by Amy Tolnitch
“Perhaps I am being too lenient with her.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Life with Edrick is punishment enough, I am thinking.” Piers chuckled. “He will not hurt her but he will use her well.”
“She will probably enjoy that,” Cain said with a grin.
“Aye.”
Cain’s face darkened. “I am going to check on Amice.”
Piers gazed at him knowingly. “When times are darkest, the heart seeks the light.”
“Piers, please. No sage words today.”
His brother just winked.
Chapter 16
The next time Amice opened her eyes she looked into Cain’s. Confused, she sat up in bed and blinked at the pain in her head.
Cain sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
Their gazes caught, and for a moment Amice said nothing, simply returned his stare. A fire sparked in the fireplace but the chamber was quiet, the kind of quiet that carried an air of expectancy. A sense of intimacy wrapped around her, and Amice was content simply to look into his beautiful eyes.
“Amice?”
“I… I am fine.”
His jaw tightened. “Morganna will be gone this day.”
“Do you really think she is responsible?”
Cain rubbed the back of his neck. “It makes the most sense. And it is past time I see her settled.”
“Sir Edrick?”
“Aye. He will manage her well enough.”
Amice looked down. “I must admit I shall not be sorry to see her go.”
For a moment, Cain did not say anything and Amice finally lifted her gaze. “Nor I,” he said. He reached out and smoothed Amice’s hair back from her face.
Amice swallowed.
“Woodford is dead.”
“You killed him?”
Cain nodded. “’Twas a fair fight.” He took her hand in his and stroked her fingers.
Amice held her breath. Surely he did not realize what he was doing.
“And then I burned the cottage to the ground.”
“What cottage?”
His fingers ceased their motion and he flashed her a surprised look. “I forgot. You did not know.”
“About what? What are you talking about.”
Abruptly, Cain rose to his feet and paced across the room. “A cottage where my late wife met her lover.”
It was the first time he had spoken of Luce. So many questions Amice wanted to ask tumbled through her brain she could not sort them out. “I am sorry, Cain. You must have been terribly hurt by her disloyalty.”
He did not look at her. “A breach of faith is always hurtful.”
The pain in his voice wound through Amice’s veins and settled into an ache low in her stomach. “You must have loved her very much.”
Slowly, he turned and gazed at her. “Actually, I never loved Luce at all. She was merely another duty.” He turned and walked out of her chamber.
Amice just stared at the open door, her mind whirling with the import of his words. She had assumed he fell in love with another woman. Assumed the real reason for his abandonment was that he found a woman he wanted more than her.
She got out of bed and dressed. For the first time she wondered if she bore some responsibility for what had happened between them. She had told Cain she loved him, true, but talking of her feelings had always been difficult for her. Did he not understand how much he meant to her? Was that her fault?
Her mind spun with questions.
One swirled through her brain like a mounting storm.
Was it possible there might be another chance for them?
“I cannot believe this is happening,” Morganna hissed.
The apparition in front of her laughed.
“You were supposed to help me win Cain.” She threw an armful of bliauts into a trunk.
“You truly are a pathetic creature,” Muriel remarked.
“I am pathetic?” Morganna slammed the lid of the trunk. “I am not the one who killed myself over my poor broken heart.”
“No, but you are the one who thinks the answer to any problem is to spread your legs.”
“For a woman, it often is.”
“You should have been more subtle.”
“I did not have time.” She glared at Muriel. “He grows more besotted with Amice every day,” she spat. “’Tis unbelievable.”
Muriel frowned. “Aye. There may truly be a chance the earl will find happiness.”
“This is all your fault.”
“My fault? You are the one who failed to get rid of Amice despite ample opportunities. And even with the aid of my potion, you still could not manage to entice the earl.” Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You deserve Edrick.”
Morganna sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God, what am I to do? The man is an animal.”
“I imagine you shall suit each other very well,” Muriel said dryly.
When Morganna looked up to dispute her words, the ghost was gone.
Early that evening, Cain stood in the chapel and watched his sister exchange vows with The MacKeir. He still could scarcely believe Agatha, for whom he had given up finding a husband, would be taking as her mate a massive Highlander who looked at her as if he were contemplating which part to savor first.
Agatha beamed up at The MacKeir as if he were the answer to her every prayer.
The MacKeir placed a ring on Agatha’s right thumb, saying, “In the name of the Father,” then on her index finger with the words, “and of the Son,” and then finally on her middle finger, adding, “and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
Cain cast a glance toward Amice. She watched the couple with what looked like pride.
As he patted Agatha’s hand, The MacKeir said,
“With this ring I thee wed.”
“This gold and silver I thee give.”
“With my body, I thee worship.” The MacKeir paused and winked at Agatha, who flushed deep red.
“And with this dowry, I thee endow.”
Tears glimmered in Agatha’s eyes. Cain snuck another glance at Amice and noticed her eyes gleaming.
Father Colbert stepped forward.
“Do you, Lugh MacKeir, give your body to Agatha Veuxfort, in holy matrimony?”
“I do,” The MacKeir affirmed in a loud rumble.
Agatha swayed toward him. “And I receive it.”
