Mistress of the Storm (19 page)
Ornolf had barely closed the door behind Sigurd when Duncan collapsed to the floor, his head burning and throbbing with unbearable pain. Ornolf helped him to the bed and gave him a draught against the pain.
“It went well,” he said after swallowing down the putrid concoction.
“How did you do it, Duncan? You have never been able to control it before,” Ornolf asked as he helped him to lie down.
“I know only that Isabel is the difference.”
“You are depending on her for much. Should you place so much importance on a wh—?” Ornolf stopped before uttering the word.
“She is the key, my friend. Doubt it not.” Duncan began to slur his words; the brew was already taking effect. “Since she appeared, I have learned how to let only a sliver of the power through. And she’s tempered the aftermath. She is . . .”
As he fell asleep, he hoped the numbness would follow the pain for seeing her face when she found out he was marrying her sister would only be manageable without his emotions to tear him apart.
He signed the betrothal contracts in the morning before Davin and five other men. He did not dare tell Davin too much, so the look of betrayal on his friend’s face was terrible to behold. Davin trusted him though and did as he’d asked him in serving as a witness. He would send Ornolf to explain everything later. In the meantime, he’d told Davin to send his wife to her relatives on Lewis and to be on guard.
Four days had passed since he’d left his farm and as he sailed back to Uig with Sigurd and the others who would witness the exchange of vows, all he could think about was Isabel.
There would not be time enough to explain things to her, so she would hear of his betrothal when they arrived. He did not want to die knowing she hated him, but Duncan thought that might happen. He dared not explain anything until Sigurd and the others were gone, but by then it might be too late. A marriage feast, even the small one he planned, would last for days and they would be under scrutiny at every moment. Now that she was his, he could take her to his bed without anyone looking twice at them, but he doubted she would sleep with her sister’s husband.
And he needed her more than ever before.
His body was readying itself for the ritual, two weeks away, even though he had called forth the tinest bit of power to heal Godrod. What did she have within her that enabled him to control the healing? As he’d told Ornolf, he knew she was responsible for the change in him—allowing him to pull the power in as though gathering the reins of a runaway horse and bringing it under control. Even as it bucked and tried to throw him off, he held it, feeling it flexing and stretching under his hold.
If only he had found her sooner . . .
If only he understood how he received the power or why . . .
If only their love could save them from the disasters that waited for them in the coming days . . .
The boat turned south, following the coast and he saw the bay tucked in ahead. Sigurd looked far too pleased with himself and Duncan hoped he was not making a terrible mistake. His new will was signed and left with Davin who would see it executed. Under usual circumstances, if he did not consummate the vows, the marriage would be invalid and Thora would have her dowry returned to her. Her bride-price would return to him, leaving her to an angry Sigurd’s control. Consummated, their marriage and his death would leave her a widow, protected by his name and with enough wealth to live without Sigurd’s interference.
Plans spun in his head, each one with its weaknesses and strengths, each one ended to the advantage of someone, but never to Isabel. The boat’s crew prepared to dock and Duncan took a deep breath, readying himself to hold all the threads together while he tried to weave an end that would leave Isabel whole and happy again.
As they climbed on the dock and found Sigurd’s daughter waiting there, he also heard that eerie laughter echoing around them. No one else seemed to hear it, but he finally knew what it was—the laughter of the fates as he tried to outsmart them and control his own ending.
Chapter Twenty
Duncan’s farm, near Uig
I
sabel had tried to keep busy as she waited for Duncan’s return and word as to whether Sigurd had agreed to his request or not. If Godrod had passed on her words to Sigurd, he would want to know more about the power Duncan possessed so he could plan how to control the man who possessed it. If allowing Duncan to use her for a few more weeks was the price, Sigurd would acquiesce to the request, knowing a larger prize awaited him.
sabel had tried to keep busy as she waited for Duncan’s return and word as to whether Sigurd had agreed to his request or not. If Godrod had passed on her words to Sigurd, he would want to know more about the power Duncan possessed so he could plan how to control the man who possessed it. If allowing Duncan to use her for a few more weeks was the price, Sigurd would acquiesce to the request, knowing a larger prize awaited him.
Two days had passed, then a third and Duncan still did not arrive. With only two weeks left until the next full moon, she grew restless knowing how he must need her. On the fourth morning after his departure, she decided that walking to Uig with Gunna and Harald would ease her. So, they set off in mid-morning for the village.
