Chapter Ten
The journey to Quernmore Castle was a little more than a day’s ride.
Mara sat atop her old mare, listening to the chatter of birds as the escort party passed through the small forest on the border between Anchorsholme and Quernmore.
She made a point of focusing on the landscape, the road, her horse’s mane.
Anything to avoid looking at Kirk, riding tall and strong at the head of the column.
But she had stolen glances at him now and again, never once catching him looking at her in return.
Niles tried to make polite conversation, but she quickly ended his attempts with one-word replies.
She did not want to speak with anyone, save Kirk, if he was so inclined to apologize for the events of the past two days.
And if he were to apologize, then there would be nothing to stop her from apologizing, too.
Noon came and went. The army did not stop for a meal, merely passed around bread and jerky. Niles provided Mara with bread and delicious cheese, which she washed down with the whiskey concoction. By mid-afternoon, the flask was empty and Mara was showing distinct signs of intoxication.
It all started with a slight tune, off-key and muttered.
But the tune grew louder, much to Niles’ amusement, and Mara seemed quite happy with her ear-piercing song.
The alcohol only served to enhance her turbulent emotions and when the last verse of the tune ended, the bright blue eyes focused on Kirk’s distant back.
“He hates me, you know.” She turned to look at Niles. “Kirk hates me. Did you see his face? I did that.”
Niles’ expression remained even, wondering if Kirk could hear what was going on.
The Kirk Connaught he knew had eyes and ears all over his person and, if Niles suspected correctly, the man had heard every syllable of conversation since leaving Anchorsholme.
He wondered how much he would allow Mara to carry on before intervening.
“It was an accident, I am sure,” the knight said, eyeing Kirk in the distance. “Mere scratches.”
“Aye, it was an accident,” Mara said loudly, waving her arm to emphasize her point and nearly falling off her mount. “He grabbed me and I meant to break away. But I gouged him instead.”
Niles glanced at Kirk again, wondering if he shouldn’t discreetly back away from the lady so that she would cease her conversation. Without an audience, there would be no need for chatter.
“Nothing is right any longer,” Mara muttered, swaying in the saddle and oblivious to the discomfort of the knight. “My sister is married and Kirk hates me and I… I want to go home!”
She burst into tears. As Niles debated whether or not to calm her, Kirk suddenly reined his charger around and plowed through the column. Those who did not move out of his way fast enough were nearly run over. Reaching Mara, he ordered the knight away with a brusque jerk of his head.
“Enough tears, Mara,” he said quietly, reining his horse next to her. “There’s no need…”
Her weeping grew louder and she turned away from him. Kirk raised his visor, looking seriously at her. Catching sight of the flask clutched in her hand, he snatched it. Smelling the alcohol, he turned accusingly to Niles.
“Who in the hell gave her this?”
“She had it when she emerged from the keep,” Niles replied steadily. “I thought mayhap it was mead, or even flavored water.”
Kirk shook his head with disgust. “It’s whiskey.” He focused on Mara again. “My lady, who gave you this?”
Mara sobbed dramatically. “You… you called me ‘my lady’! You haven’t addressed me formally since we kissed!” The bright eyes were suddenly on him again. “It was a good kiss, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it good, Kirk?”
She was so intoxicated it was comical. But Kirk did not smile, merely nodding, as he had little choice. “It was good.”
“Better than any lady you have kissed?”
“The best.”
“The very, very best?”
“Aye, Mara. The very, very best.”
That seemed to satisfy her somewhat. He thought she might smile, but she suddenly burst into even louder sobs. “The very best and the very last!” she wept. “Now that you hate me, there will be no more kisses!”
Kirk did not change expression, although inside he was shrinking from the stares of his men. Mara moaned and sobbed into her hand and Kirk decided to put an end to her performance. Motioning to Niles, he grasped Mara by the arms.
“Secure her palfrey,” he told the knight, lifting the lady off the small beast without effort. Placing her across his thighs, he ignored her weak protests and spurred his charger forward.
Well in front of the column, he finally responded to her squirming. Squeezing her tightly, he listened to her gasp with the force of his strength.
“Enough,” he hissed. “You’re causing a scene.”
She balled her fists, pounding his mailed hands weakly. “Let me go,” she sobbed, but there were very few tears. Mostly frustration. “I d-do not want to ride with you.”
