Deeper Than Roses

by Charlene Cross

  Quickly she darted off the path, angling around trees and shrubs, trying hopelessly to escape him. She heard his horse thrashing through the brush as it constantly trailed her. Desperation drove her to the stream, and she splashed across the shallows. Somewhere on the hillside above her sat a cave, she knew; she’d seen Balo disappear into it several times. Liza hoped she’d find its entrance before she was caught and defiled.

  From his vantage point midway up a tree above the stream Kore watched through hard, emotionless eyes as Liza’s shadowy figure progressed up the steep slope. She had betrayed his people, and through her vindictiveness she had murdered them all. She must pay for her deceit, he decided, his hand pressing tight against his abdomen, covering his wound. Blood seeped through his fingers. Precious droplets of his life’s source hit the leaves below him, sounding much like the start of a slow rain. Praying he would live long enough to avenge his people’s honor, he kept a quiet vigil and bided his time.

  Below the tree where Kore hid Richard Black pulled his mount to a stop by the stream’s edge. Aided by the light of the setting moon, he also watched the Gypsy girl’s progress up the steep slope. Her feet slid along the loose stones littering her path, and several times Black thought she might fall over the edge. The jagged rocks below would show her no mercy, he knew. Then she stopped her ascent. To his amazement, she disappeared from view. A shout lifted from his throat. Apace MacHugh, along with a handful of men, was at his side.

  “There is a cave on that hillside,” he said to Edward. “The black-eyed witch vanished into it If she knows about it, the one you seek might know of it as well. Shall we follow?”

  Edward motioned for his men to dismount. “It is worth a chance.”

  Kore watched as the group, torches held high, forded the stream to quietly climb the hill, then he slipped from his position in the tree.

  Liza gazed at the slumbering couple who lay beside the low-burning campfire, their arms and legs entwined. The intimate scene sickened her, and her anger rose. She had found the two for whom the evil one searched. Hoping to trade her life for theirs, she turned on her heel and retraced her steps from the cave. In her haste she carelessly broke through the opening, and the thorns on the wild rose tore at her exposed flesh. Cursing their viciousness, she pulled herself from their grasp. She stumbled into Edward MacHugh.

  Her lip curled. “The one you look for is in there. She is in the arms of her lover.” Her eyes burned strangely in the torchlight, and Edward promptly stepped away from her, as did the men at his back. “I have fulfilled the bargain we struck. You will now let me go,” she finished.

  Certain the Gypsy girl was possessed by the devil, Edward moved aside. “Pass us, witch, and be on your way.”

  A low laugh trickled from Liza’s throat. “You see the evil that dwells in yourself, Gajo. Some day it will rise up to smite you.”

  As she edged her way back down the path Richard Black and several of the men crossed themselves. “Go quietly,” Edward ordered, drawing his sword. With two harsh blows the wild rose lay scattered along the narrow ledge. MacHugh and his men slipped through the opening.

  Positive she had been spared, Liza slowly made her way down the path, when a hand reached from a deep crag, catching her braid. Gasping, Liza spun around, her feet sliding on the loose stones. Under the light of the fastsinking moon she saw it was Kore who ensnared her hair. “Let loose of me!” she ordered, swatting at his hand. Instead he bound the braid around his wrist. Liza tried to jerk it free, but to no avail. “Let me go!”

  Kore’s hand lifted from his blood-soaked belly; his wet fingers entrapped Liza’s face. Feeling a stickiness on her skin, Liza dropped her gaze. She cried out in fear as she spotted the stain stretching across his tunic. “You bleed!”

  “Like the others I die, my beautiful Liza, betrayed by you,” he whispered weakly. His eyes tried to focus on her face. Everything grew dim. “So fair on the outside, yet so evil within. Your soul is black, Liza. As black as the death we’ll share.”

  Before Liza could react Kore shoved himself from the craggy wall where he rested; his weight forced her over the ledge. Her scream echoed through the predawn air. Then all was still, the jagged rocks having claimed the offering.

  The shrill scream resounded through the cave, jerking Logan from his sleep. His back came up from the furs and he froze.

  “So, wanderer, we meet again,” Edward said, his cold gaze raking over Logan’s shadowy face. “And it looks like you’ve been dallying with my betrothed. Wake her!”

