Love's Magic (17 page)

“Would you like some water, my lady?” Forrester asked, offering his waterskin.

“I’ll see to my lady, thank ye,” Bess said impatiently, shoving the young knight back while taking his waterskin. “Humph!” She knelt down on the blanket and offered it to Celestia. “Water?”

Celestia took a sip, but the strain remained around her eyes. “Mayhap you should lie down,” Nicholas suggested.

“I never lie down in the middle of the day. ‘Tis unproductive.”

Nicholas watched as she gathered that incredible inner strength she relied on and she said, “The keep is a mess.”

“I’ll clean it.”

Shadows passed over her face, but that stubborn chin went directly upward. Now he remembered why he couldn’t keep her from following them inside. He embraced her then, whispering in her ear, “I hurt you.”

She pulled back, surprise clear in her expression. “Nay, it wasn’t you.”

“It was.”

Resolve to do right by her filled him. She was not the only one who could focus amidst chaos. The sooner he followed through on his quest to kill the baron, or at the very least, find the truth as to what really happened on that hot, miserable day in Tripoli, the safer Celestia would be.

He got to his feet, brushing grass from his leggings. To Petyr he said, “Take Willy and scout the rest of the castle; make sure that it is truly empty, and that there are no more, er, surprises. I shall meet up with you shortly.”

The warmth of Celestia’s fingers entwined with his calmed him, but he couldn’t be drawn away from his true goal.

“Yes, my lord.” Petyr’s face was grim. “May I suggest that the main room at least can be cleaned until …”

“Cleaned? I doubt it. A good fire is the only thing that will cleanse this rotten heap.”

Petyr ducked his head, his lips pressed tightly together. “Come on, Forrester, Willy. We have much work to do.”

“We’ll try our best.” Viola and Bess gathered buckets and rags, which left Sir Bertram, and Sir Geoffrey, with Celestia and Nicholas at the wagon. One look from Sir Geoffrey, and Sir Bertram followed the rest to the keep.

“Don’t let the women in the kitchens, the main room, only, Petyr …” Nicholas yelled at their backs.

Celestia’s face was pale again, and he wondered what she was thinking. She probably wanted to risk the woods and make her way home to her family, no doubt. He’d promised to keep her safe, and he hadn’t.

He was angry. No, he thought, scratching the back of his neck, he was bloody well pissed off. He blamed his father, hell—he even blamed God. What had he, a learned knight, a decent man, ever done to deserve such a fate? The baron would pay, and mayhap all could have a happy ending.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, unable to look at Celestia.

“Stop apologizing, would you, please?” She tugged at his hand. “It’s annoying.”

Nicholas looked down and noted the small lines of irritation between Celestia’s fine blond brows.

Finalizing his decision to leave her made him want to touch her all the more, so he pulled her into a side hug before letting go. Off balance, she fell back, and those green blue orbs spit fire. “Clumsy?”

He laughed, mostly with relief. “You’re fine. Do you fall over like this often? Next time, simply mention if you need a rest and can’t keep up.”

He knew that would get a rise from her, and he was much pleased by the pink gracing her fair cheeks. Anything but that waxen white.

“Not keep up? With you? Ha! I remember challenging you to a horse race once, when we first met, do ye remember? And you were so afraid of losing that—”

“‘Tia!” Nicholas put his hand over her pretty mouth. “I will take ye up on the challenge, but I have work to do, and a keep to burn. And now that I see for myself you’re,” he winked, wanting to see her smile, “returned to
your
pleasant self, I can be off. Go ahead and nap.”

“You cannot burn Falcon Keep, Nicholas,” Celestia shouted up at him, shaking her cute little fist. “Are ye daft, then? It needs be cleaned, that is all! A nap? I told you I never nap. This was your home, you stupid man, and there is something to be salvaged from it.”

Nicholas’s adrenaline skipped like a rock over a still pond. Celestia’s eyes thundered and flashed, her petite body shook, her blond hair shone like a crown. She would save him from his own folly, if she could.

