by Darci Hannah
The six women surrounded the playful invalid, kneeling on the floor and giggling while taking turns feeding him little cakes, ripe berries, and warm honey-milk. His only job appeared to be to eat all that was placed in his mouth, and to entertain his guests with his sharp wit and heavily laid accent as he took disingenuous guesses as to who was feeding him. His hands had been given free license to roam where they wished. It was as transparent as it was shameless. With an extravagant eye roll I entered the room.
“Hush, my dears, someone has entered. I know it. You are naughty children. It is a signora of gliding steps and swishing silk—it is another Scotch beauty, no? Perhaps another lovely Hume or a spirited Scott?” The girls, seeing me, fell silent.
I walked over and yanked the blindfold from his eyes. “Actually, it’s a Blythe.”
“Isabeau!” It was accusatory and somewhat abashed. “You … you were working in the garden with Clayton,” he reminded me.
“Yes, but I’m a very efficient gardener, Mr. Continari.” I smiled sweetly. He cast me a spectacularly petulant eye. “Dear me, but you look exhausted. Julius will kill me if I don’t have you healthy by the time he arrives. I think you’ve had plenty of excitement for one day. Will you please say farewell to your guests? And ladies,” I said, turning to our disappointed visitors, “I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid Signor Continari is in danger of a relapse if he keeps up like this.” After a moment of complaint, I escorted the unhappy young women to the door.
“Really, Dante,” I said, walking back to the throne from whence he held his little court, “how long are you going to sit there and let the young women of Roxburghshire fawn over you, feeding you honey-milk and sugared almond cakes?”
“But Isabeau, I am not forcing them,” he replied, dropping a good deal of his accent and calling on his overwhelming powers of innocence. “They insist. I swear it. It is quite embarrassing. But I thought you preferred I drink honey-milk rather than other things.”
“I do. And they only insist because you encourage it, shamelessly, and reward their forward behavior with kisses. Do not insult me with lies,” I warned, seeing that he was about to do just that. “I’ve seen you! For heaven’s sake, you pulled Elspeth Beaton behind the curtain yesterday! You cannot lure young women behind the curtains. And you cannot marry Elspeth Beaton! She’s engaged to William Shaw of Kinross.”
“Who said anything about marriage? Marriage is on your mind, not mine. Besides, it was only kisses,” he said sweetly. “There is no harm in kissing, my dear Isa.”
I stood over him, my hands on my hips. “I beg to differ.”
“Oh? Oh!” His eyes grew wide as an exquisite smile of conjecture crossed his lips. “So that is how it happened? One little kiss and Brother Gabriel was unstoppable. He is a novice. Kissing to a man like Gabriel is the same as saying, ‘Oh, I’ll just open the floodgates a little crack,’ and then WHAM!” His hands were lavishly explaining along as he spoke. “You are blown on your back with your skirts around your waist and helpless against the raging tide of pent-up lust you’ve unleashed. A novice,” he said, smiling devilishly at my crimson face, “should use caution. But I, dear Isabeau, am no novice.”
“No,” I replied, recalling every echo of memory he bequeathed to me, and as always, with the memories came a flood of compassion. I stopped ranting and smiled softly. “And I’m sure you know better than I. But all the same, I’ll thank you to leave my private life to me.” I moved his feet aside and sat on the stool. “So, tell me, how are you feeling? I’ve been so busy; we haven’t had much time to just talk. Are you happy here?” I asked.
He reached down and took my hands, holding them gently in his. They were very warm, and for that I was infinitely grateful. “I am feeling better than I have a right to feel, Isabeau.” His eyes, large and expressive as a faithful hound’s, held mine. “And don’t think that I don’t know …” He was about to say more, but he couldn’t. He paused, searching for words, and just when he was about to speak again, Tam came crashing through the doors.
“M’lady!” he cried, his face flushed with excitement. He brought his gaze to rest on the angelic vision in the upholstered chair, narrowed his eyes, and with mocking vibrato through a snide grin, said, “Dante. I just thought as ye’d both like to know that a muckle-gray horse is making its way toward the gates, and the gent he’s carrying is a very happy-lookin’ man indeed.”
