Chapter Eight
By the time Kirk reached Edmund’s chamber with a composed Micheline on his arm, thoughts of Mara were faded and he was more reluctant than ever to subject the woman to her husband’s callous attentions.
He felt as if he was leading her into the lion’s den.
But he had no choice in the matter, a sense of duty that did not falter even as he knocked on the door and Johanne answered.
Micheline seemed comforted by the fact that Johanne was present; mayhap she believed there was safety in numbers.
Whatever the case, she gave Kirk a brave smile and entered the room with her customary dignity.
Kirk watched, feeling sickened, wishing he could warn her of the appalling reality she was about to face.
But his sense of duty prevented him from doing so.
Still, it did not stop him from assuring her he would be right outside the door should she require him.
A statement that seemed to anger Edmund.
Kirk’s strange loyalty to the le Bec sisters was something he had not anticipated, nor desired, considering he needed the man now more than ever.
The Irish were preparing to rebel and he needed his captain’s strength and military wisdom if he were going to protect his holdings; clearly, the last thing he wanted was a souring relationship.
Although he did not want to argue with the man he admired above all else, the fact remained that Kirk was sworn to obey him and not the other way around.
But the arrival of Micheline and Mara le Bec was creating division between him and his mighty captain, an uncomfortable situation that Edmund was struggling to come to terms with.
A division that seemed to be growing wider by the moment and Edmund was desperate to stop the rift.
A rift that was apparent as Micheline entered the bridal chamber, accompanied by her new sister-in-law, and Edmund and Kirk locked gazes. Edmund had no idea what to say to the obviously displeased knight, waiting for him to shut the door, but instead Kirk beckoned him with a crooked finger.
Edmund labored to remain neutral of expression as he graciously honored the request. Quietly, Kirk pulled him into the corridor where their conversation could not be heard.
“Lady Johanne will be leaving, I trust?” Kirk asked.
Edmund nodded. “After she prepares my bride. Truly, Kirk, this is of no concern to you. She is my wife, after all.”
Kirk’s gaze was cold. He had always disengaged himself with Edmund’s personal habits but found at this moment he could not.
He had promised Mara that he would protect her sister and felt strongly, even above his oath of fealty to Edmund, that he enforce his promise.
Especially when he knew what Edmund was capable of.
“That may be, Lord Edmund,” his voice was a growl. “But Lady Micheline is a fine and dignified woman and I shall be most displeased if I discover the marriage bed does not meet with her expectations.”
Edmund tried not to appear intimidated. “And what does that mean?”
Kirk’s jaw ticked, dangerously close to insubordination. “I believe you already know,” he moved to the opposite side of the corridor, assuming his post at a discreet distance. “Congratulations on your marriage, my lord. May you be truly blessed.”
Edmund stared at him; thinly veiled threats one moment, best wishes the next. But his apprehension quickly turned to rage and he whirled about, slamming the door to his chamber hard enough to rattle the walls.
Kirk continued to stare at the door, wondering if his intimidation would do any good for Micheline’s sake.
Wondering, upon reflection, if Edmund would do unspeakable things to the woman simply to show his captain who was truly in charge of Anchorsholme Castle.
A battle of wills had begun, the lines of conflict drawn, and Kirk knew there could only be one winner.
And it would not be Edmund.
*
Mara was trying desperately not to think of her sister’s plight as she strolled the kitchen yard, searching for the quartet of dirty children.
The more she walked, however, the more difficult it became for her to forget what was happening.
Micheline had married a fiend, Kirk had decided she was indeed a hellion, and the world in general was looking rather dismal.
Dismal and depressing until four familiar faces suddenly appeared out of the buttery.
The younger children shrieked and danced around Mara, delighted to see her, while Robert greeted her with a dignified bow.
He had seen the knights offer the gesture to fine young ladies and mimicked their manners perfectly.
“Heard there was a marriage this morning,” he said. “Was it your sister?”
Mara nodded, her smile fading. “She had no choice, Robert. But Kirk has promised to protect her.”
Robert shook his head sadly. “He canna. Not if Edmund wants to kill her. Nothing can protect her. Or you.”
Mara stiffened, turning away. “I can protect myself.” In the distance, Niles caught her attention, waving at her as his charger was brought around. She waved back, shading her eyes against the bright sun. “He’s dressed in full armor. I wonder where he’s going?”
