Claire Delacroix (10 page)

Merlyn told me with some pride that the stone had all been brought from France, for Avery wanted the walls to be of the same material as Chartres Cathedral, so near the origins of their family. I do not know whether this is true, or some fanciful tale of Merlyn’s making, I could not always tell when he made a jest. I understood that Chartres was inland and I cannot fathom that a family of seafarers would originate in such a place, but then, I know little of Merlyn’s origins and less again of foreign lands.

I am an ignorant, illiterate village maid, albeit one whose mother insisted that her daughters speak as finely as the ladies of the court where she once served.

Once Ravensmuir was completed, it could not be taken by force. A stout wall extends from either end of keep proper to barricade the point completely. On the inland or west side, great ditches are wrought of the land beyond Ravensmuir’s gates, their valleys filled with mire and their peaks cultivated with briars. Only one road cuts a path to the gates, and it runs dead straight for several miles. A single horse can be seen from the watchtower long before its arrival.

One might say that the Lammergeier are protective of their privacy - or that they have much to hide.

Behind the wall and extending to the east are two smaller wings, each an echo of the other. The south wing is occupied by the kitchens and includes some storage for foodstuffs used on a regular basis. The kitchen hearth is at the eastern end of the wing. There is a second floor of meager height, where the household servants sleep, and its roof is thatch.

The north wing holds yet more storage, though the bulk of that wing comprises the stables. There is a second floor here, as well, again used by the shepherds and ostlers, when any are resident, for their sleeping quarters. There is a smithy at the eastern end of this wing, where the fire can be easily restrained.

The keep itself is several stories in height. The lowest floor is not lavish and tends to dank darkness. Here are the quarters for the gatekeeper and whatsoever low staff the lord has in the hall proper. The second floor is larger and grander, its ceiling four times the height of a man.

The majority of this floor is occupied by the great hall, which has two rows of small windows facing the sea, rich tapestries hung beneath them. It is a grand chamber. There are four fireplaces here, two at each end, all embellished with the emblems of the Lammergeier. With the tapestries illuminated by candlelight, the tables set with fine linen and the fires raging - which is how I first saw it - the room is both impressive and welcoming.

To the north end of the great hall lies the laird’s chambers, one room atop the other, where I had just spent the night. Above the great hall and the lord’s solar is another low story which runs the length of the building. Separated at the south end and with a private ladder from the gatehouse, is a small watch chamber with windows to the west, south and east. There are also ladders at either end of the great hall to the remainder of this floor, which provides a warren of small chambers for sleeping, all heated by the chimneys rising from the great hall.

The two wings combine with the keep proper to define three sides of the central courtyard, like an embrace welcoming the sea. There is a well in the midst of the courtyard and a kitchen garden toward the coast, sheltered by the walls yet out of the shadow of the keep. On a point which juts into the sea is the chapel of Ravensmuir, humped like a beeskep. The path toward it is as overgrown as it was when first I came to Ravensmuir.

Ravensmuir is a massive keep, much of it unused in these times, but I went through it room by room, floor by floor, cupboard by cupboard, my blood boiling hotter with every step.

I discovered my sleeping sister, a veritable angel with her golden hair and fine features, in a chamber on the third floor. If ever a child was left by the fey, it is Mavella, too finely wrought to be a mere mortal.

I tiptoed through her room, and found Tynan in the adjacent chamber. He managed to look unkempt and on the verge of plunging into some mischief even in sleep. There was a healthy bloom of color in his cheeks, which encouraged me that I had chosen aright in bringing us here. I brushed the unruly lock of hair back from his brow with the tenderness that flooded my heart in his presence. I smiled briefly before I crept from the room, closed the door and continued my hunt.

Merlyn evaded me.

No doubt, he did so deliberately. My fury mounted with every chamber that proved empty, with every cabinet that was unlocked to no avail. I discovered antechambers and nooks I had never guessed existed, every one of them devoid of my spouse. I could feel Merlyn watching me, I could smell him, and I fancied more than once that I could hear the mockery of his laughter.

But I could not find him. Curse the man!