“Gabriel!” I cried, and jumped to my feet.
Having the advantage of perfect health and twenty paces, I was out the door and racing my companions to the courtyard. Gabriel had just passed under the archway and saw me coming. So did all the workmen in the yard, but it didn’t matter. My betrothed was off Bodrum before the horse came to a full stop, and then I was in his arms, much to Dante’s dismay.
“Is it done?” I finally asked, pausing to catch my breath after his kiss.
“Aye. I’m no longer beholden to the vows of the order.”
“From what I hear,” added Dante, prying us apart with a stern and chiding glare, “you tossed them aside a month ago.” We ignored Dante; however, his pretty visitors had spied him and began leaving the sides of their escorts. Gabriel, catching his breath, remembered something. He stopped the boy leading Bodrum away and went to his saddlebag.
“I have a present for you, my heart,” he said, carrying the sleeping gift in his arms. “It was a bit impulsive, but I couldn’t resist.” It was a puppy, a black-and-white collie puppy. My heart stopped as I reached for it.
“A puppy?” Dante said, incredulity dripping off his Venetian tongue. “What kind of gift is a puppy? See, you’ve made her cry. Did you learn nothing on Rhodes?”
“I love him,” I whispered, tears of joy and overwhelming sentimentality welling up in my eyes. “And I love you. Come, come quickly!” Cradling the puppy in my arm, I took Gabriel by the hand and ran back toward the hall. Dante, Tam, and six young ladies followed hot on our heels.
We entered my room panting and slammed the door in Dante’s face. “That’s my girl,” whispered Gabriel as I threw the bolt. We leaned against it, smiling like naughty children and marveling at the curious little face watching us. Angry fists that demanded obedience shook us from the other side; but we heeded them little, because we were finally alone. “I remembered you had a dog,” said Gabriel, his summer-sky gaze quickening the beating of my heart. “A collie. He followed you everywhere. Would it be wrong of me to tell you how I envied him?”
I hugged him, kissing his cheek, and nearly squished the poor little puppy between us. “His name was Rondo,” I whispered, feeling my throat tighten from the memory. “And you are a wonderful man to remember such a little thing.” I kissed him again. The pounding grew more furious.
“Dear Lord, Dante!” Gabriel boomed, shocking both the puppy and me. “Stop that racket this instant!”
“I stop when you open the door, brother! Get your hands off the master’s sister. There is an open-door policy in this house! It is sacrosanct!”
“What self-righteous, ankle-biting little demon has gotten into him? All I want is to be left alone with the woman I have loved all my life. Dear God, Isa, these last few weeks have been torture. Fantasizing doesn’t work anymore. I’m scunnered with it. I want you!” He took me up again in his firm and unyielding embrace and, kissing me, moved me away from the door toward the bed. The puppy squirmed and yelped in my arms. “Do you know they ran a brothel out of the old tower?” he said, setting me on the soft pile of comforters. “A quite spectacular one too from what I’ve heard. And he can stand there—in his white Jesus-on-the-cross robe, looking all pure, innocent, and freshly resurrected, and come pounding on my door with this racket!”
“Oh, darling, my heart, don’t be hard on him,” I soothed, peppering his hot, crimson cheeks with urgent kisses. “He’s had a rough time of it. I’m not making excuses …”
He pulled back, amused and incredulous. “You have a soft spot for our little Asmodeus?”
“No. Just com
passion. He’s very dear to Julius, you know.”
“You’d better not be on the bed!” the shunned, self-appointed protector of my virtue cried. “If I find you were on that bed, there’s going to be hell to pay!”
“Here, excuse me,” I said, and taking the fully awake puppy, I crossed to the door. I opened it and placed the perky, nipping fluff ball in Dante’s unwilling arms. “Be a dear; he needs to piddle. Oh, and if you think women have a weakness for handsome, partially clad, recently injured men, it’s nothing compared with a man holding a puppy, my friend. You’d best get going before you’re detained,” I warned, looking down the hall where the crimped, frilled, and heavily perfumed gauntlet stood lining the walls, tittering, beckoning, waiting. I smiled and shut the door. Gabriel was beaming with pride.
