Hearts Across Time (The Knights of Berwyck: A Quest Through Time Novel ~ Books 1 & 2) (41 page)

“He should have been here long afore now,” Fletcher grumbled. “But, come...I forget my purpose, and that was to take you outside for some fresh air.”

“I’m really not sure I’m in the mood.”

“’Tis Dristan and Amiria’s orders, my lady. I was to retrieve you posthaste and escort you about the grounds,” Fletcher stated and stood holding out his hand. “Even their healer Kenna says ’tis not good for you to be cooped up inside for so long.”

She hesitated before reaching out as he pulled her up next to him. “I don’t know that this is a good idea, Sir Fletcher.” She made the mistake of looking up into his eyes again where she beheld the fleeting glimpse of yearning hidden in their golden depths.

“I promise to behave myself and be nothing but the utmost courteous of knights.” He made a very formal bow to her, and she repressed the urge to giggle like some young schoolgirl.

“I have your word, then?” she asked, not wanting to put either of them into a position they would later regret.

“Aye, you have it,” he said simply.

Her hand was placed in the crook of his elbow as they made their way to the door. Before she could even ask for a servant to fetch a cloak for her, one was provided by a serf, who just as quickly disappeared. She settled the hood about her head, still hesitant to be alone with the man next to her.

He began reaching for the door before she stopped him with a slight tug on his arm. His brow rose, and she tried to formulate inside her head how to phrase her words to him. “I still love him with all my heart,” she blurted out, wrapping her arm around herself as if to protect herself from the hurt that pierced her heart every day since Riorden’s rejection.

“Aye, I know.” He reached out and tucked a piece of her hair into the hood.

“I won’t betray him. I have faith he’ll come to his senses and return for me, and our baby. When he does, I’m willing to forgive him for what he has done.”

Fletcher pulled his cape closer around his shoulders before taking her hand once more and bringing it briefly to his lips. “He is lucky to have you as his wife, Lady Katherine.”

“I just don’t want any misunderstandings between us, or for you to think the mild flirting that went on between us before at Berwyck would go any further than it has. I’m sorry if I’ve misled you.”

“You have not done anything to give me such an impression,” he murmured.

“Then you’re good with us just being friends?” she asked, hoping she hadn’t insulted him.

“Aye, I will do my best to guard my heart against your most beautiful charms, my lady.”

Satisfied that her attention to him would not be misunderstood, she took his arm as he led her about the inner and outer baileys to enjoy what was left of the day. With the snow beginning to fall, her only worry was Riorden would be challenged by the weather to reach her side. She refused to think of any other alternative than having her happily-ever-after ending with the man of her dreams.

M
arguerite was afraid
to move
...afraid to even take one step. Gasping for breath in indecision on how to solve her dilemma, she looked all around, but there was no escape. She was completely surrounded.

The inferno was overwhelming as the flames of hell came ever closer to where she stood. Soon she would have nowhere to turn, and the fire would be licking at her toes. Everywhere she gazed was consumed in an orange blaze of heat, and she knew she must have died and gone to the underworld!

She cried out, “
Riorden
,” the name of the one she loved, and yet he came not to save her. Then she began to fervently pray for her soul and the forgiveness of those she had wronged in her life. Visions of Everard flashed in her mind, for she had erred with him more than any other. Warin’s face came next, and she came to realize that he had loved her, too, at least as much as he was capable of loving just one woman.

She attempted to conjure up Riorden’s handsome face, but it would not come to her mind. She tried even harder, yet the more she attempted to envision his visage, only Everard’s image came afore her thoughts. ’Twas as if the forces of evil refused to grant her request to see the one picture of the man she had loved with all her heart. She had failed herself, to get him to love her once more, and she cursed herself for not trying harder. He had been hers. He should have been again, and would have, if it had not been for the memory of his dead wife haunting him. At least, he knew not what part she had played in his wife’s disappearance and death. If he ever became privy to such knowledge, there would be no corner on this earth where she would be able to hide from his wrath.

Death! My God, I am dead
, she thought. For the first time in her life, she was scared for her immortal soul. She began to shudder in her grief that shook her to her very core. She became hysterical as the fire inched its way ever closer ’til her gown began to disintegrate, and she could feel her skin begin to burn. A demon of gigantic proportions took shape whilst she cried out. She could not run, nor could she hide. Satan’s clawed hand pierced her arm and began dragging her down into a deep, bottomless pit with other doomed souls whilst her screams rent the air. Hell’s demon king had at last caught her in his grip and brought her to his realm.

M
arguerite arose
from her bed and she searched the dark corners of the room, as if the Devil were truly coming to claim her. She sighed in relief at being utterly alone and went to the hearth to place a log on the fire. Taking a peek out the window, she realized that the new day had dawned dark and gloomy. She closed the wooden shutter to keep out the snow that had already blanketed the earth.