* * *

By the time I reached the stables, I was more livid than ever I have been. I knew that Merlyn deliberately chose his ploy to prove himself more clever than me. I searched every stall with murderous vigor. I nudged past the gentle beasts who regarded me with amiable incomprehension, and even dared to peer within the destrier’s stable.

A silver wolfhound had greeted me at the portal to the stables then followed me, like a sentinel posted to observe my every move. It watched me explore the last stall, its expression curious.

As if it wondered why I sought Merlyn here. Even the dog knew more than I!

I cried out in frustration, then glared about myself. I had searched every corner of the keep, to no avail. I kicked a bale of hay with vigor and found such satisfaction in the way it scattered that I repeated the deed.

“Curse you, Merlyn Lammergeier!” I kicked another bale, venting my anger. It flew apart, filling the air with golden dust as the straw scattered across the floor. “A pox upon you!” I shouted and repeated the deed.

The dog thought this a marvelous game. It pounced on the bundles, shaking mouthfuls of the hay and growling. Its manner made me smile, its wagging tail the surest antidote to a foul mood that I can name.

Indeed, I began to enjoy myself as I kicked the bales yet higher. We made a merry mess, the two of us, and I did not care.

“A plague upon you, Merlyn, and all your kind, all your kin, all your friends and confidants!” I shouted without restraint. “A curse upon you and all those you have favored in your wretched life!”

I caught a sudden whiff of the sea, but paid it no mind in this drafty stable so close to the shore. No doubt the wind mustered anew. I kicked another bale toward the dog. The beast jumped and snatched a mouthful out of the air, then raced in triumphant circles about me.

I laughed, then attacked another bale. “Curse you, Merlyn! Curse the lot of you Lammergeier to hell and back!” The dog backed away and barked.

But it did not bark at me. It barked at something - or someone - behind me. My breath caught the barest heartbeat before I heard a familiar voice.

“How reassuring to know that I shall have your company upon that long journey.”

I jumped. I pivoted, my heart lunging for my throat, knowing before I did who I would see.

Merlyn.

He smiled slightly, taking full note of my awareness of him. No doubt he was pleased. I could not summon a sound to my lips. Even though I had been certain that Merlyn lived, the sight of him standing hale before me stole the words from my mouth.

As always he had.

Merlyn leaned in a dark portal in the wall, one that had not been there a moment past. It yawned wide and black, a cavern opening into darkness, and I whimsically thought I might have summoned him from hell’s own gates. Certainly, there was nothing but unfathomable shadows visible behind him.

Upon closer inspection, he looked haggard, my Merlyn, as if he had fought an ordeal since we last met. His white linen chemise hung open to reveal his tanned throat and chest, though it was tinged with dirt at the cuff. His dark chausses bore a tear upon one knee and his fine leather boots were scuffed, which I knew he would not normally tolerate. There was a pallor beneath his tan and shadows lurked beneath his eyes.

And there were other changes, once I took the time to truly look. That familiar knowing smile curved his lips as he watched my perusal of him, but his gaze was wary as seldom it had been in my presence before. There was a tightness in his smile, a tension in his stance that was alien to me.

He could not have looked more mortal if he had tried.

I wondered how well I looked to him, then recalled the enthusiasm of our reunion the night before and flushed like a maiden.

And - curse Merlyn! - he chuckled, giving me a glimpse of the carefree allure he had once carried so easily.

The hound wagged his tail at that sound, evidence that the lord of the manor was no unfamiliar intruder. Merlyn extended his hand and the beast ran to sniffle at his fingers. He scratched the dog’s ear, and I was struck as I had been struck so many times by the gentleness he could show when he chose. It made his occasionally harshness seem more cruel by contrast.

Merlyn’s gaze never wavered from mine and I finally recalled his comment. “I will not accompany you to hell or anywhere else,” I said, keeping both my distance and a measure of my resolve.

“We shall see,” he said in a low tone that made me shiver. He arched a dark brow. “So, wife of mine, are you disappointed that I live, or relieved to find me hale?”

He was not hale, any fool could see as much, but I was not so churlish as to comment upon it.