“And do you, Agatha Veuxfort, give your body to Lugh MacKeir, in holy matrimony?”
This time when Cain looked over at Amice, he found her gazing at him. Their eyes locked, and he felt as if he fell into a deep, dark well. Warm, inviting, bringing him the only peace he would ever know.
He vaguely heard Agatha say, “I do.”
Cain’s breath caught in his chest when Amice bit her lower lip. He took a step toward her before he could think.
“And I receive it,” MacKeir roared.
The Highlanders in the rear of the chapel broke out into cheers, nearly drowning out Father Colbert’s blessing.
Amice blinked.
It was as if Cain woke from a dream. His skin felt warm and prickly and something in the region of his heart ached with a dull throb. He forced himself to break away and look at Agatha, who was being thoroughly kissed by The MacKeir, to the cheering of his men.
“Good to see the lass properly wed,” Gifford commented. “And The MacKeir was not the man for our Amice.”
Cain raised a brow. “Our Amice?”
“Aye.”
When his uncle did not say any more, Cain turned and looked at him. Gifford’s stare was clear challenge. He opened his mouth to refute his uncle’s implication but the words would not come. My Amice, he said in his mind. Mine. It sounded so right. He glowered at Gifford. “Leave be.”
Gifford sniffed and looked away, muttering, “Foolish boy,” half under his breath.
The MacKeir finally stopped kissing Agatha and turned to yell, “Now, we feast! A man needs his strength to handle a wife like my woman.”
&nb
sp; Agatha looked somewhat dazed but she was smiling when The MacKeir dragged her out the door of the chapel.
Piers stood shaking his head and laughing. “Madness.” He strode over to Amice and offered her his arm. “May I escort you, fair lady?”
Cain frowned.
Amice put her hand on Piers’s arm and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “’Twould be my pleasure, kind sir.”
Gifford cackled.
Cain’s eyes narrowed to slits and he glowered at his brother. Piers blithely ignored him, other than to send Cain an exaggerated wink as he sailed by with Amice.
As Cain sat at the wedding feast, trying his damnedest to accept the fact that Lugh MacKeir was now his brother-in-law, and to suppress the growing feeling that this should be his wedding feast to celebrate his marriage to Amice, a page slipped him a note. He unfolded the parchment and frowned. It was a plea from Morganna to speak to him before she departed.
Piers craned his neck to read the note. “Toss it on the floor, Cain. The wench has caused enough trouble already.”
But duty made Cain rise. He would listen to Morganna and then see the last of her. Forcing himself not to look at Amice, he left the hall and sought his solar.
Morganna stood within, an odd expression on her face. Sir Edrick was not present. “Cain,” she said.
He stopped at the doorway. “Where is your husband?”
“Seeing to my belongings.” She frowned. “Meager as they might be.”
“What do you want, Morganna?”
She rushed across the solar and took the sleeve of his tunic in her hand. “Cain, please do not do this to me! The man is a pig.”
He yanked his arm free. “On the contrary, I think you and Sir Edrick shall suit each other quite well.”
Her face colored. “He is… huge. He has already taken me twice. I am so sore I am not sure I can ride.”
Cain fought the urge to laugh, and lost.
Morganna’s face drew into harsh lines. “Ismena always hated you, you know,” she hissed. “If she were yet alive, she would never allow you to condemn me to the likes of Sir Edrick.”
“Morganna, cease with your stories. Your future has been decided. Be thankful I did not do worse.”
“’Tis no story,” she spat. “Ismena told me herself. How she hated you. Just as she hated the weakling who sired you.”
His mother was hardly a loving woman, but hate? He knew he never measured up to her expectations, had received her contempt often enough, but hate was too much to believe. Scenes of his mother shifted through his mind, bringing with them a hint of doubt. “What are you talking about?”
“She hated you both. Hated that she had to marry him and birth you. She wanted the Earl of Holstoke, had loved him forever.”
Cain blinked. “Luce’s father?”
“Aye.” Morganna looked smug. “And she did have him, in her way.”
Unease swirled through Cain’s belly, and he grabbed her shoulders. “What are you saying?”
She curved her lips in a hateful smile. “Piers is not your brother, not your full brother. He is the Earl of Holstoke’s.”
Cain shook her hard. “You lie.”
“Nay, ‘tis the truth. He is a bastard, unacknowledged by his father. Your mother barely tolerated him, told me often Piers wasn’t anything like his sire.”
“You lying bitch.”
Her expression turned sly. “Save me from Sir Edrick and I shall not tell a soul.”
“Why did you not mention this before?”
“I only found out today while packing.”
Cain sneered. “You belong to Edrick now.”
“Get rid of him. Send him on to Casswell Manor without me.”
“And you will remain here?”
“Aye.”
“You have no proof of this farfetched claim.”
“Do I not?” She withdrew a piece of vellum from a pouch around her waist. “’Tis in Ismena’s own hand.”
He snatched the sheet from her and read. “Damn the old spider to hell,” he said. It was all there, her disdain for her husband and first born, her obsession with the Earl of Holstoke, her betrayal of her husband that resulted in a second son. “Where did you get this?”
