by Nora Roberts
She dropped her hands, and the eyes she’d hidden with them went hot with insult. “You bloody bastard.”
“Exactly so. Run back to your room if you can’t handle it. But if you stay, you’ll pull out whatever’s knotted up your guts. Your choice.” He took a chair. “You’re big on choices, so make one.”
“You want to hear my pain, my grief? Why not to you then, who it would mean so little to? I dreamed, as I do over and over, of my mother’s murder. Every time, it’s clearer than it was before. At first, it was so muddled and pale—like I saw it through a smear of mud. It was easier then.”
“And now?”
“I could see it.”
“What did you see?”
“I was sleeping.” Her eyes were huge on his face, and full of pain. “We’d had supper, and my uncle, Larkin, the family had come. A little family party. My mother enjoyed having them every few months. We had music after, and dancing. She loved to dance, my mother. It was late when we went to bed, and I fell asleep so quickly. I heard her scream.”
“No one else heard?”
Moira shook her head. “No. She didn’t scream, you see. Not out loud. I don’t think she screamed out loud. In her head, she did, and I heard it in mine. Just once. Only once. I thought I imagined it, must have imagined it. But I got up, and went down to her room. Just to ease my mind.”
She could see it even now. She hadn’t bothered with a candle because her heart was beating so fast and hard. She’d simply run from her room and down to her mother’s door.
“I didn’t knock. I was saying to myself, no, you’ll wake her. Just ease inside and see for yourself that she’s sleeping.
“But when I opened the door, she wasn’t in her bed, she wasn’t sleeping. I heard such sounds, such horrible sounds. Like animals, like wolves, but worse. Oh, worse.”
She paused, tried to swallow through her dry throat. “The doors to her balcony were open, and the curtains moving with the breeze. I called out for her. I wanted to run to the doors, but I couldn’t. My legs felt as if they’d turned to lead. I could barely make one step in front of the other. I can’t say it.”
“You can. You walked to the door, to the balcony door.”
“I saw…Oh God, oh God, oh God. I saw her, on the stones. And the blood, so much blood. Those things were…I’ll be sick.”
“You won’t.” He got up now, crossed to her. “You won’t be sick.”
“They were ripping at her.” And the words tore out of her now. “Ripping at her body. Demons, things of nightmares, tearing at my mother. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t scream. I wanted to run out and beat them off. One, one looked at me. His eyes red, my mother’s blood all over his face. My mother’s blood. He charged at the door, and I stumbled back. Back, away from her when I should have gone to her.”
“She was dead, Moira, you knew it. You’d be dead if you’d stepped out that door.”
“I should have gone to her. It leaped at me, and then I screamed, and screamed and screamed. Even when it fell back as if it had struck a wall, I screamed. Then it all went to black. I did nothing but scream while my mother lay bleeding.”
“You’re not stupid,” he said flatly. “You know you were in shock. You know that what you saw was the same as being struck a stunning physical blow. Nothing you could have done would have saved your mother.”
“How could I leave her there, Cian? Just leave her there.” Tears spilled from her eyes to slide down her cheeks. “I loved her more than anything in this world.”
“Because your mind couldn’t cope with what you saw, with what was—to you—impossible. She was already dead, before you came into the room. She was dead, Moira, the moment you heard her scream.”
“How can you be sure? If—”
“They were assassins. They would have killed her instantly. What came after was indulgence, but death was the goal.”
Now he took her cold hands in his to warm them. “She would have had only a moment to feel afraid, to feel the pain. The rest, she was beyond the rest of it.”
She went very still, stared hard into his eyes. “Will you swear to me you believe that?”
“It’s not a matter of believing, but knowing. I can swear that to you. If they’d wanted to torture her, they’d have taken her somewhere where they could have taken their time. What you saw was a cover-up. Wild animals, it would have been said. The way it was with your father.”
She let out a long breath, then another as she saw the horrible logic of it. “I’ve been sick at the thought that she might have been alive when I got there. Still alive while they tore at her. It’s somehow easier to know she wasn’t.”
She knuckled a tear away. “I’m sorry I called you a bastard.”
“I pissed you off.”