“I am disappointed that you are not already dead, yet relieved that I shall have the opportunity to kill you myself.” Some of my usual bravado returned. Merlyn watched me with undisguised amusement. “And I suppose it is a relief to be certain that I did not lose my wits last night.”

“Did you not? I thought you quite...uninhibited.”

I was discomfited, yet our gazes locked in recollection of what we had done. The stable seemed unaccountably warm and my mouth went dry, my entire body filled with unwelcome yearning.

I should leave. I knew this. I should tear myself away from the spell he cast so readily, and mitigate its power with distance. It was dangerous to linger, but I could not bring myself to leave. Not so soon as this.

Merlyn sobered, his gaze slipping over me. “You look well this morn.”

I folded my arms across my chest, my tongue turning sharp in my unwillingness to be charmed. “You look dreadful.”

“I thank you,
chère
, for the reminder.” That coy smile appeared, for his choice of endearment was an entirely different reminder and not an accidental one, I was certain.

At our nuptial feast, he had called me “
chère
” and, with the indignation of the young and ignorant, I had charged him with not even knowing my name. To the merriment of our few guests, I had soundly chastised him, not realizing why Merlyn merely listened and smiled. When he told me of my error, I was so humiliated that I wished to die.

I have told you that I do not take kindly to being made the butt of a joke. Even now, the recollection fired my temper.

“Will you never let me forget my ignorance?” I demanded.

Merlyn smiled. “It was charming. Indeed, I treasure the memory of your indignation.”

“Liar!”

“I tell no lie. Do you know,
chère
, how fetching you are when your eyes flash? You seem filled with the fire of life, a maiden wrought of flame.” When I did not reply, he shrugged. “What a relief it was to encounter a woman untutored in manipulative games. Your honesty is the trait I recall most affectionately about you. “

“Why? Because it contrasts so well with your skill in the telling of falsehoods?”

“Me?” He feigned innocence in a way that had once made me laugh.

“Yes, you! Clearly your repentance does not run deep.” I approached him boldly, wagging a finger at him as if he were a badly behaved child. “Lest we forget why I seek you out this morn, I am sorely angered with you.”

His eyes gleamed. “Yes, that was most clear last night.”

I ignored this unworthy comment. “You sent Fitz to lie to me, Merlyn. You had him lie about your demise to tempt me to this place, for some dark purpose of your own devising.”

“To seduce you soundly, I suppose.”

“If not more.”

“You should have protested more vehemently,
chère
,” he chided with a gentle shake of his head. “A man could easily misconstrue your intent when you behave as you did.”

“Meaning what?”

“That I had no plan to seduce you. I came solely to speak to you.” Merlyn stretched out a finger and traced the outline of my lips. The gentle caress stopped my heart, so unexpected, so seductive. Again, I knew that I should retreat, but I could not summon the strength or the desire to do so.

Merlyn was alive and, in the secret corners of my heart, I was fool enough to be glad.

“Until you moaned, of course.” Merlyn bent closer, touching his lips to my cheek and whispered. It was all I could do not to melt against his touch. A sound of yearning escaped my lips, much to my own mortification. I felt myself flush.

“Yes, like that,
chère
.” His fingertips slid along my jawline, then down my throat. I lifted my chin and strained toward him, greedy for his touch.

“Until you arched against my hand, like this.” He murmured hoarsely, then ran his lips across the tender spot beneath my ear. I closed my eyes. His hand slipped to cup my breast and his thumb slid across my nipple.

“Merlyn!” His name fell from my lips, without my intending to utter any such thing.

His gentle laughter fanned across my skin. “Until you whispered my name, exactly thus.” His voice roughened. “Yes, exactly thus,
chère
.”

I knew he would kiss me then, I knew that I was powerless to stop him. I opened my eyes and found him watching me from close proximity, as contented as a cat whose prey has been neatly cornered.

I granted him too easy of a victory. Doubts flooded into my thoughts and I pushed him away, making a show of wiping the imprint of his kiss from my flesh. My accusation fell doubly harsh from my lips. “Unless you lied also to Fitz?”