Read Knight Everlasting Online

Authors: Jackie Ivie

Knight Everlasting (21 page)

BOOK: Knight Everlasting
4.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
“What? You thought I'd ride through a broken door? With you across my shoulders? Screaming and kicking?”
Unbidden tears pricked at her eyes, blurring the ground beneath her since her gaze flew there. Juliana cursed the fates and a deaf God for making her face this, and having it happen now, when everyone and their mother could tell his captive hadn't had the sense to keep from falling in love with him. Just like any number of other women before her.
Aidan's men had also dismounted, although there wasn't much noise to accompany the act. She could sense their presence all about and behind her, settling in as though to create a shield about her and Aidan. Guarding. Protecting. It was a ridiculous notion.
“Juliana?” Aidan whispered from somewhere above her.
Juliana nodded slightly, not enough to upset the tears hovering at her lashes, but enough he'd know she heard.
“You need to place your hand atop my arm. For an escort. You ken?”
He was counseling her on etiquette. Juliana would've laughed, except it might break through everything and she'd end up sobbing. Or throwing her body against him, which would have been immeasurably worse. She settled on another nod.
She put her hand out without looking. She couldn't control how it shook visibly, or how cold it was. The next moment, he had her hand in his and guided it to his arm, forcing her to accept a contact that tingled more, heated worse, and reverberated with an emotion difficult to contain. It was too beautiful. Tears slipped onto her cheeks and she licked at them before they reached her chin.
“Doona' fret so, Juliana. I've claimed you. You're safe.”
He thought her frightened? The instant reaction cleared her nose, making a sound that was loud, uncouth, and crude. The only good thing was that it didn't sound like a sob. Aidan turned from her, placing her at his right side for the escort, and acted like he hadn't heard it as he started walking. The movement pulled her with it, whether she wanted to go or not. Juliana walked slowly through a narrow corridor of bodies she could sense, since she wasn't chancing a glance at anything. Not until she had this weakness under control and covered over and hidden. Juliana could think of more august ways to enter the MacKetryck chieftain's lair than walking at his side, sniffing back tears, while swathed in a plaid that was still rain damp and beneath that a shift that needed washing, but she didn't have another choice.
Aidan moved suddenly, putting his free hand atop hers to pull her close and move slightly in front of her, bringing them to a halt in the same moment. Such a position made a barrier of his body, shielding her. It felt protective. It probably looked it. Juliana caught a breath and held it, ignored the skip of a heartbeat, as she waited for what further torment he could possibly devise. Then she saw them. Fancy, embroidered, pointed-toed slippers were in front of them, blocking the way, and if those slippers belonged to a woman, she had the biggest feet of any female Juliana had ever seen.
“My laird,” a melodic masculine voice said.
“Lachlan,” Aidan replied from beside her.
Juliana stole a glance at the slip of a fellow and then back to the ground. The man standing there didn't look like he could stop much, especially Aidan. He looked small and frail in comparison to Aidan, as if the slightest whisk of Aidan's hand would send the man flying. His attire didn't help with the impression. His cassock was of heavily embroidered satin in a dark blue shade. It made his skin sallow and gaunt. He'd had his head bowed, but it wasn't deferential to Juliana's practiced eye.
“Your presence is required.” He hissed the words at Aidan.
“I'll see him at the return feast,” Aidan replied.
“Return feast?”
“Aye.”
“We'd nae warning.”
“Now you do. Go, Lachlan. I've returned. I require a feast. Order it. And order the Lady Reina to report to my chambers.”
“My laird!”
“What?”
“But . . . your chambers?”
“You hear well,” Aidan replied. “As always.”
“'Tis most . . . unwise, my laird.”
Aidan grunted. “She's na' attending me, Lachlan, but Juliana.”
Oh . . . dearest God!
He'd clarified her position in his household, sent lightning flashing through her body with the surge of her heart, and released the weight that was cursing her belly. And he'd done it with one sentence. Juliana was quivering at the mix of emotions. Elation. Horror. Giddiness. Fear. Shock.
