The Darkland (15 page)

He could see the hurt,
the confusion, in her eyes.  After a moment, he saw the wall of defiance
crumble and suddenly he was looking into a very sad, very lost, expression.

"Why?" she
demanded, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Why won't anyone tell me what is
going on?"

He felt himself weaken.
But when he instinctively reached out to touch her, she pulled away. Kirk gazed
at her, feeling her rejection to his soul.

"What do you want
to know?" he asked softly. "And, more importantly, does your very
life hang in the balance if you do not discover these answers?"

Mara turned away from
him, her worn slippers crunching the moldering leaves. "Something happened
to my sister in Edmund’s bedchamber and no one will tell me what it was. Not
even my sister."

Kirk watched her
deliciously petite figure, wishing he could simply reach out and hold her.
"What happens between a wife and her husband is a private matter,
Mara," he followed her, slowly, as she moved away. "And what led you
to believe that anything out of the ordinary happened?"

She paused, picking at
her nails as she so often did when subdued or confused. "Edmund and Johanne
inferred as much. Edmund said my sister pleased them both. And Johanne said she
would teach my sister what she needed to know in order to please Edmund,"
she suddenly turned on him, the brilliant eyes filled with emotion. "If it
was your sister they were speaking of, how would you react?"

He sighed heavily,
looking away as he pondered his reply. He couldn't stand the pain in her eyes.
"I would want to know, of course. But that still does not make the matter
any of your affair."

Mara was silent a
moment, watching his beautiful face, realizing he was reluctant to meet her
head-on as he usually did. It suddenly occurred to her that he knew more than
he was telling her and she swallowed hard, approaching him as he stared at the
ground and chewed his lip.

"Was it truly
awful?"

He looked up, meeting
her gaze. "Why would you ask me this?"

"Because you know.
I can tell. Was Edmund truly awful to Micheline?"

His expression wavered,
the consummately controlled facade weakening in the face of her softly-uttered
question. After a moment, he weakly lifted his shoulders. "What would you
have me tell you, lass?"

She moved closer to him
until the toes of her slippers were against the toes of his massive boots.
Craning her neck back, she could literally feel the heat and power radiating
from his body. But the look in his eyes reflected a weakness only she was
capable of understanding. A characteristic flaw that occurred every time he
gazed at her.

"Tell me it was
awful and I will ask no more."

His features softened,
the reluctance evident on his features. "It was awful." She hardly
heard him.

"Did he hurt
her?"

"I thought you said
you would ask no more."

"I lied. You
answered one question, you might as well answer the rest. Did he hurt
her?"

He sighed. There was no
avoiding her logic or questions. "Aside from the obvious, he did
not."

"Was he cruel? Did
he shame her somehow?"

Kirk nodded. He simply
couldn't lie to her. "He did."

Mara continued to gaze
into his eyes before closing them tightly, turning away. After a moment, Kirk
saw the delicate shoulders heave.

"You
promised," she whispered tightly. "You promised to protect her."

"I have my
limits," his entire body ached with sorrow. "There was nothing I
could do for her."

"But you
promised," her voice cracked. "You asked me to trust you, once. And
now I see my trust has been destroyed."

He drew in a deep
breath, wanting so badly to whip her into his arms and tell her the entire
story simply so she would understand how helpless he had been. But he had
promised Micheline that he would not tell, and he intended to keep his vow.
Even if Mara thought him a failure.

"I did not destroy
your trust," his voice was tight. "I did what I could, as much as I
could. Mara, love, I could do no more. You must believe me."

Her answer was to turn
away from him and walk through the bramble. He followed on her heels, feeling
desperate. She simply had to understand.

"Please,
Mara," he said softly. "Do not do this to me. I can take anything but
your silence, lass."

Mara wiped at her nose,
her eyes. She had no idea what she was feeling, only intense pain that
Micheline had somehow been shamed by her husband and that Kirk had stood by and
allowed it to happen. If he wasn't going to elaborate, she could do nothing
more than draw her own conclusions.

"I have nothing to
say to you," she said, crossing the small clearing where Edmund and Johanne
had titillated one another. "For the bitter words you dealt me last night
or for your failure to protect my sister. You will stay away from me, Kirk. Go
about your life and leave me out of it."

He did grab her then,
only to receive a sharp rake of nails across his face. His head snapped with
the unexpected action, coming away with three bloodied lines just under his
cheekbone. Slowly, and very deliberately, he ran his fingers through the gashes
and stared at the blood.

