Immortal Love (13 page)

Like the sudden crash of a wave, her arms
swept across the table, knocking its contents to the floor. The
goblets and pottery made a loud crash. Her voice rose over the
cacophony.

“Liar!” she shouted to the ceiling. “He lied
to me. He made me believe you hated me!” The violent wave of
emotion crashed down on her as she turned over the table and
chairs. “Damn his spirit. Damn him for taking you away from me!”
she shouted in helpless rage.

Dominick knew the storm needed to be spent,
but Eleanor was out of control and had to be contained before she
hurt herself. Wrapping his arms around her body, he allowed room
for movement, but not so much she could hurt herself. The tide of
anger turned on him. She kicked at his shins and pounded on his
chest, screaming for her release. He let her fight in the circle of
his arms.

Finally exhausted, she collapsed against him.
Her chest heaved with each ragged breath. He could feel her heart
beat furiously. Gently he guided her to the bed. All that was left
in the wake of the storm was Eleanor’s soft weeping.

“Mother, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Please forgive me.” She collapsed onto the mound of furs.

The need to comfort her swelled within his
heart. Cradling her in his arms, he wiped away her tears and
brushed the wild mass of hair from her face. Eventually, she
stopped crying, and the only remnant of her tirade was a soft
hiccough. She lay in his arms staring up at the beams of the
ceiling.

He pulled back the pelts and tucked her in
tightly then rose to busy himself straightening the shambles of
their chamber. When he looked back toward Eleanor, she hadn’t
moved. She still stared at the ceiling. He knew he could not help
her with the turmoil that roiled within her, but the woman needed
rest.

He went to the kitchen for mulled wine
sweetened with honey. The concoction would relax her body enough to
allow her to fall asleep. When he returned with the cup, he found
her just as he had left. Insistently, he pressed the cup to her
lips. Without argument, she drank the entire contents, and just as
he predicted, she soon relaxed and her eyes closed. Dominick pulled
a chair up beside the bed and stroked her hair until she drifted
off to sleep.

It was only a couple of hours before dawn as
he sat in the quiet of the night watching her. She was like a dove,
fragile as well as beautiful. How was he going to convince her to
trust him? Her father had done so much damage. Could it ever be
undone? He would have to plan carefully, but fatigue seeped in and
he couldn’t think any more.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, Isolde’s
icy cold hand pressed against his heart.

He is not her father.

O
utside the borders
of Godwin, McPhearson sat upon his mount and waited to hear the
news of Dominick’s death. Despite the cold gray morning, his
spirits couldn’t be higher. Soon his elite guard would be riding
over the ridge with the happy news.

He imagined the sweet sight of Dominick
writhing in pain until the spirit devils snatched his soul. It
would only be a matter of hours before he and his men rode in,
taking the castle from the Immortal’s distraught and bewildered
soldiers. Without their general to lead them, there would be panic
and mayhem. It would weaken strongholds to the south, and the
balance of power would shift to him.

And then, the sweetest revenge of all. He
would take Eleanor. His groin tightened exquisitely. That night he
would mount her and ride her until dawn. He could barely contain
his revelry.

Robert McPhearson saw a rider approaching and
knew immediately that something was wrong. The man sat on his horse
at an odd angle, and his head bobbed unnaturally. Revelry plummeted
at the realization that his soldier was dead. The bastard had
failed.

Angry he hadn’t at least had the pleasure of
killing the failed assassin himself, he turned and headed for
Aurora Castle, whipping his horse into a deadly run.

That bastard Dominick had escaped death and
cheated him out of Godwin for a second time. Fantasies filled his
head with all manner of ways to kill the King’s ally, and all were
slow and painful.

Crossing the drawbridge, he leapt off his
horse and stormed into the castle, shouting for wine. Adrenaline
coursed through his veins, fueled by his fury.

"Move!” he shouted at a servant who stood in
his way. When the servant didn’t move fast enough for his liking,
McPhearson shoved him to the ground and kicked him. “That son of a
bitch!”

