Mistress of the Storm (21 page)
Chapter Twenty-two
I
sabel had one other task to see to before she left. She watched from the shadows of the yard when Gunna took Thora, laughing and running, into Duncan’s house. He would take her maidenhead and bind their lives together in a way he could never do with Isabel. Though her heart—and her body—belonged to him Thora was now his wife and would bear his children. If the fates and God were merciful, she would live with him to old age.
sabel had one other task to see to before she left. She watched from the shadows of the yard when Gunna took Thora, laughing and running, into Duncan’s house. He would take her maidenhead and bind their lives together in a way he could never do with Isabel. Though her heart—and her body—belonged to him Thora was now his wife and would bear his children. If the fates and God were merciful, she would live with him to old age.
All of Isabel’s anger and pain did not erase the fact that Duncan had done exactly what she’d hoped—he’d saved Thora from Sigurd’s threats—and her sister would never have to face the things she’d had to face over the last few years. Duncan would honor Thora and protect her, taking over the task given Isabel by her mother on her deathbed.
She snuck into the house the way Gunna had shown her to sneak out and waited for Gunna and the others to leave. Catching Gunna’s eye, she silently begged for a moment alone with her sister. The young woman who was closer to her than anyone nodded and closed the door quietly. Isabel paused in front of the bedchamber, then knocked softly, saying her sister’s name. Thora was not lying on the bed as she’d expected to find her, but stood off to one side of it, staring at the pristine sheets.
“Will it hurt as much as they say?” Thora asked without taking her gaze off the bed.
Isabel did not want to compare her first time with a man to the experience her sister would have in that bed. She offered Thora comfort the only way she could—with the truth.
“He is kind and considerate and giving, Thora. Fear not what is to come between the two of you.”
She wanted to hug her sister, but she sensed the fear in Thora, and did not want to worsen it.
“Was he that way with you?”
“Aye,” Isabel choked out. “By the morning you will wonder how you were ever worried about what will happen.” She walked over to Thora and stood at her side, risking all by touching their hands together.
“I want you to know that he is yours now,” Isabel told Thora.
“Father explained how it will be, with me as his wife and you as his bed slave, Isabel. I am not happy with such an arrangement, but it is the way of things with men.”
Duncan was right—Sigurd had taught them both to expect the worst of life. Thora was trained to accept nothing but an occasional bedding by her husband and to turn away when he sought other women. Isabel had been trained—the sounds from the gathering grew boisterous and she knew there was little time.
“I will not be here in the morning, Thora. You will not have to share him with me.”
“Where will you go? How can you leave him?”
“I cannot play the whore any longer. Worry not though, I am at peace with this.”
She turned to leave, but felt Thora’s hand grasp hers. Isabel opened her arms and hugged her sister for the last time. She’d spoken the truth about being at peace—she’d never felt more so. Reaching up she smoothed Thora’s hair from her face. “Here now, no tears. Be happy, Thora. ’Tis the only thing that makes leaving you bearable.”
The sounds of the men approaching grew louder, so with one more quick hug, Isabel left her sister and hid in the corner as the door opened and Duncan was pushed into the house. She waited for him to enter the bedchamber, then left through the side door. No one noticed her, for they were celebrating and the ale flowed freely. She sat against the fence through the night, trying not to imagine what was happening inside that bedchamber, and when the first light of dawn broke through the dark, she was ready to leave.
With the strange calmness of one facing her end, she took his horse from the yard and managed to climb on top of it, guiding it away, down the valley toward the glen and the only place she’d truly known peace.
And where she would find it forever.
Duncan practiced their story once more before he was ready to leave the bedchamber. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt down to cover the new bandage where he’d spilled his blood on the sheets. Thora seemed relieved when he explained he’d wished to give her more time to adjust to their sudden marriage.
They’d shared the bed for a few hours, then just past dawn, he’d risen and prepared the sheets so they could be examined and the marriage declared valid. She was, in the eyes of the law, his legal wife and entitled to inherit his estate at his death.
The moon pulled him and the power began to rise in his blood. His body tightened and ached, tense with the need for Isabel. There was no time to waste, for he had some final preparations to make. His hand was on the door when Thora spoke.
“Did you do this for her?” she asked.
“For her?” He turned to face Thora.
“For Isabel. I think she loves you.”
How strange to be talking of the love of another woman with his wife, he thought. “We should speak of others things, Thora.”
“I could see the love in her eyes when she told me she was leaving so I would not have to share you with her.”
“What? When did she say that?”
“Last night, just before you arrived. She was trying to ease my fears about what would happen between us. She said she would not be here come today but that she was at peace about leaving.”
He did not like the sound of that. If anyone saw her leaving . . . if Sigurd saw her out alone . . . Duncan ran from the house before he thought about it.
Reaching the yard, he realized two of the horses, including his, were gone. Seeking out the men who tended them, he found the black had been missing since just after dawn and Sigurd had ridden out not long after. Worse, Duncan noticed the moon already rising in the sky.
Saddling another horse as quickly as he could, Duncan knew where Isabel would go. If she sought peace, it meant the lake in the glen . . . the fairy glen. Knowing how afraid of riding she was, he hoped to find her before Sigurd did.
She nearly fell off a dozen times, but she kept talking to the animal, begging it to carry her to the glen. Whether it understood her or knew the land well enough it needed no rider to guide it; in a shorter time than she’d thought possible, she saw the glen and the lake within. The sight brought calmness to her soul, and she knew she’d made the right decision.
