Chapter 19
Darkness came, and Mellyora remained upon the hilltop where her father’s body had been interred.
He’d been buried with one of his longboats and his weapons, but she knew where he lay himself, in a wooden coffin carved by the finest of his countrymen, old Oginwald, who still lived in a cottage down the hill.
The Celtic cross she leaned against marked his actual burial site.
She thought that she might feel closer to him here, that she might be able to close her eyes and go back to a time before he died, when it had seemed that the world would always be hers to command and she would never, never have to feel this awful hurt and jealousy.
But even as dusk came, she couldn’t seem to bring her father’s memory as close as she wanted.
He had been huge, golden, red-bearded; his laughter had run in the hall, he’d changed languages twice in every sentence, and he had loved to move among the people.
His battle tactics had not been so trained as Waryk’s, he had called upon distant friends when serving the king, and he had sat here often, as she sat now, high upon this hill, and stared out to the sea.
He’d loved the sea, but he’d loved Scotland more.
He had seen this land through her mother’s eyes, and he’d still talked about her mother until the day he died.
To him, her mother and the sea had become one, ever fathomless, ever beautiful, offering storms, offering peace, never still, always changing, always fascinating.
Mellyora rested her head upon her arms, closing her eyes. Adin had seen the world that he’d wanted, and he’d made it his own. She’d always believed that she could forge her own life as he had done. But the king had taken that.
She felt the thunder of Mercury’s hooves against the ground long before she saw the horse. She stood, surprised and somewhat unnerved that he had come for her; she had not expected him to do so.
He reined in on Mercury across the expanse of the burial ground, and stood, looking at her for a long moment.
Then he nudged the horse and walked him slowly to where she stood.
She didn’t move, but waited. He stared down at her, and she wondered if he meant to be as imposing as he was atop the warhorse.
To counter the way he towered above her, she reached out, patting Mercury’s nose.
The horse was loyal to his master, but for all the bloodshed the animal had seen, he was an affectionate horse.
He responded to her touch as she moved her palm over the softness of his muzzle.
“So here you are. Among the dead again.”
She looked up sharply. “I came here often long before my father died. It is usually a pretty and peaceful place to come.”
“Aye, as I said, among the dead.”
“They are sometimes far more agreeable than the living.”
“Because they can’t argue with you? Ah, but then, do you think that great Adin will rise up, return to run the wicked from his land?”
“It’s quite a pity that he can’t.”
“Alas, most unlikely. It’s late, it’s dark, and Adin is gone, and you have guests in your hall, milady.”
“My hall? But I’ve been told that it’s your hall.”
He reached a hand toward her. “Come up.”
She backed away. “I think not.”
“Let’s not do this, milady.”
“Let’s. You’re the great laird, the mighty hero—I was expendable in it all.
Sir Percy came to see you with news regarding the doom about to befall your very good friend.
Go and discuss your gallant rescue with him.
If I’m not there, you’ll need not take the least care with what is said.
Sir Percy had tried so hard not to state the truth of why he has come.
He will have a far more pleasant evening without me. ”
“I leave tomorrow, and you are coming back with me.”
A strange ache twisted in her stomach. “Tomorrow? You leave tomorrow. And I find out here, now. As I see it, sir, you are gone now. Leave me alone, and have Blue Isle to yourself before you leave it on your great errand of mercy.”
“Mellyora, you fought me for this isle, and you married me for this isle. Alas, I would not be so cruel to forget that this is your isle. You’re the lady here—”
“Aye, fine. And when you’re gone, I’ll tend to domestics, Laird Lion. I know that you can suffice magnificently on your own. You are, after all, the king’s great champion. My father, the Viking, managed on his own for many years.”
“Ah, yes! Your father. The great man.”
“My father, aye, he was a great man, he served the king, but he didn’t bow so low to the floor that he could no longer see anything other than the dirt!”
“Mellyora, I’m sorry for your father’s death, but I am weary of hearing of his greatness with every move I make.”