Mara, her eyes wide,
watched his movements. She'd only meant to strike him, to break his hold on
her, but instead her nails had clipped his face. Her apology died in her throat
when his stone-gray eyes fixed on her. She couldn't have felt their harsh
impact more if he had slapped her.

"Christ," he
breathed slowly and with great regret. "What I fool I was to ever think I
was in love with you."

He pushed past her,
bloodied face and all. Mara watched him move across the dense foliage with
tears in her eyes, wanting so badly to apologize, yet still embittered by his
failure to Micheline and by the entire turbulent situation. Nonetheless, she
had to literally bite her tongue to keep from calling out to him.

He disappeared in the
grove of oaks. Mara could hardly follow, the pain in her heart rendering her
weak and helpless. Collapsing in the rotting leaves, she wept through the
nooning meal. The afternoon passed and still, she alternately wept and
reflected on the course her life had taken. And when night eventually fell,
Corwin found her dirty and asleep, her misery too deep for the tears that could
no longer heal.

                          
***

By morning, Mara was
miserable with the chill and an aching heart. Sniffling and sneezing between
bouts of tremendous sadness, she answered a knock on her chamber door only to
find Niles' wan face smiling at her.

"What do you
want?" she wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

Niles was vastly
uncomfortable. More so in her company because he had seen evidence of her rage
on Kirk's face, an event which he had refused to discuss. And the fact that
Kirk had spent the entire night drinking only fed Niles's guilt that, somehow,
he had contributed to this nasty situation with his loose tongue. "Lord Edmund
is sending a party to Quernmore Castle within the hour, my lady," he said.
"He asks that you accompany them."

She sneezed, her foul
mood worsening. "Why?"

"I do not
know," Niles said, trying to avoid her when she sneezed again. "He
only asks that you prepare yourself for the trip."

"And he gave no
reason at all?"

"He did not. But
mayhap, given yesterday's events, a few days away from Anchorsholme might do
you well."

Mara sneezed, her
raven-colored hair shaking violently. "This is madness," she said
irritably. "There is no reason why I need travel to this Castle. What if I
do not wish to go?"

Niles met her gaze
steadily. "It is not a choice, my lady. Lord Edmund asked that you travel
to Quernmore this day."

Mara stared at him,
frowning, before slamming the door in his face. So Edmund wanted her to ride to
Quernmore Castle, did he? Most likely to be rid of her, as Niles suggested. Or,
mayhap, he was hoping the party would be set upon by bandits and she would fall
victim to their murderous rage.

Whatever the case, she
had little choice in the matter. And since Micheline was nowhere to be found,
having spent the night with her new husband, Mara quite frankly did not care
where she went or what she did. Micheline was keeping secrets, Kirk hated her,
and she was doomed to a life of misery of her own making. It had started when
she agreed to come to Anchorsholme Castle in the first place.

So she packed a small
satchel. Sneezing and coughing, she donned the warmest dress she owned and
pulled her hair away from her face, securing it in a loose braid at the nape of
her neck. Her mother's worn brown cloak served its purpose as she slung it over
her shoulders, collecting her bag. The moment she opened the door, however,
Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda were there to greet her.

They bowed in perfect
unison. "Good morn,.."

"... my lady. Sir
Niles informed us that..."

"...you were not
feeling well. May we..."

"...assist?"

Mara hadn't the strength
to reject them. Or the will. Depressed and ill, she simply shook her head.
"I do not know what you can do for me. 'Tis a simple bout with the chill
that only time will cure."

Lady Valdine suddenly
produced a pewter flask. Mara eyed the steaming contents. "What is
that?"

The ladies smiled at the
same time. "Herbs. And..."

"...secret
ingredients. It will..."

"...heal you if it
does not make..."

"...a drunkard out
of you first."

Mara couldn't help but
grin. "How much do I take?"

Lady Valdine put the
flask in her hand. "A few sips now. And a..."

"...few sips after
the morning meal. A few..."

"...sips here and
there throughout the day. But not..."

"...all at
once."

Mara smelled the
contents and, with a shrug, took a long, deep swallow. Smacking her lips, she
shrugged again. "I taste whisky."

"Irish..."

"...whisky. And how
would a..."

"...lady know the
taste of whisky?"

Mara grinned again and
took another swallow before the ladies could stop her. "My father was a
drunkard, ladies. I have been exposed to whisky since I was old enough to know
what it was."

