Chapter Sixteen #4
Lily smiled broadly as she went to Kirk and looped a hand through his elbow. “Marry her soon, Kirk. I like her very much. In fact, you are going to escort her to Rome when my husband and I go. Mara and I will travel very well together and I forbid you to deny her the journey, do you hear?”
Kirk fought off a grin. “You sound much like Mara when you say it that way.”
“What way?”
“Demanding.”
Lily laughed. “She is not demanding,” she said as she let go of Kirk’s elbow. She moved back over to the bed and began collecting the surcoats. “My maids will finish with these dresses, my lady, and will return them in time for supper. I should love to see you looking finely dressed tonight.”
Mara nodded. “As would I,” she replied. “Do you want to take this blue dress with you?”
Lily handed over the garments in her arms to the nearest maid. “I think not,” she said, her gaze warm. “It fits you well enough. Kirk can hardly keep his eyes off of you. I do believe you should keep it on. I shall return to finish it later.”
Mara smiled at the woman as she finished collecting the shifts and surcoats, chasing her maids out and closing the door softly behind her. When they were finally alone, Mara turned to Kirk.
“Do you really like the dress?” she asked.
Kirk’s gaze was steady, but inside, the weight of the news he bore was dragging him down. He just needed a few moments with Mara to settle himself, to breathe, and perhaps even to grieve privately. His mind was whirling and his heart was heavy. His smile faded.
“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he said with soft sincerity. “No woman can compete with your glory.”
Mara smiled modestly, her cheeks flushing. She bobbed a stiff curtsy. “My thanks, my lord.”
He grinned, his gaze moving over her face, the lovely dress. “Am I to understand that you and Lily have become friends?”
She nodded, somewhat embarrassed. “She has been very kind.”
“She is a kind lady.”
“I am sorry I was so jealous of her before I came to know her. It was silly of me.”
Kirk’s attention lingered on her a moment longer before moving over to the bed. As he sat, heavily, he held out his hand to her.
“Come here,” he murmured.
Mara obeyed. When she came within arm’s length, he reached out and pulled her onto his lap.
As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he felt both comforted and weakened.
The woman had the ability to stir emotion within him, making him feel vulnerable and strong at the same time.
He buried his face against her shoulder and closed his eyes.
“You left early this morning,” Mara said softly, her cheek against the top of his head. “Where did you go?”
He was silent for a moment. “A missive came from Anchorsholme.”
Mara’s pleasant mood fled. She stiffened. “Micheline?” she asked in a panic. “Has something happened to my sister?”
Kirk calmed her. “Nay,” he assured her. “It contained nothing about Micheline. It was for me.”
Mara still wasn’t over her fright. Her hand was on her chest as if to soothe her racing heart. “Thank the Lord,” she said. “What did the missive say?”
He gazed into her blue eyes. “There has been a rebellion on de Cleveley’s Irish lands,” he said quietly. “Wicklow Castle fell. My father was killed.”
Mara’s eyes widened. “Oh… Kirk,” she breathed. “I am so terribly sorry.”
He went back to resting his head on her shoulder. “As am I,” he muttered. “I am sorry that he will never meet you. He would have liked you.”
“As I am sure I would have liked him,” she said, so very sad at Kirk’s obvious distress. “Did the missive say how it happened?”
Kirk lifted his big shoulders. “It does not matter how it happened, only that it has. My father is dead and nothing can bring him back.”
Mara wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t seem to want to discuss it. She held Kirk tightly, her arms around his neck.
“What will you do now?” she asked softly.
His embrace tightened as he turned his face against her skin, smelling her. “I am instructed to take le Vay’s troops to the docks at Fleetwood where we will meet de Cleveley troops, board de Cleveley vessels, and sail for Ireland on the morning tide.”
Mara processed the information. She could feel the angst rise, not wanting him to leave her.
She was terrified for him going to war, terrified for herself because she was returning to Anchorsholme.
But contrary to her nature, she didn’t voice her concerns.
For the first time in her life, she kept her mouth shut because she knew Kirk had enough on his mind.
His father’s murder was surely killing him.
“You leave tomorrow?” she asked softly.
“Aye. And so do you.”
“Back to Anchorsholme?”
“Aye.”
Mara didn’t say anymore after that. They’d already spoken of it and the subject was already settled. Still, she couldn’t help the tightening in her gut. She pressed her face into the top of his head.
“I am truly sorry about your father,” she whispered. “What of the rest of your family?”
“I do not know,” he replied. “The missive only mentioned my father.”
She sighed faintly. “I have spent nearly all my life at Haslingden,” she said softly. “I have never been around a battle. I would be lying if I said I was not frightened for you. Please take great care.”
He hugged her. “I will, I swear it,” he said. “I have much to live for.”
She pulled her face from his head, looking at him with a smile on her lips. “Me?”
He met her grin, gently tweaking her nose. “You.”
Her smile faded as she gazed into his eyes. “Will it be a big battle?”
He shrugged. “Possibly,” he said. “When the Irish are angry, there is no knowing how many will answer the call to aide.”
“Then mustn’t you go and muster your troops? Surely you have duties to attend to.”
Kirk shook his head. “Le Vay has asked me to stay away from Spencer as he prepares the men,” he said. “I have nothing more to do than spend the remaining hours with you, for which I am grateful.”
Mara was thrilled. She toyed with his dark hair, memorizing the texture to tuck away in her memories for days when she was feeling particularly lonely. She watched Kirk’s expression, seeing such sorrow in it.
“When was the last time you were in Ireland?” she asked quietly.
“About four years ago. A lot can change in four years.”
“What… what should I do if you do not return?”
His gaze grew intense. “Raise my son in the manner you see fit.”
A twinkle came to her eye. “The son you gave me last night?”
“The same.”
“Are you so sure I carry your son?”
“I have prayed for it since last night.”
The humor vanished from the conversation.
He was deeply sincere and it frightened her.
The man was sailing into the unknown, to face tragic circumstances, and she could read his uncertainty.
Without another word, she threw her arms around his neck and he swallowed her up in his big embrace.
There wasn’t much more either one of them could say that hadn’t already been spoken of.
Fear of the future, grief from Kirk’s father’s murder, and their longing for one another came together in a cataclysmic clash. Kirk took Mara back to bed and didn’t leave her until he was forced to the following morning before dawn.
Mara’s last vision of Kirk was as he rode from Quernmore’s gatehouse, astride his massive charger as he faded out into the breaking dawn.