Her smile was mocking. “Your mother liked me. Keep me here, Cain,” she whispered. “I could be good for you. You shall not regret it.”
Cain stared at the woman he had taken in, tolerated, made excuses for, and who now threatened the tattered fabric of his life. “You. Shall. Go. With. Your. Husband. Now.”
“You will not risk exposing your brother’s disgrace. Your family’s disgrace.”
He reached out and wrapped his hands around her throat. “You are an evil, grasping witch, and your time here is done.”
She tried to swallow but could not.
Cain squeezed harder. “Listen well to me, bitch. Tell your tale to another soul and,” he bent his head until they were eye to eye, “I will find you and I will kill you.” He eased up on the pressure.
Her eyes were twin moons of blue. “You would not.”
This time, he laughed. “Oh, Morganna, you are so wrong. I can and I will. With pleasure.”
She paled and turned to leave.
He kept hold of her throat. “Remember, Morganna. I shall hear of it if you speak your fable. Sir Edrick is my loyal and now,” he smirked, “grateful man.”
When he let her go, she bolted through the doorway.
He took a deep breath and tried to make his hands unclench. By the saints, Piers a bastard?
Piers would never know. He would never know and nothing would change.
Cain tossed his mother’s venom into the fire and watched it burn.
At midnight, Cain abruptly awoke. For a few minutes, he lay in bed listening for what might have awakened him. Nothing.
He sat up and swung his legs out of bed. Was this another annoying antic by Muriel?
But when he reached for his braies, he froze. A strange hum began in his veins. His breath quickened and he hurriedly threw on braies and a loose tunic. He felt as if something called to him with an odd sense of urgency, and he quickly left his chamber and strode down the steps.
It was the thirtieth day of April. Beltane.
Once in the bailey, the feeling grew stronger. Cain looked around and froze when he spotted a small fire, half hidden within the grove of apple trees. He slowly approached the spot.
When he arrived, his mouth went dry.
Amice danced around the burning fire, her face flushed and glowing. She wore only her white bliaut and her feet were bare. Flowers wound through her unbound hair, which swirled around her as she twirled and jumped to some silent music.
She had never looked more beguiling, all mystery and woman blended into perfection.
His Amice.
His pagan.
He was Christian. He renounced pagan practices.
But Beltane… A celebration of life, of fertility.
Even as he reminded himself of his deeply held religious beliefs, he walked toward the fire and held out his hands to Amice.
She stopped so suddenly she would have fallen into the flames if he had not caught her around the waist. “What are you doing here?” she panted.
Her skin was warm beneath his hands and he suddenly felt recklessly alive. “You summoned me.”
“What?” Her eyes widened.
“Aye. You beckoned me from a deep sleep.”
Amice stilled and put her hands on his arms. “I possess no such power.”
“It seems you do.” Cain felt as if another man had taken him over, a wild, dangerous man who took what he wanted. And ever since he had seen Gerard’s drawings, he had dreamed of taking Amice in so many new ways, ways he would not have thought of five years ago. He slid his hands up Amice’s back and tangled them in her hair, holding her head fast. “I felt you,” he whispered. “I know you.”
She parted her lips.
“This Beltane we shall celebrate together.�
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“Are you going to dance?” she whispered.
He drew in a deep breath. “A kind of a dance. The kind when I am deep inside you.” He rocked against her. “The kind you want. As I want.”
Cain could see Amice’s pulse at her throat. He bent down to nuzzle her skin, pressing a kiss to the tender flesh. “Tonight, we celebrate life,” he murmured.
When he let go of her waist to free himself of his braies, she turned and took a quick step away.
He pulled her against him and put his face against her neck. “You will not run from me now.”
Amice stiffened at the growl in his voice. He was hard and hot against her body, his heart a steady thud, his breathing harsh against her ear. This was not the controlled Cain she knew. She should be strong, she told herself. Resist him. But a part of her was wildly curious about what this Cain would do.
With his other hand he began unlacing her bliaut, pressing open-mouthed kisses across the back of her neck.
“Cain.”
“Do not deny me. Not tonight.”
Tonight. Beltane. Amice stared at the shooting flames and felt her will unravel.
Her bliaut fell to the ground.
“Mayhap you are a witch,” Cain said, as he smoothed his long hands up her belly to caress her breasts. Amice fell back against him.
Cain laughed in her ear.
For a moment, his touch withdrew, then he was all there against her. Hot and naked, his arousal prodding her.
She tried to turn but his hands held her. Her woman’s place ached, clenched, and her stomach churned. When Cain pulled her to the ground, she went easily, her limbs boneless.
He lay on top of her, covering her with his heavy, sleek body. “Tell me you want me inside you. Tell me you need me.” He eased off his weight and slid a hand under her, pulling her up onto her knees.
Amice closed her eyes as he slowly drew his fingers through her body’s opening. She panted for breath, anticipation melding with just a touch of fear.
“Tell me,” he demanded in a rough voice.
“Please.”
“Say the words.” He stroked and spread her open, torturing her center with soft, slow circles.
God, yes, she needed. She wanted with everything she was. “Please, Cain.” She pushed against his hand and fisted the grass, needing to hold onto something, some anchor.