Lady Valdine and Lady
Wanda were fixed with identical grins, suggesting to Mara that the ladies were
not so prim and proper as they appeared. She raised the flask.

"Would you like
some?"

They tittered and she
smiled, taking another sip. And still another. Feeling the warmth from the
alcohol fortify her, she clutched her satchel in one hand and the flask in the
other, moving down the corridor with the pair of ladies in tow.

"I have been
ordered to travel to Quernmore Castle this day," she said as they reached
the stairs, taking yet another swallow of the ‘medicine’. "Do either of
you ladies know where my sister is?"

Lady Valdine and Lady
Wanda shook their heads, a wagging pair. "Nay, my lady. Your..."

"...sister is still
with Lord Edmund in..."

"...his
chamber"

Reaching the bottom of
the stairs and cross the old stone of the foyer, Mara felt the familiar
depression grasp at her. Since her marriage the day before, Micheline had been
distant and withdrawn and somehow, Mara felt as if a wedge had been driven
between them. A wedge of secrets that both grieved and bewildered her. Taking
another drink from the flask, she smacked her lips as the great doors of Anchorsholme
loomed before her. Open to the bailey, she could see that a small army was
formed.

Her brow furrowed as she
saw Kirk and Niles at the edge of the formation, speaking between themselves.
Coming to a halt, Lady Valdine and Lady Wanda moved up on either side of her.

"Is
something..."

"...the matter,
Lady Mara?"

Mara took a deep
breath.  Then she took another drink. Shaking her head, she proceeded into the
weak sunlight.

Niles saw her coming. He
said something to Kirk, who immediately moved for his charger without so much
as passing her a glance. Mood dampening, Mara ignored him as well, allowing
Niles to help her mount her palfrey.  The knight took her satchel, leaving her
with the flask clutched in her palm.

As Lady Valdine and Lady
Wanda bid the party farewell, Kirk and Niles moved the men into marching
rhythm, purging themselves from the great double baileys of Anchorsholme.

CHAPTER TEN

The journey to Quernmore
Castle was a little more than a day's ride. Mara sat atop her old mare,
listening to the chatter of birds as the escort party passed through the small
forest on the border between Anchorsholme and Quernmore. She made a point of focusing
on the landscape, the road, her horse's mane. Anything to avoid looking at
Kirk, riding tall and strong at the head of the column.

But she had stolen
glances at him now and again, never once catching him looking at her in return.
Niles tried to make polite conversation, but she quickly ended his attempts
with one-word replies. She did not want to speak with anyone, save Kirk, if he
was so inclined to apologize for the events of the past two days. And if he
were to apologize, then there would be nothing to stop her from apologizing,
too.

Noon came and went. The
army did not stop for a meal, merely passed around bread and jerky. Niles
provided Mara with bread and delicious cheese, which she washed down with the
whiskey concoction. By mid-afternoon, the flask was empty and Mara was showing
distinct signs of intoxication.

It all started with a
slight tune, off-key and muttered. But the tune grew louder, much to Niles'
amusement, and Mara seemed quite happy with her ear-piercing song. The alcohol
only served to enhance her turbulent emotions and when the last verse of the
tune ended, the bright blue eyes focused on Kirk's distant back.

"He hates me, you
know." She turned to look at Niles. "Kirk hates me. Did you see his
face? I did that."

Niles' expression remained
even, wondering if Kirk could hear what was going on. The Kirk Connaught he
knew had eyes and ears all over his person and, if Niles suspected correctly,
the man had heard every syllable of conversation since leaving Anchorsholme. He
wondered how much he would allow Mara to carry on before intervening.

"It was an
accident, I am sure," the knight said, eyeing Kirk in the distance.
"Mere scratches."

"Aye, it was an
accident," Mara said loudly, waving her arm to emphasize her point and
nearly falling off her mount. "He grabbed me and I meant to break away.
But I gouged him instead."

Niles glanced at Kirk
again, wondering if he shouldn't discreetly back away from the lady so that she
would cease her conversation. Without an audience, there would be no need for
chatter.

"Nothing is right
any longer," Mara muttered, swaying in the saddle and oblivious to the
discomfort of the knight. "My sister is married and Kirk hates me and I...
I want to go home!"

