Lord of a Thousand Nights (21 page)

“Hand me the torch.”

David passed the flame to him. The stairs and vaults became illuminated. Straightening, he looked at the wall facing the top of the stairs. It was hollow at the top. Not a chamber, but more of a deep niche. The average-sized man, coming up these steps, would see only a shadow in the torchlight, if he noticed it at all.

Holding the torch close, he peered inside. Metal gleamed at the back of the space. He recognized old armor and the edge of some cloth. Closer, within arm's reach, were two smaller objects.

He picked up the first. A book. He flipped some pages with one hand. The missing herbal. He put it back and pulled the other object toward him. A coin chest, but he guessed that it did not contain coin.

Tucking it under his arm, he returned to the solar. David raised his eyebrows when he saw the box.

“It had to be somewhere,” Ian said. He carried it to the desk and set it atop the books. He flipped it open. Parchments lay within.

“The documents,” David said.

“I decided that Thomas Armstrong would not have taken them, even if he knew where they were. He had to leave fast when the keep fell.”

David began unfolding the parchments.

“Find the marriage contract,” Ian said.

“Here it is.”

“Find the description of her dowry. Lands to the east? Secured to her as dower property when he died?”

“Aye. How did you know?”

“She mentioned the lands once, but Morvan spoke of his property ending just a half mile east, even before the waste begins. That old motte-and-bailey castle was originally on Graham lands then, but given to Robert as part of her dowry.”

David found a small piece of parchment and some ink and a quill. He began to draw. “Here is Clivedale to the north and Harclow to the south, with Black Lyne Keep between them. Graham lands lie east.” He drew three stacked horizontal rectangles on one side of the paper, and a long one vertically along their right side. “From what I can make out, Reyna's dowry transferred these lands here.” He sliced off a thin swath from Graham lands.

Ian studied the new configuration. The dowry land did not simply extend Black Lyne Keep's holding a few miles to the east. It thrust up and down, thin arms separating the borders of the Grahams and Armstrongs both
north and south. That was how the marriage created a neutral area.

“No wonder Duncan wants her back,” David mused. “The dower lands alone put the Grahams on the Armstrongs' back again. Since it was not originally part of Harclow, Morvan would let him have it.”

“Look again, David. If the final testament is known, and Black Lyne Keep and its lands go with her, Duncan Graham surrounds the Armstrongs at Clivedale on two sides.”

David's expression turned hard. “He also surrounds Harclow on two sides. Maccus Armstrong put a lot of faith in Robert of Kelso to let the man have such strategic property. If either the Grahams or Armstrongs claim Black Lyne Keep or even the dower lands through her, it is not good news for Morvan, and does not bode well for any future peace.”

Ian studied David's drawing, but its strategic implications really would not make any difference. In the dark hours of the morning, he had already decided the fate of Robert of Kelso's widow.

Chapter FOURTEEN

R
eyna heard the footsteps coming down the path through the orchard. She knew who this would be. She continued digging in the garden soil until the steps stopped behind her.

“You bastard,” she said without turning. She inched her knees toward the chamomile, pushing along the box of dirt into which she transplanted the herbs. “You might have warned me.”

“Would that have made it easier?” Ian asked.

In truth, Christiana had made the examination as easy as one could hope for, distracting them both from what was happening with humorous tales from the English court. “Nay. You might have taken my word, though.”

“I needed no proof, but others will. Your word and mine would count for little.”

“Why should they believe Christiana, either?”

“Morvan and David will never doubt her, and she is the Comtesse de Senlis, so no priest will call her a liar.”

Morvan and David and the priest. Fewer men attending the next time, at least.

She stood and brushed the soil from her hands. The transplanted herbs looked pitiful in their box of dirt. This was a waste of time. Duncan would never let her bring them with her. Everything about her life here would end in a few hours, when she left with her father to return to her childhood home.

She turned to Ian. He had removed the armor that he had worn to the border and had on a blue pourpoint. He looked so handsome, his expression serious, those thick lashes lowered to shield the dark pools from the sun.

“I have only two requests,” she said. “Duncan and Aymer probably will not accept Christiana's word. If I must suffer that with them, I want to get it done with at once. I also ask that you find out from Morvan if I may take my books. If I could just have the ones given to me by Robert—”

“The books will stay here, Reyna.”

“They are all I have, Ian. Let me keep something of this life.”

“The books will stay. And so will you.”

Her shock was so staggering that she thought at first she had heard him wrong. “I don't understand.”

“We are married. We will stay married. No annulment now or later. When you get with child, we will attribute it to God's grace.”

“Then why— Christiana—”

“Not proof for Duncan. As you say, he wouldn't believe her. But your virginity supports your innocence in Robert's death, since it removes the motive everyone attributed to you. Only Morvan need hear about it when the time comes, and he will not doubt his sister.”

She looked at her herb garden. It was full of plants
found on rides with Robert, or brought to her by him after he visited distant markets. The circle of small beds had spread over the years, as new plants were added. In a way, these herbs represented the history of her life with him.

Tenderness for Ian washed through her. He was giving her this. Offering her the protection of Robert's memory. No one but Christiana and Morvan need ever find out. It was an incredibly noble gesture on his part, for the reputation of a man he had never known.

“You do not have to do this. Robert is dead. People will talk, but then they will forget, especially if I am not here.”

He stepped close, and ran his fingers along her jaw and chin and tilted her face up to his. “I choose to do it.”

“Why?”

“I could say that I fulfill the promise of protection that I made to you at the river. I could say it is because our marriage secures this property to me more completely. But the truth is neither so noble nor practical.” He brushed her lips with his. “I have not allowed you to leave from the start, and I do not now.”

