“It is.” He lifted some strands of hair away from her eyes. “You need not doubt what you see.”
With a small cry, she wrapped her arms around him, snuggling into his chest. She at once became a child again, seeking comfort from an adored parent, needing him to wipe away her tears and soothe her wounds. But this was no grazed knee or bumped head.
“Thank God for you,” she murmured, her voice muffled by his cloak. “Thank God and all His saints. I'm so glad you're here. I've missed you so much. I need your help, please. I don't know what to do.”
Alex slid a finger under her chin and lifted her head. “About what? Tell me, Emma, I need to know why...” his eyes filled with tears as he glanced at the wall behind her, “...I need to know why you would think, even for the briefest moment, that ending your life is the only solution to whatever your problem may be.”
“But surely you're aware?” Emma shook her head in confusion. “Have you not spoken to Finn?”
Alex frowned. “I've spoken to no one.”
“I don't understand. Then what brought you back --?” She wondered if she should admit to knowing the truth about Caleb's identity and decided against it. “What brought you to Thurston? Why are you here?”
“I'm here because you have great need of me, a ghràidh. I'm here because you stood at death's door, ready to open it of your own accord. But I've yet to learn the reason for your despair.”
His answer didn't make sense. How could he know of her suffering, yet not know the reason for it? It was as if he had been conjured out of thin air and dropped at her side, oblivious to all that had happened in the past two days.
“I... I despair because I'm with child,” she said, her voice trembling. “Argante's child.”
Alex's jaw tensed. “Argante's child,” he repeated. “So, this is why you wish to die? Because of a babe?”
“I have no wish to die, Cùra.” She glanced at the battlement wall and shivered. “But the seed of a devil grows within me. 'Tis pure evil.”
A bemused expression crossed his face. “Pure evil? Must we assume then, that the goodness in your soul was cast aside at the moment of conception?”
“Aye, we must,” Emma cried, frustrated at his calm demeanour. “Don't you understand? 'Tis an aberration I carry. One that Stephen will never accept.”
“He won't? Are you certain of that?”
“Of course I'm certain,” she sobbed. “What man would raise another man's bastard as his own?”
Alex grimaced. “Do you forget so easily? 'Tis another man's child who means more to me than anything else in this world.”
Emma's heart clenched as she grasped the meaning of his words. “Oh, dear God. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn't think, Cùra. It seems I'm unable to think clearly of late, as if my entire mind has descended into shadow.”
“Shadow cannot exist without light.” Alex raised his eyes to the heavens. “Look up, Emma. Tell me how many stars you see.”
The familiar words struck deep into Emma's heart. She had played them in her mind only the night before, reliving that special night in her childhood. Did Alex know somehow? Was he in her head? Or was he in her blood? She lifted her face to the sky, longing to give him the answer she gave him once before.
Maybe three hundred?
But she couldn't, for on this night the conditions were very different.
“I barely see any stars at all. They are hidden by the clouds.”
“But do they still shine?”
“Aye, of course they do.”
“Of course they do,” he repeated. “And if you wait long enough, the clouds will disappear and allow you to see the stars again. All three hundred of them.” He laughed, his grey eyes twinkling with stars of their own. “I haven't forgotten our little trip to the seashore. Such memories I treasure beyond any price. I love you, Emma. I always have and I always will. You do not travel your path alone. Remember who I am, what I am, and know I'm always with you.”
Something akin to a flame flickered inside her desolate soul. She looked at Alex and saw awareness on his face. What was this connection they shared? It went beyond what she had been led to believe about their relationship.
Stop doubting your instincts.
Perhaps it was time to speak of her memories, what she knew of her mother.
His wife.
“Cùra, there is something I –”
“'Tis hope you're feeling, child. Nurture it. Keep it alive always. If you ever doubt again, look to the heavens and remember what I said.”