“With cool deliberation. I haven’t spoken of that night to anyone before this. I couldn’t pull it out of me and look at it, speak of it.”
“Now you have.”
“Maybe now that I have I won’t see her the way she was that night. Maybe I’ll see her as she was when she was alive, and happy. All those paintings I have inside my head of her, instead of that last one. Would you hold on to me for a bit?”
He sat, put his arm around her, stroked her hair when she rested her head on his shoulder. “I feel better that I’ve told you. It was kind of you to piss me off so I would.”
“Anytime.”
“I wish I could stay, just stay here in the dark and quiet. Stay with you. But I need to go and dress. I need to see the troops off at first light.”
She tipped her head up. “Will you kiss me good morning?”
He met her lips with his, drew the kiss out until it brought a pang to his belly.
She opened sleepy eyes. “I could feel that one right down to the soles of my feet. I hope that means I’ll walk lighter today.”
Rising, she reached for her robes. “You could miss me a little these next hours,” she told him. “Or just lie when I see you again and say you did.”
“If I tell you I missed you, it won’t be a lie.”
Dressed, she caught his face in her hands for one more kiss. “Then I’ll settle for whatever happens to be the truth.”
She picked up her candle, went to the door. After shooting him a last quick grin over her shoulder, she unlatched it.
And opened it an instant before Larkin could knock.
“Moira?” His smile was quick and baffled. It faded instantly when he saw the rumpled bed and Cian lazily wrapping a blanket around his waist.
It was wild rage now that had him shoving Moira aside and charging.
Cian didn’t bother to block the blow, but took it full on the face. The second fist he caught in his hand an inch before it struck. “You’re entitled to one. But that’s enough.”
“He’s entitled to nothing of the sort.” Moira had the presence of mind to shut and latch the door. “Strike out again, Larkin, I’ll kick your arse myself.”
“You fucking bastard. You’ll answer for this.”
“Undoubtedly. But not to you.”
“It will be me, I promise you.”
“Stop it. I mean it!”
When Larkin’s fists bunched again, Moira had to fight the urge to bean him with a candlestick. “Lord Larkin, as your queen I command you to step back.”
“Oh, don’t start bringing rank into it,” Cian said easily. “Let the boy try to defend his cousin’s honor.”
“I’ll beat you bloody unconscious.”
Out of patience, Moira shoved between them. “Look at me. Damn your thick skull, Larkin, look at me. What room are we in here?”
“The bloody buggering bastard’s.”
“And do you think he dragged me in here by the hair, forced himself on me? You’re a numbskull is what you are. I walked here, and I knocked on Cian’s door. I pushed myself into this room, into this bed, because it’s what I wanted.”
“You don’t know what—”
“If you dare, if you dare to say
to me that I don’t know what I want I’ll beat you bloody unconscious.” She drilled a finger into his chest to emphasize the point. “I’ve a right to this private matter, and you’ve no say in it at all.”
“But he—you. It’s not proper.”
“Bollocks to that.”
“It’s hardly a surprise your cousin objects to you sleeping with a vampire.” Cian moved away from them, picked up his cup. Deliberately he dipped a finger in, licked the blood from it. “Nasty habit.”
“I won’t have you—”
“Wait.” Larkin interrupted Moira’s furious spate. “A moment. I’d like to speak with Cian in private. Talk only,” he said before Moira could object. “My word on it.”
She pushed a hand through her hair. “I don’t have time for either of you, and this foolishness. Be men then, and discuss what is none of your business or concern as if I’m addle-brained. I have to dress and speak to the troops who march today.”
She strode to the door. “I’ll trust you not to kill each other over my private relationships.”
She went out, slammed the door.
“Make it quick,” Cian snapped. “I’m suddenly weary of humans.”
The worst of the temper had faded out of Larkin’s face. “You think I hit you, that I’m angry because of what you are. I would have had the same reaction, done the same to any man I’d found her with like this. She’s my girl, after all. It wasn’t part of what I was thinking, as I wasn’t thinking in any case.”
