by Amy Tolnitch
“Time for what?” And why in the world was he calling her his treasure? She frowned down at her brother, but Rand just stood there grinning.
“Why, to claim my bride, of course.” The MacKeir’s smile broadened, and he inched his mount closer to hers. He seized one of her hands in a meaty grip. “Your wait is over. The MacKeir has come for you at last.”
She stared at him in astonishment. He clearly expected her gratitude. True, she was well past marriageable age, but still. “What… what are you talking about?”
Before he could answer, Rand loudly cleared his throat. “Chief MacKeir, I do not recall having an agreement for Amice.”
“Details, my friend. I shall agree to whatever you require for the privilege of possessing this rare jewel.”
She tried to pull her hand free but it was like trying to escape a lion’s paw. “Rand?”
“Chief MacKeir, Lugh, please come into the hall and share a cup. You must be thirsty from your travel.”
With a last squeeze, The MacKeir released her hand and leapt from his horse. “Fine idea, my lord.” He clapped Rand on the back. Luckily, her brother was a big man himself, or he would be sprawling on the ground from the force of the blow. Of course, during his long friendship with Lugh MacKeir, Rand had learned to brace himself. “Come, Amice,” The MacKeir said as he held out his hand to her.
“Unfortunately, I cannot, Chief MacKeir. I am leaving.”
Heavy black brows furrowed into a single line. “Leaving? But ‘tis too soon, my precious. My men and I need to remain overnight and rest our horses.”
She sighed. “Not with you. I must journey to Falcon’s Craig.”
“Nay. I forbid it.” His forest green eyes flashed with possession. “My bride stays with me.”
The whole conversation was so ridiculous, she was tempted to laugh. But she knew Lugh MacKeir well enough to clamp the urge. She had always thought of him as a gentle giant, but underneath dwelled a formidable Highland chief. She forced herself to smile politely. “I am not your bride, my lord.”
He waved a hand. “Merely a matter of time. Do not worry, Amice. You shall be mine.”
“I am not worried.”
Obviously, he understood her response as assent and shot her an approving nod. “Let us discuss this in the hall. I have a powerful thirst on me, and I would look upon you.”
“Chief MacKeir, did you not hear me? I must leave. Now.”
He took a step toward her, his expression hardening.
Rand grabbed his arm and whispered something to him. As Amice watched, The MacKeir allowed Rand to pull him a small distance away and the two men held a soft, but clearly heated discussion, punctuated by several sharp looks in her direction from Chief MacKeir.
Finally, he stared at her brother and slowly tipped his head.
Amice looked at Rand, but his expression told her nothing. The warriors flanking The MacKeir stepped forward as he returned to her side.
Swallowing thickly, she waited for him to speak.
“You may journey to Falcon’s Craig.” He scowled. “Though I like it not, your brother convinces me ‘tis important to you.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“But when you return, I shall be here, ready to take you to Tunvegen where you belong.”
Tunvegen, deep in the Highlands, far from anything or anyone familiar. Far from a villa perched over the warm sea. She gripped the reins tight. “Has my brother agreed to this?”
“Nay. But he will. As soon as we come to terms.” He stepped closer and before she could get out an objection, swept her down to the ground.
She peered up at him, all at once aware of just how big he was. Normally, she was nearly as tall as a man, but next to The MacKeir she felt almost fragile.
“You are mine, Amice.”
She opened her mouth to protest but found it plundered by another. And plundered it was, his firm lips capturing hers, tasting her, stroking her tongue, and sweeping through her mouth with gentle force.
He broke the kiss and cocked a brow. “’Tis only the beginning, my flower.” He puffed out his broad chest. “The MacKeir shall make you cry with joy.”
Her jaw dropped. Dear God, how was she to escape this wild Scot? A journey to Falcon’s Craig suddenly did not seem long enough. Before her bewildered eyes, Chief MacKeir and his men trooped into the great hall with Rand, talking and laughing like the greatest of friends. Surely, Rand would not give her to this big bear of a man. He knew her heart’s desire, supported it in fact.
