She wore a gown of rich indigo with the Maxwell’s badge pinned to the bodice with pride. She had many such lovely gowns courtesy of her generous husband.
Jon Luc glanced at the door behind him to ensure they were alone. “May I speak frankly, my lady?”
“Of course.” She waved her hand at him to continue. Her steps brought her closer to the peat fire burning bright in the hearth. She lifted her hands to warm them.
“The Maxwell is treating you well?”
Her gaze found his. “Can you not tell?” She turned to face him.
“I should like to hear it from your lips.”
She chuckled. “Jon Luc, you need not worry. I have been treated with the utmost respect and he makes me feel...” A flash of memory of her body arching up to meet Waylon’s made her wonder what she should call the passion her husband inflicted, and made her respond like a wanton woman.
Her gaze shifted to the large bed they shared only hours before and in the middle of the day no less. Heat burned her cheeks at what she had done to him. What he did to her. She pursed her lips together. Her soul could be damned before she’d confessed the intimacy she shared with Waylon to the priest.
Her gaze met Jon Luc who stared at her, waiting for her to finish the statement. She squared her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. “My laird, Waylon treats me as if he cherishes me.” There, let the priest come to his own conclusions.
Jon Luc’s smiled with a nod. “I suspected the Wolf could be tamed, but it appears he has pacified you as well.”
Her brows drew together, wondering what he meant by his odd statement, but he didn’t elaborate.
“We meet with your father in three days, my lady. What will you have me say about your marriage? He will ask.”
She chewed on her lower lip in indecision. Her father will think her weak. Waylon Maxwell was her enemy and she surrendered to him with nary a fight.
“My lady?”
“You will say nothing, Jon Luc. I said my vows before God. I cannot take them back now. The Day of Truce will decide what is to become of the marriage. I will have no say either way.” She threw up her hands, anger spurring her now, but she wasn’t sure why. Did she fear her father would make her return home with him or was it she feared she would never see Waylon again?
Jon Luc’s soft voice drew her attention. “My child, you must make a decision of where your loyalty lies.”
“I love my father, priest. Never doubt my loyalty to him.”
He nodded. “But do you love Waylon Maxwell as well?”
Chapter Fifteen
Three days passed in a blink of an eye and they now stood before Catrione’s father. The Day of Truce with its pretense of civil intent was where the clans ate and pretended to be merry. Men jousted and participated in friendly games of strength, while the women traded stories, but the true matter for this meeting of the clans was to be decided and lives would be changed forever.
Laird William was tall, hair sprinkled gray, and with eyes as chilling as frosted ice. “What makes you think you are worthy to marry a Johnstone and live to tell the tale, Devil’s Wolf?”
“I am of the Maxwells and ’tis I who give honor to Catrione, saying she is worthy to be my wife.”
William’s eyes narrowed but he let the claim slide. His gaze leveled on his daughter. “And how do you fare, sweet Catrione? Last I saw you, you were waiting for your one true love. Have you found him with the Devil’s Wolf?”
Waylon’s body stiffened beside Catrione, and she knew he worried what she would tell her father. “I’ve been told true love is for fools.”
William nodded. “However, you seemed quite set on finding it. Have you changed your mind, then?”
Catrione glanced at Waylon and knew this was her opportunity to be free of him. Only now she wasn’t sure she wanted freedom if it meant he would never hold her in his arms. If it meant she would never hear his laughter or see him hold their child.
She knew Waylon would make a good father. She’d seen it in the eyes of those who followed him. Her husband was strong, fierce, but with a kind heart to even the balance.
She turned back to her father. “Laird Waylon is brave and honest. He will keep me safe. I could do no worse.”
William tilted his head and eyed her closely as if looking for some sign of deceit. “Hmm...”
He may have said more, but Jaime the March warden for the Johnstones came forward to speak to him.
