Arabella’s eyes bugged. “She what?” she gasped. “She killed him? In heaven’s name, how did she do that?”
Brend let the hoof drop and stood up. “The knight was battling Cort and Dera jumped on his back and stabbed him through the neck,” he said. “She plunged into a swordfight with men twice her size and could have gotten herself killed. That is why I shouted at her.”
Arabella stood there with her mouth open. “I can hardly believe it,” she murmured. “Why would she do such a thing?”
Brend shook his head, setting the hoof pick aside. “I don’t know,” he said. “Bella, I don’t even know her. She’s a stranger to me. She’s my sister, that is true, but the way she thinks… it is not the way I think.”
“You think like an Englishman,” Arabella said softly.
He looked at her. “But I am not English,” he murmured. “If I was English, things would be different.”
“Like what?”
“We would be married by now.”
Arabella’s features softened. “I wish we were,” she whispered. Then, a smile creased her lips. “What dreams shall we speak of today, my love?”
He smiled, but it was sadly. It was a game they played in the moments they spent alone, which were few and far between. They would speak of the dreams they had for each other, where they would live or what they would do. The last time, Brend had spoken of the journey he wanted to take Arabella on to see the great sights of Rome. It was something that kept their spirits alive in a world that was trying desperately to crush them.
It was a game that they both lived for.
“I spoke of mine the last time,” he said quietly. “It is your turn. What dream do you have for us today?”
She beamed. “Today, we live at Bedingfeld Manor,” she said. “You know the place. Such a lovely manse in the country. We live there with our children and horses and dogs, and I cut flowers in the garden as you manage our estate.”
“And we are happy?”
“Deliriously so.”
He smiled faintly. “We could be nothing else,” he said. “Bedingfeld is a peaceful place.”
She nodded, the glow of hope in her eyes as she spoke. “Bedingfeld has a small contingent of men that you would be in command of.”
“Naturally,” he said. “How many children do we have this time?”
“Six,” she said. “All boys. But the youngest one would be my baby and he would never leave me.”
Brend chuckled softly. “Boys must go to foster,” he said. “Even the baby. You could not keep him forever.”
“Why not?”
“Because he must grow up.”
“You sound like my father when it comes to Damey. That is what he tells my mother.”
“And he is correct.”
“But if my baby leaves me, I would be all alone.”
“You would have me.”
Her expression brightened. “Of course,” she said. “How foolish of me.”
“Not foolish, love. But with all of those children, it is understandable that the husband would be forgotten.”
She giggled and he winked at her, turning to pick up a brush and going to work on the coat of his horse. Even when they were alone, they never touched one another for fear of being seen. It would be a horrifically serious offense, more for Brend than for Arabella, so it was best they keep their distance.
But it was a struggle.
Brend had kissed Arabella once and it was a moment in their lives that they were both living on. One sweet kiss, one night in the dark, and it was the most important thing that had ever happened to them. That had been about a year ago and Arabella had to admit she was aching for more kisses. She longed for the man to put his arms around her, to hold her close, but he never did.
He couldn’t.
It was a painful, lonely existence for the two of them but, somehow, their love continued to survive.
But the truth was that Arabella was becoming restless.
“And what is your dream for me today?” she asked quietly. “Are we still in Rome?”
He nodded as he brushed out the horse. “I have never been there, but I have heard that there are many sights to see,” he said. “Great arenas where men used to fight to the death and great shopping bazaars where you can buy exotic fabric or perfumes.”
“It sounds wonderful.”
“I am certain that it is.”
“Then why can we not go? Not just in our dreams, I mean. Why can we not go in reality?”
He focused on brushing the horse. “This is our reality, Bella.”
“It is because we have made it so. But I want to go to Rome.”
“You know that is not possible. I do not even know why you would bring that up.”
Arabella leaned against the wall of the stall. “I have been thinking, Brend,” she said. “I do not want to have dreams for the rest of my life. I want to marry you and bear your sons. I do not want to be speaking of a journey to Rome when we are old and gray, and regret never having actually gone. Surely you cannot be content with dreams for the rest of your life.”
His brushing slowed. “We have discussed this many times, Bella,” he said. “You know it is not possible.”
“I know it is not possible in England,” she said, growing unhappy. “In England, Brend. But we can speak to Papa and he can send us to France. We could marry there. You know this; we have spoken of it before.”
“Aye, we have spoken of it.”
“Are you telling me that you are content to dream with me for the rest of your life?”
He sighed faintly and looked at her. “Must we speak of this now?”
“When else do you think we should speak of it?”
He scratched his head. “This is something we have spoken of before, many times,” he said quietly. “We cannot marry now.”
“Now? Or ever?”
“We cannot marry now so long as it is illegal for us to do so.”
“What if it is illegal forever? What then?”
He set the brush down. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “You know my reservations.”
