Chapter Seven #2
“You’re the bride, dear, you’re not supposed to help,” Johanne said. “To marry my brother and spread your legs is all that is required of you.”
Kirk looked to Mara as Johanne spouted her uncouth remark and was not surprised to note her turning shades of red. But, remarkably and with a great deal of effort, she kept her mouth shut.
Micheline, ever lady-like, refused to dignify the remark. Self-control and poise that impressed Kirk tremendously. “I look forward to becoming a member of the House of De Cleveley.” It was a lie. She wished she could run far, far away and never look back.
Edmund finished his wine, turning to look at Micheline for the first time since their introduction. His green gaze was bland. “Did your mother only bear two daughters?”
Micheline looked up from her trencher, aware that her betrothed was speaking to her and wondering what sort of belittlement she would be facing now. “Aye, my lord.”
He grunted, motioning the serving wench for more drink. “Worthless. You will bear me only sons, is that clear?”
Micheline’s mottled cheeks deepened. “I… I can only try, my lord.”
“She has no control over the sex of the child,” Kirk was looking at Edmund, his gray eyes glittering. “We take what God gives us, male or female.”
Edmund looked at him. “But your mother had three sons, Kirk. I have heard that there are things women can do to assure the sex of the child.”
Kirk sat back in his chair, toying with his goblet. “Like what? I would be interested to know.”
Edmund shrugged. “By eating certain foods or rinsing their womb with herbs. I have heard of a woman in Liverpool who makes potions to insure male offspring. I do believe I shall contact her.”
Kirk snorted into his chalice. “Fool’s tales, my lord. I have never heard of such a thing.”
Edmund gaze moved to Micheline, sitting meek and submissive and red-cheeked. “Nonetheless, for my bride’s sake the potions had better work. I have no use for a woman who can only bear females.”
“Or what?” Mara could keep silent no longer and Kirk visibly perked. “Or you will kill her like you have killed all the rest?”
Kirk was on his feet, coughing loudly to cover the impact of Mara’s words.
“My lady is fatigued this night,” he growled through clenched teeth.
Before Mara could protest, he was literally scooping her up by the arms in his haste to remove her from Edmund’s rage.
“Allow me to escort you to your chamber.”
But his liege would not be put off so easily. Edmund leapt to his feet before Kirk could move Mara from the table. “Hold!” he commanded. “Whereby does she spout such nonsense?”
Kirk cast Mara an expression that suggested nothing other than complete silence from her. “The lady strolled the grounds this morn and was told some of the local folklore,” he said evenly. “Surely nothing you have not heard before, my lord.”
“But she has accused me of murder!” Edmund said with outrage. “I would know who told her such lies!”
Kirk looked at Mara, who immediately thrust up her chin stubbornly. Even in the face of an angry lord, she was characteristically brave. And mayhap foolish. “I do not know their names, my lord,” she said.
Kirk knew it was a lie. He watched as Edmund approached, his freckled face taut with emotion. Kirk was also quite aware that he himself tensed, preparing to defend Mara from any physical punishment Edmund might choose to deliver.
“Then if you do not know their names, you will describe them,” Edmund demanded. “Tell me now!”
Mara wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. “It will not help to shout at me.”
“I am not shouting!”
“You are, my lord, and I find that your howling has upset my head,” she turned away from him as if entirely disinterested in the conversation. “If you will excuse me, I shall retire for the evening.”
Edmund reached out and grabbed her by the arm. Raising his open palm, his downward motion was stopped by a grip so powerful that he yelped in pain. Gazing up, he realized with shock that Kirk had prevented him from venting his rage on the obstinate young girl.
The gleam to the stone-gray eyes was most disturbing. “That,” Kirk growled, “would not be wise, Edmund. I suggest you return to your meal and permit me to escort Lady Mara to her chamber.”
As Edmund stared into his chilling expression, he realized that he was frightened of Kirk. Truly frightened. But he was also terribly offended.
“You defend her?” he hissed. “I am your liege, Kirk. ’Tis your duty to support me without question!”
“Not when it comes to beating helpless women,” Kirk released Edmund’s hand. Grasping Mara by the arm, he struggled to maintain his calm; he, too, could hardly believe what he had just done. “Trust that I shall deal with the lady in a less painful manner. You will excuse us.”