The sight warmed him, and he fought the urge to kiss her senseless. It was getting harder and harder to stay away from his wife.

Grayish black clouds suddenly covered the entire sky, and goose bumps raced over his skin. He remembered Celestia fainting, he remembered the pain of being betrayed, and he remembered, God help him, what he had to do in order to win his soul. He could not relax his guard again.

“Salvage away, my lady, as you are the one that will be living here.” He deliberately hardened his voice, along with his heart.

“I will be away before the end of summer.”

Celestia sneezed and swatted at a large spiderweb in the corner. “This reminds me of when I decided to turn the dungeon at home into an infirmary.”

“Aye,” Viola agreed. “That was an awful mess. At least it wasn’t haunted, not like here.”

Bess let out a nervous giggle. “‘Tis downright spooky, what with all the little bones on the floor and not a single person anywhere. Not a living one, anyway.”

Chills gathered at the nape of her neck, reminding Celestia of the vision she’d had while in her “faint.” Nicholas hadn’t known what it was, and none of her family had been around to tell him.

Considering how strongly he reacted to her “talents,” it was probably just as well. She’d have to tell Viola to use a lighter hand on the fainting powder, though. It wasn’t harmful, just strong, and now she had a craving for gingered beets.

“The mouse bones are gone, as is most of the first layer of dirt. We’ll need clean rushes, scattered with fresh lavender, and this room will be fine.”

“I’ll go!” Bess volunteered so quickly that Celestia had to laugh.

“Fine, but get Forrester to go with you into the woods.”

The plump maid raced from the large main room like she was escaping a bad marriage. Viola lowered her head and continued sweeping, but Celestia could tell that the maid was unhappy.

“Bess was quicker than us, Vi,” Celestia jested.

Viola sniffed and swept, obviously upset about more than the missed opportunity to get outdoors.

“I don’t think the keep is haunted, not really—just dirty.”

“There were men murdered here!” Viola cried, and Celestia envied the maid her tears. But she was the mistress of this pile of stone, and she couldn’t cry. There wasn’t even a place to take a hot bath, with some of Gali’s soothing oils, where she could pretend the tears were steam.

“Aye.” She sighed and piled up the broken odds and ends that were left around the main room. “But now our very own knights have given those men a proper burial, and their souls will be at rest.”

“Really?” Viola’s thin face lifted with hope.

“Oh, yes,” Celestia nodded.

“So who do you think killed those poor knights? Will Baron Peregrine blame Lord Nicholas?”

Celestia stopped poking at spiderwebs. Nicholas to blame? That was an interesting thought. “Nay, we all know that Nicholas didn’t do any wrong. As for who killed the knights? Mayhap the Norsemen on the western shores, or the Scots.” She picked up a pillow her mother had sewn and gave it a nice shake. “Rumor has it that King William is forming a rebellion.”

“Me mam says that the Scots aren’t happy until somebody is dead, or at least bleeding a lot.”

Celestia looked around for a place to put the plumped pillow and snickered. “She must have known a few.”

“Her first husband, my lady,” Viola giggled back, at last relaxing.

Needing to think about the Nicholas and Baron Peregrine connection, Celestia suggested that Viola find Bess and Forrester. She could concentrate better without having to keep up mundane chatter at the same time.

“Ye don’t mind, my lady?”

“No, no. I’d like to go through my herbals, anyway.”

Viola leaned the broom against the wall, and out the front of the keep she went. Celestia’s days of skipping chores were over, and she knew it. She was the lady here, even if it was in name only.

She picked up her herbal bag, and put everything back in its place after the disarray Viola had left when she searched for the fainting powder.

Giving someone the wrong herbs could be deadly.

Her hand hovered over the powdered poppy, and the stronger opium.

Nicholas had been drugged, often, and the guilt he felt because of what he’d done, and been forced to do, was—to him—an insurmountable black mark on his soul. His addiction to the substance that he’d been force-fed—oh, Celestia forced her fingers to relax, terribly furious at the injustice done.

