, listening to the sounds of the
crackling hearth. A few hours before dawn, they would make love twice more
before the sun rose.

"She's a
witch," Johanne murmured into her brother's stale shoulder.

Almost asleep, Edmund
grunted. "Who?"

"Mara," Johanne
stretched, her frizzy blond hair hanging in her eyes. "I have decided she
must go."

Edmund opened his eyes,
dreading his sister's words. He did not want to kill another lady, not with
Kirk present. The other times, nine in all, he had sent the man out on an
errand before completing the task. Always with assistance from a knight Kirk
had come to trust, a man who Edmund paid well for his silence.

"What do you mean, Johanne?"
his question was filled with reluctance.

But his sister seemed
not to notice the cautious inflection. She raked her dirty nails down his back.
"Precisely that. Either she returns home, or I shall wish her away."

Edmund sighed.
"Then we will send her home. The sister I can do nothing about, but the
dark-haired spitfire I would agree to remove. Either that, or betroth her to
some hapless fool and be rid of her that way."

Johanne raised her head,
gazing into eyes the same size and shape as her own. "Either path makes no
difference as long as she is gone. And as for Lady Micheline, she seems to be
quiet and respectful. Mayhap she will do well as your wife."

Edmund groaned.
"Quiet and respectful and ugly," he rubbed his eyes. "I could
hardly stand to look at her at dinner for fear I would lose my appetite."

Johanne laughed softly.
"But she remained silent and unobtrusive and left us alone," she
licked his right nipple seductively. "I do not think you said a word to
her all eve."

"I did not," Edmund
shuddered when Johanne licked him again. "I find I prefer to pretend she
doesn't exist."

"But what about the
wedding?"

He groaned again. "We
shall simply get it over with, a quick ceremony and an even quicker
consummation."

Johanne slithered down
his body, wrapping her hands around his semi-flaccid manhood. "I shall
make the arrangements, then. I am sure we can have this unpleasant business out
of the way by tomorrow eve."

"Whatever you
say," he grabbed her by the hair, pulling hard and loving her gasps of
pain. "The sooner the better."

"And the
sister?"

"Betrothed to the
first man I can find. Satisfied?"

Johanne licked his
phallus, grinning. "Very much. As you shall be quite shortly, as
well."

                        
***

Mara was awakened by
Micheline's shrieks of pleasure. Rolling around in the large bed, she was
vaguely aware of the bright day, the sounds of birds singing. Even with the
brilliant light, however, the room was bitterly cold and she shivered,
snuggling beneath the covers until Micheline ripped them off her small body.

"Look, Mara!"
she cried happily. "Surcoats!"

Mara blinked the sleep
from her eyes, growling and trying to regain her lost blankets. But Micheline
was thrusting something in her face, a lovely shade of sapphire, and Mara
blinked her eyes again at the fabric came into focus.

"Where did this
come from?" her voice was hoarse with morning sleep.

It was then that she
noticed Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda lingering respectfully at the edge of the
bed. Mara sat up, staring at them; it was like looking at a mirror image.

"Sir Kirk said..."

"... that you could
use these. They have..."

"... been left
behind by lady visitors and he thought..."

"... they would
suit you quite nicely."

Mara rubbed her eyes,
unsure if she was capable of dealing with Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda this
early in the morning. But the women had brought clothing, beautiful clothing,
and Mara found herself willing to tolerate their strange presence. Rising from
the bed, she fingered a yellow silk lying on the edge of the mattress.

"It's
magnificent," she said, noting the plunging neckline. After a moment, she
looked at the twins. "Sir Kirk sent you with these?"

They nodded in unison
and Lady Valdine moved forward; it was the first time Mara had seen one of the
twins move independently.

"Now that you are
related to Baron Bowland, he suggested..."

"...that these fine
surcoats would enhance your wardrobe..."

"...until we could
make you some new garments. Do they..."

"...please
you?"

"Yes, of
course," Mara nodded as Lady Valdine held up the yellow surcoat, holding
up to Mara's shoulders and noting the length.

"It needs to
be..."

"...shortened a few
inches. She's such a tiny..."

"...thing.
So..."

"...beautiful.
So..."

"...delicate."

Lady Wanda was standing
several feet from Lady Valdine and still, they spoke in one sentence. But their
expressions and gestures were kind and in spite of the oddity, Mara realized
she was willing to tolerate them. They were practically the only compassionate
faces she had encountered since arriving at Anchorsholme and she could hardly
resist their care.

As Lady Valdine fussed
over Mara, Lady Wanda went to stand beside Micheline as she examined a lovely
purple brocade. Micheline insisted on trying it on and immediately removed her
nightshift as Mara moved from the yellow silk to a clear red satin. Never in
their lives had they had the opportunity to wear such lovely garments and their
excitement was palpable. Moreover, there were armloads of surcoats and as Mara
perused the pile next to the door, she turned to Lady Valdine curiously.

"You mentioned that
these dresses were left by lady visitors," she said. "Why did they
leave them behind?"

Lady Valdine's normally
blank expression seemed to grow even more wide-eyed. "They... they
simply..."

"...did," Lady
Wanda had heard the question. "Sometimes we are host to such..."

"...wealthy guests
that they never miss..."

"...a trunk or two
left behind."