His words prevented her from voicing her thoughts. Although she didn't doubt Alex's presence at her side, there was something surreal about him. It occurred to her he'd only said what she needed to hear and nothing more. Just enough to save her life, just enough to give her some hope. The time was not right, she realized, to share her memories or ask him for truths.
That time had yet to come.
Filled with sudden longing, Emma turned from him and gazed across the darkened countryside toward Cumberland. A wisp of wind danced across the roof, teasing her with the aromas of frost-covered hillsides, crystal streams and damp salty air.
She closed her eyes, licked the salt from her lips and inhaled the smells of her childhood.
“I've been so blind, Cùra. My pride and my anger prevented me from seeing the truth. I don't belong here. I never will.” She sighed. “I want to go home.”
Alex leaned over and kissed Emma's cheek.
“Then why wait?” His voice sounded distant as if he'd stepped back. “Perhaps the time is nigh. There are memories to be shared and truths to be told.”
She whirled around, her cry of surprise flung aside by a cold gust of air.
“Cùra?”
Heart racing, she spun around again, searching every shadowed corner, not believing her eyes.
The roof was empty.
The wind, freed from whatever force had held it captive, tore through the clouds to reveal the stars beyond.
A sob caught in her throat. Had any of it, then, been real? Or had her weary mind created an illusion of Alex from some deep and desperate need? Nay, surely not. She had touched him, felt his warmth. She hugged herself, the scent of him still on her skin and in her hair. Was it some kind of magic perhaps? She'd noticed Darius resting at his side. Who knew what the stone, lying within the silver hilt, could do?
Emma pondered a moment. Dream or magic? It didn't matter, she decided, for although her future was uncertain, it was no longer without direction. But could she make the journey to Cumberland alone? She looked out across the foreboding forest, remembering the terror of her abduction. The prospect of setting out at night frightened her.
“Finn, I need you,” she whispered. He would take her home, and keep her safe.
But what of Stephen? A twist of pain nudged beneath her ribs at the thought of never seeing him again.
Despite what Alex said about raising another man's child, Emma knew her circumstances were different. Stephen was not her husband. This child was not the result of a clandestine affair. She did not want to see pity in his eyes or watch his love for her wither and die in the ruins of an impossible future.
She simply didn't have the courage to face him.
If, by some miracle, he still wanted her after discovering the truth, he would know where to find her.
She could always hope. After all, she'd just acquired a fresh supply.
A shiver ran across her skin and she looked down at her bare feet, realizing how cold she was. With a last glance at the stars and a wish in her heart, she headed toward the stairwell.
* * *
Finn sat by the fire in the Great Hall, staring into the dying embers. The direction of his gaze belied his focus. His sight was turned inward, trying to figure out who had brushed against his mind a few minutes earlier. The presence had been familiar - certainly that of a Guardian - but indeterminate, not quite complete.
At first, he'd thought it was Keir. He'd even looked toward
the doorway, half expecting to see his friend standing on the threshold, somehow spirited back to Thurston a day earlier than foreseen. Moments later, a gust of wind rattled the shutters and the presence vanished. All that remained was a vague impression.
“Finn, I need you.”
Emma's whisper drifted into his mind and snapped it away from the enigmatic encounter. Without hesitation, he rose and went upstairs, pausing at Emma's open door, wondering whether to be amused or concerned.
She stood in the middle of the room, her head bent as she fastened her sword about her hips. Her bow and quiver lay on the bed and the handle of a dagger protruded from her belt. A sackcloth bag lay at her feet, obviously stuffed with clothing.
He leant against the doorjamb and folded his arms, deciding to be amused. “Are we under attack, little one?”
“Nay,” she replied, lifting her head and smiling at him. “But I do need your help.”
He stepped into the room and closed the door. “Well, it seems you're on a mission. Am I to know what it is? Does it involve drinking and fighting?”
Her smiled changed to a grin. “I hope not. I want you to take me home, Finn. To Cumberland.”