“Now, my love,” I said, crossing over to where he sat on the bed, “tell me, what has it cost you? What sacrifice did the Hospitallers ask of you so that we can be together?”
“Just a pledge of continued support, financial of course, and perhaps the donation of a son or two. I want lots of sons, Isa, my heart,” he said, his smooth voice touched with the gravelly tones of rapt emotion. He pulled me into his arms and kept me there.
“I want a daughter,” I added, entwining my fingers in his thick, sun-gilded hair and tilting his lips toward mine. A moment later I added, “And sons. I’m not picky. Would you be terribly opposed to starting now? No. Not on the bed. He will have fits. Come,” I said, resisting his firm grasp and the powerful temptation to use the bed with divine abandon. “The bed we shall save for our wedding night.” I smiled and led him to the solar instead, where the soft rug before the fireplace beckoned to us. But here Gabriel stopped. He looked suspiciously around the room and then, making up his mind, pushed the heavy settle in front of the bookcase.
“There,” he breathed, and we both grinned. “You forget, but Dante knows all the secrets of this old castle nearly as well as I do.” He then knelt on the carpet and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist and placing kisses along my torso as he slowly turned me around. We were finally alone, and honestly, we never heard the banging on the door.
I knew Gabriel was only to be at Blythe Hall for the night and would be leaving tomorrow for Rosslyn. We were in the final stretch, and he was making last-minute preparations for our nuptials, which would be held in his father’s magnificent and breathtaking Rosslyn Chapel. The change in Dante since the incident at Hume was really quite remarkable. He was not pleased with us after we emerged from my room in clean clothes and looking utterly refreshed. Scowling, he returned my puppy and began a scurrilous tirade. Gabriel, unwilling to suffer such biting remarks from Dante, pulled him into a room. They emerged an hour later, both looking a little worse for wear, yet grinning and looking as though they had a much better understanding of each other. Dante never mentioned the incident again, and we, for our part, behaved in exemplary fashion for the remainder of the day.
Gabriel, understandably, was exhausted, yet he insisted on staying up late into the night with the rest of the men. I had left them in the hall, where they lingered together, all of Julius’s men, along with our Blythe men, including Hendrick, Tam, and the Mackenzie brothers, who, I had learned, had been encouraged by Julius no less to get themselves thrown into the castle kitchens just so they could keep an eye on things for him. Tam and the Mackenzies had been working for my brother all along. The men had a good night of it, drinking, laughing, and playing cards until the tapers sputtered out. From my bedroom I could hear them in their besotted stupors, clamoring up the turnpike stairs and dispersing on the floors above. Dante had insisted that Gabriel sleep in his room, in the dormitory wing on the third floor. It was a sparsely decorated abode with a small hearth, a small window, and two beds with a night table between them. It would be like old times, Dante had said, cajoling with soft cheerfulness. It was also a way to keep a diligent eye on my betrothed. Dante, I had learned, was a light sleeper.
I was having trouble sleeping as well. This I blamed on my own effervescent excitement—and the whining fur ball in the crate beside my bed. And yet, deep down, I knew it was something else. After hearing the men retire, and feeling reflective, I scooped the puppy out of his box and brought him to Seraphina’s room with me.
I had kept her room shut off, not having the strength to face the emptiness yet. But Gabriel had given me the strength I needed, and the puppy, warm and affectionate, was a comfort beyond words. Bearing a light before me, I opened the door.