When she reached the lake, she slid down and landed on wobbly legs next to the horse. Murmuring her thanks, she released the reins and slapped its hindquarters, sending it trotting back into the glen. Alone, she walked to the water’s edge and peered down into it.
Currents moved deep within the water and she saw brightness and shadows under the surface. Something twinkled like the stars in the night’s sky, and she smiled. It felt familiar to her and she stepped closer. Leaning over, she touched the surface and watched as the sparkling followed her fingers in the water. She laughed at such a thing, feeling the darkness in her soul would soon be gone.
“Will you finish what I started?”
Isabel turned to find Sigurd standing behind her. She could not escape his reach even in trying to meet death on her own terms. But for the first time, she did not feel fear as she looked at him. “What did you start, Sigurd?”
“You were meant to die here that day.” His voice, so sure of the claim he made sent chills down her spine.
She frowned at his words. “What do you mean?”
“The bitch needed to learn her lesson. She had refused my suit and married some farmer, so I waited for her to be happy and then killed him.” He laughed out an ugly sound. “After your birth, I pressed my suit again and still she refused me.”
He was speaking about her mother! “You killed my father?” Now that she’d heard that much, she wanted to know the truth before she died.
Sigurd took a step toward her. “I had plans and that bitch forced me to wait. So, when you were a few years old, I brought you out here and threw you in the lake to drown.”
Isabel felt sick to her stomach at his bold proclamation of his misdeed. She backed away from him, but stayed near the edge of the water.
“I tied a rope around your waist with the other end tied to a boulder. You should have sunk with it, but a few hours later you wandered back to her. Wet and crying and alive.”
She remembered the weight dragging her down, but always thought it had been the layers of clothing that pulled her under the surface. He’d wanted her dead and had tried to make it happen. He was a monster.
“Why? Why would you do that?”
“She made me wait. She humiliated me. I paid her back, taking her husband from her, then making sure she knew my plans for you before she died.”
Isabel heard sounds behind her and turned to look. The water in the lake churned and swirled. The sparkling lights were gone and something darker, something dangerous, moved in its depths. Yet she did not fear it.
“I took everything she had from her, and she knew it.” He laughed again. “Now, it’s time to finish this so my daughter never has to think about you again.”
“My sister? Thora?” The way he’d said it was strange.
“You do not share blood with her. She is mine alone and I have protected her while stripping you of everything.” He stepped closer to Isabel at the edge of the water.
“It is done now, Sigurd.”
She turned toward the voice and found Duncan approaching them.
Sigurd laughed again, and pulled a dagger from his boot. “I have killed men bigger and stronger than you, Healer. Go back to Thora and I will let you live for now.”
His eyes followed Duncan, who moved closer to Isabel but stayed away from the lake. Suddenly the water exploded behind Sigurd dragging him into its depths.
Shocked beyond words, Isabel watched as he fought against whatever held him under the water until he disappeared beneath the surface. Silence filled the glen and she struggled to understand what had just happened.
Duncan was beside her, pulling her into his arms, holding her as though his life depended on it. The import of what had happened struck her then—Sigurd was dead and no longer a threat to her. For a moment she forgot her purpose there was to die.
“Isabel, I must tell you something.” Duncan’s voice sounded different. As she looked at him, his eyes began to flash and flare, and his face changed.
“Duncan?” she asked. No, not Duncan but the Healer. Glancing up, she realized the moon was full in the sky above. She touched his cheek and it burned her skin.
“Sigurd’s death frees you more than my plan could have, but you carry the damage of what he did to you so deeply, your soul cries out to me. You must be made whole or you will not survive.” His voice was many and one. It echoed across the glen and whispered only to her. His face glowed, other faces layering over his skin, and she knew whatever was in the lake was also part of him.
He reached for her, but unlike what she’d witnessed before, he wrapped himself around her and she felt him in her mind, searching her memories until they were joined as one.
Duncan held onto the part that made him human, the part that loved her, as he allowed the Healer to enter. As he held her in his arms, he pushed deep within her mind and found the black place where she kept the pain walled in. He beat against it, tearing it apart bit by bit, piece by piece, then watched as everything she held inside tumbled out.
Pain. Guilt. Shame. The horrors she’d lived through. The rapes. The overwhelming fear. The loss. The helplessness. The physical damage keeping her from having a bairn. All of it poured out like a lanced boil that could not be contained any longer.
Duncan poured his love into her body and soul, healing her, warming her, opening her so she could live again. “You are whole once more, love.” The damage, all of it, was gone.
He smiled. “You can love again,” he whispered to her as he began to separate from her. “You can live, Isabel. Live.”
He felt his heart slow, and he counted the beats, each one coming more slowly than the last until he heard and felt no more.
Isabel fell with him, as his weight took her down to the ground under him. She managed to roll him to his side and spoke his name. He did not respond, so she shook him. Placing her hand on his chest, she tried to feel his heart beating.
It did not.
She looked around, down the glen, at the lake, and found herself completely alone. He was dead.
Her heart cried out for him, but he did not answer. Every last trace of him was gone from her and with it all the pain she’d learned to bury so she could survive the life Sigurd had forced on her. His lies and his mad quest for vengeance was directed against a woman whose only sin was that she’d loved someone else.
“Duncan!” Isabel screamed. Her cry echoed through the glen, across the hills and along the stream. She grabbed his shirt and shook him, screaming out his name again.
He’d known he was going to die and he’d called his power forth to save her first. She’d felt the love he’d poured into her while they were joined and knew what he was doing but could not stop him. Whole and healed, her heart broke as she realized she’d never told him of her love. She’d seen his plan while he was inside her thoughts and realized his goal was always to free her.
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