Mara could feel him standing by the foot of the bed, too weak to resist him. Face in her hands, she simply shook her head. “Dead women, Kirk. Ladies come to Anchorsholme Castle but they never leave. Isn’t that so?”
“There’s more to it than that, lass.”
“But what of Johanne?” she demanded. “You told me to stay away from her because she was dangerous. Now I know she burns people and bites off fingers!”
He sighed deeply, gazing at her glorious black head. After a moment, he turned away and marched to the chamber door, calling for a servant. When two women appeared, wide-eyed and eager to do his bidding, he instructed them to escort Micheline to Lady Wanda’s chamber. He wanted to speak with Mara, alone. To see if he could undo, or at least ease, the damage done.
Micheline was reluctant to leave, but did so obediently. Kirk closed the door, returning his attention to the bed where Mara remained huddled and weeping. Silently, he approached.
“Did you kill them?” she asked.
Her voice was soft. Kirk sat down on the mattress beside her before replying. “Of course not,” he said softly. “I would know who has told you the tales of Anchorsholme Castle.”
She sniffled, struggling to calm herself. She had a terrible headache as a result of her crying jag. “It does not matter,” she said, with less force. “But I know everything and I demand that you let Micheline and I leave before we fall victim, too.”
“That is not going to happen,” he said firmly. “I would never allow any harm to befall you.”
“It befell the other women.”
“If you know the tales as you have said, then you would also know that I wasn’t at Anchorsholme Castle at the time of their disappearances. Had I been here, I most certainly would have protected them.”
“Did you never try to find out what happened to them?”
“By the time I returned, all evidence had been removed. And Edmund’s story was always solid. As my liege, it was not my place to question him. But, unfortunately, there was no one who could tell me much more than what I already knew.”
“So you ignored the disappearances?”
“I wasn’t given much choice, Mara. One does not question the activities of one’s liege, no matter what the circumstances. I realize that excuse is weak, but you must understand that as lord of Anchorsholme Castle and head of the House of de Cleveley, Edmund is answerable only to his liege, the Earl of Carlisle, to the king, and to God. I have no right accusing him of something I cannot prove.”
“But did you ever try, Kirk?”
He nodded. “I did as much as I could,” he replied. “I would follow clues that servants or soldiers would tell me but they always led to a dead-end. After the last disappearance, I had some of my men dig around in newly disturbed earth outside of the walls in the dead of night to see if we could come up with a corpse, but there was nothing. Mara, lass, I am not an ignorant or cowering wretch. I understand what justice is. But even if I were to find the bodies of the women who had disappeared, what could I do with them? Confront Edmund? If he denies any knowledge, then I must believe him. I have no choice because no one, save God himself, will bring him to justice because I promise you the earl and the king would do nothing. Edmund is nobility and he is untouchable. ’Tis the way of the world.”
Mara continued to sniffle, wiping her eyes and digesting his words. She could tell that he was pained by his helplessness, a big dark shadow that he was unable to shake. After a moment, she cast him a long glance.
“I was told that all of the women had eyes for you,” she said quietly.
He met her gaze, a smile creeping over his lips. “Now I see why you are so worried. Certainly you fit the pattern.”
She frowned. “What pattern?”
“Having eyes for me.”
Her bow-shaped mouth opened in outrage. “I do not!”
He grinned. “Pity. After all, I have eyes for you.”
She turned her nose up at him, looking away. It was purely a defensive reaction, however; she did not want him to see that his words had pleased her.
“You are wasting your time, Kirk Connaught,” she said, though she did not mean a word of it. “I have no interest in you.”
“You do. Admit it.”
“I will not.”
He leaned close, burying his face in her silken hair and inhaling deeply. Mara froze, feeling his hot breath against the back of her head as chills enveloped her body. Closing her eyes, she could hardly repress the mad trembling that had suddenly taken control.
Kirk smiled into her hair, taking an inky tendril and wrapping it around his finger. “Then if you have no interest in me, kindly explain why rumors of my curse have upset you so?”
Mara shuddered violently, scarcely able to reply as his massive body pressed against her back. “I… I was afraid.”
“Afraid of me?”
She nodded, unaware that she was listing against him. As her eyes remained closed, she had no idea that she was literally collapsing in his arms. “Afraid of you.”