He kicked the man until he heard the snapping
of bone. His anger satiated by his victim, he turned away and sat
calmly at the table in the great hall. He smirked as he watched the
servant crawl away.

Another minion returned with the wine. As
McPhearson sipped his wine, he asked, “Has my brother arrived?”

“Aye, my lord. Only just this morning.”

“Send him to me--now.”

“Yes, my lord.” The man nearly ran as he
backed away.

Downing the first cup of wine in one gulp,
Robert immediately poured himself another. “I will have Godwin, I
swear it,” he said out loud.

“You summoned, my dear brother?” Liam
strutted in. Envy swept over Robert McPhearson. Liam was at least a
head taller than he. Unlike Robert’s lighter build and paunchy
stomach, Liam had bulging tight muscles stretched over his large
frame. Robes of fur made him look wild and dangerous. His long
blond tresses hung to the middle of his back, and his steely gray
eyes seemed to look into a man’s soul.

Women flocked around Liam, while Robert had
to buy or take a woman’s affections. Oh, how he hated his brother.
Often he imagined Liam being mangled from a fall off his horse, or
disfigured in a sword fight, but Robert was sure that would never
happen. His brother was too good a horseman and the best swordsman
among all his soldiers.

Robert smothered his envy with difficulty. He
needed his brother’s help. Pouring a goblet of wine, he placed it
before Liam. “The siege failed. Godwin is not yet mine.”

Liam’s mouth lifted into a wry smile. “And
you’re surprised?”

Robert wanted to throttle his brother, but he
stilled his hand. “I don’t need your sarcasm now. I need your
advice.”

“My advice.” Liam shook his head. “Since when
would you consider taking my advice?”

“Since everything I have tried has
failed.”

“You have failed, Robert, because you have
allowed your ambition to cloud your judgment.”

In no mood for a lecture, Robert gritted his
teeth. “Be that as it may. I need your help.”

Liam chuckled as he sipped the wine. “My
help? That is unlike you, Robert.”

No longer able to tolerate his brother’s
smugness, Robert slammed his hand on the table. Dishes and pottery
rattled. “Can you help me or not? Or have wine and wenching addled
your brain?”

Liam showed no reaction to this outburst.
Slowly he took another sip. “What have you tried so far?”

Robert sat back in his seat. Now he was
finally getting through, but anger once again boiled up. “Last year
I solicited a marriage with Lady Eleanor from her father, while he
was in his usual drunken state. Once I had the contract signed, I
had him killed. Poisoned. But it looked like he drank himself to
death.” Liam looked down into his goblet. The older McPhearson knew
what he was thinking. “Don’t worry, brother, it’s nothing more than
wine.”

“That is comforting.”

“When I sent a messenger informing the lady
of our contract, she refused to honor it and locked the gates to
the castle. I laid siege to Godwin, burning its fields and stables,
hoping to soften her resolve by starving her out. But she managed
to get a message to King William. He sent one of his vassals and
hundreds of men. There were too many for us to continue our siege,
and we had to retreat.”

“Who did William send?”

“The one they call the Immortal.”

Liam nearly choked on his wine. “Dominick!
Dominick the Immortal?”

Robert didn’t like Liam’s expression.
“Yes.”

“Oh, brother, you have no understanding of
who you’re dealing with.”

Robert felt his face burn with the heat of
his fury. “He is mortal, Liam. Just like you and me. He bleeds. I
don’t believe in those fairy tales. The man has just been
fortunate.”

“He may be mortal, but let me remind you he
has rarely known defeat. That is why he is the king’s champion, and
why William sent him to Godwin. The man is a brilliant
strategist.”

“You sound as though you admire him.”

“I admire the man’s talent. Who he aligns
himself with is another matter.”

“It’s good your views on King William have
not changed.”

“It’s true I have no love for the King.”

Robert leaned forward. “Then you will help
me?”

Liam paused. “You cannot take from Dominick
what he is not willing to give. You must consider a different
approach. Find something of value to him and use it to force him to
relinquish Godwin.”

