Chapter 20 #2
She knew that he had taken Igraina outside sometime while she had worked on Ewan, and that Igraina had described the attack to him, shown him the body of the dead Viking, and made every accusation she had just made to Mellyora.
And now she stood there, stricken by what had happened to an old friend, yet accused of causing the travesty—while having just stated before her husband her love for another man.
“The men are searching the hills, crags, cliffs, caves, and forests for the second man, any other survivors of our recent attack, Igraina. The carpenters and masons have begun work on a wall around the dwellings here so that there can be no such surprises again. We’ve every able pair of hands at work, and we’ll bring a permanent guard here so that the mainland no longer lies vulnerable. ”
“Did any man recognize the body?” Igraina asked.
Waryk shook his head, looking at his wife. “Mellyora …”
He stretched out a hand. She felt a fierce trembling in the pit of her stomach. “Waryk, I—” she began, but it seemed she had no voice. “He remains in danger,” she said lamely.
“Mellyora,” he repeated firmly.
She couldn’t leave Ewan, but Waryk wouldn’t understand why. He had been her friend forever, he was the MacKinny. He had always been willing to die for her.
“I don’t question your healing talents,” Waryk said sharply, “nor the tremendous value of this man’s life. But you will come with me now.”
She swallowed hard, staring at Igraina. If she didn’t walk across the room, Waryk could come and take her, and she was very afraid of his temper and suspicions should he have to do so.
She lifted her chin, angrily staring at Igraina for a moment, then turning to her husband.
“My uncle didn’t cause any attack here, Waryk.
You may say what you wish about my father being a conqueror who raped my mother, but she conquered him in the end, he became Scottish.
This is a Scottish isle, day by day, we have followed the ways of the old Scotia, and all that my father ever forced upon this isle was better boats—and himself.
Daro respected my father; he has fought with you, he fought with you for King David. ”
“Mellyora,” he repeated. “Come with me now.”
“I have not betrayed you or anyone to any Viking forces.”
“Mellyora, come with me now.” His tone was very sharp. She felt ill. He was suspicious of her. Igraina had simply accused her without doubting the word of their enemy.
Behind her, Phagin urged, “Go, Mellyora.”
“I will tend my brother with Phagin,” Igraina said, coming to her and setting a hand on her shoulder. Perhaps, hearing Waryk’s tone, Igraina was sorry, and perhaps she at least believed that Mellyora was innocent in what was happening, if Daro was not.
“He will need constant care, someone by his side every minute, hour after hour.”
“Aye, Mellyora, I will take this hour!” Igraina said. “Phagin will be with me.”
Mellyora lowered her head. She was alarmed when she realized that Waryk had lost patience with her, and was coming across the room.
She found life, hurrying toward him. His fingers bit into her arm.
“You may return to tend this man you love, my wife, but at this moment, you will come with me!” he said with quiet menace.
She bit into her lip, very aware that he was furious with her. They exited the cottage together. Angus waited just outside.
“The lad?” Angus inquired softly.
“Lives. And may survive.”
“There is, just arrived, a messenger from David. There is more trouble breaking out at the border.”
“At Tyne?”
“East of Peter’s lands. They will surely try to draw him into whatever action is taking place.”
“Ready our forces. We’ll ride with the morning.”
He urged Mellyora toward the dragon-prowed boat, her father’s boat, a Viking boat, that waited to take them across the high tide.
She was reminded painfully of the night they had first met as he seated her, stepped into the water and pushed the boat from the shore, then took his position center to row.
They shot across the moonlit water. She felt him staring at her, and she still felt numb.
She wished that she could explain that she loved Ewan like a brother now, that things had changed.
But she was accused again, for being what she was, and she knew her uncle, and knew that he was not guilty, just as she knew her own innocence. He had no right to accuse her.
“I am not guilty of anything! I didn’t—”
“Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear it right now.”
“But I—”
The hard crystal look in his eyes silenced her for the moment.
They came to the isle. Mercury awaited. She made no protest when she was seated on the great destrier with Waryk behind her. She knew the path they were taking. Back to the fortress, to the tower.
Angus had preceded them. Already, the tower was filling with men, wagons, horses, implements of war.
They moved grimly, a man here or there pausing to ask quietly after Ewan, then go about his business again.