Mara was cognizant of his lips against her temple. Somehow, she was falling, falling into the curve of his strong embrace and she had neither the desire nor the strength to resist him. And if she had learned one thing from the very beginning of their association, it was that Kirk Connaught had strong, warm, wonderful arms. Arms that made her feel more protected, more cherished, than anything on this earth.
“You need never fear me, love,” his mouth was moving down her face, his hands caressing her cheeks. “I am the last person you need dread. But you, on the other hand…”
She was lost as his lips roved her chin. “What… what of me?”
His mouth hovered above her luscious lips, quivering with desire. Mara opened her eyes long enough to meet his liquid gaze.
“You scare me to death.”
It was the truth.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mara had no idea what Kirk meant by his strange statement. And he never gave her the chance to ask. One moment she was gazing into his stone gray eyes, and in the next his mouth was consuming her luscious lips with a hunger. It was the first time a man had ever kissed her, slow and warm and insistent, and before Mara realized her actions, small hands were weaving themselves into his hair.
He was oh so tender with her, like a tiny fragile flower. He tasted gently, tickling her lips with his tongue until she opened wide to his seeking warmth. Mara gasped, squirmed, and gasped anew as his massive arms pulled her against his chest. Focused on the new experience of his wonderful mouth, she was unaware when he lay her on the bed, partially covering her with his enormous body.
One hand still held her tightly as the other forged into virgin territory. Delicately, he touched the swell of her breast, listening to her purr like a kitten. Feeling bolder, he gently enclosed the entire breast, his kisses more passionate, more forceful, as she responded. He released her lips, intending to taste every inch of her beautiful face when she suddenly turned the tables on him, peppering his jaw and cheeks with hot little kisses.
“Dear God,” he breathed, caressing the firmness of her breast as she attacked his face. “Mara, Mara… you’re a hellion more than you know, lass.”
She heard him, kissing his eyes, clinging to him with a fervor. For a sheltered young lady who had known little of the ways between men and women, it was apparent that Kirk brought out her animal instincts. Fingers anchored in his dark hair, she was in the process of raining kisses across his forehead when he suddenly lowered his head, dragging his mouth over the swell of her breasts.
The too-long surcoat was loosening. Kirk pulled Mara away from his face, forcing her back onto the mattress as his hands sought her bare breasts. She moaned softly as he pinched a nipple, rolling it into a hot little bud. Consumed with the need to taste her, to suckle the life from her pert breasts, Kirk realized through his haze of lust that the neckline of the surcoat was too constricting for his needs. But the moment he moved to lift her skirts, she balked.
/> “Nay!” she gasped, slapping at his hands. “Not… not that!”
He frowned with concern. “Not what, love?”
Panting with desire and a surge of fright, she tried to squirm away from him. Kirk grasped her wrists to prevent her from leaping off the bed.
“What is the matter?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. “What have I done, Mara?”
She refused to look him in the eye, her cheeks flushing bright. Seeing her obvious discomfort, and fear, Kirk gently kissed her hands, hoping to ease her. Not a moment ago she had been alive with awakening desire; now she was withdrawn and fearful. And he would know why.
“Tell me, lass,” he whispered, straightening the neckline of her surcoat where it drooped. “I would know what I have done to upset you so.”
She struggled with herself for a moment. Finally, the bright blue gaze lifted hesitantly. “I… I do not want you to touch me… there.”
“Where?”
She lifted an eyebrow with as much force as she could muster. “There.”
He understood immediately. “I wasn’t going to,” mostly truth, although it had been his next target after her delicious breasts. Still clutching her wrists, he pulled her toward him in a gentle, comforting manner. “Mara, you realize that when men and women mate, at some point, touching is necessary. And when we marry…”
“I never said I’d marry you.”
He acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “When we marry, it will be necessary for me to touch you there in order to produce children. It’s perfectly natural, lass. Why does it frighten you so?”
Her expression was suddenly filled with shame and she turned her face away. True to her forthright nature, however, she made no attempt to cover the truth. No matter how humiliating. “The soldier in the inn… he touched me there and it was painful,” she could feel his gaze on her. “I hated every minute of it.”
Kirk was quiet a moment. “You told me that he did not take your maidenhood.”
“He did not,” she forced herself to look at him. “But his fingers… they touched me.”
He did not say any more. Pulling her stiff body against him, he lay back on the soft pillows, holding her tightly. Mara gave in to his comfort, his heat, sighing with contentment as he gently caressed her.