He shifted his feet, blew out a hard breath. “And now that I do, well, it adds a complicated layer to it all. But I don’t want you thinking I planted one on you because you’re a vampire. The fact is, I don’t think of you that way unless, well, unless I think about it. You’re a friend to me. You’re one of the six of us.”
Even as he spoke, the flush of temper came back. “And I’m saying clear, me demanding, here and now, what the sodding hell you were thinking of taking advantage of my cousin has nothing to do with whether or not you have a fucking heartbeat.”
Cian waited a moment. “Are you done with that part of the speech?”
“I am, until I have an answer.”
With a nod, Cian sat, picked up his cup again. “You put me in a position, don’t you? Calling me a friend, and one of you. I may be the first, but I’ll never be the second.”
“Bollocks. That’s a kind of way out of things. I trust you as I trust few others. And now you’ve seduced my cousin.”
Cian let out a snorting laugh. “You’re not giving her enough credit. Neither did I.” Idly, Cian traced a finger over the beaded leather. “She unraveled me like a ball of yarn. It doesn’t excuse not making her leave, but she’s persuasive and stubborn. I couldn’t—I didn’t resist her.”
He glanced over at the maps he’d neglected since she’d knocked on the door. “It won’t be a problem as I’m leaving tonight. Earlier if the weather cooperates. I want a firsthand look at the battlefield. So she’s safe from me, and me from her, until this is over.”
“You can’t. You can’t,” Larkin repeated when Cian merely lifted a brow. “If you go like this, she’ll think it’s because of her. It’ll hurt her. If I’m responsible for you planning to leave—”
“I’d decided it before she came here last night. Partially because I’d hoped to keep my hands off her.”
Obviously frustrated, Larkin dragged his hands through his hair. “As you didn’t make it away quick enough for that, it’ll just have to wait. I’ll take you there myself, by air, in a few days or whenever it can be done. But we six need to be together.”
Calmer, Larkin studied Cian’s face. “We need to be one circle. This is bigger than lying with or not lying with each other. And that, now that my blood’s cooler, I can say is between the two of you. It’s not my place to interfere. But damn it,” he continued, “I’m going to ask you one thing. I’m going to ask you as a friend, and as her blood kin standing for her father. Have you feelings for her? True feelings?”
“You play the friendship card handily, don’t you?”
“You are my friend, I care for you as I would a brother. That’s the truth from me.”
“Damn it.” Cian slammed down the cup, then scowled at the blood that splattered on the maps. “You humans crowd me with these feelings. You push them at me, and into me without a single thought for how I can survive them.”
“How can you survive without them?” Larkin wondered.
“Comfortably. What difference does it make to you what I feel? She needed someone.”
“Not someone. You.”
“Her mistake,” Cian said quietly. “My damnation. I love her, or I would have taken her before this for the sport of it. I love her, or I’d have sent her away from me last night. How, I’m not sure, but I love her otherwise I wouldn’t feel so goddamn desperate. And you repeat that to anyone, I’ll snap your head from your shoulders, friend or not.”
“All right.” With a nod, Larkin got to his feet, offered his hand. “I hope you’ll make each other as happy as you’re able, for as long as you’re able.”
“Hell.” Cian accepted the hand. “What the hell are you doing here at this hour anyway?”
“Oh, I forgot completely. I thought you’d not yet be in bed. I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to let us—my family—mate your stallion with one of our mares. She’s in season, and your Vlad would be a fine sire.”
“You want to use my horse as stud?”
“I would, yes, if it’s no problem for you. I’d have her brought to him this morning.”
“Go ahead. I’m sure he’ll enjoy it.”
“Thanks for that. We’ll pay you the standard fee.”
“No. No fee. We’ll consider this a gesture between friends.”
“Between friends then. Thanks. I’ll just go and find Moira, and let her break her temper over my head as I deserve.” Larkin paused at the door. “Oh, the mare I’ve in mind for your stallion. She’s fetching.”
The quick grin, the quick wink as Larkin went out had Cian laughing despite the mess of the morning.
Chapter 11
At Moira’s orders, the flags flew at half-staff, and pipers played a requiem in the dawn light. She would do more, if the gods were willing, for those who gave their lives in this war. But for now, this was all that could be done to acknowledge the dead.