Catrione stood by Archie as they waited for the outcome of this farce to play out. Waylon’s brother was a pawn in all this, too, though his fate was more severe since death lurked within reach. It surprised her that he didn’t seem worried in the least. Archie stood with confidence, whistling softly under his breath, a lively tune that did not befit the situation. He realized she watched him and his gaze found hers. His mouth curved into a smile, and he had the audacity to wink at her.
“Why, I never,” she said looking away.
“Oh come now, lighten up. We are family now.” His gaze roamed over her. “I say my brother did well. For once the rumors were true. Ye are indeed a comely lass.”
“And you sir, are too bold.”
His large shoulder’s lifted in a shrug. “’Tis a curse, I know,” he said with a sigh, indicating his regret.
Despite his boldness, Catrione found his cheerful attitude difficult to resist. “Are you not worried?”
“What will happen will happen. And ye? Ye look beside yerself, but I wonder...hmm... Who do ye wish to win? Is it yer father with hopes of returning home or will ye pray yer husband’s strength will prove enough to keep ye at Caerlaverock?”
Her gaze wandered over to where Waylon stood, so dark and dangerous, but she knew the true man. She felt it in the way he caressed her and in the way he treated the people around him. She could love this man. “Oh God.” Her hand flew to her mouth as the truth sunk in. Without realizing it, she’d fallen for her enemy.
“Aah, ye care for him.” Archie lips curved into a wide smile. “Ye can end this, mi’lady without bloodshed. Ye only have to say the word.”
But it was too late. Heuy Maxwell came forward to address the crowd. Both clans gathered around to see who would win in the battle. “The rules of combat,” he announced loud and clear as he twirled his long dark mustache. “To avenge his daughter’s honor, Laird William of Lochwood has the right to draw his sword in a fight to the end. If Laird Waylon of Caerlaverock wins, he will see his brother free. He has stated, he will allow Lady Catrione to decide where she will reside from this day forth. No matter the outcome.”
Catrione’s gaze riveted to Waylon. His storm gray eyes didn’t shy away from her. He would let her decide, He would set her free if it was her wish. “A true man of honor,” she murmured.
“This only gets better.” Archie chuckled.
“What do you mean?” Catrione hissed beneath her breath, wishing he would be quiet.
“My brother is in love with ye, too. How utterly delicious.” He sighed, thoroughly enjoying this. “The magic of love never ceases to amaze me.”
Catrione closed her eyes willing this madness to stop, but the first clang of metal forced her to realize the horror had already begun. The crowd cheered. The Johnstones for her father and the Maxwells for her husband. She had to stop this before it ended in bloodshed.
She pushed her way forward only to be stopped by Reid.
“Where do ye think yer going?”
“I must speak to my father... to Waylon.”
“They are fighting to the death. Now is no’ a good time.”
“It is the only chance I’ll have.” Before Reid could react, she relieved him of his sword.
Reid lunged forward, intent on securing his weapon, but Archie pulled him back. “Hey!”
“Let the lass go. She knows her mind. A true match for my brother, do ye no’ think?”
Catrione plowed forward, stepping in front of Waylon and facing her father who had lifted his sword to strike.
> William saw her a second too late and couldn’t pull back, his sword slashing down. Waylon reacted and pushed her out of harms way as he brought his sword hand up to take the blow. The edge of William’s blade bit into his arm. His weapon fell from his grip as he crumpled to one knee.
“No!” Catrione screamed and ran to Waylon’s side. She cupped his face. “Don’t you dare die on me.”
The crowd had grown quiet, but now whispers spread as they speculated what would happen next.
Waylon’s wolfish grin told her the wound he suffered was not fatal, but there was so much blood. Her hand gripped his forearm for a closer inspection. The slash bled freely, the blood wetting her fingers. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “We need to bandage this now.” Panic laced her words, but she didn’t care.
“Catrione, ’tis all right,” Waylon assured her. “’Tis only a scratch. See the bleeding slows as I speak.”
A shadow crossed over her and she looked up to see her father frowning down at her. “You stand in the way, Catrione. This is a fight to the death. There is no patching wounds.”