For months, she had been plying Riorden with drink, hoping that she would be able to get him in her bed again. So far, the closest she ever got to him was when she replenished his latest bottle. He continued to keep himself hidden away in his chamber or solar so the opportunity to sneak into his chamber never presented itself. ’Twas hard to get past a door that was bolted.

If she could only get with child, he would feel obligated to wed with her, she thought. She was fast running out of the potion Warin had given to her. Mayhap, ’twas time for her to use the last of the precious concoction and be damned with the consequences of what harm she may do him. She was running out of patience and wanted him warming her bed afore spring.

She had just taken a sip of wine that had been left for her pleasure when a cold chill swept into the room.

“Do not get too comfortable, my dear,” Everard’s voice came into her head. “I am not done with you for the night.”

“’Tis morn, Everard, so go haunt someone else for a change. I have had enough of you to last my lifetime,” Marguerite muttered. She heard his laughter filling her head ’til she put her hands over her ears, not that such a motion ever did any good other times he felt the need to torment her.

“But, the night is so young, Marguerite. Besides, you robbed me of years to spend with my family. ’Tis the least I can do for them to never give you a moment’s peace, whether you are awake or whilst you slumber.”

“Soon, I will be gone from here, and you will not be able to follow me. Riorden will be with me, and he will protect me. I never should have married you, you old goat!” she spat.

“You vile bitch!” Everard bellowed. “You will stay away from my son. You have done enough damage to ruin what little happiness he had found. Trust me, when I tell you, Marguerite...you will pay for all you have done in your miserable life.”

“Bah! You cannot harm me if I am gone from Warkwoth. When I am away from here, after I have found the gold you have hidden from me, you can haunt this castle for all of your immortal life, and good riddance to you Everard de Deveraux,” Marguerite yelled in return.

His frightening laughter filled her head whilst chills began to race down her spine.

“You can search these grounds ’til you take your last dying breath, and still you will not find what you so eagerly search for.” Everard taunted. Then his tone turned deadly serious. “Heed my words to leave Riorden alone. I have warned you, Marguerite. I will not do so again.”

“Riorden
will
be mine again. I swear by all that is holy, he will be mine again,” she vowed, shaking her fist in the air to prove her point.

“I hope you enjoy Hell, my sweet, for ’tis coming for you.”

A blast of cold air passed through Marguerite, clear down to her bones. ’Twas as if her fate had been sealed with her vow. She could stand her chamber no more, for the walls seemingly closed in on her. She quickly threw on her garments and fled in search of the one man who would save her sanity. No matter what his ghostly sire threatened, Riorden would love her once more, even if that meant dragging the man afore the priest in chains.

R
iorden yanked
the
nearby bottle off the table in his solar, giving it a shake. ’Twas full! He pressed his lips around the rim and pulled at the cork firmly with his teeth. With the sound of a pop as ’twas freed, he spat the stopper from his lips and watched as it sailed across the chamber to land against the wall. He took a short sip of the whiskey and felt the relief the fiery brew brought him. ’Twas the only thing that took away the nightmare he now lived and gave the respite he stood in need of. The liquor burned its way down his throat and settled in his empty stomach. It rumbled at him in protest for the abuse, but Riorden cared not. A few more swigs of the heady amber brew, and he would soon be numb again to anything around him.

His head fell back against the top of the chair he sat in by his fire. With sightless, bloodshot eyes, he stared up at the ceiling, not caring what day ’twas, or if there were duties in need of tending. He only knew winter was here, and there was food provided down below for those who wished to partake of it. Had it really been four long months since he had lost his beloved Katherine? If she had yet lived, she would be well along with his child by now. How he missed her and the way she made him feel with her presence in his life.

Life! His life was meaningless now without her. Nothing had improved since her death, nor was it likely to. Riorden had been living in a dull haze. As far as he was concerned, he could just stay there ’til God in his mercy took his own sorry life too.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he registered comforting hands that began kneading the knots that had formed on his neck and shoulders. It had been far too long since he had given in to any form of kindness, and he forgot himself as a lone moan of pleasure passed his lips.

“Does that feel good, Riorden?” Marguerite leaned down to whisper seductively in his ear. “I can make you feel better, my love, if you just allow me to show you how good it can be between us.”

Riorden’s mouth was dry, and he reached for the ever present flask in his hand. He was trying to form some kind of a coherent thought, but, for the life of him, he could not remember why Marguerite was in his solar. Afore he could reply, the door opened, and he turned his attention to the intruder. ’Twas Aiden, and he looked none too happy to see him, not that it mattered. He felt Marguerite take his hand and kiss its back afore she went to stand behind his chair.