The silence was absolute, the stillness final and forever unanswerable. I walked in, my heart staggering in my chest, and stood in the center of the lifeless chamber. The curtains fluttered, and I felt a breath of wind, light as a baby’s whisper, caress the nape of my neck. I turned to the window, and there, sitting on the sill with its glorious face heavenward, sat a single white rose in full bloom, the soft light of the moon falling on its pale petals. I recognized it as one of the flowers from the rose garden my mother had planted long ago—the garden my father had tended so carefully. My throat had already begun to tighten at the thought when my eyes settled on the feather lying beside it, white as the rose, the soft down of its quill still wavering gently from the breeze. Monochromatic: pure, sacred, white against a vast and swallowing darkness, the image was burned onto my soul, and my heart mourned anew as a tear of sorrow slipped from my eye. I was about to light another taper to chase the vaporous gray from the walls when I saw a form lying on the bed. My heart stopped dead at the sight.
It was the puppy’s little yap that awoke him, and Tam, frowzy with drink, wild-haired, eyes puffy from crying, sat up with a start and stared at me. There was a moment of unutterable silence as his eyes, direct and immense, held mine. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, as I suppose to him I was. I had startled him, and for good reason. He wasn’t supposed to be in this room. And then I saw the letter clutched tightly in his hand. There was no need for words. I saw the broken seal; I saw the name it had been intended for. I set the candle on the table, shifted the puppy, and gently sat on the bed beside him. It was a moment before I said, “The letter was to me, wasn’t it?” He nodded, tears dripping from his eyes anew. It was then that I noted that the lid on Seraphina’s chest was still open. Tam, driven by curiosity and, perhaps, a longing to be with Seraphina again, had braved to do what I could not. He had gone through her belongings. I inhaled deeply in order to steady myself before asking, “May I see it?”
He was reluctant to let it go, but in the end we made a trade, the puppy for the letter: a small, warm ball of living fluff in exchange for the cold and final words of the old woman we had loved. When I saw the words, written in the flowing, round hand of Seraphina, I knew why he had been so reluctant.
My dearest Isabeau,
If you are reading this then I have left before I was able to fulfill my earthly duty as Guardian of the Angelic Bloodline of Azazyel, fallen angel, son of God, for you, Isabeau Blythe, are the guardian of Scotland for this age, and you will help to usher in an era of light and learning, of prosperity and joy such as this realm has never before seen. But beware, my child, for enemies of peace abound, and the day you were born they struck with a vengeance.
I blame myself. Your father insisted on a midwife, and I relented. As a carrier of the divine spark, you, just like your mother before you, will be blessed with two perfect children who will come when God decrees it. Usually one is blessed with a boy and a girl. In this way the divine spark is tempered; for the extraordinary traits of the Nephilim are expressed most strongly in the male offspring yet can only be passed to future generations through female children. However, just as with human women, sometimes twins will be born. With male twins there is little out of the ordinary to fear. With female offspring, however, the divine spark flows strongly through only one twin, while becoming corrupt in the other. And your grandmother, I’m sorry to inform you, arrived with a twin. The bloodline was split, and the fair child, your grandmother, was sent to France f
or protection. Her twin, dark-haired instead of fair and eyes of green, married into the vast and powerful Douglas clan. Understand that not everyone who bears the name means you harm. And your kin are not entirely evil, just mischievous and gifted with powerful sorcery.
It was your great-aunt Lilith, your grandmother’s sister, who disguised herself on the day of your birth. You were delivered safely into the world, and when I left to send word to your father, Lilith drugged Angelica and smothered you, ensuring that her line would rule Scotland. When I came back I found your mother, still weak from the ordeal of childbirth. She was fighting the powerful drugs that threatened her own life, as well as the sorceress, in order to save your soul. A battle of life and death ensued. The result was that Lilith got away unharmed and your mother, left with no other choice, gave her divine spark so that you could live to fulfill your destiny.
You and Julius were born with the ability to heal a mortal body. But you alone possess the unique gift of being able to save an immortal soul. That was your mother’s gift to you; long ago she showed you herself how it is done, and you are forever linked to her through that miraculous connection. She is your guardian angel, my dear; and she has always, as you know, been with you and Julius.
But abilities are not without their limits, and healing is not the same as saving. Saving travels beyond death. When God takes a soul, let it go. When evil forces death upon a body, choose wisely, for a price is always asked, and a sacrifice will need to be made. The connection can never be broken.