He kissed her. A sweet kiss, but luring and seductive. It made her feel weightless and airy, as if he were casting a spell on her.

“I want you. It is that simple,” he said. “You do not go.”

She gazed into his perfect face. She saw none of the anger from the last few days, but instead a tight and determined expression, as if he expected an argument. She wondered if he thought she would repeat the insults she had heaped on him, and declare she would rather go with Duncan than be his wife, no matter what it meant about Robert's name. He could not know that she had taken refuge in that animosity to protect herself from these other feelings that he evoked.

Then again, maybe he suspected as much.
You are afraid of yourself with me, and that is another thing entirely from hatred.

He kissed her again, and her whole body tingled. It was a wonderful sensation. She did not fight it, because she no longer had to. “I thought that had changed,” she said.

“Nay. Wanting you never changed.” His hands caressed down her face to rest possessively on her shoulders. His thumb stroked up and down her neck, creating a little line of pulsing, warm contact.

“You make a bad bargain, Ian. After that hunger is satisfied, you will still be stuck with me. Forever.”

“Aye.”

“I am hardly the biddable woman you planned to marry after we parted.”

“True. But I expect you will be less ill-tempered after you are well bedded.”

“Is that what you think? That I—”

“I think that Robert asked you to live an unnatural life. Some women are suited to it and it does not matter, but not you.”

“And you think to show me my true nature?”

“If ever I met a woman who was too long a maid, it is you.”

It might be the truth, but it sounded like an insult. Her anger flared. “My life was happy and content and full.”

“For a long while, but not for some years now, I think. Not since the virginal girl became the virginal woman. Do you deny your resentment that the savior and teacher could not be a man with you?”

Pulling away, she glared at him. “Do not mock him. Do not ever. If you prove to be half the man Robert was, I may not regret this marriage too much.”

He pulled her back, into his arms, against his taut body. “And if you show me one tenth the loyalty you showed that old man, I may not either,” he said tightly, claiming her mouth with a consuming kiss.

He took her lips fully in his. A gasp of surprise died in her throat and the desire he had been toying with rushed, stunning her. His own passion waited for her, pulling hers with it as it climbed, awing her with its force and danger. There was nothing gentle about the way his tongue grazed her teeth and palate before thrusting in a savage, insistent way. Her whole body responded to that command with a frantic immediacy.

He gentled the kiss, replacing ravishment with seduction. It was just as devastating in its own way, as he teased at her mouth almost delicately and caressed her body almost chastely. He played at the hunger he had awoken, and marvelous chills of pleasure spread through her until she nearly cried for him to give her more.

He wrapped his arms around her. “I want to claim you now, here, at once, but I will wait for tonight. A virgin deserves a little wooing.”

She leaned against his strength, her ear against his chest, the need he could so easily provoke racking her with frustration. It had been an eloquent demonstration of his knowledge of this hidden part of her, and of what he expected in this marriage.

“You like that, don't you? That I am an overaged maid.”

“I find that I am glad for it.”

“Why? Because it is a prize taken only once?”

“Perhaps. Or a gift given only once.”

She made a face at him. “I don't think it will be as nice as your kisses suggest.”

“Don't tell me that you still have a young girl's fear.”

“I have had more time than most to worry about it.”

“You are in luck, Reyna,” he said softly. “After all, you give yourself to the Lord of a Thousand Nights. I will show you such pleasure that you will not be worrying about such things at all.”

She gazed into his eyes. She really had little choice in this. The decision had been his, not hers. She wondered if his temporary lust didn't lead them into a grievous error, and if this life might not be the hell she had declared it would be two days ago. He was no Robert of Kelso, she thought, and realized with shock that she was glad for it. Tonight would have been somehow obscene with Robert.

“What are you looking at?” Ian asked.

“You.”

“And what do you see?” He asked a little stiffly, as if he anticipated an offensive response.

“I am not sure. Odd contrasts. A man who can be both kind and cruel.”

“Do not read complexity where none exists, Reyna. I am very simple. When I am pleased, I am kind. When I am angered, I am cruel.” He guided her toward the orchard path. “Now I will give you some advice to avoid the latter. You may call me Ian, or husband, or your lord, or any endearment you may want. But no more whoresons, bastards, churls, or spawns of the devil.”

He smiled when he said it, but she knew it had been no jest.

H
e had lied. He did not woo her during the day.

He seduced her.

Reyna suspected that with Ian of Guilford it had always amounted to much the same thing.

No pretty words and flatteries. No poetry and chivalrous
gestures. Just a constant presence, and considerate attention full of the unspoken reminder that he wanted her and would have her soon.

A blur of festivities created a colorful setting to the anticipation drumming between them. Throughout the tournament and dinner and hunt, even during Duncan's leave-taking, each warm look and casual touch and occasional kiss he gave her increased the cadence of excitement to a more expectant pace than before.

She was helpless against it. Her spirit had already yielded, and it knew no resistance to his practiced talent. Her body knew even less. Her arousal in the garden never completely quelled, and her condition made her very alert to him, very conscious of the arm on her shoulder or waist, of the lips brushing her cheek, of the hand taking hers. His possessive touches became little plucks on the strings of desire. Delicious. Devastating.

By the evening meal an odd tightness had lodged low in her belly, and her whole body felt taut and strangely alive. Her excitement, and his subtle awareness of it, made her unsettled and silent. He, on the other hand, appeared completely at ease. As if he had done this, well, a thousand times before.