“What is it, Aiden?” Riorden managed to gasp whilst Marguerite began playing with his hair. It reminded him too much of Katherine, and he swatted her limb away, as he would a tiresome bug.

“May we speak privately, Riorden?” Aiden requested.

Marguerite took a step forwards. “He is Lord de Deveraux to you. Do you not know your place in his household?” she snapped.

Aiden’s brow rose in apparent amusement at her words. He took a step forwards, and she wisely retreated again behind the chair. Riorden only smirked whilst he watched this battle of wills.

“You must be mistaken, Countess, if you think I am his vassal,” Aiden replied snidely. “I am no more than a guest in Riorden’s household. Much like yourself, I might add.”

“I am more than a guest!” she declared, stomping her foot.

“If you say so, Countess. In either case, Riorden and I do not stand in need of titles to have speech between us.”

Riorden raised his hand when he saw Marguerite’s face turning red with rage. “Enough, the both of you. I cannot stand listening to you sparing at one another. Leave us, Marguerite,” he commanded, although he assumed his words lost some of their importance when they slurred together.

She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I will return shortly in case you have need of me.”

He waved her off, and she left the chamber without any further comments to Aiden, although ’twas clear she would rant at the man if given the chance. “What do you want to have speech about, Aiden,” Riorden asked, taking another pull of whiskey. Aiden began pacing the chamber ’til Riorden was getting dizzy watching him. “Will you sit? You are making my head spin trying to keep up with you.”

Aiden angrily came to him, ripping the bottle from Riorden’s grasp. It went flying across the room and shattered into a thousand pieces as it hit the wall. Riorden watched in fascination as the brown liquid slowly trickled down the stones to leak into a puddle on the floor.

“What did you do that for?” Riorden bellowed. “’Twas nigh unto a full bottle!”

“What the hell are you doing to yourself, Riorden?” Aiden yelled, shaking his fist at him. “Do you think Katherine looks down from heaven upon you and is pleased that you have become a drunken fool?”

“Do not mention her name to me. I drink so I can forget.”

“Aye, you wish to forget, but you do yourself, and her memory, an injustice by indulging in spirits! When was the last time you had something to eat?”

Riorden raked his hands through his hair. “Who can eat? Get me another bottle.”

“Get it yourself if you want it. I will not stand here and watch you throw your life away by drowning out your problems,” Aiden said and sat down in a chair opposite Riorden. “And speaking of problems, why do you keep her close to your side? I would think that she, of all people, would no longer be welcomed here at Warkworth!”

“You mean Marguerite?” Riorden said, trying to focus his thoughts on the conversation. His brow furrowed in concentration, but it only confused him the more he thought on the woman. “Why should she not be here? ’Tis her home, is it not?”

Aiden stared at him with his mouth hanging open then snapped it shut. He stood in disgust. “The next thing you shall tell me is the two of you plan to wed,” he jested, waiting for a reply. None came, and Aiden began his pacing again. “God’s Wounds! Riorden, tell me you will not wed the wench.”

“Why ever should I not wed with her? She is a comely enough woman, who I once loved. Even the king desired our union,” Riorden exclaimed. “Besides, it matters not who I wed with, be it Marguerite, or another. Without Katherine, my life is nothing.”

“Your life is what you make of it, Riorden. But to wed with Marguerite would be an even worse betrayal to Katherine’s memory than what has already occurred. Marguerite is like an evil spider, spinning her web around your thoughts. Why can you not see this for yourself?”

“Bah! She is but a woman. She will soon learn her place in my household.”

“She has already taken over running the place, as if she is your wife, instead of being where she belongs in her dower house. Do you not care at all what Katherine would think of such a happening?”

Riorden’s hands clenched in a tight fist. “I told you not to mention her name to me ever again, Aiden. You have been a friend to me these many years, but I will break our brotherhood forevermore if you do not leave me in peace,” he roared between clenched teeth.

Aiden threw up his hands in disgust. “I wash my hands of you, then. Since you will not heed my council, or anyone else’s, I will not idly stand by and watch your demise in the bottom of a bottle, nor watch you wed that bitter bitch.”

“Then go! No one ordered you must needs stay and watch over me.”

“I will leave come the morn for Berwyck,” Aiden said, heading to the door, “and I take Patrick with me. He will be better off in Dristan’s care than here with you.”

Riorden flinched as the wooden door ricocheted off the wall and closed with a loud bang. It made his head pound fiercely, but ’twas of no matter. Soon the door opened again, and he reached out his hand as another bottle was magically placed in his palm. Marguerite’s smiling form came to sit down next to him as the whiskey began to do its job. At least there was one person he could rely on.