“Come, Amice,” Laila said. “We should go before your Chief MacKeir changes his mind.”
Amice was on her horse and outside the gatehouse faster than she had ever been in her life. Surrounded by her guards, she spurred her mount to a gallop and never looked back.
Four days later Amice, Laila, and their guardsmen finally approached Falcon’s Craig. Amice pulled her horse to a stop on a low rise to study the castle. High curtain walls loomed deep red in the setting sun, and the wide moat swirled with shining ribbons of gold. Beyond the walls, she could hear the pounding of waves upon the shore, and a fresh, salty smell scented the air.
Laila pulled up beside her. “’Tis impressive.”
“Aye.” An image of Cain smiling at his wife cut through her body like an arrow, and Amice did not move forward. Apprehension shivered down her spine, and she wondered if she had the strength to continue. Dear Lord, how could she do this?
“Shall we go? ‘Twill be dark soon.” Laila laid a hand on her shoulder.
Villa Delphino, Amice reminded herself. She clucked to her horse and the group made its way across the grassy outcrop toward the castle gatehouse. They rode past a troop of watchful guards atop the gatehouse and into the bailey.
No Cain.
As she swung to the ground, a man ran toward them from a building she assumed from its size was the great hall. “Lady Amice?” he called.
“Aye.” As the man got closer, she noted a resemblance to Cain. He was nearly as tall, with the same lean, hard build. Light brown hair framed a friendly face, but instead of Cain’s vivid blue eyes, this man’s gaze was a lively brown.
He smiled. “Welcome to Falcon’s Craig. I am Piers, the Earl of Hawksdown’s brother.”
Amice forced a slight smile. “This is my companion, Laila.”
“Welcome to you both. Please, join me in the hall. Your guards may stable the horses, then come inside as well.”
Amice gave a nod to Thomas, her head guard, then followed Piers. They climbed smooth stairs to the second floor of an immense stone structure and stepped into the great hall. Her legs trembled, and she forced herself to look toward the dais, stiffening in preparation for seeing Cain and his wife. To her puzzlement, the dais was empty, save for one white-haired man.
“My Uncle Gifford.” Piers tapped the side of his head with a finger. “A bit mad, but most amusing.”
“Oh.” She was not sure how to respond. “Where… where is the Countess of Hawksdown?” The sooner I meet Cain’s wife the better, she thought. The prospect of the encounter was making her belly ache.
“Who?”
She looked at Piers with increasing confusion. “The lady of the castle. The Earl of Hawksdown’s wife.” Why she was explaining such an obvious thing she could not imagine, but perhaps Cain’s uncle was not the only one with problems of the mind.
“Oh, you mean Luce.” Piers shook his head. “Dead.”
“What?” Surely she had not heard him clearly. A frisson of heat crackled along her nerve endings as she stared at Cain’s brother.
“Dead three years ago, my lady. My… cousin Morganna acts as lady of the castle.”
Cain’s wife was dead. The news shot through her head like a bolt of lightning, ringing her ears and heating her face. For a moment, she could not catch a breath. She gazed into Piers’s curious eyes and lifted her chin. “Where is the Earl of Hawksdown?”
Piers shrugged. “Up on the battlements, most likely.”
; Suddenly, pure, cleansing anger cut through her discomfort. Damn Cain. Damn him for failing to mention his wife’s death, and damn him for not even appearing to greet her. Why should she be surprised? Cain had made his indifference to her clear enough in the past. Painfully obvious.
“My lady? Would you like to dine here in the hall or shall I have something brought to your chamber?”
“If you would take me to the battlements, I shall speak to the Earl of Hawksdown. In the meantime, Laila can unpack our things. We will take a light supper in our chamber.”
“Of course, my lady.” Piers looked around, then called out “Hawis!”
A small, round woman rushed over. Her sparking brown eyes took quick measure of Amice and Laila, lingering on Laila’s dusky skin and black hair.
“Where is Morganna?” Piers asked her.
