Dark Warrior

by Donna Fletcher

  He stopped beside her; the bright sun glared over his shoulder. She looked up at him, shading her eyes with her hand.

  “A beautiful day is it not?” she asked.

  “I do not recall giving you permission to leave the keep.”

  Magnus stood. “I requested her company.”

  “You should have requested permission from me.”

  “Until she is wed, Mary is still in my charge,” Magnus said in a defensive tone.

  Mary did not wish them to battle over her, but it was not her place to step between them. She would undermine Magnus’s authority and strengthen Decimus’s power if she interfered.

  Decimus seemed to consider for a moment and reluctantly said, “You are right. She is in your charge, though I expect proper action from her, which is your duty to foster.”

  Mary watched as Magnus fisted his hand at his side; that he wanted to punch Decimus was obvious. But she knew he would not demean himself. He would remain a warrior strong in command.

  “And what is it that you wished to discuss that requires a distance from the keep?” Decimus asked before Magnus could respond to his chastising.

  Magnus held out his hand to Mary and she took it, rising gracefully to her feet to stand beside him.

  “It does not concern you,” Magnus said firmly.

  “She is my concern, especially what she discusses with another man.”

  “What I discuss with Mary is between Mary and me.”

  Mary held back her smile. While Decimus spoke of her with little regard, by not calling her by name, Magnus made a point of speaking her name aloud. He let Decimus know Mary was a person unto herself and not mere chattel to be bargained over.

  “I warn you, Magnus, be careful. I do not tolerate insolence well.”

  “Then we have something in common.” Magnus held his arm out to Mary indicating that they would take their leave.

  Mary took Magnus’s arm.

  “I wish to speak with Mary alone,” Decimus said.

  “Mary has much to do if the wedding is to proceed on time,” Magnus said.

  A grateful Mary remained silent. She had no desire to speak with Decimus. It seemed the more she spoke with the man, the more she disliked him.

  “I will not detain her for long and I will see that she returns safely to the keep.”

  Mary sensed Magnus’s reluctance. She knew however that to learn all she could about her future husband, would mean spending time with him, whether she cared to or not.

  “I will be fine,” she assured Magnus and slipped her arm out of his.

  “As you say,” Magnus said. “I will tell my wife that you will be with her shortly so that you may begin work on your wedding dress.”

  Mary nodded. “I will not keep her waiting.” She appreciated Magnus graciously limiting her time with Decimus.

  Decimus remained silent until Magnus disappeared in the distance.

  “He cannot protect you for long.”

  Mary smiled. “I will have you, my husband, to protect me.”

  Decimus circled her like a prey intimidating its captor. “You will be well protected. I will know your every move. I will decide your every move. You will obey without question.”

  Mary wanted to choke on her own words, but she forced them from her lips. “I will serve to be a good wife.”

  “You will be a good wife. I will tolerate nothing less from you.”

  “You have made yourself clear. I understand perfectly.” Her tongue was slightly sharper than she intended, but his arrogant, self-righteous manner irritated her.

  He grabbed her arm, his fingers pinching her skin. “Your mouth is much too quick and you much too foolish.”

  She yanked her arm from his grasp and stepped away from him. “I have yet to exchange vows with you, so it is you who speaks out of turn.”

  His nostrils flared, a warning she had learned quickly to recognize as anger, but at the moment she did not care how angry he was. She would surrender soon enough to him.

  “You dare to be insolent to me?”

  She silently reminded herself that she would gain nothing if she did not retain her composure, but it was difficult. He commanded in his every word. She had trouble tolerating his constant edicts—how she would tolerate it when they wed, she did not know. The sobering thought made her rethink her actions. If she were not careful she would worsen her situation.

  She forced herself to apologize. “Forgive me, I was inconsiderate.”

  “You spoke out of turn.”

  He could not even accept an apology. How she wished she could tell him how very rude and obnoxious she thought he was. Instead she said, “I am learning.”

  “You have much to learn.”

  If she did not direct the discussion elsewhere, she would soon find herself lashing out at him once again.

  “May I inquire what it is you wish to discuss with me?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and took a firm stance in front of her. “I have been informed that you love to sing.”

  Who could have told him that? Magnus was the only one aware of her penchant for singing.

  “I raise my voice in song on occasion.”

  “Let me hear you.”

  She looked at him oddly.

  “I wish to hear you sing. Now.”

  She had always sung when she was happy and at peace with herself. Troubling times found her voice dormant, having no desire to raise it in song. And she certainly had no desire to raise it now for a man who would have no appreciation for the beauty of song.

  She raised her hand to her throat. “My throat remains tender from your man’s attempt to strangle me.”

  “You would not have incurred his wrath if you would have surrendered.”

  She shrugged. “As I said, my throat remains tender.”

  “Try anyway.”

  He was adamant but then so was she.

  “I am sorry to disappointment you, but I cannot sing now.”

  “Did you sing for the Dark One?”

  His question startled her. It was his tone more than the question itself. Or was she wrong to think she heard jealousy in his voice?