Finn raised his eyebrows. “Home, is it? And when do you propose we leave?”
“Tonight. Now, actually, if you don't mind.” She lifted her chin, her eyes burning with a determined light he hadn't seen in days.
“Now?” He bit back a smile, wondering what on earth had brought this on. “You want to leave Thurston now? In the middle of the night?”
To his dismay, the light in her eyes faded behind a blur of tears. “Please, Finn. I can't face Bee or Miriam again. They're happy for me only because they think the babe is Stephen's. And I'm terrified of facing him tomorrow, telling him the truth, seeing his reaction when he finds out. Can you imagine what Anne will say when she hears this news? I just want to go home. Nay, I need to go home. And there's no one else I can turn to but you. I'm begging you, please.”
“Jesú.” His heart aching, he strode over and took her in his arms. “Of course I'll take you home, a chailín, if it's what you really want.”
She sniffed. “Do you think it wrong of me to sneak away?”
He chuckled. “Sneaking away got me out of many a sorry situation. But are you sure about this? You'll leave behind many questions, much worry and, I daresay, some heartbreak.”
“Only until Stephen returns tomorrow night. Once they all learn the truth about whose child I carry, they'll be glad I've gone.”
“You believe Stephen will betray you? Abandon you?”
“Don't say it like that.”
Finn frowned at the pain in her eyes. “To tell you true, little one, I think you underestimate the strength of his love.”
“I pray to God that I do. If so, he'll follow me home. If not, he can forget about me and get on with his life.”
Finn nodded, thinking about the strange presence he'd sensed earlier. “Did something happen tonight to bring this about?”
Colour flooded Emma's cheeks and she looked at the floor. “Well, in a way. I had...I had a dream. About going home.”
“I see.” Finn knew she was hiding something. “And was Alexander in this dream of yours, by any chance?”
“Aye, he was.” She chewed on her lip and lifted her eyes back to his. “It was a very troubled dream. A nightmare, in fact. He...he helped me through it. And that's when I realized I wanted to go home.”
There was more to her tale, he knew, but it could wait.
He glanced around her chamber. “Right, lass. Home it is, then. Stay here and count slowly to three hundred, then leave by the main stairs. I'll meet you at the portcullis.”
Emma frowned. “But you can't open the portcullis without alerting the guard.”
He feigned annoyance. “A chailín álainn, how you do wound my Irish heart. Trust me, the guards won't hear a thing.” He rubbed his thumb across her chin and kissed her forehead. “There are a couple of things I must do before we leave. I'll see you in three hundred.”
Finn's admiration for women went far beyond an enticing glimpse of cleavage or a sparkling pair of eyes. Women fascinated him. He loved being with them and genuinely enjoyed their company. But, since taking his vows with the Circle, none had ever tempted him to leave his chosen path.
Until he met Bee.
She stole Finn's heart without apology, and his battle to retrieve it had been one of the hardest he'd ever fought. He loved how she laughed so easily, was amused by how she angered just as quickly. When upset or sad, her tears remained unshed, hidden behind the proud lift of a noble chin. To cry would imply weakness, heaven forbid. Yet Finn knew Bee's heart to be a fragile thing well guarded, akin to a butterfly wing encased in armour.
She hated to lose at chess, looked beautiful in rich velvet or plain wool, and smelled of fresh summer flowers. She challenged God and church daily, yet her confessions were contrite and her prayers genuine.
And she could curse the ears off an executioner's dog.
He stood at her bedside watching her sleep, his immortal glow casting a soft light across the chamber. Her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm. Her body, outlined beneath the covers, was perfect in form. The mortal within him stirred with desire. His eyes adored what he saw, his heart loved who she was, and his mind mourned that which he could never have.
Nathan would soon be burying his face in those silky strands of chestnut hair, kissing those sweet lips, feeling the flutter of soft eyelashes against his cheek. He would take her to his bed as his wife and taste her passion.
Finn envied him the feast.