She knew that Waryk needed to ride with a force, and she knew as well that he had to leave Blue Isle guarded.
Jon of Wick stood his post at the gatehouse, and she knew that Jon would remain.
No man could see as far as Jon, none knew the defenses of the fortress walls nearly so well.
Indeed, when Waryk left, the fortress would be guarded.
For her …
Or against her?
He didn’t have to urge her to the chambers they shared.
She walked ahead of him, pushing the door open, striding to stand before the fire and then turn and challenge him.
“I have had nothing to do with this. I didn’t agree to this marriage to plot and plan with Daro for the downfall of my property and my people. ”
He came into the room and closed the door, taking off his mantle and his scabbard, laying his claymore, his father’s weapon, on the bed.
“Are you listening to me!” she cried out.
He looked at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ewan is your man,” he said. “And Igraina is your friend.”
“Aye, that’s true! Why would I wish them hurt—”
“These men, it appears, were left behind when the Vikings retreated after their attack. But were they? Or has someone figured out that the fortress really is impregnable, and the way to kill those who guard it is to pick them off, one by one. Interesting.”
She exhaled, furious. “So you are really accusing me of sleeping with you—and planning on my uncle seizing this place?”
“Are you sleeping with me by choice?” he inquired politely.
She turned away from him, gripping the stone mantel at the hearth. “I agreed to this, to all of this, your terms!” she reminded him.
“And even that might make good sense. There was no choice for you. Marry me, or be disinherited. You were furious, you defied the king. You hated me. You might well have gone to your father’s kin with a plan.”
She inhaled sharply, so angry she could scarcely endure it. “I do hate you, you bastard, how dare you accuse me so!”
“I didn’t accuse you; I said that the plan might make sense.”
She walked over to him, so incensed that she couldn’t think. “One word from anyone else and you are ready to accuse me! Let’s not doubt the whispered words of an enemy we can’t even see, let’s just accuse Mellyora—it makes sense. You—bastard!”
She tried to strike him. He caught her arms. His fingers were vises, she was drawn against him.
Desperately, she wrenched free. She couldn’t bear his touch, his scent, his closeness, reminding her of all the intimacy, of the way she had begun to feel, of wanting him, needing him, feeling jealousy, and fear.
She spun around, striding across the room again.
“And Ewan lies dying.”
“Damn you, I would never plot with anyone to hurt him—”
“I know. You love him,” he said dryly.
She spun again. “He is a friend, a good man. He has served you, you said yourself that he was a good man—”
“You don’t need to defend him to me. Only your own words and actions.”
She lowered her eyes, inhaling. “I said, he is a friend—”
“But you aren’t planning on riding with me to Tyne anymore, are you?”
She lifted her eyes to his, feeling an emotional tug of war within her that was agony. “He might die!” she whispered softly. “I am the best here, I might be able to save him.”
“And I should leave you because you wish it?”
She stared at him a long while, then lifted her hands. There was only so much she could admit when it seemed that she stood accused again. She spoke softly. “You may believe this or not—I don’t want to stay. I wanted to ride with you. But now … I must stay.”
“If I allow it.”
She caught her breath. In her heart, she wanted him to disallow her, to insist that she accompany him, as she had said that she would.
But she could make a difference at times, she knew it.
For all of Phagin’s knowledge, and for all the love Igraina bore her brother, Mellyora knew that she was the one with the greatest healing talents.
“You have to allow it. He might die. And he has served you well.”
“And you love him.”
She shook her head. “There is nothing between us. Was nothing between us. You know that. There was never anything more than words and false promises, and dreams that could not be.”
“Dreams, my lady, can be far more dangerous than sins of flesh,” he told her.
“You are going to your mistress. With whom you shared numerous sins of the flesh,” she reminded him bitterly.
“You can still come.”
“But I must stay.”
“You must?”
“You know that. He could die! Please, you cannot forbid me—”
“No, I cannot, or will not, forbid you to stay, Mellyora. It’s your choice.”
She turned from him suddenly, alarmed by the tears that welled in her eyes, and slid down her cheeks. She was startled when she found him suddenly behind her, turning her into his arms. His fingers moved down the length of her hair, and he tilted her chin toward him.
“I am not in league with a contingent of Vikings against you!” she said passionately, and she was surprised when he smiled.
“I never said that you were.”