She burst into tears. As
Niles debated whether or not to calm her, Kirk suddenly reined his charger
around and plowed through the column. Those who did not move out of his way
fast enough were nearly run over. Reaching Mara, he ordered the knight away
with a brusque jerk of his head.

"Enough tears,
Mara," he said quietly, reining his horse next to her. "There's no
need..."

Her weeping grew louder
and she turned away from him. Kirk raised his visor, looking seriously at her.
Catching sight of the flask clutched in her hand, he snatched it. Smelling the
alcohol, he turned accusingly to Niles.

"Who in the hell
gave her this?"

"She had it when
she emerged from the keep," Niles replied steadily. "I thought mayhap
it was mead, or even flavored water."

Kirk shook his head with
disgust. "It's whiskey." He focused on Mara again. "My lady, who
gave you this?"

Mara sobbed
dramatically. "You... you called me 'my lady'! You haven't addressed me
formally since we kissed!" The bright eyes were suddenly on him again.
"It was a good kiss, wasn't it? Wasn't it good, Kirk?"

She was so intoxicated
it was comical. But Kirk did not smile, merely nodding, as he had little
choice. "It was good."

"Better than any
lady you have kissed?"

"The best."

"The very, very
best?"

"Aye, Mara. The
very, very best."

That seemed to satisfy
her somewhat. He thought she might smile, but she suddenly burst into even
louder sobs. "The very best and the very last!" she wept. "Now
that you hate me, there will be no more kisses!"

Kirk did not change
expression, although inside he was shrinking from the stares of his men. Mara
moaned and sobbed into her hand and Kirk decided to put an end to her
performance. Motioning to Niles, he grasped Mara by the arms.

"Secure her
palfrey," he told the knight, lifting the lady off the small beast without
effort. Placing her across his thighs, he ignored her weak protests and spurred
his charger forward.

Well in front of the
column, he finally responded to her squirming. Squeezing her tightly, he
listened to her gasp with the force of his strength.

"Enough," he
hissed. "You're causing a scene."

She balled her fists,
pounding his mailed hands weakly. "Let me go," she sobbed, but there
were very few tears. Mostly frustration. "I d-do not want to ride with
you."

"Nonetheless, you
are," he said quietly. "Tell me who gave you the whiskey."

Mara sniffled and
coughed, wiping her nose most unladylike. "Lady V-Valdine and Lady
Wanda," she hiccupped. "They care more for me than you do."

"By giving you
whiskey?"

"By giving me
medicine to help my cough." She sniffled again, feeling weak and dizzy and
emotionally drained. "They told me it was a cure for the chill, which I
contracted last night whilst in the woods where you had left me."

He did not reply,
wondering if he shouldn't steer clear of that particular subject. Being that
Mara was drunk on the ladies' potent cure, she probably wouldn't remember the
conversation were they to reconcile. And he wanted her to remember.

"I am sorry you are
ill," he replied softly.

In her exhaustion, she
leaned heavily against him, too weak to maintain her fight. "You left me
all alone, for the thieves and animals and elements. Do you know that I stayed
in the trees until Corwin came looking for me?"

He was silent a moment,
his stone-gray eyes grazing the landscape. "I knew."

"But you did not
care."

"'Twas I who sent
Corwin looking for you."

"Why did you not
come yourself?"

Because I was drunk.
Kirk wasn't sure how to
answer her, the fact that he had immersed himself in liquor to help ease the
confusion of their relationship. He'd never been more tormented in his life.
"I could not come, lass." It was the truth. As of this morn, still,
he could hardly walk a straight line.

Mara suddenly turned in
the saddle, her bright eyes filled with sentiment. Kirk could smell the alcohol
on her breath as she reached up, touching the parallel lines she had left on
his face.

"Would not come,
isn't that what you mean?" Sobs were close to the surface again. "Oh,
Kirk, I did not mean to hurt you. It was an accident. I only meant to push you
away, truly. Do you hate me?"

He gazed at her, feeling
himself weaken, surrendering to the power of her emotions. Slowly, he shook his
head. "I do not."

"But you said you
were a fool to think yourself in love with me. Did you mean it?"

"Nay."

"Then why did you
say it?"

He sighed faintly.
"Because a tortured man says many things."

She continued to gaze at
him, looking far more clear-minded than she had moments earlier. The hand still
touching his cheek began to caress it. "Kirk, I am afraid."

The corner of his mouth
twitched. "I do not believe it. What could you possibly be afraid
of?"