He'd taken great care in choosing a husband for Bee and was unabashed in using his power of suggestion with Christophe. He knew Nathan de Maucier's family. More specifically, he'd known William, Nathan's great-grandfather. William had taken a pretty Irish princess to wife, and they'd shared a long and happy marriage. It pleased Finn to know that Bee's children would have some of the Irish in them. Royal blood, at that.
“You have blessed my life. I shall never forget you.” He bent and kissed her cheek, his eyes softening at the hint of a smile that played on her lips. “And you must never forget what I told you. God be with you, a stór mo chroí.”
He would have stayed at her side longer, but he knew Emma awaited him. Besides, there was still one more person he had to see before leaving Thurston.
Even in sleep, Anne's face was drawn with tension. She'd been crying again, proof of recent tears evident on her cheeks. Finn studied her with pity and compassion.
When he first arrived at Thurston, Anne's self-destructive nature puzzled him. He wondered why the blood in her veins ran cold, why her heart beat with such a harsh cadence.
The Circle discouraged probing the minds of mortals. They viewed such action as an abuse of power and privilege. But Finn noticed the persistent sadness in Anne's dark eyes and was intrigued. Driven by curiosity, he slipped into her mind one night as she slept.
What he discovered shocked him.
He found a twelve-year- old girl on the cusp of womanhood, eager to learn and explore her unfolding world. He saw her skip across the bailey of her uncle's castle on a fresh spring evening and disappear into the stables to play with the kittens. Her harmless intent had been short lived, for Anne stumbled into the middle of a drunken dice game.
At first, the three men welcomed the pretty dark-haired child, teased her with some silly jokes, even let her throw the dice. Innocence blinded her to their true intentions and she'd sat with them willingly.
Her struggle was futile, her pitiful cries silenced by a filthy hand covering her mouth. She was found the next morning, lying in an unused stall mumbling incoherent prayers, bruised, bleeding and broken. The men were caught and sent to the scaffold, but their deaths did little to heal Anne's spirit.
Two years later, her father, embarrassed by what he perceived as his daughter's disgrace, gave her to a much older man, one who cared little about the stigma his pretty
young wife carried. It proved to be a short, lonely marriage that did nothing to change Anne's perception of love between a husband and wife. She wept only tears of relief at his funeral two months later. Then she met Stephen and felt the first stirrings of attraction, a reason to hope.
Emma's arrival at Thurston changed all that.
Only Miriam and Christophe knew the truth of Anne's past. Finn did what he could for her, although her scars ran deep. He returned to her chamber every night while she slept, stepped into her dreams and pushed the demons aside. He only wished he could defeat them, banish them entirely, and allow a sad desecrated soul to renew itself.
Tonight would be the last time he'd place a gentle hand on her head, but she would remain in his thoughts, and he would continue to pray for her.
“Sleep well, my lady,” he whispered. “May God grant you peace.”
She sighed and snuggled deeper in the covers. Finn felt her slip past the nightmares in her mind to seek rest in a quieter place.
Ironic, he thought as he left her chamber. The one person Anne resented the most was probably the only one who would fully understand her torment.
A partial moon peeked through the scattering of clouds, casting subdued silver-blue light across the bailey. The soft hoot of an owl drifted through the air, followed by a dark shape swooping low across the cobbles.
Finn stood in the shadows holding the reins of Emma's horse, his eyes trained on the doorway to the keep. Emma should have been there by now.
“Where are you, mo chailín?” he murmured.
As if on cue, she stepped into the moonlight, her hair swinging loose, her bag and bow slung carelessly across her shoulders. She paused for a moment, looked right and left, and ran to him.
“Did you forget to stop counting at three hundred, lass?” He took her things and looped them over the saddle. “Your horse and I were getting worried.”
“Forgive me,” she said, her expression tight with anxiety. “I've been looking for something. I can't find it anywhere.”
The Cast Of A Stone Page 24