  Every muscle in Logan’s body tensed. Why hadn’t he been aware of the intrusion? He’d never slept this soundly—never! But he had never been this relaxed. He eyed MacHugh at length and was sure his next sleep would last unto eternity.

  “Wake her, I said,” his stepbrother hissed.

  His hand settling on Kristiana’s shoulder, Logan shook her gently. “Sweet, we have visitors,” he said, shaking her again.

  Opening her eyes, Kristiana stretched contentedly, then looked up at Logan. At noting the slant of his gaze, hers followed. With a gasp she sat up.

  Edward’s hard eyes ran the length of fur covering Kristiana’s otherwise nude body. Then his gaze shot to the linen cloth and the dark stain that dotted the material at the outside of her hip. “Since the way has already been cleared, there will be less resistance in our marriage bed,” he said, letting her know he still planned to have her.

  Logan’s jaw clenched; gold fire blazed in his eyes. Fortunately, the dim light from torch and campfire prevented Edward from seeing their color. “You presume much, especially when she is already wedded.”

  A look of surprise momentarily lit Edward’s eyes. It quickly fled. “Since it is I who have the advantage, I can presuppose whatever I like. Yet for the sake of courtesy, I shall gladly clarify any mistaken idea you might have about who holds claim to the beautiful, though slightly used, Kristiana. You, wanderer, are a heathen, while she is a Christian. Informed of such, I’m quite certain the Church and our king will grant an immediate annulment of your so-called marriage. She will then be mine.” His sword lowered toward the pile of clothing that lay near his feet. “Now dress yourselves.” In two flicks of the blade Kristiana’s shift flew at her face and Logan’s trousers met his chest.

  Under the cover of the furs Kristiana scrambled into her shift. Logan, on the other hand, showed far less modesty. Perceived by others of his gender as a man to be envied, he slipped his feet into his trousers and stood. With deliberate slowness he drew the material up over his sinewy legs to cinch it at his waist. The intended insult was not lost on Edward; at seeing the tic that pulsated along the man’s jaw, a lordly smile crept across Logan’s face.

  The two men’s clashing gazes held as Edward’s taut voice echoed through the chamber. “Come, my pet. It is time I take you home.”

  The entire episode had escaped Kristiana. Through questioning eyes she gazed up at Logan. Then she slowly came to her feet to stand next to him. Straightaway Logan’s hand clamped over her forearm. “Don’t move, sweet,” he said, holding her at his side.

  “She has a choice,” Edward stated. “Either she comes willingly, whereupon your life will be spared, your marriage annulled, or she comes by force. Be it the latter, you will die, and Kristiana will become an instant widow. For me, your death would be a far easier solution, but I shall allow her to decide.” Edward’s gaze moved to Kristiana. “Which do you choose?”

  Her heart tumbled over itself as nausea filled her. Crazily her head seemed to spin. The thought of giving herself over to this man nearly crippled her. Yet the look on Edward’s face said he did not lie. She must go willingly, or Logan would die. There was no other choice. “Do you give your word he will be spared?” she asked, her voice low, shaky.

  “I have said as much,” Edward countered.

  “Then swear on your dead son’s grave he will go free.”

  The child born to his late wife had belonged to another, Edward had been cuckolded. Armed
with the knowledge that he had never had a son, he said, “It is so sworn.”

  Green eyes sought those of gold. The plea written in Kristiana’s gaze begged Logan to understand. “For your sake, I must go with him.”

  By all that is holy! his mind screamed with fury. Never far from him, his claymore lay but several strides behind him on a ledge. If he could only reach it, he thought, he’d wield it with a vengeance, gutting them all. But those few yards seemed like a mile. Even if he were to gain his sword, Logan could not chance injury to Kristiana. His fingers bit into her arm. “He lies, Kristiana. You know his treachery. He is not to be believed.”

  Hearing his words, she felt pain rip through her. Her heart ached unmercifully. It seemed to be tearing itself apart. Oh, my love, I desire more than anything to stay. But by staying she was certain to cause his death. “I must go,” she insisted. With effort she broke free of his grip.

