Claire Delacroix (13 page)

“There are some who would say that you had gained your just reward in this.”

His eyes narrowed. “How so?”

“Like rewards like, does it not?” I strolled into the chamber, eyeing the crates stacked against the walls. “It seems most apt to me that you should be murdered. The sole surprise is that none took a knife to you before this.”

“Such venom,” he chided, though his brow had darkened. “So, you were glad to hear of my death?”

“Why should I not be? I am Lady of Ravensmuir, and honorably widowed as well. I might wed quite well, given the change you have wrought in my circumstance.” I cast him a bright smile which only seemed to deepen his scowl. “Indeed, Merlyn, you suit me better dead than alive.”

“That was not the sense I had last night,” he muttered.

“A man came to me as a dream,” I retorted, discomfited that Fitz should be privy to this detail. “How are you to know who I dreamed you were?”

Merlyn impaled me with a glance that made me flush with certainty that I had called him by name in that moment of moments. I turned away from him, and surveyed the contents of this chamber with curiosity that was not entirely feigned.

The room was stacked with boxes and bundles of all sizes. The floor was reasonably level and the sole way in and out of it was through the portal by which I had just entered. Nooks had been created or naturally occurred in the walls, and the lanterns had been nestled within them. The flames flickered despite that shelter.

It was not an uncomfortable place, though it would have felt somewhat damp without the heat of Merlyn’s gaze upon me. I had never been here, never guessed that such a chamber existed, though I had assumed all those years ago that there must be a hidden storeroom somewhere. It would not do for a customer to witness three crowns of thorns. Additionally, a valuable inventory was better hidden from prying eyes.

“What have you this time?” I asked, nudging one crate with my toe.

“It is safer for you to forget that ever you saw this chamber,” Merlyn said grimly. “And yet more so to have no inkling of its contents. Have the sense to hold your tongue for the rest of your days,
chère
, or you may share what might have been my fate.”

I was, despite myself, touched by his apparent concern for my survival. Merlyn, though, was emotionless. He donned his chemise with abrupt gestures, leaving the fine cloth to fall loosely around his waist as he surveyed me. I could see the expanse of his bare chest through the gaping neck when he leaned his elbows upon his knees, though I strove to give no hint of my awareness of him.

He is a finely wrought man, Merlyn Lammergeier, but perhaps I have mentioned as much. He moves not unlike a powerful and large cat, elegant yet able to destroy an assailant with his hands alone.

Have ever you seen the lions that kings oft bring from the lands far to the south? I never have, though I have heard tell of them and I have wondered whether Merlyn shares a resemblance with them.

Save, of course, that his hair is so black. Perhaps his brother Gawain would be more like those tawny beasts, for his hair is of a golden hue. Perhaps it is fitting that dangerous Merlyn is as dark as a demon loosed from hell, while charming Gawain seems touched by the favor of the sun. I always thought the light and the dark of their respective coloring gave a hint of their greater character.

Oh yes, it is Gawain who laughs and is merry; Gawain who would charm a woman with pretty speech and promises; Gawain who is as reliable as a chance beam of sunlight. It is Merlyn who is dark and ominous, who whispers secrets and leaves much unsaid, whose presence fills your ears and presses against your flesh.

Perhaps there is an unholy allure between darkness and light, perhaps I with my corona of flaming hair could never have resisted a sultry beast like Merlyn Lammergeier.

I was struck by his vitality in that cavern and then by my own awareness of his masculinity. That cursed tingle awakened in my loins and, flustered, I blurted out the first question that rose to my lips. “How could any man be fool enough to believe you dead?”

Merlyn smiled. “I shall take that as the rare compliment it is,
chère
.”

“The matter was closer than I would have liked,” Fitz muttered. His manner was dour, but Merlyn seemed to be recovering his vigor.

“Of what merit is a life lived without risk, Fitz?” he demanded. “What man would desire to live sixty or even seventy years if he did not cheat death with some frequency? There is no difference then betwixt life and death if a man takes no more chances than a corpse.”

“So you say.” Fitz folded the remaining length of clean linen with quick efficiency. “I should like to try such a life before making any criticism of its failings.”

