“Nicholas might have men aplenty in his hall, for any fool can hire mercenaries.”
“I shall face him alone, and the better man will win.” Erik granted his companion a glance. “The choice to accompany me is yours, Ruari, for I would not commend you to a fool’s journey. It would be unfair to demand as much of you, after you served my father with such loyalty.”
Ruari bristled visibly, and glowered at the younger man. “You will not face this injustice without me, lad, upon that you can rely. I swore a pledge upon the gem in that Sinclair blade, and I have wits enough to know that such a pledge cannot be broken without dire repercussions. Win or lose, I match my steps to yours, to be sure.” The older man’s lips set grimly and he tightened his belt. “I owe your father no less.”
It was a sentiment Erik appreciated, though it was not the best omen for success. The two men exchanged a glance, then headed into the forest in grim silence.
* * *
Vivienne awakened alone, something cold in her hand. Erik was gone, she saw immediately, as was Ruari.
As was the saddlebag Ruari had carried.
She opened her hand and gasped to find the silver pin that Erik had worn on his cloak within her grip. She guessed then that he had abandoned her, that he had granted her this beautiful trinket as a gift.
But they had a handfast.
Vivienne dressed in haste and climbed to the deck. It was early, so early that the sky was just barely touched with morning’s light. It looked as if the weather would be fair, and the seamen were already stirring. They spoke of raising the sails, of turning south, of the prospect of a port soon.
But Vivienne grasped the rail, her gaze snared by two figures in the shallows. She knew those two male silhouettes, just as she recognized the man rowing the small boat back toward the ship. She met Padraig at the rope ladder, knowing what she had to do.
“Padraig, I beg of you, row me to the shore as well.”
That man paused on the ladder, the rope from the small boat in his hand. There was a sheen of perspiration on his face from rowing against the waves and his expression was not encouraging. “You know better than to ask as much of me,” he said gruffly, then climbed to the deck itself. “Rosamunde would feed me my own liver if I left you alone upon a deserted shore.”
“I would not be alone,” Vivienne insisted, grasping his sleeve when he would have brushed past her. “Please, Padraig, my path lies with Erik. I have need of your aid.”
That man shook his head heavily. “You cannot ask me to endanger you, Vivienne. Such a deed would betray every obligation I owe to your family.”
“But Erik and I have pledged a handfast.”
“I care nothing for such pledges.” He granted her a piercing glance and his tone softened. “He left you behind, Vivienne, do you not see the import of that?” He turned away them, clearly meaning to leave her there.
Vivienne lifted her chin. The import of that was that Erik meant to reclaim Blackleith alone, she knew it well, just as she knew that he had need of her aid to succeed. She was not certain what she could do, but she knew they were destined to be together.
Even if she had to help destiny.
“If you do not aid me, then I will persuade Rosamunde to do so,” she said, not certain she could manage any such feat. “And she will take me to Blackleith, perhaps vexing the fairy with her delay in returning to Ravensmuir.”
Padraig granted her a dark glance over his shoulder. “You will not so persuade her,” he said. “Not when I and the fairy argue the opposing side.” He shook his head and his voice softened again. “It is no easy circumstance you face here, Vivienne, though a woman of sense would accept the truth before her.” He turned his back upon her once again, striding back toward the middle of the ship.
Vivienne was not prepared to accept this circumstance. She took a deep breath and looked down, seeing then the glint of silver in her hand.
“I will pay you,” she cried with sudden vigor.
Padraig paused and turned slightly, a smile of amusement touching his lips. Indeed, his manner was slightly mocking, which only irked Vivienne. “With what? You have no coin with which to tempt me.”
“I have better than coin.” Vivienne took a deep breath and held out her hand, offering him the silver pin that Erik had just granted to her.
It was clear that Padraig recognized the pin. His eyes narrowed and his gaze looked between it and Vivienne. He swallowed then and shook his head, taking a backward step as he did so. “You cannot surrender that to me. It is your sole gift from him, of that I am certain. There are items, Vivienne, that have a value beyond their market price. You cannot grant that to me.”