Standing in the courtyard, she was torn between grief and pride as she watched the men and women—the warriors—prepare for the long march east. She’d already bid her farewells to her women, and to Phelan, her cousin’s husband.
“Majesty.” Niall, the big guard who was now one of her trusted captains, stepped before her. “Should I order the gates opened?”
“In a moment. You wish you were going today.”
“I serve at your pleasure, my lady.”
“Your wishes are your own, Niall, and I understand them. But I need you here a bit longer. You’ll have your time soon enough.” They would all have their time, she thought. “Your brother and his family? How are they?”
“Safe, thanks to Lord Larkin and the lady Blair. Though my brother’s leg is healing, he won’t be able to fight on his feet.”
“There will be more to this than swinging a sword on the battlefield.”
“Aye.” His hand closed over the hilt of the blade at his side. “But in truth I’m ready to swing mine.”
She nodded. “You will.” She drew a breath. “Open the gates.”
For the second time she watched her people march away from the safety of the castle. It would be a scene repeated, she knew, until she herself rode through the gates, leaving behind the very old, the very young, the ill and infirm.
“It’s a clear day,” Larkin said from beside her. “They should reach the first base safely.”
Saying nothing, Moira looked over to where Sinann stood, a child in her arms, another in her belly, one more at her skirts. “She never wept.”
“She wouldn’t send Phelan off with tears
.”
“They must be like a flood inside her, yet even now she won’t let her children see them. If courage of heart is a weapon, Larkin, we’ll sweep the enemy out of existence.”
When she turned to go he fell into step with her. “There wasn’t time,” he began, “to speak with you before. Or after.”
“Before the ceremony.” Her voice was cool as the morning now. “After you invaded my private life.”
“I didn’t invade it. I was just there, at what was an awkward time for everyone involved. Cian and I resolved matters between us.”
“Oh, did you?” Her eyebrows winged up as she spared him a glance. “Hardly surprising, as men will resolve matters between them one way or another.”
“Don’t take that royal tone with me.” He took her arm, drew her toward one of the gardens, and more privacy. “How, I’m asking you, would you expect me to react when I’ve seen you’ve been with him?”
“I suppose expecting you to be well-mannered enough to excuse yourself is too much to ask.”
“That’s damn right. When I think a man of damn near eternal experiences seduces you—”
“It was the other way around. Entirely.”
He flushed, scratched his head, turned a frustrated circle. “I don’t want to know the details of it, if you don’t mind. I’ve apologized to him.”
“And to me?”
“What do you want from me, Moira? I love you.”
“I expect you to understand I’m a woman grown, and one capable of making her own decisions about taking a lover. Don’t wince at the term,” she snapped impatiently. “I can rule, I can fight, I can die if need be, but your sensibilities are bruised at the thought I can have a lover?”
He thought it over. “Aye. But they’ll get over it. I only want, more than anything, never to see you hurt. Not in battle, not in the heart. Is that enough?”
Her feathers smoothed out, and her heart softened as it always did with him. “It must be, as I want the same for you. Larkin, would you say that I have a good, strong mind?”
“Almost too much of both at times.”
“In my mind, I know that I can’t have a life with Cian. In my head I understand that what I’ve done will one day cause me grief and pain and sorrow. But in my heart I need what I can have with him now.”
She brushed her fingers over the leaves of a flowering shrub. The leaves would fall, she thought, with the first frost. Many things would fall.
“When I put my head and heart together, I know, in both, that he and I are better for what we gave to each other. How can you love and turn away?”
“I don’ t know.”
She looked back toward the courtyard where people were once again going about their business, their routines. Life went on, she mused, whatever fell. They would see that life went on.
“Your sister watched her man ride away from her, and knows she might never see him alive again. But she didn’t weep in front of him, or in front of their children. When she weeps, she’ll weep alone. They’re her tears to shed. So will mine be, when this ends.”
“Will you do something for me?”
“If I can.”
He touched her cheek. “When you have tears, will you remember I have a shoulder for you?”
She smiled now. “I will.”
When they parted, she went to the parlor where she found Blair and Glenna
