Page 32 of The Darkland

“And if I did?”

“Then I will kill him,” Kirk sounded entirely sincere. “I shall kill any man who tries to take you from me, Mara. I swear it.”

The gently-taunting air of their conversation had turned serious. Mara raised her head, leaning on an elbow as she studied his strong, handsome face. “You once told me to jump from the window ledge to entertain you,” she said, reaching out a timid hand to stroke his cheek. “I told you that I hated you. And still you want me?”

He smiled faintly. “I think I have from the moment I first saw you. I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.”

“Then why did you tell me to jump?”

His smile broadened. “So I could save you and you would be forever indebted to me. Why else?”

She matched his smile, giggling when he enfolded her in his arms and rolled across the bed. Mara ended up with her head hanging over the side of the mattress, quickly succumbing to the scorching kisses Kirk was depositing on her neck.

“I still say that I do not want to marry you,” she breathed, the blood rushing to her head. “But supposing I have a weak moment and agree, will we live here?”

He grunted, tasting her sweet flesh. “I think not. One of my brothers can come and serve Edmund and Johanne. You and I shall return to Ireland. You will not stay at Anchorsholme any longer than necessary.”

“Because you fear for me?”

He stopped kissing her. Mara raised her head, gazing into intense gray eyes. “Because I fear what I might do if you are threatened,” he sighed heavily, his gaze raking her face. “My family has served the House of de Cleveley for three generations, Mara. I would hate to be the link in the chain that destroyed the standards of service my father and grandfather set.”

“By killing for me?”

He nodded faintly. “Aye, love,” he whispered. “By killing for you. By killing them all.”

*

The evening feastwas a less fanciful affair than it had been the previous evening. Most of the guests had departed, leaving the cavernous grand hall rather empty. Aside from a few senior soldiers, the knights and their ladies, all was silent and somber as the meal of pork and boiled vegetables was served.

Mara and Micheline sat at the head table, a bank of smoking tallow candles burning brightly before them. They were clad in surcoats they had brought from Haslingden, faded garments in contrast to Johanne’s brilliant scarlet frock. But there was no humiliation in their appearance this night; proudly, they wore the old dresses. For no amount of convincing from Kirk or the twin ladies could convince them to wear the beautiful dresses of the dead women.

Kirk sat between Edmund and Micheline again this night, silently consuming his meal. Micheline ate silently as well, as did Mara. The only conversation, soft and intimate, was between Edmund and Johanne as they tittered and whispered privately.

Kirk ignored his young lord, casting long glances at Mara as she picked at her food. An afternoon spent in her arms had been more than enough to convince him that he could not, would not, live without her whether or not she agreed to his marriage proposal. He made feeble attempts to catch her attention, clearing his throat or banging his spoon. But she deliberately ignored him, pretending not to hear his overtures.

He had to grin at her, stubborn little wench. The harder he tried, the more she ignored him. Just when he was about to throw a piece of bread at her, Johanne broke from her conversation with Edmund and focused on pale, subdued Micheline.

“I thought you would like to know that wedding arrangements have been made,” she said, mockingly-sweet. “The priest will arrive on the morrow from Crosby and you and my brother shall be wed.”

Micheline’s cheeks flushed. “I… I thank you for making the arrangements, my lady,” she said politely. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you.”

Johanne smiled thinly. “Not at all. A simple missive sent to the priest was the only undertaking. I would expect that by noon will see you and my brother as husband and wife.”

Micheline nodded submissively, though the entire idea shocked and sickened her.So soon.“If I may be of any assistance to you in the final preparations, please let me know. I should be happy to help.”

“You’re the bride, dear, you’re not supposed to help,” Johanne said. “To marry my brother and spread your legs is all that is required of you.”

Kirk looked to Mara as Johanne spouted her uncouth remark and was not surprised to note her turning shades of red. But, remarkably and with a great deal of effort, she kept her mouth shut.

Micheline, ever lady-like, refused to dignify the remark. Self-control and poise that impressed Kirk tremendously. “I look forward to becoming a member of the House of De Cleveley.” It was a lie. She wished she could run far, far away and never look back.

Edmund finished his wine, turning to look at Micheline for the first time since their introduction. His green gaze was bland. “Did your mother only bear two daughters?”

Micheline looked up from her trencher, aware that her betrothed was speaking to her and wondering what sort of belittlement she would be facing now. “Aye, my lord.”

He grunted, motioning the serving wench for more drink. “Worthless. You will bear me only sons, is that clear?”

Micheline’s mottled cheeks deepened. “I… I can only try, my lord.”