Page 13 of The Darkland

“Your wife?” Micheline turned to the knight. “I did not know you were married, Sir Corwin.”

He nodded. “Three years now. My wife, Lady Valdine, and her sister, Lady Wanda, reside at Anchorsholme.”

“Are you married, Sir Niles?” Mara stopped grimacing long enough to focus on Kirk’s tall associate.

The knight shook his head. “Nay, lady, I am not. Do I detect your interest?”

A smile played on Mara’s lips even though she was doing her best to scowl. “Never!”

Niles sensed the game, smiling coyly as she turned away. “Come now, my lady. There is no need for modesty. Simply declare your interest and I shall consider you.”

Mara shook her head firmly, the black hair gleaming like silk as she moved. “I am not interested and I never shall be.”

Niles managed to rein his horse in front of her, his smile wicked. “I am crushed. Why not?”

Mara tried not to look at him. “Because you’re too old, Sir Niles. Moreover, I do not want a husband.”

“I am only twenty-six. And why do you not want a husband?”

She shrugged, watching Corwin smirk from the corner of her eye. “Because I do not. I do not need one, nor do I want one. Besides, who would be foolish enough tolerate my lively nature?”

Corwin and Niles looked at each other. “She has a point,” Niles conceded. Sighing dramatically, he returned his gaze to Anchorsholme. “Lady Mara, I have decided to reject your suit. You will understand, of course. I am far too feeble a man for your bold nature.”

Mara fought off a smile, giggling when Micheline whispered something in her ear. Ahead, Kirk suddenly reined his horse around and lifted a massive arm, sending the escort dividing into two long rows. Niles and Corwin, their exchange with Mara forgotten, lowered their visors and took position in front of the ladies.

Mara and Micheline watched as the great gates of Anchorsholme Castle slowly opened, the grinding of wood and rope echoing off the stone. A color guard waited on the battlements, the yellow and gray standards of the House of De Cleveley waving in the brisk wind. The sisters drank it all in, the awe of the spectacle outweighing the anxiety of their destiny.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was difficultto describe the smell of their lovemaking; somewhere between animal fat and a rotting corpse. When the heavy breathing subsided and the sweat cooled, it always smelled the same. It was a foul stench, emitting from the foul depths of their warped relationship.

A woman stood by one of three lancet windows offering weak illumination into the richly-appointed chamber. The heavy oilcloth was pulled back, a cool breeze caressing her naked body as her lover languished on the massive bed behind her.

“They’ve finally arrived,” she said faintly. Perhaps a bit ominously.

The man on the damp, dirty sheets stirred a bit, eventually rising. He went to stand beside the woman, their gazes lingering on the activity in the bailey below.

“They are late,” the man said, turning away in search of his clothes.

The lady remained focused on the scene, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman she knew to be in the party. A woman she hadn’t yet decided to love or hate.

“This marriage, Edmund.” She turned from the bright day, watching the man secure his hose. “You promised me that it would be in name only. Isn’t that what you said, dear brother?”

He nodded, scratching his scalp before collecting his fine tunic. “Father accepted the pledge on behalf of a gambling debt, darling. I had no choice but to agree and well you know it.”

The woman’s naked body crossed the floor, a thin woman with tiny breasts. Even as her brother put his tunic on, she rubbed against him like a cat in heat. “You must consummate the marriage.”

“I am bound to.” He collected his gold-link belt. “For breeding purposes, of course. Once she’s pregnant, I shall forget I even have a wife.”

The woman smiled, rubbing her Venus Mound on his thigh and leaving a damp streak. “And return to me, where you belong,” she purred. “Into the arms of your beloved Johanne.”

Edmund raised an eyebrow at his younger sister. The sister he had acquired when his father had married the wealthy widow Seymour those years ago, but his sister nonetheless. Blood or marriage was of little difference to him. “You would not be my beloved Johanne if Kirk were to show interest in you,” he said, slapping her on the buttocks. When she yelped and moved away, he sat on the mattress to put on his boots. “He is the man of your dreams; not me.”

She continued to smile at him, rubbing her bum where he had smacked her. “’Tis you who loves me best, Edmund. You always have. Teaching me the ways of men and woman so my flesh would not be polluted by the touch of an outsider. When Kirk finally comes to his senses, he’ll be pleased with the skills you have taught me. Won’t he, Edmund? Just like you said?”

Last boot in place, Edmund de Cleveley, Baron Bowland, rose from the bed and fixed his step-sister in the eye. “He shall be pleased. As pleased as I have been since you were eleven years old.”

Johanne’s smile broadened, rubbing herself against the canopy post and imagining it was Kirk. “And what of your new wife, Edmund? Will she be as pleasurable as me?”