  She rubbed her throat. “I raised my voice in song for no one.”

  He stared at her until she grew uncomfortable.

  “I do not think you tell me the truth, especially about the Dark One.”

  Was he fishing for information about Michael? Did he hope she would unwittingly supply him with information? Was he using her to get to Michael?

  “I have told you what I know of the Dark One.”

  “It seems that no one knows a thing about this mysterious shadow. He appears out of nowhere and vanishes without a trace. He must certainly practice the dark arts to be able to perform such magic.”

  “I would not know.”

  “You did not see him work any magic?”

  He was searching for information to use against Michael if he ever caught him, and who better to get it from than the woman who would be his wife.

  “I saw nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “You think him a mere man with no extraordinary powers?”

  Michael was no mere man to her. He was strong, brave, and unselfish, surrendering his own life so that tortured and condemned souls could know freedom.

  “You hesitate,” Decimus said, gleefully, as if he had learned something from her.

  “Of course I hesitate. How do I explain a man I know nothing of? We barely spoke since I had no voice. I simply followed him. As for extraordinary powers? I saw nothing that would make me believe he practices magic.”

  “Good,” Decimus said with a single nod. “The Dark One is then an ordinary man and ordinary men make mistakes. I will be there when he makes his.”

  Mary felt as if she had just betrayed Michael. She should have remained silent offering Decimus not a word. Instead she felt the need to defend Michael for she loved Michael with all her heart.

  Unfortunately her love could do more harm
than good. She had to remember to hold her tongue when Decimus queried her about the Dark One.

  He held out his arm to her. “We go so that you may see to your wedding dress.”

  He forever issued commands, never once asking but constantly telling what would be done. And she had no choice but to obey him; to refuse him would only cause anger and retribution.

  She took his arm, keeping her touch light. By the time they reached the keep she was anxious to leave his side. The fearful looks he received as they walked through the village had upset her. How often would she see similar looks on other people? How could she tolerate a husband who caused such misery to so many?

  Mary was quick to excuse herself.

  “I will see you at supper.”

  Another command by him, another performance by her. Only one day and she was already tiring of the act. What was she to do?

  She voiced the troublesome thought as she entered the tower room where Reena and Brigid sat with piles of material.

  “He is more obnoxious and demanding than I thought possible.”

  “He is dangerous,” Brigid said. “You must be careful.”

  Mary plopped down on the wool carpet where the women sat. “Decimus does not wish to hurt me. He wishes to tame me, bend me to his will, make me an obedient wife for all to see. Then he can bask in the glory of his achievement.”

  “How long do you think you will be able to continue your masquerade of a dutiful wife?” Reena asked, examining the material.

  “She does not have a choice,” Brigid reminded. “Her safety is at stake.”

  Mary picked through the various materials and colors without notice. “You are right and perhaps that is what is so very frustrating. I have no choice.

  “There is still time,” Reena said, attempting to offer hope. “Did you learn anything from him?”

  “I think someone is betraying me though I cannot imagine who. Decimus implied that someone alerted him to my whereabouts, and then just moments ago he made mention of my penchant for singing. No one but Magnus knew of my love for raising my voice in song. And I know without a doubt he did not betray me.” Mary shivered and rubbed the gooseflesh that raced along her arms. “It does make me wonder, though—who else knows these things about me? And how?”

  “It would seem a ghost follows you,” Brigid said, crossing herself.

  “Nonsense,” Reena argued. “Someone feeds Decimus information.”

  “But who?” Mary asked, pushing the material away from her.

  Brigid shoved it back at her. “You must pick for your wedding dress.”

  Mary shook her head. “I have not the heart. You pick, I have heard talk that you work magic with a needle.”

  “There, you see,” Reena said. “Mary has been here just past a day and already she hears of your sewing skills. People talk and offer information without even realizing it.”

  “I heard it in passing. Two servants girls were discussing sewing and one made mention of how she wished she possessed your talent with a needle.”

  “Could someone have overheard Magnus tell you of Mary’s love for singing?” Brigid asked.

  Reena shook her head. “We were alone at the time, no one was nearby.”

  “We are missing something here,” Mary said.

  “This color would compliment you,” Brigid said, holding up a deep blue silk.

  “That is too rich for me.”

  “Nonsense,” Reena argued. “It is your wedding day.”

  “Not to the man of my choice. I care naught about my wedding dress. Do as you will, Brigid, but keep it plain. It is not a day of celebration for me.”

  “I will see to it for you.”

  “In the meantime we all need to ask more questions and listen to more conversations,” Reena said.

  They all agreed and Reena made haste to see if she could discover anything from the servants who had served Decimus’s men. Brigid left after taking Mary’s measurements. She intended to request sewing help from other women, hoping to see if she would learn anything useful from their gossip.

  Mary remained alone in the tower room. She wanted to be away from everyone, alone with her thoughts and her aching heart. She missed Michael so very much, and try as she might not to think about him, it was not possible. He kept creeping into her thoughts reminding her of his touch, his kiss, his love, and she ached with want of him.