Merlyn eyed me, his words soft. “And what say you,
chère
? Risk or safety?”

“Perhaps a taste of both. I would welcome the surety of a regular meal after these past years, though I know such attraction would pale in time.” I may have shown more resignation than I might have preferred because he sobered as he watched me, his mood dispelled by mine.

He tired from his wound and I tired of his mysteries.

“Is this your decision then?” I asked. “That you shall live again and I shall return to Kinfairlie and we shall continue as we have done? That you shall keep your secrets and savor your risks and I shall yearn for a hot morsel at intervals while I watch my siblings suffer? To what purpose have you summoned me here, Merlyn? To watch me weep when you snatched away your supposed gift?”

“I cannot imagine that ever you would show another the weakness of tears,” he said, his tone hard.

I turned away.

“You have lived a hard life since leaving this place,” he suggested, perhaps inviting my confidences.

“I have lived as best I could and made what choices I must,” I retorted. “It is of no matter.”

His dark brow arched. “You are irked with me.”

“And why not? You pledge a fortress to me, then vow to reclaim it. You send Fitz to tell me of your death, then reveal that you are alive. You come to be as a dream, then spill your seed as only a man of flesh can do. You surprise me, drag me into darkness, then accuse me of lying and abandon me to my demons of fear.” I inhaled shakily. “Worse, I should have known better. I should have expected such trickery from you, but I was fool enough to believe otherwise. Yes, I am irked with you, Merlyn! Who would not be?”

“I told you she would not approve of this course,” Fitz murmured.

Merlyn rose to his feet and crossed the chamber to where I stood shaking, then took my hand in his. He kissed the back of my hand with embarrassing thoroughness, his gaze locked with mine. A quiver awakened deep within me, undermining all my sensible reasoning.

“Do not do that.” I tried to pull my hand away.

Merlyn not only held fast, he kissed my palm and dispatched a thousand hungry shivers over my skin. He watched me, as if assessing my response, and I have no doubt he discerned the simmer of my unwelcome desire for his touch.

“I am sorry,
chère
,” he said for my ears alone. “It is no excuse, but I was sorely vexed with you, and thus behaved unchivalrously. I did not believe you capable of lying...”

“You apologize when it is convenient to your aims,” I charged and Fitz snorted. “Clearly, you have need of my favor now.”

“Of course, I have need of you.”

I parted my lips to protest his change of the meaning, but Merlyn kissed my palm, his heated gaze holding mine in silent warning. Fitz, of course, could not see his gesture. Merlyn bit my thumb gently, running his teeth languidly over the flesh in a way intended to weaken my knees.

It worked. I could see down the neck of his chemise, could see the thicket of dark hair upon his chest, could see the erection straining his chausses, could smell the heat of his skin.

And I longed for a night abed with him again, one in which I did not imagine that I dreamed. No, I would have an afternoon abed, with sunlight spilling over us, all golden and warm and rich.

My resolve weakened, consumed by my growing desire. He mouthed kisses against my palm - fully, wickedly aware of the power of his touch. “Forgive me,
chère
.”

“You do yet need something of me then,” I replied, if not as coolly as I might have preferred.

Fitz gave a bark of laughter. “I told you she would not be easily led.” He nodded to me with approval. “It is a clever wench you wed, my lord, and you would not be the first man to rue such a choice.”

“I do not rue it.” Merlyn straightened and flattened my hand against the heat of his chest, holding it captive against the thunder of his heart. His bright gaze pinned me in place and my mouth went dry. “Indeed, it is my lady’s intellect upon which I must now rely.”

I studied him. “You do need me.”

“I told you that I have repented of my crimes and would live an honest life.”

I tried without success to pull my hand from his grip. “It is the nature of those who narrowly escape death to repent. You will revert to your true nature before your wound is healed.”

“No,
chère
.”

“You expect me to take the word of a liar? You tell me what you know I wish to hear in order to win my aid, no more than that.”

“You took my brother’s word and shaped your life for the worse upon it.”

I managed to tug my fingers free and stepped away from him. “That was different.”

“Was it?”

“He was right about you.”

Merlyn’s voice hardened. “But the fact remains that you believed him, while you will not believe me. A man could take offense at such favor.”

