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.”
She sniffled, tears suddenly brimming again. “With me, I know. But I swear if it takes the rest of my life, I shall make amends. You are the only person in my life, other tha
n Micheline, who has ever shown me any true kindness.” She shrugged, blinking away the moisture as she lowered her gaze. “Mayhap I simply do not know how to react to true kindness. I react to you as I have reacted my entire life to the situation around me; with force and determination. I… I have never known another way.”
He felt himself relenting completely, knowing her words were insightful and true. Before he could respond, however, she sneezed violently and pulled her cloak more tightly about her body. Snuggling against him, she sneezed again.
“Please do not hate me, Kirk,” she murmured. “You are all that I have now.”
He felt her go limp, knowing the sway of the horse and the strength of the liquor had lured her into unconsciousness. Gathering her tightly in his right arm, Mara never felt the kisses to her forehead.
The corridor was dim and musty, reeking of smoke. Soft footfalls echoed against the floor as Micheline made her way to her husband’s chamber, more determination in her heart than she had ever experienced. Having spent the night with the man and his sister, she should have stayed far away from the pair. Yet, she could not help but remember her words to Kirk, declaring that she would take charge of her marriage as best she was able.
A marriage that had been a disaster from the onset. Submissive by character, Micheline had no idea where her sudden burst of determination had come from. But as she sat in her morning bath, washing away the reminders of her husband and his sister, it became apparent that she would not tolerate this situation. Mayhap it was in knowing that she was now the baroness and the strength of the title was behind her. Or mayhap it was because she refused to be a pawn in Edmund’s sick games, manipulated and abused until she could stand no more.
Whatever the case, Micheline was inclined to take charge of the situation before it harangued out of control. Considering it was the only marriage she would ever know, she realized she had to voice her objections now unless she wanted to remain miserable for the rest of her life.
Still, the courage to do what was necessary was a hard thing to come by. Pausing before the great chamber door, she took a deep breath and knocked. After several moments, Johanne’s breathless voice answered. “Who comes?”
Micheline’s reply was to boldly open the door. Closing the panel behind her, she focused on her husband and his sister, intertwined in the bedsheets. After the hell she had been through the previous night, the sight of the pair no longer jolted her.
“Ah, Micheline,” Johanne purred seductively. “You have returned for more?”
Micheline raised an eyebrow. “I have not,” she said flatly. “First, I have come to ask where my sister has gone. Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda informed that she left for Quernmore Castle this morn.”
Johanne answered irritably. “The woman is a thorn in our side. We have sent her to Quernmore Castle in the hopes of finding her a husband.”
Micheline’s eyes widened but she said nothing; apparently, Johanne knew nothing of the relationship between Kirk and Mara, and Micheline had no intention of elaborating. But she had also been told that Kirk had led the escort to Quernmore, and she wondered if the man was aware of the motives behind Mara’s presence. Surely, he had asked. Surely, he knew.
But still… Mara was on her way to Quernmore. Perplexed, Micheline struggled not to be diverted from the subject at hand.
“I see,” she said quietly. “With my first question answered, there is but another matter to discuss. I have come to say that I refuse to tolerate this… this lewd behavior any longer. The relationship between the two of you is nothing short of ghastly.”
Edmund fixed her with a bland expression. “We do not require your opinion. Leave the room unless you plan to join us.”
Micheline refused to back down, musing that some of Mara’s boldness had finally taken its toll on her. “I do not plan to join you nor will I leave. I have come to settle this situation and I would see that accomplished.”
Johanne propped herself up on an elbow, her smile fading. “What do you intend to settle, dear? Last night you made no mention of your displeasure with our arrangements.”
Micheline swallowed, recollecting the events of the previous night and struggling not to succumb to bone-numbing shame. “It was my wedding night, Lady Johanne.” Her voice quieted. “I was not even allowed the privilege of knowing my husband privately, but with you to comment and explain every move, every step. Your mouth to my breast, his mouth to my breast, it made no difference to either of you. I was like a new toy, to be explored and belittled. I could have allowed the circumstance to destroy me, but I will not. I refuse to allow the two of you to do what you please with me.”
Edmund sat up, annoyance on his face. “You are my wife, woman. You will do as I say, without reserve or question, and I am unmoved by your pathetic speech.”
“’Tis no speech, my lord, but fact.”
Edmund lifted his eyebrows. “Fact? If that is so, then you have failed to realize that above all else, you are my wife. It is your duty to do what you have been told and bear me strong sons to carry on my dynasty. That, woman, is the only true fact!”
