Conquer the night, p.15
Conquer the Night, page 15
“I would be allowed to say no to cajolery. Am I allowed to say no?”
“Are you so fond of remaining locked in a tower?”
“The company is at least pleasant.”
“Dear God! You are flattering me!”
She flushed. “When I am alone in my tower, sir, the company is pleasant.”
He arched a brow. “Um, so you insult me.”
“If all enemies did was insult one another, sir, we would not be standing in a graveyard now.”
“True. So … we are in a quandary here, my lady. Do I let go of these reins, or not? Never mind. I’ve risked your pride again. You would fight unto the death! I won’t force you into any desperate measures for the moment.”
Wary of his intent when he was so pleasant, she asked, “Out of respect for the dead, Sir Arryn? The men slaughtered here.”
“My men lie among yours,” he reminded her, and with a sudden smooth movement swung up on the mare behind her.
“What about your horse? Perhaps he’ll take this opportunity to run away,” she said. He was at her back, his arms around her, his hands on the reins.
“Old Pict? Nay, he’ll never run. We’ve come too far together.” He nudged her mare. “So … dinner, or none?”
“The great halls—or a great stone cage?” she inquired, trying hard not to feel him there.
“Those are the choices.”
“Once again, I ask you why?”
“Because as of now, I am lord here, and it is what I say.”
“As of now … you know that you are beaten, that you can hold nothing.”
“You never give up fighting, do you? You await any opportunity to inflict a blow. But don’t worry; I am aware of the strength of your king. And in truth, I don’t want to hold a ‘great stone cage,’ as you say.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Scotland. Scotland, for the Scottish. Here we are—dinner, or your cage?” He dismounted from her mare and reached for her. She hesitated, met the steady probe of his dark blue eyes. His hands settled around her waist. She placed her own on his shoulders, allowing him to sweep her down to the ground. He turned away from her.
She was left alone. The breeze stirred, cool and fresh.
Men dismounted from their horses all around her; grooms came out to take the mounts. She stood very still in the courtyard as night descended, and life went on. The people who lived within the walls of Seacairn were returning, some sad and quiet, somber, some already moving forward—masons discussed the walls, a knight commented to a young squire that his saddle needed repair. The dead were buried, tears had been shed, and they all knew they needed to pray for tomorrow.
“My lady! May I escort you in?”
She turned. Jay stood there, smiling, a query in his eyes that went beyond the question he had asked.
“Aye, Jay.”
He came and took her arm, and started for the great doors to the inner tower. “I am sorry about your guards, slain in defense here. They died for duty.”
She gazed at him curiously. “You think that all the men who defended Seacairn should have changed sides, abandoned fealty to Edward so easily?”
“You lost very few men,” Jay said. “And so did we.” He didn’t actually answer the question. He meant to be tactful.
“Aye, many surrendered. I commanded them to do so.”
“And it was a mercy,” he said simply.
“But, Jay, if Darrow’s forces had remained …”
“It would have all been different. We can’t know the outcome, can we? Because they didn’t remain. Do you think that he might have known that we had enough strength to take the castle?”
She felt strangely uneasy. “Of course not. He’d have never left the castle to be taken by his enemy.”
They had reached the hall. The great table was filling with plates of venison, eel, fish, fowl, and mutton. Gaston had directed the cooks well, and all the serving platters were attractively prepared, adorned with greens and berries. Arryn’s men were aligning themselves down the length of the table. Two seats at the head remained. Jay escorted her there.
“Perhaps I would be best off down the length of the table some. I haven’t had much conversation with some of your companions.”
“Ah, my lady! There you are. We’re quite delighted that you’ve decided to join us.”
The voice seemed to sweep around her. Deep, husky, pleasant. And with a warning mockery.
Arryn had come. He was so close that she spun directly into him as she turned, and it seemed that he swept around her, encompassing her air and space.
“I was just saying that I should sit elsewhere.”
“But this is your place.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t presume to claim a place when you have claimed the castle. As I said, I should enjoy getting to know some of your men.”
He pulled out her chair, his eyes steady on hers. “How well did you wish to get to know them, my lady?”
Despite herself, she flushed. And again despite herself, she sat. She was immediately irritated with herself. She should have held her chin high and started down the length of the table.
He sat beside her. “Perhaps you should reconcile yourself to getting to know me.”
“I know far too much about you already.”
“How curious. I don’t feel that I know you at all.”
“Well, you are the conqueror, you know. Fond of making entrances and exits at your will alone.”
“Alas, that’s the way of it. Wine?” He reached for a trencher and the goblet that sat between them, filling it.
“I would love some. Dulls the senses, you know.”
“Sometimes, I’ve been told, it sharpens them.”
“I believe you’ve been told wrong.”
“Perhaps.”
“But then, I believe you’ve been told wrong about many things.”
“Such as?”
Me! she might have shouted.
But she did not.
She shook her head, fingers reaching for the goblet. She drank a long swallow. The wine was cool, but it seemed to send a strange heat snaking throughout her limbs.
“Now, see, my lady, you don’t feel comfortable completing a thought, even after goading me. We don’t know one another at all.”