She was serious; he
could read it in her expression. "I fear I have lost my sister to her new
marriage and I cannot bear the thought of losing you, too. After all we have
said to one another, after all I have done, have you truly reconsidered your
proposal of marriage?"

He was silent for a
moment. "I thought you did not want to marry me."

The brilliant eyes bore
into him, reaching deep to pull at his heart. "I have changed my mind.
Will you not reconsider?"

He tried to avert his
gaze but was unable to. He knew he loved her, but her words and actions had cut
him deeply. Frightened him, even. It would take courage to marry the little
hellion, he knew, and he had spent all night asking God to give him the courage.
The beautiful lady with the bright blue eyes had taken his heart captive and he
had not the strength to resist her. No matter what she had said or done.

"Mayhap," he
heard himself whisper. He knew it was a lie; he had always known he would marry
her regardless. But fear and confusion halted any further acknowledgement.

Mara saw his reluctance.
For the first time in her life, she found herself wanting to please another,
wanting to make amends for something she had done. Never had she been so
compelled to ease tension or erase the past. Kirk had been kind to her,
unafraid to discipline her in order to mold her wild character. And she had
repaid him by gouging his face. Accident or no, the damage was obvious and she
was eager to prove her remorse.

She forced a smile.
"I promise I shall behave myself from this day forward. No more arguments
and fighting. And I shall listen to whatever you say."

He lifted an eyebrow.
"Time will tell, lady."

Her smile faded as she
struggled not to give in to the sorrow his reluctance provoked.  "But I am
serious, Kirk. I shall truly put forth my best effort."

He nodded faintly,
glancing to the rear of the column when someone shouted. Mara sensed his doubt,
his disinterest in the conversation. As if he could not afford to believe her
after what had happened. Hanging her head, she picked at her worn cloak, the
pain in her heart uneased by the alcohol.

"Oh, Kirk,"
she whispered, more to herself. "Have I truly lost you?"

He heard her, feeling
his heart tug. "Nay," he murmured, watching the raven-colored head
come up, the blue eyes on him. "You haven't lost me."

"But you are
angry?"

He shook his head
slowly. "Not angry, Mara. Disappointed."

She sniffled, tears
suddenly brimming again. "With me, I know. But I swear if it takes the
rest of my life, I shall make amends. You are the only person in my life, other
than Micheline, who has ever shown me any true kindness." She shrugged,
blinking away the moisture as she lowered her gaze. "Mayhap I simply do
not know how to react to true kindness. I react to you as I have reacted my
entire life to the situation around me; with force and determination. I... I
have never known another way."

He felt himself
relenting completely, knowing her words were insightful and true. Before he
could respond, however, she sneezed violently and pulled her cloak more tightly
about her body. Snuggling against him, she sneezed again.

"Please do not hate
me, Kirk," she murmured. "You are all that I have now."

He felt her go limp,
knowing the sway of the horse and the strength of the liquor had lured her into
unconsciousness. Gathering her tightly in his right arm, Mara never felt the
kisses to her forehead. 

                               
***

The corridor was dim and
musty, reeking of smoke. Soft footfalls echoed against the floor as Micheline
made her way to her husband's chamber, more determination in her heart than she
had ever experienced. Having spent the night with the man and his sister, she
should have stayed far away from the pair. Yet, she could not help but remember
her words to Kirk, declaring that she would take charge of her marriage as best
she was able.

A marriage that had been
a disaster from the onset. Submissive by character, Micheline had no idea where
her sudden burst of determination had come from. But as she sat in her morning
bath, washing away the reminders of her husband and his sister, it became
apparent that she would not tolerate this situation. Mayhap it was in knowing
that she was now the baroness and the strength of the title was behind her. Or
mayhap it was because she refused to be a pawn in Edmund’s sick games,
manipulated and abused until she could stand no more.

Whatever the case,
Micheline was inclined to take charge of the situation before it harangued out
of control. Considering it was the only marriage she would ever know, she
realized she had to voice her objections now unless she wanted to remain
miserable for the rest of her life.

Still, the courage to do
what was necessary was a hard thing to come by. Pausing before the great
chamber door, she took a deep breath and knocked. After several moments, Johanne's
breathless voice answered. "Who comes?"

Micheline's reply was to
boldly open the door. Closing the panel behind her, she focused on her husband
and his sister, intertwined in the bedsheets. After the hell she had been
through the previous night, the sight of the pair no longer jolted her.