“I will,” Vivienne insisted, though the words nigh stuck in her throat. “It is but a trinket and as nothing compared to being with him. I need to follow him, Padraig. This price is small.”
Padraig swore. He spat upon the deck, he glared at Vivienne, and when he spoke, he fairly growled. “Keep your treasure,” he muttered.
Vivienne feared he would deny her in truth, but he strode abruptly back past her and seized her elbow. “You had best have every item of which you have need, for we leave immediately. I would not have Rosamunde witness me at this deed.”
“Thank you, Padraig!” Vivienne said, jubilant at his agreement. She stretched up and kissed his rough cheek. “All will be well, Padraig, you will see.”
“All will be as it will be, that is all that we know for certain.” He wiped at his cheek, then aided her to climb over the rail. “Do not waste time with such foolery as gratitude,” he said gruffly when she thanked him again, but the gleam in his eyes told Vivienne that he appreciated her thanks.
She sat in the boat, willing herself to be as light as possible. She fastened the pin upon her cloak and studied the coast as Padraig rowed closer, her heart leaping when she spied the two men climbing the rocks.
“There!” she said and Padraig grunted assent.
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
“It appears that we will have a guest shortly,” Ruari said and Erik looked back over his shoulder in surprise. But his companion spoke aright: Padraig rowed toward the shore once more, a smaller familiar figure in the boat with him.
The glint of the dawn on that tangle of auburn hair only confirmed the identity of the woman who drew ever nearer. Vivienne must have been watching him, for she waved gaily as soon as Erik’s gaze landed upon her.
As if he should be gladdened to see her.
As if it had been but an oversight that he had left her behind.
Erik swore with rare vigor.
Ruari laughed, which was little consolation indeed. “There is no trouble so fearsome as that of a beauteous woman,” that man said. “Unless, of course, it is a beauteous and stubborn woman.”
Erik had no reply for that. He was too vexed with Vivienne for her pursuit. He climbed back down to the water, determined to ensure that Padraig took Vivienne back to Rosamunde’s ship, back to her family and comparative safety.
Vivienne must have anticipated his intent, however, for she climbed out of the boat before he could reach her. She stood in water past her knees and pushed Padraig and his boat back into deeper water with surprising strength.
“Halt!” Erik cried.
Vivienne cast him a defiant glance, then stepped into deeper water to give Padraig and the boat a harder shove.
Erik leapt down the last scree of rock and lunged into the shallows. “You shall not leave her here!” he roared at the cursed seaman.
“Row, Padraig, row!” Vivienne cried, evidently fully prepared to push the small boat further if necessary.
Padraig grinned as he dipped the oars into the water. The golden hoop in his ear glinted and he looked a disreputable rogue indeed. “I wish you well, for this lady has no shortage of determination,” he shouted to Erik, then began to row.
“I wish you well, Padraig, in your quest at Ravensmuir!” Vivienne shouted and waved. Padraig said naught, mere
ly labored against the waves with determination.
“Nay!” Erik bellowed. “Come back for the lady, you wretch!”
“He will not,” Vivienne declared with fearsome certainty.
Erik knew that she was right. What was he to do? He could not abandon her alone on the shore. He could not swim to Rosamunde’s ship with Vivienne on his back, particularly if she did not wish to go there.
There was a dangerous glint in Vivienne’s eyes as she lifted her skirts and strode toward him, a glint that told Erik that the lady would accept only one solution to this dilemma. His mother’s silver pin shone where she had pinned it upon her cloak, shone as it never had while he had worn it.
“We have a handfast,” she began hotly, “and not a month of it is fulfilled as yet. You can return me to Kinfairlie in a year if we choose then to part.”
“If we survive that long,” Erik retorted. “I thought you a woman of good sense! What folly compelled you to follow me?”