  “No!” Logan cried, trying to regain his hold on her. Then three men were upon him. Two grabbed his arms while, from behind, Richard Black’s arm clamped around Logan’s neck. Its force nearly strangled him, but Logan continued to struggle against his bonds. “Don’t go with him, Kristiana. He deceives you into believing he will spare me. The anguish you’d suffer will be far less were you to remain with me.” They would both die, he knew, but the blow would be quick—not like the endless torture Edward would deliver to her day after day. Then again, MacHugh might slay only him, but at least Kristiana would know once and for all that the man was never to be trusted. “Kris—”

  Logan’s head was jerked back, a forceful hand pulling at his hair, the grip tightened around his throat. Kristiana looked to Edward. “You swore an oath. Will you keep it?”

  “Hold him until we have cleared the stream, then set him free,” Edward ordered. His eyes met Black’s, sending the man a far different message. Giving a slight nod Richard acknowledged it. “Come, pet. When we are past the stream the Gypsy will be let loose.”

  Through tormented eyes Kristiana gazed at Logan one last time. Good-bye, my love, her agonized heart cried. Then she quickly turned away; Edward led her from the cave.

  After a long moment Black, assured the two men had a firm grip on the Gypsy, released his hold. He looked to a third man who had remained behind. “You know what to do,” he said. “Make certain it is finished.” Then he also left the cave.

  Logan’s restrained wrists were held fast, arms stretched outward from his body. Attentively he gazed at the drawn sword pointed at his heart. On an angry growl, which seemed to give him the strength of an ancient god, he jerked against the constraining hands. The sudden, powerful motion sent his captors reeling into each other. The men butted heads and rolled to the ground. Intent on reaching his sword, Logan turned only to stumble over the groveling pair. A sharp blow hit his shoulder, slicing deep into his flesh, sending him to his knees.

  Only inches away lay the claymore. With his left arm positioned close to his body Logan pulled himself along the cave’s floor. As he pushed himself upward to his feet, his hand grabbling for his weapon, the heavy blade fell again, striking across his back. White-hot pain seared him as he was sent flat to his belly. From the corner of his eye he saw the glint of cold steel, the sword rising anew. Utilizing his last bit of strength he rolled from under its descent.

  The blade erred and glanced off a rock, striking sparks. Its harsh clang filled the cave to reverberate a thousand times over. Then, like the sound of thunder, came the beat of ten thousand wings. An eerie squeal accompanied the roar. Startled, Logan’s assailant fell back. Eyes wide, he quickly searched the fringes of the cave. Like a giant wave, a multitude of bats, already returned from their night of feasting, swooped from the chamber beyond.

  In unison, MacHugh’s men cursed. The two upon the floor sprang to their feet, then all three scrambled for the cave’s entrance. Teetering on the narrow ledge outside, the trio slumped against the hard rock at their backs. They gazed at the dawn-streaked sky, then slowly each looked to the other, a decision was made. If the Gypsy wasn’t dead, all three were certain he soon would be. They’d not enter that evil hole again. Agreeing to swear they’d all witnessed the Gypsy’s death, the men ran down the incline toward the stream.

  As he lay on the damp floor in the tomblike darkness of the cave the bats’ screeches became unbearable to Logan’s ears. All at once the noise seemed to fade into nonexistence. The small light from the fire dimmed into near nothingness, a gray veil having fallen over his eyes. A nauseating sweet scent filled his nostrils. Then, at the faint realization that his life’s blood was draining from his body, Logan decided he smelled death. Another time, another place briefly swept through his clouded memories. Edward had won.

  In his last conscious thought Logan envisioned a green-eyed goddess, the blush of roses on her petal-soft cheeks. Kristiana, his forlorn heart cried, its strength ebbing. Then all was silent and black.

  As the sun peaked over the horizon Kristiana and Edward broke from the wood into the clearing. From atop the great steed her wide green eyes stared incredulously at the grisly scene that met them. Nightmare that it was, her mind refused to believe it was true. Lifeless bodies littered the ground, charred wagons beside them; Logan’s cart was naught but cinder. With a quick glance Kristiana saw that Yokka and Rupa had fallen only inches from each other, Nanosh lay at the opposite end of the camp. Palpable dread filled her as she turned to face the man behind her. “My God!” she cried. “What have you done?”

