The Renegade's Heart (8 page)

“I fear I did not sleep well last night.”
Isabella felt a prick of conscience that she lied. “It must have
been the wind.”

“Then why did you snore so very much?”
Elizabeth demanded in her usual blunt manner.

“Perhaps you are falling ill,” Annelise
suggested with gentle concern. It was in her nature to be
thoughtful of others, as well as soft-spoken. She indicated
Isabella’s full trencher with a fingertip. “That would explain your
lack of appetite, as well.”

“Aye, for we know that you have an uncommon
appetite for venison,” Elizabeth declared. “You must be ill to
leave such choice morsels as these.” Elizabeth stole three of those
most delectable pieces of meat, mischief dancing in her eyes.

On another evening, Isabella would have
disputed the matter with her, but on this night, she seized upon
the excuse.

“Perhaps you are right,” Isabella said to
Annelise. “Perhaps I should retire early. I did wish to finish the
embroidery on that hem of Eleanor’s new kirtle.”

“Embroidery instead of dancing?” Elizabeth
rolled her eyes at the likelihood of that. “You would need to be
nearly dead to be the first of us to leave the hall.”

Isabella ignored her youngest sister, who
showed a new talent in being annoying.

“You might remain but dance less than is your
habit,” Annelise suggested with a smile.

Truly, it was a great deal of trouble to tell
anything other than the truth!

Isabella was saved from having to fabricate a
response for Anthony strode to the high table and bowed before
Alexander. “My lord, a messenger has arrived to speak with
you.”

“So late?” Alexander said with surprise.
“Surely the gates are secured?”

“Indeed, they are, my lord, but this man is
known to us. He is of the king’s retinue.” Anthony frowned. “And it
seems his arrival has been delayed by an
incident
.”

The sisters exchanged glances at the change
in the castellan’s tone.

Alexander frowned and cast down his napkin.
“I will hear his message now.”

Anthony turned and beckoned. The hall fell
silent as a man strode toward the high table. Strangely, he kept
his cloak closed at the front. Isabella could see only his boots
beneath the hem as he walked and she could not hear his armor.

Beside her, Elizabeth caught her breath.

“He must be holding it closed from the
inside,” Isabella murmured, watching the new arrival keenly.

“Why?” Annelise’s hand landed on Isabella’s
arm, her fingers tightening in her uncertainty. “Does he mean to
attack Alexander?”

But there was no menace in the man’s pose,
and it was the messenger who had come to them before. Isabella
shook her head, watching as the arrival bowed low before Alexander,
still keeping his cloak closed.

“Do you hide your weapons?” Alexander asked.
His tone was light, as if he made a jest, and there was a murmur of
agreement from the company.

The man flushed, his gaze darting to the
three sisters and Eleanor. “I would not display my nudity before
the ladies of your household, my lord.”

Alexander rose to his feet. “I beg your
pardon?”

“I have been robbed, my lord, in the forest
of Kinfairlie.” The company gasped as one and began to chatter,
even though Alexander held up his hand for silence. “I was set upon
by bandits, my lord, thieves who seized my horse, my blade and my
possessions. They left me with only my cloak and my boots. I walked
from the forest, thus my late arrival.”

“Are you injured?” Eleanor demanded.

“I saw their blades, my lady, but was left
unscathed. I thank you for your concern.” He cleared his throat. “I
believe they were merciful because I gave no fight.”

“Bandits!” Alexander muttered through his
teeth. “Did you see their faces? Could you identify them?”

“No, my lord. They had blackened their faces,
I believe.”

“How many were there?”

“I am not certain. They came upon me in
darkness and were cursed quick about their trade. At least two.
Possibly as many as four.” He grimaced. “I apologize, my lord, but
I was surprised.”

Alexander swore under his breath. A ripple of
concern passed through the hall and those gathered for the meal
began to whisper. “And so you might be,” he said. “The road to
Kinfairlie is well known to be safe.”

“They gave me a message for you, though, my
lord.”

“Indeed? What is it?”

“The one who seemed to be the leader told me
to ask whether your memory had been prompted as yet.”