He whisked Mara from the room before Edmund could express his astonishment. Once sheltered by the long, cool corridor leading to the foyer of Anchorsholme, he thrust Mara into a secluded alcove and pulled the tapestry closed. When he faced her, she could read nothing but fury on his face.
“Kirk,” she said softly. “I….”
His piercing gaze cleaved her words. “You will listen to me, lady, and listen well. Never again will you show such stupidity by spouting accusations that are hardly concrete. The tales of the Darkland are not to be trivialized in any way, for they hold more power and terror than you can imagine. Do you understand?”
He was rigid with anger. Fearful of him for the first time since their introduction, Mara nodded weakly. “I… I am sorry, Kirk. But he was threatening Micheline and…”
“And did I not tell you that I would protect her?” he fired back, his tone harsh. “Do you not trust me, Mara? Or are you so young and foolish that you would place yourself in jeopardy simply to gain a small measure of revenge on your sister’s behalf?”
She lowered her gaze, close to tears of anger and shame. He was right and she was well aware of the fact; still, his scolding upset her. Even more than the spanking had.
“I suppose I am young and foolish, my lord,” she said, refusing to look at him. “I have always been outspoken, flagrantly so. I would have thought you to realize that by now.”
He loomed over her, jaw ticking with emotion. “Curb it, Mara. Or it will be the end of you.”
She was wedged into the corner of the alcove, picking distractedly at her nails. “Then let it end me. At least my end will be honestly met, speaking my mind for what is right and just. If it is not to your approval, then that is your misfortune.”
He shook his head slowly. “Christ, you’re a stubborn creature.”
She turned to him, then. “Aye, I am. And I refuse to go through life being reprimanded by you every time I open my mouth. If you were serious when you proposed marriage, Kirk Connaught, then I suggest you reconsider. You will not find a perfect wife in me.”
He stared at her. Long and hard. “Mayhap you are right. Mayhap I have been fooling myself all along.”
Mara felt as if she had been hit in the stomach.
She hadn’t expected him to agree so readily.
Before she could respond, however, he grasped her by the arm again and pulled her from the alcove.
Silent and brooding, he escorted her to the chamber she shared with Micheline and left without another word.
When Micheline came to bed less than an hour later, she noticed that Mara’s pillow was saturated with dampness. As she stood and watched her sleeping sister with concern, more tears trailed down her temples and onto the linen. Puddling, weakening. Expressing her sorrow.
When the dawn finally came, the tears were still falling.
*
“Another missive, Kirk.”
Niles was in Kirk’s chamber before daybreak, a rolled message in his hand. Kirk rose from his bed, naked, and snatched the vellum.
“Where’s the rider?” he asked, his voice scratchy.
“In the kitchens,” Niles replied, his blue eyes shadowed. He had been on sentry duty all night and was particularly weary. “He said the missive was for you alone.”
Kirk unrolled the parchment, his gray eyes struggling to read the contents under the weak candlelight. Reaching the bottom of the page, he sighed and re-rolled the vellum.
“Well?” Niles demanded softly.
“It’s from Drew,” Kirk put the parchment aside and went in search of his hose. “Apparently, the potential of a revolt is greater than father indicated. Drew is worried that father will wait until it is too late before summoning help. They need a mediator immediately.”
“You?”
Kirk pulled on his breeches, securing them. “Drew requests that I come,” he said. “I must speak with Edmund on the matter.”
Niles watched the man as he donned his tunic. “After what happened last night, are you sure Edmund will receive you?”
Kirk cocked an eyebrow. “I am his captain, Niles. Of course he will receive me.”
Niles sighed, sitting on the edge of the bunk as Kirk splashed water on his face and wiped it off. “You’re quite smitten with her, aren’t you?”
Kirk did not say anything. Collecting his boots, he sat next to his friend as he pulled them on. “She’s a handful, Niles. A hellion of the worst sort.”
“And how is that?”
Kirk snorted softly, rising from the bed and peeling back the oilcloth on his lancet window to reveal the lightening horizon. “She’s knows she’s a hellion and she doesn’t care. As much as I like her spirit, she must learn to control herself.”
“Before or after you marry her?”
Kirk continued to stare at the sky, turning shades of pink and gold. “Who said anything about marriage?”
Niles chuckled, rising from the mattress. “No one, my friend,” he put his hand on Kirk’s broad shoulder. “Back to the subject at hand, do you wish for me to prepare an escort bound for Ireland?”