When they reached it, Gunna and Harald walked on without her. Gunna tried to convince her to accompany them, but Isabel was content to go only that far. The day was a pleasant one, though the cooler autumn winds warned of the impending change of seasons. The harvest was complete, and a feast would be held amongst those who worked the farm for Duncan to celebrate the success of the year’s crops. As the year rolled on, Isabel had lost track of the time until Gunna mentioned Samhain’s approach.
And the anniversary of Duncan’s birth.
He’d shared so few personal details and the fact that he was born on the ancient pagan feast day was one he’d forgotten to tell her. Gunna had planned something to mark the day until Harald pointed out it was also the day when the moon would reach its fullness.
And Duncan would suffer the very torments of hell after using his gift to heal any number of people in need.
If he was correct, their physical relations had eased the effects of the torment caused by the flaring of the power in him. He could not explain much more than that, but it gladdened her heart to think she did help him. The pleasure they shared was something she would always treasure.
Her cheeks felt hot as she thought on that last day together. She would like to think he’d looked at her with love but she did not want to fool herself in that way. He cared. He was considerate in his own way. That was enough and would always be.
Someone approached on the path and Isabel stepped into the shadows, fearing a repeat of Godrod’s attack. He had not been seen or heard from since that day, but she knew his methods and ignoring an insult was not his way. He would retaliate at some point. Just as she pushed back into the bushes, Gunna came running up the path.
“Isabel, Duncan has returned. He is on a boat that just docked. Come, let’s greet him!” she called out to her, waving her forward. “Harald waits for us ahead.”
Isabel considered refusing, but changed her mind. Duncan had been gone for two days more than he’d said and the bed had been empty and cold without him. She followed along, keeping her gaze on the ground ahead of her, not looking at the people they passed. Soon, the noise of the port made her glance up at the comings and goings all around her. She’d never dared to venture that far into Uig. It was an interesting place, even though it was a small village.
“There he is!” Gunna pointed to a large boat being tied up to the dock. A number of men climbed from it and made their way up the wooden path to the main street. Duncan walked next to Ornolf, speaking to him as they moved through the crowd.
And Sigurd followed close behind them.
Her ears buzzed as if a thousand bees were trapped inside them, and she found it difficult to breathe. Sigurd came to Uig? Had Duncan been unable to negotiate as he’d planned? Had Sigurd come to retrieve her? Her hands began shaking and she could not stop them. Then her whole body trembled, stopped only by a voice she’d never expected to hear.
“Isabel? What are you doing here?” Thora asked.
Isabel turned to her sister, shaking her head in disbelief. “Did you come with Sigurd? How did you get here?” she asked in reply.
“Nay, not with him, but to meet him. Father sent word that I was to meet him here.” Thora leaned closer and whispered to her. “He has signed betrothal contracts, Isabel! I am to be married!”
Though Thora tried to hug her, Isabel backed away from her. It was too much of a coincidence for Thora to be there just as Sigurd and Duncan arrived from Duntulm together. “I do not understand, Thora. Who are you to marry?”
Before Thora could reveal his name, Sigurd barreled into Isabel, sending her sprawling on the ground. “Whore! I told you not to approach my daughter,” he shouted. Placing himself between Isabel and Thora as though even Isabel’s glance would contaminate her sister’s innocence, Sigurd took Thora by the arm and led her to Duncan.
In shock, and in the midst of the gathering crowd, Isabel climbed to her feet and brushed the dirt from her gown. Gunna was on the other side of the street, unable to get to her. Harald stood on the other side of Duncan. Duncan said nothing to her, his gaze filled with sadness until Sigurd brought Thora to stand before him.
No!
It could not be!
“Duncan, this is Thora, my daughter.” Sigurd took Thora’s hand and placed it in Duncan’s. “Thora, Duncan is your betrothed husband. I wish you much happiness together.”
Isabel fell back, rushing away from the scene before her. The last thing she saw was Duncan taking Thora’s hand and lifting it to his mouth to kiss it. Pain, black and slashing, struck Isabel then, forcing the breath from her body. The air around her began to sparkle and she knew she was fainting. No one helped her. Many stepped away so they would not touch her as she fell again. The shouting of the crowd, congratulating the betrothed couple, woke her from her stupor only moments later.