“Oh? Perhaps that’s true. But I was not under the impression that you came here to get to know me at all, Sir Arryn.”
“I did not. But then, I am here. And so are you. So perhaps we should get to know one another better. I was reflecting upon just such an idea this morning.”
“Were you? I’d not have known. You left quickly. I thought that maybe you left with such haste to go out looking for a sheep.”
The minute the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.
She pretended to be busy with her meat, wondering what on earth had prompted her to say such a thing. She felt his eyes on her, and wondered if he would explode with anger. But he was amused, she realized. He leaned back, studying her, a strange smile curving his lips.
He leaned close to her suddenly. “Oh, good God, my lady! Were you distraught that I might have left you for a sheep?”
“Distraught? Never! I’d have pitied the poor sheep.”
“Oh, but I’d never have left you for a sheep!”
She felt her cheeks flaming, but chose to ignore her own discomfort. She ate a piece of meat, chewing slowly, aware he watched her all the while, wishing she were not feeling so painfully uncomfortable.
“Sir,” she said, speaking lightly, “you will have to cease with such chivalric words; I could become far too confident in my appeal, and I will begin to believe that I am preferable to domestic stock.”
He laughed softly. She had reached for the wine; he had done the same. His fingers curled around hers.
“My lady, I believe that I am done with this meal.”
“Oh, but we’ve just begun—”
“Indeed, we have.”
He rose and pulled out her chair. It scraped against the floor. Loudly.
The room had been filled with conversation.
It ceased. She felt a dozen eyes turn to her.
Arryn spoke out, addressing the assembly.
The assembly had all gone quiet, all staring at them.
“My friends, I’ll say good evening. The lady and I have decided to retire for the night. Please, enjoy the excellent food at Seacairn, and indeed, stay, enjoy the meal, store the taste of this fine food in your minds for less affluent days to come. I know that I shall certainly remember all that I have enjoyed and known here in the leaner times ahead.”
She could scarcely breathe; she felt a tremendous sense of humiliation, every one of them watching her, knowing….
She would have run, would have turned, would have doused him in the wine, she was feeling so desperate. She would have done almost anything.
But he knew it. One look in his eyes, and she was aware that he knew she was feeling furious—and reckless.
Oh, he mocked her, taunted her—knowing she was powerless!
And still, she made a reckless movement for the wine to douse him.
She didn’t make it. No matter how swift her dive, his reaction was faster. He caught her, spun her around.
“Nay, my lady, I think not.”
“One day, sir, I will make you pay.”
“Perhaps. But the day hasn’t come.”
“Did you have to make all eyes turn to us?”
“Aye, that I did.”
She stared at him, her eyes damning him.
While the way that he looked at her …
She had seen the look before—the morning when she had stood before him, when he had taken the fur away….
Her breath quickened.
He swept her up into his arms. She struggled; his arms tightened. She longed to scream; it would have made it all the worse.
Her eyes met his again.
And he strode from the great hall, his purpose far more than evident.
CHAPTER NINE
“Lord Darrow!”
Kinsey Darrow stood in the center of the manor house at Clayton. It was a lesser manor as such places went; the master here had been from the clan MacDonald, a stubborn old bear of a man, knighted by the guardians while the Maiden of Norway still lived, an irascible fellow if there ever had been one.
Had been.
He’d never signed the oath of allegiance to Edward of England. Naturally, when they’d come here, they’d claimed he had, that his name had been on the Ragman Rolls, a legal document stating that those who signed recognized the king of England as their overlord. This made the man a traitor, and eligible for a traitor’s death—and they had given old Sir Tigue MacDonald such a death. He had been a huge fellow, dark haired, tall, and old but muscled like a bear. He had brought down eight Englishmen before he’d been taken. But then, by God, they’d had their revenge. They’d only half-hanged him before they started cutting out his entrails, and when they castrated him, they used his own organs to gag him before they finally struck off his head.
It now sat on a pole before the manor house.
They’d only mowed down half of the old lord’s men—he’d used temperance, having learned in the past that if he slaughtered whole villages, there was no one left to serve him and his men. Kinsey was convinced that a good number of the people here were half-wits as it was. They didn’t seem to understand much about the conflict going on around them. It was a poor stretch of flatland with some farming, some sheep, even a few cattle, but little more. The house was clean and neat, and the hearth was sound, creating a good enough fire. It was, though, hardly the kind of place he would have considered worthy of such military action, but the old lord had been a vassal of the Earl of Harringford, and he had summoned Kinsey because he’d wanted an example made of the old man. The earl was growing uneasy; the tide of nationalism among the Scots seemed to be rising at an alarming rate.
But as for this place …
At the death of Sir Tigue, the people had stood numbly. Some of the women had cried. He hadn’t forced the old man’s pretty dark-eyed daughter to watch the show; she had understood immediately the implications of everything that had happened to her home, and she had been a pretty piece in his bed the very night following her father’s death. She had understood her choices, and she had wanted to live. Nor had she been unfamiliar with the role he had expected her to play. He thought, perhaps, she had even been glad of his coming. She was not a nationalist herself, Kinsey realized, but an ambitious young thing, who might well be plotting to use her association with him to move into a different circle of society.