“I can’t allow this to happen,” Catrione spoke up, surprising everyone, including Waylon who eyed her with open suspicion. “You can’t fight for my virtue, Father, when I accept Laird Waylon as my husband.” She reached for Waylon’s good hand and she felt comfort in his grip. He stood, bringing her to stand beside him.
“Tell me, Catrione, and honestly because your words weigh heavy on my decision. Does the Devil’s Wolf treat you well?”
Catrione turned and met Waylon’s gaze. “He is very attentive.”
William remained silent as he looked to his daughter then to Waylon. “Attentive, indeed.” He didn’t sound happy with her response. “He is the enemy, daughter, or have you forgotten?”
“He is no enemy to me.” She met her father’s gaze and didn’t waver.
“I see,” he said. “It seems my dear, you’ve a husband who is a warrior and an ample lover as well. Perhaps you found true love after all.”
She didn’t respond to her father’s statement, but hurried on with her request. “Father, will you give us your blessing?”
William pursed his lips together, but then he harrumphed with a shake of his head as if he could not believe his ears. “Very well, if this is what you truly wish, Catrione.”
“It is.” She nodded.
William closed his eyes in a deliberate blink, drawing in a deep breath as he did so. Then he leveled his eyes on Catrione and Waylon. “I say the marriage stands. However,” he narrowed his gaze on Waylon, “Devil’s Wolf, if I hear my daughter is not happy with her decision I will seek you out and finish the deed started this day.”
Waylon wrapped his arm around Catrione, pulling her against him. “Then a truce has been made.”
William sighed. “Aye, for now I suppose it has.” He turned toward Archie. “And take your brother, before I have every lass in my keep carrying his seed. I have no desire to have more Maxwells as kin.”
“As ye wish,” Waylon bowed.
Chapter Sixteen
When they were alone, Catrione worked to bandage Waylon’s arm.
“Ye could have been killed.” Waylon’s voice broke the silence.
She tied a knot on the bandage and looked up. “Aye, and ye could have been, too.”
“Why did you intervene?” He shook his head. “Ye could have gone back to Lochwood this very day. Ye could have been free of me.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps I am exactly where I wish to be.”
She turned away, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back. With his forefinger, he tilted her chin so her gaze met his.
“Are ye then? Are ye where ye should be?”
“It would seem, Devil’s Wolf, ye stole more than ye thought the day ye kidnapped me.”
“Is that so? And what treasure do I possess?”
“My heart.” She spoke with quiet intensity, her gaze never leaving his.
For several seconds he only stared at her, believing she jested, but her lips never curved into a smile. Then he realized she spoke the truth. “A heart is a precious gift to be sure.”
“Aye, and see that ye don’t trample it.” She tried to pull away again, obviously hurt by his response.
He didn’t let her go. She looked at him meeting his gaze with defiance. What a strong-willed lass, he took for a wife. He could live with that. It’s the living without her he could never do. He cupped her face, tracing her delicate fine bones with his fingertips. How desperately he had wanted this woman at his side and today she gave her heart freely to him. “Ah my sweet, ye had my heart from the moment I pulled the helmet from yer bonny head.”
“Waylon...” Tears glistened in her eyes as she leaned against his palm.
“Do ye know what ye do to me when ye say my name? It’s like a powerful incantation and I am at yer mercy.”
She sniffled back her tears with a chuckle. “Then.... Waylon...”
He growled in raw appreciation, making her truly laugh, a sweet sound to his ears.
“Take me home and show me how much you love me.”
“Yer wish is my command, mi’lady.” He buried his fingers in the tangle of her hair. The naked desire in her eyes was all he needed to know how she felt about him. He crushed his mouth to hers, taking what she offered and giving her the same.
Chapter Seventeen
Nine months later...
Waylon picked up the screaming bairn and stared in disbelief as it kicked and hollered. “This is no’ a son, Catrione.”
She chuckled. “I am aware.”
He looked at her then back to the screaming baby. “At least she is strong. Look how she howls.”