Robert followed her gaze. “To hell, most likely.”
Mara turned to him sharply. “Why do you say that?”
The lad cocked an eyebrow. “Because he’s evil, like Edmund.”
“How do you know?”
“Everyone knows.”
“Knows what?”
Robert looked around to make sure no one was listening. Moving close to Mara, she tried not to shy away from his strong stench. “They say that Niles helps Edmund murder the young ladies,” he said quietly. “You should stay away from him.”
Mara’s eyes widened. “He does? Why did not you tell me this yesterday?”
“Would you have believed me?”
Mara continued to stare at him, shaking her head after a moment. “You must be mistaken, Robert. He’s a fine knight and a kind man. Kirk trusts him implicitly.”
“He blinds Kirk to the truth. He has a dark, dark soul.”
Sighing heavily, Mara put her hands on her hips. “Is that all you do, spout words of doom and gloom? Yesterday, you told me stories of the Darkland and today, you weave tales of Niles’ dark soul. Is there anything else so terrible around here?”
“I have lived at Anchorsholme a long time, Lady Mara,” Robert said, an odd wisdom flickering in his eyes. “Sometimes we servants know more than the lord. Or the Master.”
“You mean Kirk?”
The lad nodded, hushing his sister impatiently when she tugged on his sleeve. “Fiona found a litter of fox pups yesterday. She wants you to come and see them.”
Distracted from stories of Niles, Mara found herself gazing at the thin young girl, perhaps seven years of age.
Her eyes were a pale blue, the same color as Micheline’s, and Mara suddenly found herself lamenting her sister’s situation all over again.
Her depression threatened, even as Fiona politely begged her to come and see the pups, and Mara forced herself to put her fears aside for the moment.
After all, she had come to the kitchen yards in search of distraction. Now that she had been provided with four lively distractions, she realized she might as well allow the diversion to swallow her. If not, surely she would make herself ill with thoughts of Micheline. And of Kirk.
Sighing, she took Fiona’s offered hand and permitted the giggling girl to lead her from the shielding walls of Anchorsholme. Flanked by her escorts, the soothing bramble of Lancashire served to ease her cares for the moment. Away from the turmoil, the anguish, of the Darkland.
*
If he was any judge of time, Kirk had been standing guard outside of Edmund’s chamber for a little more than an hour.
In that time, he had heard no sound whatsoever coming from the bridal bed and he was increasingly curious as to what was transpiring.
Johanne had yet to leave the chamber, as Edmund had promised, and Kirk seriously wondered if all was proceeding smoothly.
He soon received his answer. When the door finally opened, he was not surprised to see Johanne emerge.
But he was terribly surprised to see Edmund on her heels, closing the door behind them.
Puzzled, Kirk moved forward to inquire if everything was all right when Edmund looked him in the eye, his expression uncharacteristically hard.
“I would assume the escort is ready to ride to Quernmore Castle on the morrow?” he asked.
Off-guard, Kirk slowly lifted an eyebrow. “As we discussed this morning, Niles is in charge and I am sure the escort is set. Is… is everything well, my lord?”
Edmund was decidedly defensive. “That is none of your concern, Kirk. My sister and I are going for a stroll about the grounds and my wife, when she is recovered, shall join us for the nooning meal.”
Kirk did not like the emotions he was sensing, hard and careless and defiant. “Is Micheline all right?”
Edmund paused a moment before answering, his dull green eyes intense.
“Listen to me well, Connaught. What transpires in the bedchamber between my wife and me is none of your concern. If you try to interfere, I shall have you clapped in irons for insubordination. And if you still insist on continuing this role of protector for Lady Micheline, then I will have no choice but to send you back to your father. He has other sons who will serve me quite well in your stead.”
Kirk remained calm. He knew that Edmund relied on him too strongly to carry out his threat.
“Steven is crippled and Drew is still a boy. There is no one in England or Ireland who would serve you with as much strength and devotion as I have,” he paused, surprised that Edmund’s expression remained firm.
“If you believe I am interfering, then I apologize. It was not my intent. My intent was simply to make sure the lady was treated with the respect deserving Baroness Bowland.”
Edmund studied him a moment. Then, he cocked his head as if a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Are you in love with her, Kirk?”
“Nay.”
“Then why do you insist on protecting her?”