“Lord Darrow!”
Hearing his name so anxiously repeated, he strode across the room to the door, which stood ajar, and threw it open wide. Giles of Chester stood there, panting, breathing very hard. He had just ridden in from the south, having been sent with a message to Lady Kyra that Darrow would be returning in a fortnight.
“What is it, Giles?”
“The castle.”
“What castle?”
“The castle has been …”
“Damn it, man, quit blubbering! What has happened?”
“Arryn Graham has taken Seacairn!”
For a moment, Kinsey stood dumbfounded. He had believed that not even Arryn Graham would go after the castle at Seacairn. Not that he had left it heavily defended; he had not. He had been sure that the walls of the place alone would dissuade such a savage as Sir Arryn. The man’s audacity to attack such a fortification!
Kinsey gripped the messenger by the throat, shaking him. “What are you saying?” The man gasped, unable to speak. Kinsey released his hold.
“It’s true; I swear!” Giles gasped out, rubbing his neck. “He rode in soon after you rode out.”
“What of the men I sent back with supplies?”
“Taken on the road, my lord.”
Pain struck Kinsey’s head, his fury was so great. He turned from Giles, so angry he was ready to impale the man with his sword. He drew his weapon anyway, and slashed down on the table. Wood shattered and groaned and cracked. Kinsey’s arm shook, and the impact seemed to reverberate through the length of him.
He spun back to Giles.
“What of Lady Kyra?”
Giles hung his head. “She tried to fight him. They said she nearly bested him at arms, waging war with him in the chapel. Then …”
“Aye, then?”
“She threw herself into the river.”
Kinsey stood dead still. If she was dead …
He suddenly saw Kyra: beautiful, proud, disdainful Kyra. Always keeping her distance from him. Always courteous, always correct, always so cool and untouchable, and always, always seeming to burn beneath. It was there, something rich, warm, lush, and passionate, something always held away from him! Somehow she was superior; somehow … she used the king against him, but he had forced himself to reason, knowing that in the end she would be his. And when the vows were spoken, and the woman and the titles and property were all his …
Well, he would quickly teach her who was superior in marriage, and in the world. He had thought that often, lying awake at night. Wanting her beauty, wanting to break her, wanting more, whatever it was he couldn’t touch, whatever it was he couldn’t take. He could never walk away—and he could never seize her in a rage, because there were men—his own men!—who would defend her, just as he defended all that was English, in the name of the king. Somehow she drew their loyalty, their admiration. And their love.
But now …
If she was dead, she would never have the power to make him feel like a lesser man again! If she was dead, the king would know his sorrow, his pain, his rage … and the king might well reward him….
Aye, that much was true. But he suddenly doubled over, thinking that Sir Arryn, his greatest enemy, had taken Kyra. Taken what Kinsey could not take, seized what he could not have!
Kyra had thrown herself into the river….
“Is she dead?” he whispered.
“Nay, my lord, thank God; the lady lives! She swam right out of the river—”
“And escaped him?”
“Nay, my lord, she remains his prisoner.”
Kinsey turned around, placing both hands on the simply carved wooden hearth. His prisoner. His whore. She remained his whore. She’d be better off dead.
“By God …” he began, and his voice thundered with emotion. “Damn him, damn him, damn him! We’ll ride against him.”
Sir Richard Egan, second in command of his men, burst in behind Giles. Richard was a very tall man, deceptively lean. At thirty-five, he had watched a great deal of the world, and was as hardened a warrior as a man was likely to find to fight beside him. “Kinsey! I’ve heard about the events at Seacairn. But you’ve got to think, my lord. Word has traveled here, and we’re all furious, and your men pray for your lady; yet as your friend, and a man who would die for you, I beg you, don’t throw all our lives away. My lord, you must realize your death will do her little good! He has a great many men with him. And he holds the castle. He has garnered support with every day he has traveled. He has gained the respect of such powerful traitors as Andrew de Moray and William Wallace. We need greater strength. The earl will come tomorrow, and tomorrow you can appeal to the king for the army you will need.”
Kinsey spun around, ready to strike out, but one look at Richard and he suddenly controlled his own temper. Richard knew about ambition—power, revenge, lust, and fury. He had to fight the sick rage seizing him now. He couldn’t throw himself blindly after the outlaw—his own life was of greater importance.
He lowered his head, hating Kyra, hating that she had the power to make him forget reason for rage.
For longing …
Hating that she could make him feel as if he were not superior. As if he were …
Inferior.
He clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He lowered his head. “Leave me.”
“Lord Darrow—”
“Leave me!” he shouted, and he raised his sword menacingly at Giles.
“Come,” Richard told Giles, and urged the man out.
“You, too!” Kinsey grated to Richard.
Richard shook his head. “You will use this to your advantage. The king will know your rage, and know your sorrow! The world will hear that she cast herself into a river to be free from such a savage. All men will want to join with you for revenge. We will be justified in all that we do.”