Alexander’s lips tightened and his gaze
became determined.

Isabella’s mouth went dry. Murdoch had done
this. This was his bold plan. But he would condemn himself for
Alexander would not tolerate bandits in his holding. She had to
discover the truth.

Yet she had to do it without arousing
suspicion.

“He did not surrender his name?” Alexander
asked.

“No, my lord. But he had eyes of the most
vivid blue that ever I have seen.”

Eleanor cleared her throat. “But you were
destined for Kinfairlie with a message, as well, were you not?”

“Aye, my lady. That I was. And though the
rogue relieved me of that scroll, I still do recall the message. I
was in attendance when the king dictated its contents.”

“What news?” Alexander asked.

“James, King of Scotland, returns to his
domain, my lord, with his new bride. He will be at Durham in March
and Melrose by early April. The missive granted you safe passage to
come and make your obeisance to him there at Melrose. He would
receive your pledge of fealty as well as that of every knight in
your household.”

“I shall have no need of a grant of safe
passage if I can rid our forest of bandits,” Alexander said with a
smile. “On the morrow, we shall ride out and rout this renegade
from our forests, to ensure the safe passage of all at Kinfairlie.”
The company cheered, but Isabella bit her lip.

She could not think of a way to see Murdoch
warned.

Alexander spoke to the messenger. “I thank
you for your tidings and apologize for what you have endured in my
holding. I beg of you to take refreshment with us. Anthony, please
find some garb for this loyal servant of the king.”

The company began to chatter again and the
musicians began once more to play their lutes. Isabella watched
Alexander as he called for more wine, seeing the worry that
darkened his brow. As much as Isabella admired her brother’s
administration of justice, she could not bear to think of Murdoch
being maimed for his attempt to defend his family’s honor.

She excused herself from the board, feigning
illness, determined to make each moment count.

* * *

Elizabeth could not believe her eyes.

The messenger came into Alexander’s hall, and
all eyes turned upon him. No one, it appeared, noticed the man on
the charcoal stallion who rode directly into the hall behind the
man. His horse was large and majestic, and there were silver bells
tied into his dark mane. The steed tossed his head as he pranced
into the hall, seemingly enjoying the musical sound made by his
gesture. His nostrils flared and his eyes glowed with a light that
was not natural.

The man who rode that beast could have been a
king. There were rings on his fingers and a golden crown upon his
head. His beard was as dark as ebony and flowed down his chest like
a river; his eyes were darker still. He wore a robe of sapphire
blue, trimmed with golden embroidery, the like of which Elizabeth
had never seen. His boots were made of gilded leather, supple and
gleaming. His cloak was as red as blood and trimmed in white
ermine.

His retinue were winged, which told Elizabeth
who she saw. He was the royalty of the Fae! No less than fifteen
attendants milled around his horse, holding the bridle, holding the
stirrup, holding the ends of their regent’s cloaks. Not a one of
them would have stood as tall as Elizabeth’s waist. They were
dressed in green and gold, their wings fluttering so that they
seemed to shimmer in place.

Elizabeth knew it was folly to stare at a Fae
of such importance and she dropped her gaze to her trencher,
pretending that she could not see him.

Far behind her, she heard a familiar hiss.
“Kings and villains, rogues and thanes; all will come to thieve
again. They take the spoils not theirs to claim, they steal and
snatch, then leave again. Gold and silver, gems and jewels, do
these intruders think us fools?”

Darg! Elizabeth had always been the only one
who could see the spriggan, but she had not caught a glimpse of
this small fairy in years. She spun now to look, but could not
discern the spriggan in the darkness.

Darg had haunted Ravensmuir once and then
Kinfairlie, but had been absent since Rosamunde and Tynan had been
lost in the collapse of the caverns beneath Ravensmuir. Darg had
not even appeared in the hall when Rosamunde had visited Kinfairlie
and relieved the family’s fears for her survival. During that
visit, Rosamunde had confirmed Tynan’s death and revealed her
newfound love for her old friend and partner, Padraig. There had
been no sign of the spriggan and Elizabeth had feared that Darg had
been lost with Tynan.