“You have need of me,” Vivienne said simply, then halted several steps away from him. Her skirts swirled around her, ebbing and flowing with the waves, the embroidery on the hems shining beneath the water. Tendrils of her hair blew around her shoulders and across her face and it seemed that her freckles had become more numerous these past days. Her bright gaze was steady, her back as straight as a well-honed blade, and there was determination in every line of her being.
She was valiant and breathtaking, a Valkyrie come for his soul and one whose conquest Erik felt little urge to contest.
“I have need of no woman at my side when I walk into such peril as this,” he said, feeling he should protest her presence.
Vivienne propped her hands upon her hips and glared at him. “Perhaps you might recount for me again your reasons for seeking my hand? There must be a thousand maidens between here and Kinfairlie, yet you undertook such a journey for me alone. It seems only good sense that you would have had a reason why.”
Erik felt the back of his neck heat, for he guessed the path of this argument. “You know the answer well enough.”
“Remind me of it,” she demanded.
“Because you were the sole other person who had not been deceived by Nicholas,” he admitted, fully aware that his cause was already lost. “But you should have remained with your kin. Despite your perceptiveness, still I would not see you endangered.”
Vivienne’s sudden smile was so radiant that Erik blinked and his heart skipped a beat. “Because you are gallant in truth.”
“Not so much that...” Erik began before the lady interrupted him again.
“True enough.” Her gaze seemed suddenly more intent, so perceptive that Erik feared she could discern his every thought. “You fret for my welfare because you love me.”
Erik stared at her. He knew he should protest her claim, knew he should pretend otherwise until he could confess his desire with an honorable pledge to wed her, but the words would not rise to his lips.
Undaunted, Vivienne smiled and laid her hand over the pin he had surrendered to her. “A man’s deeds oft say more than his words,’ she said softly. “You love me as I love you, and thus our destiny is entwined forevermore. You might not have come from the realm of fairies, but you climbed through Kinfairlie’s enchanted window to win my heart all the same.”
Erik was struck dumb that she should understand him so readily. Her bold declaration should have troubled him more than it did, save that he knew she spoke the truth. He said naught, for he was glad to not be parted from her, even for the weeks it might take to reclaim Blackleith. Her presence would complicate matters but at the same time, the very sparkle of it gave him encouragement.
“You will remain out of all battles,” he decreed, ignoring her triumphant laugh. Doubtless she had guessed why he had changed the subject. “And you will not argue with my every choice, but do what you are bidden to do.”
Vivienne’s smile only broadened. “I will do whatsoever needs to be done,” she said with conviction, then spared a mischievous glance to Ruari and did a fair imitation of that man’s manner. “Upon that you can rely.”
Erik smiled despite himself. She took a step closer to him, majestic and fully persuaded of the merit of her argument. “Tell me what your eyes tell me,” she coaxed. “Tell me that you are gladdened by my presence, that you could not imagine days and nights without me at your side.” She laid her hand upon his arm and tipped her face up to his, her eyes shining and her ripe lips curved into a bold smile. “Tell me that you would have missed me in truth.”
Erik was spared the need to reply. Vivienne made to ease closer but must have slipped on something under the water. She shrieked as her feet suddenly flew out from under her.
Erik caught her just before she landed in the sea. He held her fast against his chest and turned to make for the shore. “Aye, it does a man good to rescue damsels from their own folly,” he muttered.
Vivienne laughed and kicked her feet, apparently untroubled by his gruff manner. “You lie, sir,” she teased and Erik felt himself smile.
“Perhaps your presence is not so unwelcome as that,” he acknowledged. Unable to resist temptation, he bent and kissed the smile from her lips.
He intended only a brief embrace, one that would ensure her silence, but as always, Vivienne’s passion was beguiling indeed. She kissed him back with rare fervor, with the same hunger that he felt for her, and he was keenly aware of how long he had been without her wondrous caress. That familiar heat unfolded within him and his grip tightened upon her, his treacherous body more that prepared to return the lady’s caress despite his inability to offer for her with honor.