Hawis rolled her eyes.
Piers said something under his breath, then told Hawis, “This is Lady Amice Monceaux and her companion, Laila.
Hawis flashed them a bright smile. “Welcome to Falcon’s Craig.”
“Thank you,” Amice said,
“How may I serve you, my lady?”
Amice’s face softened at the woman’s friendly manner. “Could you show my companion, Laila, to our chamber?”
“And bring food and drink, Hawis,” Piers instructed. He turned to Amice and tilted his head. “Come with me, my lady.”
They left the great hall and walked over to another square tower built into one corner of the inner curtain wall.
“’Tis the best view,” Piers offered.
She forced her feet to move up narrow steps behind Piers, focusing on not tangling her feet in the folds of her mantle. At last, they emerged onto a flat platform, and Amice could see the stone walkway stretched atop the long wall.
“There he is,” Piers said close to her ear. “I shall leave you and make sure your companion is settled.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Call me Piers,” he said with a wink, before disappearing into the tower below.
For a moment, she just stood and studied Cain, a solitary figure outlined by the fading sun. He had changed. An air of remoteness cloaked him like a shadow now. She had always thought of him as her tall, fair-haired, elegant knight, but that man was gone.
As if he sensed her presence, Cain turned and stared at her.
Amice caught her breath. She stared into his blue eyes, so familiar even after five years, and heat surged through her veins to pool in a tingling at her fingertips. Ocean eyes, she had called them once. Knowing eyes.
He walked toward her, his broad shoulders briefly blocking the fading light. His face was full of harsh angles and a jagged scar crossed his left cheek. “Amice. Welcome to Falcon’s Craig. Thank you for coming.” His voice was cool, stiff.
The heat died. “I came for Villa Delphino as you knew I would.”
His gaze was utterly blank. “How have you fared?”
A thousand thoughts tumbled through her mind, things she would like to say but never would. Pride forbade it. It was as if all of the defenses she had constructed over the years melted into the blue of his eyes. A longing settled into her joints like an unrelenting ache. Damn him. And damn her for her weakness. She lifted her chin. “Well. And you?”
He frowned slightly. “Also well.”
She gritted her teeth. In one moment she wanted to scream at him and slap the bland expression from his face, and in the next it was all she could do not to reach for him. Anything but standing here pretending to be naught but old friends. She drew in a deep breath and hardened her expression. “I was surprised not to see you awaiting us in the bailey.”
Cain looked out over the sea and the wind blew back his shoulder-length, blond hair. “I apologize. I did not realize you had arrived.”
She bit her lip. If his manner were any cooler, she would freeze to ice in place. He had become even more closed to her. And she was still a fool. “What do you want of me?”
“I need the Spirit Goddess.”
She was right in her guess. He would have never asked for her if he were not desperate. “I see.”
“Amice.” He took a step toward her, and she stiffened.
“I understand. You wish me to get rid of a ghost.”
“Aye.” His jaw looked like sculpted marble.
“You will give me Villa Delphino.”
“Aye.”
“And arrange for travel and provisions.”
“That was not part of my offer.”
“It is part of my acceptance.”
He hesitated, his face like the ocean itself, deep and unreadable. “Very well.”
For a moment, she just stared at him, willing him to say something, a word to show he felt anything for her other than a need for her services. When time passed in silence, she drew her angry pride around her like an impenetrable mail hauberk. “It has been a long journey. We can speak more of this on the morrow.”
“You agree?”
“Of course. That is the only reason I am here.” Before his perceptive gaze could brand her a liar, Amice turned and made her way back down to the ground. She would not cry, she swore to herself. She cared nothing for Cain Veuxfort. Just as he cared nothing for her.
Chapter 2
Cain gave serious thought to flinging himself into the roiling sea. He knew he had not handled things well. Not well at all.
He should have been there to greet her. But when he heard she approached, he had fled to the battlements in a futile effort to prepare himself for meeting her again.
Even so, he had not expected seeing Amice to be this difficult. Over the years, he had convinced himself that she was not as beautiful as he pictured her, that the vulnerability he saw in the depths of her eyes was mere illusion.