Arabella looked at him for a moment before stepping back. “I know you do not want to shame generations of MacRohan legacy knights,” she said. “But they are dead and I am alive. Would you rather uphold the honor of dead men than marry the woman you are in love with? When are you going to choose me, Brend? So far, in the two years we have loved one another, you have never chosen me. You choose your family honor over a woman who loves you. Is that fair to me?”
By the time she was finished, Brend was looking at his feet, his jaw ticking. “It is not fair to either of us, but until I can figure out…”
She cut him off. “You have had two years to figure this out,” she said. “I want to be with the man I love. I want children and a home, and I want to do it with you before my father decides to betroth me to another man. He could very well do that, Brend, and I will have no choice.”
He was still looking at his feet. “What would you have me say, Arabella? We have been through this before. There is nothing new I can say to you that you have not already heard.”
Arabella stared at him. She knew where he stood on family honor; he was a legacy knight and he would not betray that. She had held out hope he would choose their love over his family’s oath, but she was coming to see, increasingly, that he would not. They had these conversations perhaps once a week and, each time, she grew more despondent. The man wouldn’t betray his family. Not even for her.
Perhaps he just didn’t love her enough.
The tears began to come.
“Don’t say anything,” she said hoarsely. “I am tired of listening. I love you, Brend. More than the stars love the night, I love you, but I will not waste my life loving a man who loves his legacy more. A man in love would choose his heart over a family who sent him away when he was five years of age to strangers to raise. I am just… tired of this. Of all of it.”
With that, she t
urned away, tears filling her eyes. She hadn’t taken two steps when she heard his voice behind her.
“I’m sorry, Bella,” he said softly. “Please don’t… don’t hate me for doing my duty.”
She paused, turning her head but not quite looking at him. This day’s conversation had been particularly painful.
“You have a choice,” she said tightly. “Your duty or me. You cannot have both. Make your decision soon, for I simply will not spend my life pining for a man who does not view me as the most important thing in his life. You said you loved me, but you do not. Not really. No man who loved a woman would treat her the way you have treated me.”
With that, she left the stable, struggling not to sob. As she quickly wiped at the tears that would not stop falling, for her mother would be nosy if she saw that her daughter had been weeping, Arabella caught sight of Dera storming across the kitchen yard with a basket in her hand.
Arabella couldn’t even work up the curiosity to wonder what Dera was doing.
She had her own problems to deal with.
And they were destroying her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two days later
He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Cort could have gone home to Deverill, but he didn’t. He remained at Narborough. Something kept him anchored there, but it was more than his duty for Henry. He was fairly certain he’d figured out all he needed to know about Dera MacRohan, but something kept him from leaving.
Pale Irish eyes.
His discussion with Dera at the lake had done something to him. He’d pleaded illness for the past two days, staying to his chamber in the knights’ quarters where he was always lodged when he visited Narborough, because he didn’t want to see anyone and he didn’t want to talk to anyone.
At least not until he could figure out what, exactly, he was feeling.
Something was going on in his heart and mind that he didn’t recognize.
Dera’s rebel activities aside, he admired the fact that she was so passionate about her homeland. Their last conversation had been enlightening in many ways. He was equally passionate about England, so he understood that. He also understood that he would do anything to protect England from an invasion, which was exactly what Dera was doing, too. Yet in her case, he condemned her for it. There was no compassion or understanding for her plight. Perhaps she had been right; perhaps he was simply regurgitating what others had told him.
That made him confused.
So, he sat in his chamber and stared at the walls, thinking on the position he found himself in. Perhaps it was time to bring Brend into this, as he’d once discussed with Denys. Perhaps it was time to hang a marriage to Arabella over his head in exchange for information on Dera and the rebellion stirring in Ireland. All Cort knew was that he couldn’t take another encounter with her like the one they’d had at the lake. He was starting to feel too much pity for the woman and that was a dangerous thing.
But it was more than pity.
Attraction.
That was the deadliest thing of all.
God, he could hardly believe it even as the thought crossed his mind. How on earth could he be attracted to the fiery Irishwoman who killed with such ease? In truth, the answer was simple – she had a strength about her that was beyond anything he’d ever seen before in a woman. Even if her loyalties were misguided, she believed them with all her heart. She was stalwart, strong, fearless. He greatly admired that.
But she was also beautiful and charming when she had a mind to be, when she wasn’t sucking down chicken brains and trying not to gag. There were many sides to Dera, something he’d only scratched the surface of, he was certain. The thought of her struggling with the garbage made him smile, over and over again.
He wished he could tell her that.
But he didn’t want to for fear of where it would lead.
You cannot be attracted to her!
Therefore, the time had come for Denys to approach Brend. Cort had made that decision. Finally departing his small chamber in the low-ceilinged, stone building that was built against the wall of Narborough, he made his way towards the keep. It was a fine day outside and over in the stable yard, he could see Damien and Denys standing with Vulcan as the blacksmith put shoes on the animal.
It caught his attention.