Micheline labored to keep the quiver from her voice. She wasn’t very good at maintaining her courage in the face of strong opposition. “I shall be an obedient wife and bear children for the House of De Cleveley, but I will not be used as… as an object of lust. The more I think on this situation, the more it sickens me. Let Johanne find her own husband, for by the rules of marriage, you belong to me and I will not share you with your own sister.”
Edmund was up, his usually pale face pinched with emotion. “You will do as I say,” he hissed. “I never wanted you to begin with. How dare you confront me with your demands as if they hold any meaning to me!”
Micheline could feel her entire body trembling. “They should hold meaning to you, as I am your wife. And it is not a demand I give you, but a threat. You will cease this sinful relationship or I shall inform the church of your deeds. And they, my lord, have the power to punish you for your actions and well you know it.”
Edmund stared at her. He couldn’t help it. After a moment, he glanced at Johanne as if hardly believing what he had heard. “You seek to threaten me?” he repeated, his pale eyes focusing on Micheline once again. “Are you so daft, woman? Are you truly so daft that you would threaten the man who holds your very life in his hands?”
“I am not, my lord. But what you do with your sister is wrong and I refuse to tolerate it.”
“But you tolerated it last night when…”
“I had no choice!” Micheline’s voice soared with emotion. “I was numbed by the circumstance and you, my lord, saw fit to take advantage of me. But now that I have had time to clear my head, I realize that I will not tolerate such abuse and the rules of conduct must be established. The first rule states that Johanne is never to share our marriage bed again, and the second that you will cease this horrific relationship with her.”
Edmund’s neck bulged with pulsing veins. Gazing into Micheline’s blue eyes, he shook his head with disgust. “You have no idea the powers you toy with,” he breathed. “I would sooner squash you like a bug beneath my boot than bow to your demands.”
Micheline labored to maintain eye-contact; the urge to shy away from him was overwhelming. Just this once, she vowed to stay firm. She had come too far to turn back.
“I am not asking you to bow. I am asking that you graciously conform to the rules of marriage. This is a union between you and I, not the three of us.”
Edmund studied the woman, finding himself wondering how Kirk would react when he returned from Quernmore to find her vanished. But he certainly could not permit her continued existence, not after she threatened his relationship with Johanne. If the church were to discover their liaison, he could expect nothing but trouble. And there was only one way to avoid the trouble.
Micheline never saw it coming. One minute she was standing her ground, and in the next she was sprawled on the floor somewhere between light and dark. The
room was spinning, a great pain pounding in her head. She tried to rise but the moment she made an attempt, another blow to her head brought a curtain of darkness.
Edmund stared at his wife, collapsed in a heap. His knuckles hurt from striking her and he rubbed them gingerly as his sister hovered at the edge of the bed, her eyes wide.
“Oh, Edmund,” she breathed. “I must. I truly must.”
Edmund nodded unsteadily. “Aye, you must.” His heart was pounding in his chest. “Do it, Johanne. Wish her away and be done with it.”
Johanne nodded, madness in her eyes. “We tried, dearest. We tried to accept her, but she refused to see the rightness of our devotion. We simply cannot allow her to tell…”
“I know,” Edmund said, his apprehension mounting. Kirk had sworn to protect this woman. But he couldn’t think of that now. His desire to rid himself of the threat outweighed the fear of his captain for the moment. “Do it now, Johanne. Wish as hard as you can.”
Johanne glanced at Micheline, completely emotionless. Unlike the other ladies she had wished away, Micheline’s interest hadn’t been in Kirk. It had been her condemnation of her husband’s relationship with his sister that had brought about her ending. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head in prayer. A prayer for death.
Edmund watched his sister as she lost herself in a stupor. Opening the door, he barked breathless orders to a guard and the man disappeared down the hall. Edmund closed the door, biting his nails as Johanne continued to hex Micheline.
A knock on the door came several minutes later and Edmund yanked the panel open.
“My lord requires me?” Corwin asked quietly.
Edmund nodded, practically dragging the man into the room. When Corwin saw the heap on the floor, his nostrils flared.
“Dear God,” he breathed. “You… you cannot mean….”
Edmund refused to listen, shoving him in Micheline’s direction. “Take her,” he commanded. “Johanne has wished her away and it is your duty to fulfill her desire.”
Corwin was pale. “Not again.” He turned beseechingly to Edmund. “Kirk will return tomorrow. There is not enough time to…”
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