“Then, take offense. It is of no import to me. You are a rogue and a sinner and I have learned to know better than to believe your lies.”

Merlyn inhaled sharply and paced back across the cavern. “I ask you only to discover the name of the man who desired to have me killed. Surely you would do as much for the sake of justice, if not for me.”

I watched him, sensing that he told me but half of the tale. “Ada said you departed upon a quest on Christmas Eve.”

Merlyn nodded tersely. “I had a message from the Earl of March, requesting my presence. He asked that I come late to Dunbar, that my arrival might not be witnessed by curious eyes, and said that the gatekeeper would expect me.”

“And?”

Merlyn shook his head. “I never reached his gates. I was attacked from behind at a curve in the road.”

“You were surprised.”

He smiled wryly. “There are places in Christendom,
chère
, where a man is vigilant. This has never been one of them for me, hence the appeal of Ravensmuir. It seems that matters have changed.”

“And it seems that the Earl of March is the man you seek.”

“Not necessarily. He might not have sent the missive, or even if he did, he might have known nothing of my assailant’s plans.”

I was intrigued by this puzzle despite myself. “And if I find the name of the man responsible, then what?”

Merlyn’s expression hardened into dangerous lines. “Then I shall see to the rest.”

“That is not the pursuit of justice!”

“It most certainly is.”

“Justice is rendered by the king’s justiciar, not wrought in retaliation! Do you intend to murder in return? Do you intend that I should abet your crime? And for what price? Truly, Merlyn, you have not thought beyond your own revenge in this! What if I think murder reprehensible?”

“You do not know all of the tale.”

“Forgive me if I assume that you will not share it with me! Perhaps someone sought to kill you in vengeance for what you once did. Perhaps his cause is not unjustified. Perhaps you do not share the whole tale because it shows you in poor light. Perhaps you cannot tell me all of the tale, if you even desired to do so.” I propped my hands upon my hips. “Surely, Merlyn, of all people, I can understand the desire to throttle the life from you!”

He settled upon a crate to watch me. “Perhaps I miscalculated the allure of Ravensmuir to you.”

“Perhaps you did.” I crossed the room to confront him. “Or perhaps you miscalculated your own path.”

“And what is that to mean?”

“That you have no ability to compel me to do what you desire me to do.” I spoke boldly. “A corpse cannot change the terms of his will.”

His gaze brightened fiercely. “I told you that I could return to life.”

“And grant the assassin whose identity you do not know another chance to finish what he has begun. How clever a ploy! Someone desired to kill you, Merlyn. I have no doubt that person will lust to finish the deed. In fact, he now has greater cause to see you dead, for you alone might be able to provide testimony of what his attempted crime.” I leaned closer to him and dropped my voice. “You dare not risk returning from the grave if you mean to live.”

Fitz whistled through his teeth.

Merlyn pushed to his feet and walked across the chamber. I had the sense that I had disappointed him, though when he turned to regard me again, I could not be certain. He stood, no doubt deliberately, beyond the circles of light cast by the lanterns, his features wreathed in shadows that hid his expression.

“I thought you would aid me to seek the truth.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “You thought wrongly. High justice is the right of the king and the king alone.”

“I will tell you all you need to know.”

I arched my brow. “Instead of telling me all that you know? How typically evasive of you, Merlyn. There was a time when I found your many enigmas intriguing. Now I know that you merely hide the wickedness of your intent from those who might not approve.”

Merlyn’s silence was all the answer he intended to give, but I was not done.

“I want you to understand what you ask of me, Merlyn.” I took a deep breath, my words coming low and hot. “I have spent five years tarred by the speculation of what I might have done in my brief association with the Lammergeier. I was innocent, I fled this keep as soon as I knew the dark truth of your deeds, Merlyn, but still, I have suffered for my fleeting association with your family.”

Merlyn might have protested but I hastened onward. “Worse, my family has suffered. Would my mother have died if a physician or a healer could have been persuaded to at least come to her side? Would my brother have eaten better if we were not regularly cheated of our due? Would he have grown taller and stronger? Would my sister have found a fitting spouse if she had not been tarnished by our stay at Ravensmuir?”