“Like the Devil’s Wolf.”
He harrumphed as he hugged the child near, replacing the blankets around her. The baby latched onto his finger. “She has a strong grip, too.”
“So we can keep her?”
Waylon looked at her in alarm. “Keep her? Of course we’ll keep her. She’s my bairn, is she no’?”
“Most certainly.”
He rocked the child and her howls began to taper. “She’s a fine lass, Catrione. Ye did well.”
“Thank you, Laird Wolf.”
He strode over to her and sat down on the edge of the bed before he handed her the bairn. “I will do well by her, but...”
“But?”
“Mayhap when ye are well enough... we could perhaps try for a son.”
“I would like to have a son, but what if we have only daughters?”
Waylon sighed. “It would be my luck to have a houseful of lassies, but... I shall love them anyway.”
Catrione leaned against him with a small smile touching her lips. “I love you, dear Wolf.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll love ye forever, mi’lady.”
The End
Author’s Note:
What inspired Love’s Eternal Embrace?
The Legend of the Dearg-due
Philip Burne-Jones Bt. (1861-1926)
Vampires have inspired poems and stories throughout the ages. Even though the names vary when naming this bloodsucker, every culture has a legend.
The Irish Dearg-due literally translates to bloodsucker. In one of the legends, the Dearg-due is a female demon that rises from her grave to seduce men, dooming them with just one kiss.
A Celtic legend tells of a fair maiden named Dearg-due. She was so beautiful all knew of her. She could have married any man, but she fell in love with a local peasant. However, her father would not allow the marriage. He forced her to marry a wealthy man to secure a financial future for the family. The husband mistreated Dearg-due and she committed suicide. Legend states she is buried in a small churchyard located near Strongbow’s Tree in the village of Waterford. One night, Dearg-due avenged her fate, rose from the grave, and lured her father and husband to their deaths.
The legend differs, but it is believed a Dearg-due will rise from the grave to seduce men and lu
re them to their deaths by draining their blood. It could be every full moon or a few times a year. Some say it is the anniversary of her death. There are only one or two stories stating she can change into a bat-like creature, but most claim she cannot shape shift at all. There are a few legends that say she does not drink blood, but sucks out the life force, until the victims slowly wither and die.
Where Did Ireland’s Forests Go?
At one time, Forests covered two-thirds of Ireland. In the Middle Ages, the forests were communally owned and appreciated. If the trees were unlawfully cut down, the person would be fined. The English and Anglo-Irish nobles kept their estate grounds forested for beauty and for hunting.
When England’s Tudor armies began their conquest in Ireland around the 16th Century, they began to cut down the forests. With the trees, so went the wildlife. Wild boars vanished in the 17th Century for lack of acorns and even squirrels became extinct to Ireland. The last wolf was shot in southwest Ireland near Killarney over two centuries ago.
The Knights Templar in Ireland
The Knights Templar, formally known as the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ, and of the Temple of Solomon, was once one of the most famous Christian military orders.
The organization was started in the Middle Ages and existed for almost two centuries.
Around 1129, the Order was a favored charity and grew in memberships and power. They were among the most skilled fighting units of the Crusades, but the non-combatant members took care of the financial end, starting the early form of banking and building fortifications across Europe and the Holy Land.
When the Holy Land was lost, support for the Order faded. Rumors about the Orders’ secret initiation ceremony created mistrust.
King Philip IV of France owed a debt to the Order and took advantage of the situation. On Friday, October 13, 1307, he orchestrated a coup to end the Knights Templar’s rule. On that day, the Orders’ members were arrested.
The Knights Templar in Ireland arrived around 1169-71 when the Norman invasion took place. Due to the Orders’ secretive nature, there is little known of their activities in Ireland. They did own extensive estates of land, mostly in Munster. At the time, seventy-five percent of the island was a Norman colony, but the Templars’ military activities in Ireland were limited. In the Gaelic Irish annals, they are not even mentioned, proving they had very little interaction with Gaelic Ireland.
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