“Are you angry?” her voice was small.
“Why should I be?” he said softly. “I understand your fear and I am sorry that you are frightened of something that can be quite wonderful. Obviously, your first experience was dreadful. But you must realize that it will be different with me.”
“Why?”
“Because I will be gentle, lass. I shall take the time needed to introduce you into the world of desire.”
“But it will hurt, will it not? My mother told me once that it is painful for a woman to lose her virginity.”
“I have heard that it is,” his voice was quiet as he turned, capturing her against his chest and gazing down into her wonderful eyes. “In truth, I have never bedded a virgin before. I suppose this will be a new experience for the both of us.”
She raised an eyebrow and he caught a glimpse of her stubborn nature returning. “You speak as if I have already agreed to this. I told you quite clearly that I did not want to marry you.”
“Would you rather have someone else?”
“And if I did?”
“Then I will kill him,” Kirk sounded entirely sincere. “I shall kill any man who tries to take you from me, Mara. I swear it.”
The gently-taunting air of their conversation had turned serious. Mara raised her head, leaning on an elbow as she studied his strong, handsome face. “You once told me to jump from the window ledge to entertain you,” she said, reaching out a timid hand to stroke his cheek. “I told you that I hated you. And still you want me?”
He smiled faintly. “I think I have from the moment I first saw you. I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.”
“Then why did you tell me to jump?”
His smile broadened. “So I could save you and you would be forever indebted to me. Why else?”
She matched his smile, giggling when he enfolded her in his arms and rolled across the bed. Mara ended up with her head hanging over the side of the mattress, quickly succumbing to the scorching kisses Kirk was depositing on her neck.
“I still say that I do not want to marry you,” she breathed, the blood rushing to her head. “But supposing I have a weak moment and agree, will we live here?”
He grunted, tasting her sweet flesh. “I think not. One of my brothers can come and serve Edmund and Johanne. You and I shall return to Ireland. You will not stay at Anchorsholme any longer than necessary.”
“Because you fear for me?”
He stopped kissing her. Mara raised her head, gazing into intense gray eyes. “Because I fear what I might do if you are threatened,” he sighed heavily, his gaze raking her face. “My family has served the House of de Cleveley for three generations, Mara. I would hate to be the link in the chain that destroyed the standards of service my father and grandfather set.”
“By killing for me?”
He nodded faintly. “Aye, love,” he whispered. “By killing for you. By killing them all.”
The evening feast was a less fanciful affair than it had been the previous evening. Most of the guests had departed, leaving the cavernous grand hall rather empty. Aside from a few senior soldiers, the knights and their ladies, all was silent and somber as the meal of pork and boiled vegetables was served.
Mara and Micheline sat at the head table, a bank of smoking tallow candles burning brightly before them. They were clad in surcoats they had brought from Haslingden, faded garments in contrast to Johanne’s brilliant scarlet frock. But there was no humiliation in their appearance this night; proudly, they wore the old dresses. For no amount of convincing from Kirk or the twin ladies could convince them to wear the beautiful dresses of the dead women.
Kirk sat between Edmund and Micheline again this night, silently consuming his meal. Micheline ate silently as well, as did Mara. The only conversation, soft and intimate, was between Edmund and Johanne as they tittered and whispered privately.
Kirk ignored his young lord, casting long glances at Mara as she picked at her food. And afternoon spent in her arms had been more than enough to convince him that he could not, would not, live without her whether or not she agreed to his marriage proposal. He made feeble attempts to catch her attention, clearing his throat or banging his spoon. But she deliberately ignored him, pretending not to hear his overtures.
He had to grin at her, stubborn little wench. The harder he tried, the more she ignored him. Just when he was about to throw a piece of bread at her, Johanne broke from her conversation with Edmund and focused on pale, subdued Micheline.
“I thought you would like to know that wedding arrangements have been made,” she said, mockingly-sweet. “The priest will arrive on the morrow from Crosby and you and my brother shall be wed.”
Micheline’s cheeks flushed. “I… I thank you for making the arrangements, my lady,” she said politely. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you.”
Johanne smiled thinly. “Not at all. A simple missive sent to the priest was the only undertaking. I would expect that by noon will see you and my brother as husband and wife.”
Micheline nodded submissively, though the entire idea shocked and sickened her. So soon. “If I may be of any assistance to you in the final preparations, please let me know. I should be happy to help.”
“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.”
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