If the bitch wasn’t already dead, I’d kill her myself
, she thought—and without all of the worthless guilt from which her honorable husband suffered.

“What are you doing in here alone?”

Speak of the devil,
Celestia thought and smiled. “Thinking.”

“You’re not to be by yourself.” Nicholas narrowed his dark eyes at her.

She shrugged. “‘Tis lucky for me that I am not.”

He looked around, and so she said with a wink, “You are here.”

“Ah,” he sighed instead of smiling, which was too bad. Celestia was forming an attachment to the curve of his lips. “This room is clean.” He paused, realizing that he’d brought more dirt in. “It was clean.”

His face flushed, with embarrassment and hard work.

“I’d offer ye a drink, but the kitchen is off limits.”

“The bodies are gone, but it still needs to be scrubbed down, floor to ceiling.”

Shivering, Celestia said, “The arrow feathers from the kitchen? They’re similar to the ones that were shot at us.”

“I’d noticed that, too. They’re unique.”

“Exactly!” Celestia tapped her foot. “Different from other arrows—it’s the feathers. Not a duck, not a peacock, not a hen …” Her brow furrowed as she groped for the elusive answer. “Mayhap if we knew why the murders happened, we could find out
who
is behind them.”

“Most likely it was the Scottish rebels. We’re too far inland for the Norse to care about this old place.” Nicholas paced the floor, leaving a track of muddy footprints.

“I suppose that might make sense. Kill the knights, find out the keep will be inhabited once again, go back and collect the treasure a new bride would bring to a home.” Celestia tied the medicine bag, and set it aside. That scenario didn’t seem right. She wished she could tell Nicholas of her visions, so that he could stay alert. He was still in danger.

They all were.

Celestia pointed to a pile of broken pottery. “We have more to go outside. Did ye want to look at any of these pieces? Mayhap something will start your memories flowing.”

Nicholas shook his head, barely glancing at the rubbish. His dark hair held the odd twig, and she thought him ruggedly handsome. “You would think that something would come. Shouldn’t it? By now?”

Hearing the underlying anguish beneath the question made Celestia pause.

“Perhaps.” She wondered, too. What if it was all Peregrine men who were cursed?

She believed, with all of her spirit, that her family’s gifts were blessed. However, she also accepted on blind faith that some phenomena did not have a ready explanation. Her duty was to keep Nicholas safe, and heal him from the inside. They were going to have to talk about the curse, eventually.

“Will we have our own bedchamber?” She’d not gone up the stairs, having been distracted by the disaster on the main floor.

Panic flew across his body. If it wasn’t so painful, Celestia lifted her chin, it would be most amusing. “I only ask, my lord, because I would have a conversation with you in private.”

Nicholas shoulders slumped, then he slammed his fist into his open palm. “Do you think me an idiot?”

“What?”

“I’ve been given everything a man should need, and I cannot accept it.”

“
That
sort of an idiot. Well …” Celestia gave up trying to stay distant, and walked to him, with her hands outstretched.

He didn’t accept them. “Something happens between us when we touch. I can’t be ruled by lust, nor magic, nor anything that is not of my own choosing.” His strong voice broke, and his gray eyes grew stormy. “I wish ye would stay away.”

He meant it, Celestia realized with a gasp. He, in his deepest heart, believed that she was a witch who controlled men’s emotions, and that he could not trust himself around her. Her heart was much more fragile than she’d realized, and when it plummeted to her stomach, it made her ill.

She would have run, but she had nowhere to go.

Geoffrey and Bertram came in, then, carrying bundles from the wagon. Quickly gathering her chaotic emotions, Celestia plastered a bright smile on her face.

“What have you, there?”
Please, please, no tears. This is the drek the minstrels sang of, heartache and heartbreak.

“It was excellent foresight on your father’s behalf to send the wagon full of goods.” Geoffrey beamed at the clean walls and frowned when he noticed the muddy footprints on the floor. “We’ll need rushes,” he said.