Pounding his fist on the table, Robert
shouted, “If only my incompetent spy had done what he was supposed
to, Dominick would be dead by now.”

“Dead. How?”

“Poison.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Remind me, Brother,
never to drink with you again.” He paused a moment. “Did you really
believe that if you killed Dominick you could walk right in and
take his castle?”

“Why not?”

“You forget one critical factor. His brother,
Randolf, The Black Knight.” When Robert sniffed in disbelief, Liam
added, “Randolf would no more hand over Godwin than Dominick would.
Like his brother, The Black Knight has also never been defeated.
Dominick and his brother, along with the support of the crown
cannot be compromised.”

“How would you know such things?”

“I travel, Robert, and I listen. I have seen
these men myself in tournaments. They are not to be trifled
with.”

“You give them too much credit.”

“I say you don’t give them enough. Be careful
that you don’t find yourself at the wrong end of their sword.”

Robert ignored him. “What could we use to
force Dominick to give up Godwin?”

“Eleanor. Lady Eleanor is his bride. Take her
as hostage and three things may happen." Liam counted them off on
his fingers. "He may give up everything for her, or he may be
indifferent to her capture and you will never have Godwin. But the
other side of that sword is that he may turn his fury on you and
Aurora and bring down the wrath of Hell on your head.”

Once Robert heard
take Eleanor as
hostage
he barely heard anything more Liam said. He wasn’t
concerned about Dominick coming to Aurora. Once she was inside his
castle it would be impossible for Dominick to rescue her. Aurora
was impenetrable.

Insidious pleasure grew inside him. The
thought of Eleanor within his castle was exciting, but he would not
reveal that to Liam. “How do we take her?”

Liam took another deep drink. “There will be
a time when she’s unguarded,” he said thoughtfully. “Or lightly
guarded. One or two men can easily be overtaken. Capture her and
bring her here.”

“I like this plan. I will send spies to keep
a watchful eye.”

“You had better send tradesmen. Dominick’s
men will question everyone that comes to the gates of the castle,
and there are probably guards on patrol in the woods.”

“You’re right. I will send in people to
Godwin right away.” As he stood up to make preparations, he turned
to his brother and said, "Stay here at the castle, for I may need
further assistance.”

Liam raised one eyebrow. “Is that an
order?”

“No. It’s a request-for now.”

A
splitting headache
woke Eleanor out of a deep sleep. The morning light that seeped
through the shutters felt like daggers shooting through her eyes.
She laid as still as possible with her forearms covering her face.
The memories of the night before came flooding back and sorrow
again washed over her.

She would never forget the terrible look in
Dominick’s eyes when he executed that man. Had her father looked
like that when he killed her mother? She knew when he drew his
sword that he was protecting her from McPhearson’s men, but how did
she reconcile the murder of another human being?

Why had Mother never come to her? For the
first time, Eleanor realized just how angry she had been at her
mother for taking her own life. And now to find out she was
murdered made her sick inside. How could she have believed her
mother capable of such an act? Never had she felt such guilt and
helpless fury. She filled her lungs with hate. Her father was a
murderer. Was Dominick really different from other men, from her
father? Just hours after she watched him thrust a sword into a
man’s heart, he cradled her in his arms, whispering words of
comfort.

Throughout the night, she had awakened with
terrifying nightmares. He had been there to hold her close and
whisper words of reassurance until she fell back to sleep.

The room was stifling, and her headache
persisted. She needed fresh air. Dressing quickly, she left her
chamber and turned toward the great hall. Looking down from the top
of the stairs, she was relieved to see that all traces of the
execution had been washed away. The hall looked as though nothing
had happened the night before.

Her head pounded harder, and the thought of
breaking her fast turned her stomach. She left the castle and went
out through the east gate to the cliffs only a short distance away.
Ocean spray rose up as waves crashed on rocks below. Licking her
lips, she tasted the salty mist. Soft winds caressed her skin, and
the bright sunshine bathed her face in warmth. The tension eased
from her shoulders, soothing the pounding in her head.