But Darg was back.

And Darg did not like this fellow Fae.

Elizabeth turned back just as the Fae king
dismounted and the messenger shared his tale. The king strode
toward the high table, taking his time and smiling slightly as he
brushed against the messenger. Half of his retinue walked with him,
most tending to his cloak, while the others stayed with the horse.
He strode to the far end of the high table and paused to study each
person who sat there. He slid his fingertips along the lip of the
table, and Elizabeth saw the silvery sparkle of Fae dust left by
his touch.

He moved past Alexander and Eleanor quickly,
almost dismissively. He paused before Annelise, surveying her so
intently that Elizabeth feared for her older sister. Had he come to
seize a mortal bride?

To Elizabeth’s relief, he shook his head and
moved on.

He watched Isabella with an intensity that
made terror coil in Elizabeth’s gut. His eyes were so dark that
they appeared to have no pupils. He could have been a man with a
thousand dark secrets, every one of them dangerous for a mortal to
know. That he stared so long at Isabella could be no good thing,
but without revealing that she could see him, Elizabeth did not
know what to do.

He nodded abruptly, some decision made. What
did his nod mean? Elizabeth’s heart pounded when he took a step
closer to her. She swallowed and made to look at her trencher
again, knowing that this otherworldly king would survey her
next.

And he would realize that she could see
him.

She felt him pause before her. There was
silence and stillness of such intensity that Elizabeth knew he
looked upon her. Finally she could stand it no longer, and flicked
a glance toward the messenger, knowing she would see this Fae king
when she did as much.

He had turned away, much to her relief, his
gaze fixed upon the ceiling. Elizabeth looked upward and saw the
glittering ribbons that rose from her and her sisters. In fact,
there was a tangle of ribbons against the ceiling of the hall,
rising from all the people in the hall in a glorious riot of
colors. Elizabeth had learned that her ability to see these ribbons
was a gift, for they indicated the bonds of true love. She had seen
the ribbons of her siblings entwined with the spouses they had
eventually taken. The king smiled and she knew he saw them as
well.

He reached behind himself to one of his
attendants, who offered a dark snake to him. Elizabeth realized
that it had once been a ribbon, but now it was musty and rotten. It
trailed back out the doorway, past the portal and into the night.
He gave it a tug and it did not break, so it yet had an inner
strength – and more than might have been assumed by appearances.
Indeed, when he shook it, some of the dust fell from it, and
Elizabeth could see that it had once been a rich purple.

One of his attendants took flight and seized
the copper ribbon that unfurled above Isabella, presenting it to
the king. He knotted them together securely, testing the strength
of the bond, then cast them skyward together.

To what man had the king bound Isabella?

He turned and met her gaze so abruptly that
Elizabeth had no chance to pretend she could not see him. Her heart
stopped cold and she was snared in the shadowed depths of his gaze.
His eyes seemed to draw her ever closer, pulling her into a void in
which nothing mattered but the Fae king and his desires. She felt
her resistance to him fade and die, felt herself start to rise to
follow him.

He held up a finger and she knew he wanted
her to stay.

She sat back, enthralled by him.

The king smiled at her, as if amused by her
reaction. He reached up and seized her ribbon, a banner of
brilliant crimson that glimmered in the light from the candles. He
seemed to admire it, then turned a twinkling glance upon her as he
broke it without remorse. He flung one end aside, giving the end
that extended to her a little tug.

His words echoed in her thoughts, his voice
so rich and melodious that she could have listened to him forever.
One day, beauteous Elizabeth, you will come to me.
His smile
broadened.
I already grow impatient
. He stared into her eyes
for a long moment, a yearning burgeoning within Elizabeth with just
that glance.

The Fae king pivoted abruptly and returned to
his steed, his cloak flaring behind him and the beast stamping in
its impatience to be gone. Elizabeth could not look away from him,
so greedy was she to learn all his mysteries. Who was he? Where did
he go? How would she go to him – and when – without knowing who he
was or where he might be found?