“Juliana?”
Aidan swiveled without warning, pulling her in front of him and right beneath the gaunt fellow's nose. She did a perfect half bow for him, which would have been deeper and more respectful if he'd deserved it, and watched the cloak scrape the dirt beneath them. She should have been prepared for the man's insulting tone, if not his words.
“You wish Lady Reina to attend—”
“My orders are na' questioned, Lachlan. Recollect that. Apprise my uncle, too. Or he can wait until my banquet and hear of it.”
Aidan shoved past the man and within moments they'd reached three lengthy stone ledges that served as entry steps. The Lachlan fellow had trailed behind Aidan, or he was on his other side. Juliana didn't check. She had enough to handle stifling and hiding the stunned feeling while still touching and experiencing Aidan. She hadn't known love was such a potent thing. And if this Lachlan fellow guessed at it, Juliana wasn't sure what he'd do about it, or with it.
Or why that frightened her.
They'd constructed the steps for giants. Or for standing atop while issuing edicts and commands. Or to keep visitors from riding into the hall without dismounting from their horses first. Juliana stopped at the base of the step ledges beside Aidan and considered immaterial things that spared her from pondering the real ones.
Clan MacKetryck may not seem barbaric, but these steps showed different. Juliana could see improvement would be needed here. No lady should be forced to make a climb in order to walk steps. It couldn't be accomplished with modesty and grace, especially if holding a gown at the same time. They'd also need an assist from a strong male such as Aidan MacKetryck at their side. Or use their hands on the steps.
Juliana negotiated the steps without too much difficulty, although Lachlan looked for it. She had Aidan to thank. He tightened the arm she pulled at to climb the first step, lifting her at the same time. And then he repeated it. All she had to do was hold on while he lifted. All about her, Aidan's men flanked her, ready to step in if needed. She knew Lachlan noted it as well. Her fingers were tingling when they arrived, and her back had an icy sensation crawling along it to center at the base of her neck.
She'd been raised in such an environment. She recognized intrigue and power struggles, as well as spies with vindictive tendencies. It appeared Aidan had enemies in his castle. Juliana didn't know who, or why, or how many, but she had no doubt she would.
They'd stopped and were standing in a great hall lit only by a banked fire at one end and a smattering of torches about the walls. It took a moment to accustom her eyes to the lack of light, making it possible to pick out long tables, benches, and screens, arranged about the massive space without much symmetry.
“Your uncle will be displeased. He has an answer from Campbell clan!” Lachlan hissed the words.
Aidan stiffened beside her, and a moment later had the reflex covered over. If she hadn't been attached to him, she wouldn't have felt it. “You have your orders, Lachlan,” Aidan replied.
Juliana recognized the metal behind his voice. Lachlan must not have been as sure, for he argued it. Again.
“But your uncle—”
“Uncle Dugald can meet me now if he likes. On the list. Go. Speak of that to him. But until such time . . . I'm laird. By birthright and victory . . . and you have your orders.”
Aidan was moving across the room before he'd finished speaking, pulling her toward where a change in available daylight showed a hallway to be. The scraping of boots and clanking of weaponry established that his men were accompanying them as well.
“As you wish, my . . .
laird
.”
It was softly spoken and the last was a slur. They all heard it. Juliana could tell by how the body of men tensed as if holding a collective indrawn breath. Then, it dissipated and they went back to following Aidan. He hadn't reacted visibly. Apparently, he was used to pretending a complacency that the taut condition of his arm didn't match. Juliana's quick glance showed the fisted hand before he opened and twisted it, making the sinew beneath her hand roll and vibrate. That was too much sensation beneath her finger pads. Her knees wavered and her breath caught, which was too much to show when surrounded by so many. She had no choice but to terminate the contact. Immediately.