  A tear fell from her eye, rolling off her cheek. She caught it with her finger and stared at the solitary droplet.

  “Do you shed that tear for me?”

  Chapter 23

  “Michael,” she whispered and looked to the dark shadows in the room.

  He drifted out of the darkness, swathed in his black shroud, and she jumped up and ran to him. He caught her in his strong arms hugging her tightly to him, melding them together as one, never to be parted.

  How she wished never to be parted from him, and the aching thought made her cling more tenaciously to him.

  “I have missed you,” she said, “so very, very much.”

  “And I you.”

  She tilted her head and closed her eyes wanting him to kiss her.

  He did not disappoint her. He kissed her like a man separated too long from the woman he loved, and she returned the same in kind.

  Their lips were warm, the taste bittersweet, and the kiss pure magic. Neither wished to part, but time was not on their side.

  Mary slipped her hand beneath his mask needing to feel his face. He was warm and solid, and real. “You are not safe here.”

  “No one knows I am here.”

  “Decimus hunts you,” she warned, fearful for him.

  “He will not catch me. I know him too well.”

  “You cannot be sure.”

  “I will not leave you to him. You are mine. I love you and will see you safe.”

  She smiled and moved her hand to rest on his chest. “I feel protected when you are near.”

  “You are always safe with me by your side.” He squeezed her to him and nuzzled her neck. “I wish there were more time.”

  “It is dangerous,” she said, though she wanted desperately to make love with him.

  “One taste of you has intoxicated me, and I will not be satisfied until I have tasted you again.”

  “I wish to quench my thirst with you as well, but I fear for you.”

  “Do not fear for me, I know what I do.”

  She suddenly remembered Roarke and hurriedly told him of what she had done.

  “Worry not, Roarke is safe and will remain so.”

  They were startled apart by footfalls on the stairs.

  “Go,” she urged him.

  “Tonight,” he whispered as he returned to the shadows. “I come to you.”

  She smiled and shivered in anticipation.

  A tap at the door had her calling out, “Enter.”

  A young servant girl entered the room cautiously, her eyes wide, her face pale. “Lord Decimus insists on your presence in the great hall.”

  The girl was obviously distraught and Mary wondered if something was amiss.

  Mary hurried down the steps and entered the hall. Magnus and Thomas, along with their wives, stood near the dais.

  “What is wrong?” Brigid asked worried.

  “Decimus ordered Mary to the hall,” Magnus said. “He is in a rage about something.”

  Mary placed a hand to her churning stomach. Had he discovered the Dark One’s presence?

  Decimus stormed into the hall and stopped abruptly when he saw the others surrounding Mary. He looked as if he had rushed, perspiration dotting his forehead.

  “I demanded your presence, Mary. The rest of you are dismissed.”

  Magnus stepped forward, his expression stern. “I think not. I give the orders in my keep.”

  Decimus glared at him with furious eyes that looked heated with the fires of hell. “My power exceeds yours.”

  “Not in my home.”

  Decimus stepped forward. “You wi
ll—”

  Mary hurried between them. “I am at your service, my lord.”

  “At least someone knows her place,” Decimus said and grabbed Mary by the arm.

  Magnus looked ready to reach for Decimus’s neck when his wife walked up beside him and took his arm.

  “You will make it worse for Mary,” Reena whispered.

  Magnus calmed and murmured. “All would be well again by killing the bastard.” He reluctantly bowed to his wife’s wisdom and stepped back.

  “How dare you insult me,” Decimus said in a fury to Mary.

  “Insult you? I know not what you talk about.”

  “Your wedding dress,” he said as though his words explained all.

  She looked blankly at him.

  “I heard talk the dress is plain.”

  “There is something wrong with that?” she asked, baffled by his concern with her dress.

  “I distinctly told you to make certain the dress signified my high status in the Church. Only a peasant wears a plain dress for her wedding. I expect rich material and a dress adorned with many jewels.” Decimus ranted. “I will not be insulted on my wedding day by a bride who dresses beneath her station.”

  Mary did the only thing she could to appease the frantic man. “I apologize and meant no disrespect to you.”

  “You do not take our wedding seriously.”

  Mary bit her tongue, wanting to rant herself.

  “I am generous with you and here you disregard my offer of salvation.”

  She eased her arm from his grasp. “I do not need saving.”

  “All the wicked need saving.”

  She could argue with him but it would do her little good. His beliefs were heavily ingrained in him, and he would allow no room for new thought. She would not waste her time on the ignorant.

  “I will see that the necessary changes are made to the dress.” She looked to Brigid who nodded, letting her know she would take care of it.

  “If there is nothing else, I wish to take my leave,” Mary said, making an attempt to act the obedient wife.

  “Where do you go?” Decimus asked.

  As far away from you as possible. How she wished she could walk out of the hall and keep going. She would walk all the way to freedom no matter how long it took her.