Holding her fast in his arms made Erik realize how finely wrought his lady was, how vulnerable she could be. He recalled Beatrice’s fate, feared for his daughters and feared yet more for Vivienne. He deepened his kiss, knowing she would taste his concern and not caring in the least.
“Aye, and that is why we have journeyed so far,” Ruari shouted. “The better that you might stand in the sea, lad, and catch some ailment for which there is no cure. It would serve your brother well if you died of the ague afore you even reached his gates. Indeed, why else have we traveled all the length of Scotland, save for you two to rut in the sea?”
With some reluctance, Erik ended his embrace and strode to the shore. He set Vivienne on her feet, then discussed the best course onward with Ruari. Vivienne wrung out the length of her skirts, and appeared intent upon not slowing their pace to Blackleith.
They climbed the rocks once more just as the sun crested the horizon and began their journey inland. Erik was the only one to glance back at the sea. The sails were unfurling on Rosamunde’s ship and billowing in the wind, the vessel already moving to the south.
There was no turning back, no further source for aid. It was between himself and Nicholas, and whoever Nicholas might have summoned to his side in Erik’s absence.
* * *
It grew darker that afternoon, as slate-bellied clouds rolled across the sky and gathered ominously there. The wind came in fits and gusts and was colder than it had been earlier this day. Erik felt that he returned willingly to a nightmare. His scar seemed to burn upon his face, his flesh seemingly recalled the place where it had been so carved, and his limp felt more pronounced.
A shiver rolled over him when the crossed the boundary of Blackleith’s lands, though Erik hoped the others did not notice his response.
It was not long before the high dark thicket rose high on either side of the road, blocking out the sight of even the roiling sky. Its shadows were dark and deep; Erik’s memories of this place no less dark.
He paused at one end of the hedges that swallowed this increment of road, of this veritable tunnel wrought of vines and thorns, and swallowed.
“It was here then?” Ruari said quietly from beside him, no real question in his query.
Erik took a deep breath, fearful for a moment that he would not be able to pass this place. He recalled Vivienne upon the
threshold of the labyrinth, determination gleaming in her eye. He spared her a glance to find her watching him as keenly as a sparrow watches a crumb.
She came to his side, though her touch upon his arm was fleeting. “It is a loathsome stretch of road,” she mused, peering ahead into the shadows. “As if the place itself has a recollection of an injustice served here.”
Erik knew that she had guessed the history of this place and the reason it troubled him so. He looked down the road again, trying to see it with her eyes, without his memories, and its shadows shrank somewhat. “It is but a stretch of road,” he told her tersely, not truly believing as much himself. “It can possess no memory of treachery.”
She tilted her head to regard him and he felt a surge of admiration at her resolve. He was convinced that her spirit could never be quailed, that she would stride with confidence into any situation, no matter how dire it appeared.
He fiercely wanted her to give his daughters such confidence.
“Then let us pass through it,” she said, as mildly as if they discussed the crossing of a meadow. “For there is nothing to fear upon a stretch of mere road, even if the bushes shade the way.”
She was right. Erik stepped into the darkness that consumed this length of road, Ruari upon one side and Vivienne on the other. The older man drew his blade and Erik did the same. The shadows swallowed them in a trio of steps, the shadows pressed against them, the vines seemed to whisper innuendo.
The passage seemed longer than Erik knew it to be, each step recalling some blow he had sustained. Indeed, he was besieged by vivid recollections, for he had not passed this way since his assault.
Here his horse had fallen, here the knife had touched his cheek, here he had crawled to the safety of the forest’s embrace. Here he had lain bleeding for what had seemed an eternity.
Here he had lost all awareness, certain that he would never wake again.
He relived his worst nightmare upon that stretch of road, though through it all he was keenly aware of Vivienne’s presence. She smelled of flowers and sunshine, she was a beacon of light in that treacherous passage so redolent of his past. Her step did not falter and she did not fall back to walk behind him.
The Rose Red Bride JK2 Page 28