Aidan reached out and across his chest with his other arm and had her held in place before she'd finished the thought. He did it without looking and without breaking stride, sending a jittery weakness throughout her legs she had no choice but to endure. She only hoped her legs supported her for the climb. His pace slowed, making it a bit easier. The slight incline of the stone steps, worn a bit in the middle, was also helpful as they spiraled up the dimly lit tower they'd entered.
She was still reeling from what he'd done, and tempering the absolute rush of emotion with the realization of what had just happened to her. She had an unspoken status now . . . as the woman settled into his chamber. If they were in an English household, she would. She would be in a status just below that of wife. The Lady Juliana D'Aubenville was now a Highland laird's mistress.
Chapter 17
The chieftain chambers opened off a landing of the stairs, directly above the great hall. It appeared to be bisected by a floor-to-ceiling partition of wood. The area gave the same impression of dim, dark, and massive space as the great hall below. The effect was not as severe, however, owing to a light source from somewhere behind the wooden wall outlining width and height, and because of the dimness of their tower stairwell. The darkness wasn't a poor design. The stairwell had sconces positioned in the outer wall for torches, but none were lit at present, making the slits at the very top of the stairwell tower the primary light source, and forcing her to hold to Aidan tightly since he wasn't unsure of any step.
Juliana waited for her eyes to adjust before she could make out the arrangement and furnishings in the room, but he had control of their progress and was already near the center of the room and swiveling to face his men before that happened.
There were a lot more clansmen at their heels than the nine he'd had with him, Juliana noted, looking back to the floor.
“You heard?” Aidan asked.
“Aye.” Someone spoke and more chorused it.
“Then go. Prepare. Arran and Alpin. Follow me.”
Aidan swung about again, and took her with him to the wooden wall that contained a door and several empty niches. Juliana pondered that for a moment before he pulled the door handle down and shoved the structure open, and walked in, keeping her with him for every step.
“Lads, the shutters.”
Both brothers were at the far end of the room, pulling open shutter after shutter along the far wall. After the first one, Juliana could see the inverted V shape had been carved and thinned, so the windows were linked closer than the original thirty-foot depth of wall granted them. The result was a series of narrow windows, spaced closely together, gaining a view encompassing Buchyn Loch, a bit of dark land that was the opposite shore, and past that nothing but open sea.
The sky had cleared more, for sun sent the shadow of Castle Ketryck's battlements out to skip along the low-hanging wisps of clouds. Juliana's eyes followed the jagged outline of castle projected onto mist that was stained with the most unearthly glow as it reflected the multihued shimmer from the water beneath.
“Oh . . . Aidan.”
It was as if he'd planned for her to see this, and at the most perfect moment. Juliana's eyes were wide, and the same thing happened to her lips as her mouth dropped open. Her heart was hammering until it felt like a caged thing, shoving at her chest wall with every bit of how the experience touched her, spoke to her . . . entangled her even more with him.
Aidan cleared his throat beside her. “Arran? You're to fetch whatever the Lady Reina requires.”
He released the hold atop Juliana's left hand as he spoke, but she barely felt it. She was rooted to the spot in awe. And then she felt him pulling her hand off his arm before he turned away, although he didn't move.
“Alpin? You're to make certain she stays here. Guard the outer chamber. Nobody leaves. Nobody but Lady Reina enters. You ken?”
He was somehow in the space right in front of her, although she hadn't seen him move. He'd also tipped his head down and toward her, putting him so close his breath meshed with hers. Juliana was gripped by his gaze. He sighed out a huge breath, sending air all over her nose and lips.
“And now . . . I must go.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but didn't know what it would be. She should thank him. Something stopped her. Pride. Juliana stood to her full height, which was just below his chin, and faced him.
“You're safe now, Juliana. With me.” He swiveled from her and gestured for his brother. “Alpin . . . now!”
The last was clipped and rapid and angered. He was at the door in four steps, Alpin at his heels. Juliana watched him pull it open and then shut it behind him with a slam.
 
 
“You've brought a lady with you.”
