Page 37 of The Darkland

Mara continued to stare at him, shaking her head after a moment. “You must be mistaken, Robert. He’s a fine knight and a kind man. Kirk trusts him implicitly.”

“He blinds Kirk to the truth. He has a dark, dark soul.”

Sighing heavily, Mara put her hands on her hips. “Is that all you do, spout words of doom and gloom? Yesterday, you told me stories of the Darkland and today, you weave tales of Niles’ dark soul. Is there anything else so terrible around here?”

“I have lived at Anchorsholme a long time, Lady Mara,” Robert said, an odd wisdom flickering in his eyes. “Sometimes we servants know more than the lord. Or the Master.”

“You mean Kirk?”

The lad nodded, hushing his sister impatiently when she tugged on his sleeve. “Fiona found a litter of fox pups yesterday. She wants you to come and see them.”

Distracted from stories of Niles, Mara found herself gazing at the thin young girl, perhaps seven years of age. Her eyes were a pale blue, the same color as Micheline’s, and Mara suddenly found herself lamenting her sister’s situation all over again. Her depression threatened, even as Fiona politely begged her to come and see the pups, and Mara forced herself to put her fears aside for the moment.

After all, she had come to the kitchen yards in search of distraction. Now that she had been provided with four lively distractions, she realized she might as well allow the diversion to swallow her. If not, surely she would make herself ill with thoughts of Micheline. And of Kirk.

Sighing, she took Fiona’s offered hand and permitted the giggling girl to lead her from the shielding walls of Anchorsholme. Flanked by her escorts, the soothing bramble of Lancashire served to ease her cares for the moment. Away from the turmoil, the anguish, of the Darkland.

*

If he wasany judge of time, Kirk had been standing guard outside of Edmund’s chamber for a little more than an hour. In that time, he had heard no sound whatsoever coming from the bridal bed and he was increasingly curious as to what was transpiring. Johanne had yet to leave the chamber, as Edmund had promised, and Kirk seriously wondered if all was proceeding smoothly.

He soon received his answer. When the door finally opened, he was not surprised to see Johanne emerge. But he was terribly surprised to see Edmund on her heels, closing the door behind them. Puzzled, Kirk moved forward to inquire if everything was all right when Edmund looked him in the eye, his expression uncharacteristically hard.

“I would assume the escort is ready to ride to Quernmore Castle on the morrow?” he asked.

Off-guard, Kirk slowly lifted an eyebrow. “As we discussed this morning, Niles is in charge and I am sure the escort is set. Is… is everything well, my lord?”

Edmund was decidedly defensive. “That is none of your concern, Kirk. My sister and I are going for a stroll about the grounds and my wife, when she is recovered, shall join us for the nooning meal.”

Kirk did not like the emotions he was sensing, hard and careless and defiant. “Is Micheline all right?”

Edmund paused a moment before answering, his dull green eyes intense. “Listen to me well, Connaught. What transpires in the bedchamber between my wife and me is none of your concern. If you try to interfere, I shall have you clapped in irons for insubordination. And if you still insist on continuing this role of protector for Lady Micheline, then I will have no choice but to send you back to your father. He has other sons who will serve me quite well in your stead.”

Kirk remained calm. He knew that Edmund relied on him too strongly to carry out his threat. “Steven is crippled and Drew is still a boy. There is no one in England or Ireland who would serve you with as much strength and devotion as I have,” he paused, surprised that Edmund’s expression remained firm. “If you believe I am interfering, then I apologize. It was not my intent. My intent was simply to make sure the lady was treated with the respect deserving Baroness Bowland.”

Edmund studied him a moment. Then, he cocked his head as if a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Are you in love with her, Kirk?”

“Nay.”

“Then why do you insist on protecting her?”

“Because she needs protecting.”

“From me?”

Kirk stared at him a moment. Then, he smiled humorlessly. “Most of all.”

It wasn’t an insult, simply the truth. Edmund continued to gaze at the man a moment longer before turning away, moving quickly down the hall. Johanne skipped after him and Kirk watched the pair until they disappeared from view. Then, his attention turned to the closed door. He couldn’t help but open it.

The room was dark. The oilcloths remained secured over the lancet windows and the hearth was dark and sooty. Kirk paused a moment as his eyes grew accustom to the dim light, noticing a slight figure seated on the edge of the bed. Puzzled, not to mention concerned, he moved for the heavy window dressings.

“My lady,” he said. “Allow me to open the…”

“Nay,” Micheline’s voice was loud and dull.

Kirk paused in the middle of the room, looking at the woman as she sat motionless. Her eyes were distant, her back straight and proud. Kirk could sense a terrible sorrow.

“Misha,” he said softly. “Are you well, lass?”