Mara did not think their
weak explanation made much sense, but she remained silent on the matter. And
the fact that her question seemed to have greatly disturbed the twins also
deterred further inquisition. Catching sight of Micheline as the woman gasped
with delight at the feel of the purple surcoat embracing her thin body, she
decided that it did not matter where the surcoats came from. It had been a long
time since she had seen her sister so happy.

"Then I must thank
Sir Kirk for his thoughtfulness," she said, her attention returning to the
clear red satin surcoat lying across the bed. "And I believe I shall wear
the red surcoat to accomplish this."

"And you shall, my
lady. After..."

"... we mend the
length."

Mara left the pile by
the door, collecting the red dress from the mussed pile of blankets. Turning to
the twins, she held it up before her.

"The length is fine
for the moment," she tossed the garment back to the bed and began removing
her shift. "For now, you will help my sister. She is to be the future
baroness, after all. 'Tis more important that she is presentable. I can
wait."

The three of them turned
to watch Micheline dance past them, twirling her new purple surcoat. Mara
smiled as her sister waltzed with an imaginary lover to a tune none of them
could hear. A delightful dance in the arms of a man who thought her beautiful
as opposed to plain, fascinating as opposed to average.

 The more Mara watched,
the more she realized Kirk was responsible for Micheline's dose of happiness;
he had promised to aid Mara in her defense of Micheline. Although he had not
been able to help her yesterday in the face of Edmund’s ignorance, he was
helping her now by making amends for her rough introduction to Anchorsholme
Castle. Bringing hope and beauty to a girl who had known little of both.

"Take care of
Micheline, ladies," Mara said, tossing the red satin over her head and
thinking warm thoughts of a man she was once sworn to hate. "I have a
knight to thank."

                              
***

The double baileys of Anchorsholme
were dusty, smelly pools of men and animals. The sky was amazingly clear this
day, the weak sun bright on the fields below. Dressed in the beautiful red surcoat
that accentuated her feminine curves, Mara picked her way among the crowd in
search of Kirk. The servants inside the keep had been unable to tell her where
he had gone on this fine morning; therefore, she determined to find him
herself.

She was almost run over
near the stables by a dancing charger. Frightened, but characteristically
hostile, she shook her fist at the soldier and dashed off toward the kitchen
yard. It never occurred to her to ask one of the many men-at-arms what they
knew of Kirk's location, but whether it was because she was too prideful or
intimidated by their grizzled appearance was unknown.

The sun was drying the
rain from the earth, creating dust and clouds of insects as she made her way to
the kitchens. The smell of urine was sharp in her nostrils but she paid little
heed to the stench, her focus on finding Kirk. Once inside the small enclosure
that housed the buttery, the butcher's block, and other kitchen necessities,
she saw quite clearly that Kirk wasn't in the area and, frustrated, turned to
leave. Returning the way she had come, she was almost out of the yard when she
noticed movement from the corner of her eye.

It was movement in the
cool shadows and Mara could hear a good deal of whispering. Peering closer, she
noticed several pairs of eyes stared back at her. Putting her hand up to shield
the sun, four dirty children abruptly came into focus.

Mara frowned. "What
are you doing in there? Hiding?"

One of the children, a
boy a year or so younger than herself, emerged from the dampness. He was a bit
taller than she was and they gazed at each other curiously beneath the bright
blue sky.

"What are
you
doing?" the boy countered. "Have you lost something?"

Mara shook her head.
"I am looking for someone. I do not suppose you know where I could find
Kirk?"

The boy's freckled nose
twitched. "Kirk the Giant?"

Mara scowled. "You
will not call him that!"

The boy shrugged,
scratching his dirty blond head. "'Tis the truth. He's a giant."

Mara still did not like
the term, even if the lad was correct. She eyed the boy, glancing to his three
companions still in the shadows. "What's your name?"

"Robert," the
boy said, gesturing to the gaggle of children behind him. "Those are my
kin; Fiona, Gilly, and George."

"Do you work in the
kitchens?"

Robert nodded; for a peasant
youth, he seemed rather well-spoken. "Our mam assists the cook." He
looked Mara up and down. "You do not sound like another Irish lady."

Mara's brow furrowed
with puzzlement. "I am not. My sister is going to marry Lord Edmund."

Robert's eyes widened.
He turned to look at his sisters and brother, brave enough to emerge from the
cool recesses now that their brother had engaged the lady in conversation. Four
pairs of astonished eyes gazed back at Mara.

"Why do you look
like that?" she demanded.

The children looked to
each other again, dirty youths with similar coloring and features. Finally,
Robert looked at Mara.

"Is your sister
forced to do this?"

"Our father
betrothed her," she said, unsure how to answer the question. "Now,
you will tell me why you look so distressed."

Robert gazed at her a
moment, his intelligent eyes studying her striking features. "What's your
name, lady?"

"Mara."

"Are you hungry,
Lady Mara?"

"I ate not an hour
ago but... aye, I suppose I could eat."

Robert motioned her with
him. "Then come along," he said as his siblings collected around Mara
in an eager group. "Mam will feed us."

Surrounded by grinning
children, Mara had no choice but to accept.

***

Robert's mother was a
round woman who gave the children as much food as they could carry. Munching on
a wedge of tart white cheese, Mara followed the group from the kitchen yard and
through a small tunnel carved into the outer wall. Emerging into the knee-high
grass of the surrounding fields, the five of them tramped down a small hill and
into a grove of gnarled oak.