Aidan lowered his chin and blinked, trying to bring into focus the elderly woman who was perched atop a stuffed stool engrossed in her sewing. Myriad tall vases of oddsmelling oils sat on shelves and tables in her tower. And then she'd lit the wicks within them, putting a haze of smoke into the room that was being caressed and then grafted by what daylight came through her window. He didn't know how she could see to sew.
“Have I?” he asked.
She smiled at her project. Murky sunlight washed her lined face, giving her a beatific and innocent aura and hiding the vituperative, malevolent, and evil woman.
“You knew it the moment you landed atop her.”
Aidan shrugged. “Which time?” he asked.
Dame Lileth Fallaine-Dumphat chuckled, bringing the lines into even more definition. She bent back to her sewing, putting two more nearly invisible stitches into the cloth, with thread that had the same issue. She might as well have been sewing with air between her needle and the fabric, Aidan decided.
“Every time . . . sweet laird. All of them. You knew her innocence. And you still took it.”
He grunted an answer.
“And now you come to me.”
“Aye.”
“It's . . . too late. Almost.”
He rolled his head atop his shoulders, listening for the cracking of bone, and then looked back at her. “Well . . . 'tis your fault. All of it.”
She laughed again at that. She lifted her bit of material and perused it while she spoke. “Your da had the same idea. He erred. I doona' control the fates. I only read them.”
“Then . . . read them.” He took a step farther into the room and looked about before trying to pierce the haze, which appeared to have thickened. This tower was granted to her by his grace, and taken away by the same. He watched as she assimilated the threat and then nodded.
“Rash. Reckless.” She shook her head and made a clicking noise with her tongue. “But there is also courageous. Victorious. Exactly as I foretold. Your da was a fool to argue it.”
Aidan pulled in a large breath and nodded. “So. Assist me.”
She stood with the heft of old age dogging her bones, and wadded the material into a roll on her arm. Aidan tried to pierce the smoke at her movements. She pushed at her material, shoving it onto itself again and again, over her lower arm, and from there to her hand, while it packed tighter and tighter and got smaller and more compact, until when she'd finished, there was a tear-drop-shaped thing that fit in the palm of her hand. Aidan watched it and still didn't believe it.
“When did you decide to make her your woman?” she asked.
“I dinna',” he replied.
“She is in your chambers . . . as we speak.”
“Oh. I dinna' decide that,” he clarified. “'Twas an impulse.”
“And when did this impulse happen?”
“The moment Lachlan stopped me.”
She nodded. Lifted her piece and twirled it in front of her face, back and forth, while what sunlight there was picking out facets on the thing. Aidan shut his eyes and shook his head; reopened them. It looked jewel-like, and that wasn't possible, either.
“Lachlan . . . MacGorrick. That one is a mistake of nature.”
“Aye. Kerr's father's cousin. That would be the Lachlan I speak of,” Aidan replied.
“You did it to keep her . . . safe?”
“I canna' keep her from the Black MacKetryck's machinations if I doona' ken where she is.”
“And . . . in your bed is the safest place?”
Aidan tilted his head to one side, sucked in on his cheeks, and still couldn't prevent the flush. He knew it was happening even without the slight reddish tint starting to color the smoke hovering in the room. She didn't see it since she'd decided to go to her fire, and poke a full blaze into existence from just a few embers, but he knew she was aware of his reaction. It was in the chuckling she kept doing.
“So . . . now the grand MacKetryck laird needs a charm from me?”
“More than one,” he admitted, blinking the red haze into a pinkish washed one.
“Lady Reina would have sufficed for that. Yet . . . you seek me. Despite your fear.”
“What fear?” he asked, lowering his voice and chin farther.
Dame Lileth Fallaine-Dumphat spun up from the fireplace and tossed something at him. Aidan twirled to one side, listening to the rain of blades hitting the floor from the skeans she'd tossed. And then popping with a distinctive sharp sound, making nothing more than black spots where he'd been standing.
“Rash. Reckless. And quick. I forgot to add that one,” she informed him before nodding. He watched her go back to her fire.