He had even managed to persuade himself that his experience with Amice was simply youthful folly, physical desire, not a matter of the heart.
Amice, the girl, was beguiling, lovely, like a honeyed wine. But Amice, the woman, was a heady brew, dark and still, promising everything and yielding nothing.
It struck Cain then that he was every bit as cursed as he had been five years ago.
Hawis was waiting for Amice at the foot of the curtain wall and guided her to a chamber in yet another tower within the walls, chattering all the while about how nice it was to have visitors. Thankfully, Amice did not have to say too much. Her emotions seethed like water in a boiling pot, and she desperately wanted to smash something to bits.
When they climbed the spiral steps and entered the chamber, Amice found it unoccupied. “Where is Laila?”
Hawis gestured to a door on one side of the room. “There is an adjoining room with space for her there.” She bustled into the chamber and poked at a fire.
Amice looked around with growing surprise. She had not expected such luxury. With Hawis’s ministrations, the fire burned merrily, warming the chamber. A bed nestled against one wall, encircled by velvety, rose-colored hangings. Two trunks sat against another wall. Though the shutters were closed, it appeared that the chamber possessed two large windows, with wide stone windowseats tucked below them.
Gesturing to a small table next to the bed, Hawis said, “There is cheese, beef, bread, and wine, my lady.” She gestured toward another arched doorway. “The garderobe is through there.”
“Thank you, Hawis.”
The other woman turned and surveyed the chamber, then nodded. “There is a bowl of clean water and cloths on that trunk. Do you need anything else?”
“Nay. The chamber is lovely.”
Hawis pointed to one set of shutters. “’Tis even nicer during the day. That window overlooks the sea, and the other, the garden.”
Amice smiled. Apparently her arrival pleased someone in the castle. “Good night, Hawis.”
“Good eve, my lady.”
After Hawis left, she poked her head into the adjoining chamber. Laila was already asleep, her soft snores echoing through the darkness. She returned
to her chamber, poured a cup of wine, and sat down on the rush mats in front of the fire.
Tomorrow, she and Laila would attempt to contact Cain’s ghost. In her mind, she began making a list of what they would need. Sage. Her white bliaut. She tried to focus on their task, but images of Cain’s face kept interfering with her thoughts. Curse him and his false heart.
Finally, she gave up and just stared into the flames as memories poured over her. The taste of him, the deep satisfaction of his touch. His smile, the expression in his eyes when he looked at her. People used to comment on it, how intensely he looked at her. Talk in wonder about how his gaze bespoke a deep love.
Until he decided she was not to his advantage. Not good enough for the future Earl of Hawksdown. Until he told her farewell as if they had barely known each other, and left to marry another.
She blinked back a tear.
“You are not wanted here.”
The smallest breeze drifted over her hair and she turned.
So, there is a ghost.
A woman stood before her, or rather floated above the floor. Long tendrils of reddish hair twirled around her, brushing against a dark green gown. A gold circlet sat atop her hair, and jeweled rings glimmered in the firelight. A noblewoman, then.
Her voice was surprisingly strong. Amice did not move. “Why?”
“I shall not leave. This is my home.”
The breeze quickened, causing the flames to sway. “Who are you?”
“’Tis none of your affair. Pack your things and leave this place.”
“Why are you still here?”
The ghost just glared at her.
Amice tried again. “I may be able to help you.”
“I do not want your help. Go away.”
“What is your name?”
The spirit glided closer, and a strikingly fair face stared down at Amice. A smile twisted her lips. “Cain Veuxfort never loved you. He never intended to ask for you. ‘Twas all a lie. You were naught but a dalliance, foolishly willing to grant him the use of your body.”
Heat stung Amice’s face. For a moment, she was too shocked to say anything. How did this spirit know anything about her and Cain? And was she right? It was a question Amice had asked herself many times over the years. She shoved back the burn of shame and squared her shoulders. “’Tis of no matter.”