  “They got in my way,” he stated without remorse.

  Stunned, Kristiana was unable to respond. Then the gravity of it all suddenly hit her. A picture of her father’s quivering body filled her head; then his shaking ceased in death. No! her mind screamed. Oh, Logan! Not you, my love. You cannot be dead as well.

  Faced with the reality that her beloved Gypsy had fallen victim to Edward’s vile treachery, Kristiana slumped in the saddle. She felt herself sliding toward the ground, but Edward’s arm pulled her back against him. “You vicious, lying bastard,” she hissed at him once the faintness had left her. Her eyes sparkled with tears of hatred. “May you forever burn in Hell!”

  Edward’s hand twisted in her hair. With a hard pull her face came fully around, her gaze again meeting his. “Learn to show more respect for your new husband, pet. You will suffer less if you do.”

  His cold eyes centered on her mouth, and his face lowered. Cursing he drew back, Kristiana’s teeth having bitten hard into his lip. His fist rose; at once she went limp in his arms.

  From the opposite side of the woods blue eyes erupted with loathing as they witnessed the blow. Keeping a tight grip on his emotions, Sebastian bided his time until MacHugh and his men rode from the clearing. Convinced they were gone, he slowly urged his steed across the encampment, searching the lifeless faces along the way. Not seeing his friend among them, he headed toward the cave. It was there he found him.

  “Ah, laddie, what have ye brought upon yerself?” he asked, cradling Logan in his arms. Then, sadly, Sebastian blamed himself. Having lingered in the arms of a comely wench, the woman’s unquenchable desires matching his own, the man now wished he hadn’t dallied so long. “There is still life in ye, but only a breath. Fight, boy! Fight!” he ordered sternly. “There’s work to be done. It’s not over yet.” A cough rose from Logan’s throat. “That’s it, laddie. Fight yer way back.”

  Hearing the familiar voice, Logan struggled through the thick fog clouding his brain. Long lashes parted as heavy eyelids cracked open. “W-where’s Kristiana?” he asked before a fit of coughing racked him. Pain tormented his whole body.

  “Easy, lad. Save yer breath. Ye have lost too much blood.”

  “Wh-wh—” The word refused to pass his lips.

  “The vixen is with MacHugh, if that’s what ye be askin’.” He noted the faint look of anger in Logan’s glazed eyes. “If ye be wantin’ her back, ye’d best be puttin’ yer mind to healin’ yerself. Otherwise she’ll be lost to ye.”

 
“N-no. Must h-have her b-back. She’s mine, not Ed—” Logan coughed again. “Not Edward’s.”

  “Then so be it, lad,” he said, rocking Logan gently. “We’ll get her back. That I promise ye.”

  And to that end, Sebastian set himself to work. But as the day progressed his skills as a healer were tested again and again. Finally he realized Logan’s survival was in the hands of the saints. Alone in his vigil, Sebastian prayed fervently to each and every one of them.

  10

  Muircairn Castle—New Year’s Eve, 1540

  From her place of honor at the head table, Kristiana stared with emotionless green eyes at the revelers celebrating Hogmanay in the great hall at Muircairn Castle. The festive crowd laughed and danced, their empty cups rising to be filled again and again with the free-flowing wine. Yet Kristiana saw none of it.

  A hard hand clamped over hers where it rested on the table. “Smile, dear wife,” Edward ordered near her ear. At the touch of his hot breath on her face Kristiana stiffened. “Our guests deserve cordiality from their hostess. Show them such.”

  A faint smile crept across her face, freezing in place. She knew that if she did not comply, she’d later pay for her disobedience, for Edward’s wrath fell upon her at every turn. His abusive words attacked her most often, but when his temper flared beyond its limits the back of his hand found her face. Thankfully the blows were few, probably because she kept herself as far from him as possible.

  Briefly dark lashes met as delicate lids shuttered tearclouded eyes; Kristiana swallowed a jagged sob. Truly she suffered a marriage spawned in Hell, filled with days of endless torment. Time and again Logan’s words, uttered in the hollowness of the cave—a hollowness equal to that inside her breast—came back to haunt her. As predicted, Edward had caused her much anguish; but it was her own guilt, coupled with her insurmountable grief, that induced the most heartache.