Vulcan wasn’t happy in the least. In fact, two men were holding the horse’s head as the blacksmith worked and tried not to get bit. Cort shifted course and ended up in the stable yard just as Vulcan kicked out a back leg and nearly caught the blacksmith with it. Cort ended up by the animal’s head.
“That will be enough of that, you big brute,” he said to the horse, putting a big hand on the animal’s face. “Do you hear me? No more kicking. Behave yourself.”
Surprisingly, Vulcan seemed to pay attention to Cort, flaring his nostrils as he sniffed at him. Cort gave the horse several affectionate pats before focusing on Denys and Damien.
“He is acting as if he has never seen a blacksmith before,” Cort said.
As Denys made a face at the agitated horse, Damien made sure to come up by the animal’s head, as Cort had done. Possessively, he put his hand on the horse’s face.
“He’s simply spirited,” Damien said. “He is young and my father says he will grow out of this disobedience.”
“May grow out of it,” Denys clarified. “If he doesn’t, your mother will murder me and bury the body, and you will never see your horse again, so let us hope he behaves himself. He seems to like Cort, though.”
Damien looked at Cort and the man could see the jealousy in the young man’s eyes. “He does not like me more than he likes you,” he hastened to reassure the lad. “But I rode him to Lynn and back again and he responds to a heavy hand. That is what you need with him, Damey. A very heavy hand so that he will respect you.”
Damien looked at the horse, petting his nose. “I do not want to crush his spirit.”
“Crush his spirit before he crushes you, lad,” Denys said. “That is the choice we are facing – either you rule the horse or the horse rules you. If you cannot manage him better, then I will return him to the dealer and buy you a little spotted pony to ride, like the one you had when you were a child.”
Damien’s eyes widened at the threat. “Nay, Papa, please,” he said. “I will make Vulcan obey, I promise.”
“Obey or the pony!”
Damien nodded quickly, panicking at the thought of his father returning the gorgeous horse. “I promise he will be a very good horse,” he said. “I… I will work with him right after the blacksmith is finished. We will go to the field behind Narborough and…”
“Get him into the lake,” Cort said. “Get him into the lake where you can handle him better and he cannot overpower you. Even if he throws you, you’ll simply go into the water. But you should do that every day – take him out into the lake and work him that way. It will be the best thing for you both.”
“Excellent advice,” Denys said to his youngest son. “Ride him every day, for several hours, in that lake until he calms down and you learn to control him.”
Damien simply nodded, petting his horse, who seemed oddly calm since Cort had scolded it. With the horse no longer in danger of kicking the blacksmith, Cort turned to Denys.
“Speaking of advice, my lord,” he said. “May I have a word with you?”
Denys nodded. “Of course.”
“Privately, if you please.”
Cort was already starting to walk away and Denys followed. Cort didn’t take him into his solar, but merely away from those who could hear their conversation. They stood out in the middle of the bailey as the sun blazed overhead.
“I wanted to tell you that I had an interesting conversation with Dera,” Cort said quietly. “I think I have interrogated her as much as I dare without her becoming suspicious of my motives.”
Denys was quite interested. “Is that so?” he said. “When did this occur?”
“Two days ago at the lake.
”
“I see,” Denys said. “What did she tell you?”
Cort lifted a dark eyebrow. “Enough,” he said. “She is fiercely loyal to Ireland and she spent a good deal of our conversation trying to convince me that Ireland should be free. And the way she spoke… if I was unconvinced that she was a warrior before, I am thoroughly convinced now. If she is not actively fighting with the rebels, then I would stake my reputation on the fact that she is, at the very least, aiding or advising them.”
Denys sighed faintly as the news sank in. “I have wondered about that,” he said. “I wonder if she was part of the capture of Black Cove.”
“I would be willing to believe that she was,” Cort said. “Both you and Brend have told me that Ardie MacRohan couldn’t wait to get her out of Ireland. He probably knew. He took his rebel daughter and gave her over to you to keep away from the rebellion, which leads me to believe she may have a bigger role in it than we can imagine.”
Denys grunted unhappily, rubbing at his head. “But she told you nothing of any great value?”
Cort shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “As I said, I don’t want to make her suspicious of me, so I believe it is time to ask Brend. He is her brother, after all. I am willing to believe he knows exactly what she is doing.”
“But you do not believe Brend is part of it?”
“I would stake my life on the fact that he is not.” Cort watched the man struggle with that. “You must do what we have discussed – marriage to Bella in exchange for what he knows of his sister’s activities. We are speaking of your entire Irish estate, my lord. It would be a worthy price to pay for the information.”
Denys was still rubbing his head. “So I send them both to France to marry.”
“Exactly. Give Brend a command there, at one of your properties. He and Bella will be safe.”
Denys looked at him. “But I not only lose Brend’s sword, I lose my daughter as well,” he said. “Bella aside, I am not ready to lose Brend yet. He is an integral part of my army and with trouble looming in Ireland, I do not want to lose him. I need him.”
Dark Warrior (de Russe Legacy Book 9) Page 13