“My father kept peace here, every move he made—”
“You think I should be more like your father? Kinder, more gentle, make every move as he made it?”
“You refuse to understand what I’m saying.”
“Damn you, lady, if you want me acting like your father, you shall have it.”
She started, backing away as he dismounted with determined anger, striding toward her. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing. My father was not a tyrant—”
“A tyrant. No?” Waryk demanded, striding toward her until she was backed against the large stone Celtic cross that bore her father’s name.
“Dear wife, perhaps not—when you knew him. That was after he had come here, seized this land, then married your mother and made his peace with David.” He set a hand upon the stone, leaning toward her.
“Adin was not always gentle in all things. He came here in a dragon-prowed longboat, the son of a jarl, come out a-Viking. And he raided this place, laid it low, and took your mother, and I’m delighted things went so well for them both, and he was blessed, surely, to have a child with his lady to so adore him, but my love, he came here just as Alexander came across Europe, he came, he saw, he conquered—”
“That’s history as you heard it—”
“That’s history as it happened!”
“You weren’t here!”
“And neither were you. In the flesh, of course. I’ve heard you were conceived during their very first encounter.”
“You’ve heard!” she cried. “So it is truth! Well, I’d heard that you were a Norman, an English upstart, grabbing up whatever crumbs you could gather from the Scottish king’s floor! I’ve heard this and so, indeed, it must be true.”
“Shall we stop now, milady?” he inquired tightly.
“Stop? I didn’t begin this fight. I came to this place to be alone. You intruded.”
“I came to bring you home, milady. It’s growing dark, and we’ve a guest who awaits, not to mention our own household.”
“I’m sorry. You so often accuse me of games. This is one I cannot play. If you’re going to your mistress, sir, don’t expect to visit first with your wife. Eleanora is Norman, I understand, and I’m sure you have much in common.”
He smiled slowly. “I’ve many different strains in my blood, so I’ve been told. Viking through both the Scottish—and the Norman. You want a man like your father, milady? Let me oblige. I’m terribly sorry, I must be disappointing you so, I have to change, I have to be the man you want me to be.”
“No!” she cried, startled as he reached for her. She tried to dodge around the Celtic cross, but he came after her relentlessly, his features grim.
“Waryk …”
He caught her arms, drew her hard against him. It was as it had been at the river; he cast her impatiently over his shoulder and strode back toward Mercury while she struggled to rise and speak some sense to him.
“Waryk, I swear, I never saw my father treat my mother so—”
“And did you ever see your mother rude to the guests in her hall, or refuse to take her place at the table, especially with a guest in residence?”
“Aye, she missed meals! When she was ill—”
“You’re not ill.”
“I’m terribly ill. You’ve made me quite sick to my stomach—”
“Then I’ll keep you by my side and make sure that you are well.”
She gritted her teeth, tightening her hands into fists, slamming them against his back. “Put me down now, Waryk. You cannot do this—”
“How amazing! I believe I can. Just like the old laird.”
“I am going to dig deep gouges into your back.”
“I don’t suggest it, or else I will create big blisters on your derriere.”
“Put me down! I will not go to dinner and pretend that all is well—”
“Then we will miss dinner together, my love.”
He mounted Mercury with her cast so over his shoulder, causing her a jolt when her chin slammed against his back.
He kneed Mercury, and when the destrier began to race back toward the castle, stable, and his own food, she quit fighting to hold tight against the wild, hard motion.
She was mortified when they rode through the gates, aware that the men in the gatehouse watched.
She slammed her palms hard against his back again, furious that he seemed not to notice.
She demanded, “Let me go, this has gone far enough!”
“Let you go?” he queried, slowing Mercury’s gait.
“To walk freely, have your way, turn your back on me when we have a guest in the hall? Would Adin have allowed your mother such freedom had she determined to humiliate him in this way? I think not. If the lady refuses to appear in the hall, then she must be in the deepest distress, and a kind and gentle laird would not leave her side for a minute!”
“Waryk—”
“Ah, lady, here we are. A beautiful ride, a pleasant night.”