“You should have been put to the stake and burned,” Aidan said, watching her as close as possible through the red fog coloring his vision, getting deeper and then fading along with each beat of his heart. Red. Pink. Red.
“You'd be the third MacKetryck to try such. And all that happened is . . . the Lady Reina got disfigured. Scarred.”
“And that because I halted it and saved you. Both of you. Me. Aidan MacKetryck.”
She stood, pondered her fire for a moment, and then looked over her shoulder at him. Aidan tightened everything, preparatory to evading whatever she tossed again. Instead, she smiled.
“So . . . what do you ask of me, Aidan MacKetryck?”
“I need a charm. Of vast potency.”
“Vast?”
“To turn back time.”
She shook her head. “You think me a sorceress?”
“You doona' wish to ken what I think you,” Aidan replied. “I would not ask it, if I were you.”
She turned fully to him to stare from across the span of room. The fire leapt higher behind her, silhouetting her smokeblurred, thin, frail form. With the red coloring everything, it was macabre and sinister. Aidan locked his teeth and returned her look exactly as given. She finally sighed.
“Sweet laird . . . it might be something if you . . . had the ring?”
“The ring?” He shouldn't be surprised. He still was.
“The one with entwined serpents. Tucked into your sporran. That ring.”
Only three men knew of it. And none of them would betray him. Aidan put his hands on hips, attempting a relaxed, indifferent pose, but knew it was to stop the trembling. Dame Lileth Fallaine-Dumphat had always frightened him. Very few of his clansmen would be in the same room with her. And never alone.
“I doona' have it any longer,” he informed her.
She shook her head. “Pity.”
“What else would work?”
She ignored him for a moment and turned back to her fireplace and the small kettle that was now hanging from a hook in it. He narrowed his eyes on a smoke that was starting to itch and burn his eyes and watched her toss the strange prism she'd created from her material into the kettle. Then she put in one drop of liquid from another tall container. She stirred her kettle slightly to a clanking sound of metal on metal.
“'Tis a verra powerful thing . . . to turn back time, Aidan Niall MacKetryck. It also begs the question of why. What perchance would you change . . . had I the ability to do it for you?”
“What else would work?” he repeated.
“Would you wish to keep from meeting with her? Aidan Niall.” She was clicking her tongue again, fussing over her fire, shaking her head and speaking more to the flames than to him. “Fate canna' be changed so easily. She'd have crossed your path again. With even worse happenings.”
“Fate?” he asked, raising one brow.
“Or perhaps you need a potion to stop her potency to you? Is this what you came to Dame Lileth Fallaine-Dumphat for, sweet laird?”
He opened his mouth. Shut it.
“There is nothing against a love such as you both have. You ken?”
You both
. His ears heard it, but his heart was already hitting at him over it, putting a red wash to the haze in full, hued shades, coloring everything about the scene.
“So . . . what else can I do for you, Aidan Niall?”
He shook his head slightly, blinked, and cleared his throat. “Since you canna' do what I need, I ask a charm. A potent one.”
“I will na' stop the bairn you've planted in her belly. If this is what you wish . . . I warn you. The male child she carries is the start of your legacy. I will na' destroy it. You ken?”
His legs wobbled. His ears started ringing, and everything else on him was twitching. Jumping. Giddy with it. Giving him such a huge rush of sensation, he was weak and dizzy with it. Red colored everything and everywhere he looked. Aidan locked every muscle he owned and broke into huge heavy gulps for breath as if he'd just come in from a battle on the list. He heard her cackling in the background as an oddly resonant sound. He broke into a full sweat before he had the urge to faint finally conquered and buried again. His limbs were sore with it. His heart was a huge heavy pounding force with it.
BOOK: Knight Everlasting
4.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Brave Warrior by Ann Hood
The Crock of Gold by James Stephens
Juneau Heat by Tressie Lockwood
Carmen Dog by Carol Emshwiller
Lycan Warrior by Anastasia Maltezos
Primal Heat 1 by A. C. Arthur
The Fairy Ring by Mary Losure