“Nonetheless, you are,” he said quietly. “Tell me who gave you the whiskey.”
Mara sniffled and coughed, wiping her nose most unladylike. “Lady V-Valdine and Lady Wanda,” she hiccupped. “They care more for me than you do.”
“By giving you whiskey?”
“By giving me medicine to help my cough.” She sniffled again, feeling weak and dizzy and emotionally drained. “They told me it was a cure for the chill, which I contracted last night whilst in the woods where you had left me.”
He did not reply, wondering if he shouldn’t steer clear of that particular subject. Being that Mara was drunk on the ladies’ potent cure, she probably wouldn’t remember the conversation were they to reconcile. And he wanted her to remember.
“I am sorry you are ill,” he replied softly.
In her exhaustion, she leaned heavily against him, too weak to maintain her fight. “You left me all alone, for the thieves and animals and elements. Do you know that I stayed in the trees until Corwin came looking for me?”
He was silent a moment, his stone-gray eyes grazing the landscape. “I knew.”
“But you did not care.”
“’Twas I who sent Corwin looking for you.”
“Why did you not come yourself?”
Because I was drunk. Kirk wasn’t sure how to answer her, the fact that he had immersed himself in liquor to help ease the confusion of their relationship.
He’d never been more tormented in his life.
“I could not come, lass.” It was the truth.
As of this morn, still, he could hardly walk a straight line.
Mara suddenly turned in the saddle, her bright eyes filled with sentiment. Kirk could smell the alcohol on her breath as she reached up, touching the parallel lines she had left on his face.
“Would not come, isn’t that what you mean?” Sobs were close to the surface again. “Oh, Kirk, I did not mean to hurt you. It was an accident. I only meant to push you away, truly. Do you hate me?”
He gazed at her, feeling himself weaken, surrendering to the power of her emotions. Slowly, he shook his head. “I do not.”
“But you said you were a fool to think yourself in love with me. Did you mean it?”
“Nay.”
“Then why did you say it?”
He sighed faintly. “Because a tortured man says many things.”
She continued to gaze at him, looking far more clear-minded than she had moments earlier. The hand still touching his cheek began to caress it. “Kirk, I am afraid.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I do not believe it. What could you possibly be afraid of?”
She was serious; he could read it in her expression. “I fear I have lost my sister to her new marriage and I cannot bear the thought of losing you, too. After all we have said to one another, after all I have done, have you truly reconsidered your proposal of marriage?”
He was silent for a moment. “I thought you did not want to marry me.”
The brilliant eyes bore into him, reaching deep to pull at his heart. “I have changed my mind. Will you not reconsider?”
He tried to avert his gaze but was unable to.
He knew he loved her, but her words and actions had cut him deeply.
Frightened him, even. It would take courage to marry the little hellion, he knew, and he had spent all night asking God to give him the courage.
The beautiful lady with the bright blue eyes had taken his heart captive and he had not the strength to resist her. No matter what she had said or done.
“Mayhap,” he heard himself whisper. He knew it was a lie; he had always known he would marry her regardless. But fear and confusion halted any further acknowledgement.
Mara saw his reluctance. For the first time in her life, she found herself wanting to please another, wanting to make amends for something she had done.
Never had she been so compelled to ease tension or erase the past. Kirk had been kind to her, unafraid to discipline her in order to mold her wild character.
And she had repaid him by gouging his face.
Accident or no, the damage was obvious and she was eager to prove her remorse.
She forced a smile. “I promise I shall behave myself from this day forward. No more arguments and fighting. And I shall listen to whatever you say.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Time will tell, lady.”
Her smile faded as she struggled not to give in to the sorrow his reluctance provoked. “But I am serious, Kirk. I shall truly put forth my best effort.”
He nodded faintly, glancing to the rear of the column when someone shouted. Mara sensed his doubt, his disinterest in the conversation. As if he could not afford to believe her after what had happened. Hanging her head, she picked at her worn cloak, the pain in her heart uneased by the alcohol.
“Oh, Kirk,” she whispered, more to herself. “Have I truly lost you?”
He heard her, feeling his heart tug. “Nay,” he murmured, watching the raven-colored head come up, the blue eyes on him. “You haven’t lost me.”
“But you are angry?”
He shook his head slowly. “Not angry, Mara. Disappointed.”