The crowd had grown and so she escaped down an alley between houses, making her way out of the village. When she reached the path that would lead her back to the farm, she knew everyone would be going there.
She could not return there and watch Duncan marry her sister.
Confused and desolate, she ran in the other direction, making her way along the narrow walkway to the south of the village where few people were. Small fishing boats lay on the sandy beach waiting for the tides to lift them back into the water. Fishermen worked on their nets, preparing them for the next catch, while the day’s catch was cleaned and taken to the village to be sold or fed to their families.
She ran past them all, seeking the edge of the water where she could be alone to make some sense of it all. But standing there as the waves swelled onto the sand did not ease the pain in her heart or the confusion in her soul. Everything blurred around her and she stood in mindless agony. It was worse than anything she could have imagined.
She had no idea how much time passed as she stood there unmoving. She had not the strength to think of what to do. Until someone pulled her back, she had no idea the rising tide washed around her, wetting her feet, her legs and much of her gown. Dragged to higher ground, Isabel recognized Harald, who held her upright as she swayed, ready to fall once more.
“Come, Isabel.” He pulled and half carried her along the sand back toward the village street. She did not bother to stop him.
He guided her down several small alleys until he brought her to the door of a small cottage. Harald knocked on it softly and waited for someone to open it. The woman was familiar in a vague way, but Isabel did not ever remember meeting her. ’Twas her name that brought back the memory of how she knew her.
“Margaret, the Healer asks for your help,” Harald said.
“Anything, Harald. I would do anything he asks of me.”
Isabel glanced up, curious to know who would pledge such blind loyalty to him. It was the woman who’d thought herself increasing at the last ritual. The one Duncan had healed. Margaret moved back and let Harald take Isabel into the first chamber, then farther inside, gently seating her on a chair near the hearth.
“Isabel needs a place to stay for now. Can she bide with you?” he asked.
Isabel could see agreement in the woman’s eyes and it made her force words out. “I cannot stay here, Harald. Tell her why.”
“Isabel . . .” He looked at her, then at Margaret.
She was ready to tell the woman why she should not take her under her roof and risk her reputation when Margaret took her hand and rubbed it between her own.
“You are chilled to the bone, Isabel. Let me get you into some dry clothes.”
With a glance, she dismissed Harald and began to peel off the wet layers of clothing. In silent, efficient movements, Margaret got her undressed and into a clean shift. Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, Margaret then pressed a mug of steaming cider into her hands and urged her to sip it.
Isabel wanted to refuse, but could not find the strength to do so.
“Do you have need of something, Isabel?” Margaret asked. “Are you ill?”
“I am not ill,” Isabel whispered.
It was only that her worst fears had come to pass. Her heart had awakened from its slumber and been stolen by the man she’d feared would be her undoing. Worse, he’d taken her soul and betrayed the love she’d given him. After struggling for the last years to protect herself so she could survive and live, she no longer wanted to.
Duncan had never been so tormented as he was when he saw Isabel in Uig. As he climbed from the boat, Sigurd pointed out his daughter Thora and led them to her, all converging at the same time in the same place.
He read the surprise, then disbelief on Isabel’s face even across the distance between them and watched as she reacted to the news Thora must have told her. He’d paused for only a moment to try to find Ornolf or Harald but it was long enough for Sigurd to spy her speaking to Thora. Before he could intervene, Sigurd had tossed Isabel to the ground, then brought Thora to him.
Forced to play the game out, he’d stood and accepted the girl as his betrothed, not allowing himself to seek out Isabel for fear of disavowing his well-laid plans in the face of her heartbreak. As the crowd began cheering the news, many approached to wish him well and it was some time before he could speak to Harald or Ornolf about her. She’d disappeared and he’d sent Harald searching for her, suggesting he look for her in the one place he knew she’d go—near the water.
As they approached his farm, with Sigurd playing the proud father to his demure daughter, all Duncan could do was think about Isabel and worry about her condition . . . and compare her sister to her.
He could find little resemblance between the two women other than their dark hair and light eyes. Separated by about four years, he guessed, neither of them looked at all like Sigurd. Thora smiled and acted interested in everything Duncan said, but he caught warning glances from Sigurd and fear in her eyes more than once on the journey.
She’d been in the hall that night when he’d taken Isabel to his chambers, yet she gave no sign of recognizing him at all when he was introduced to her. That was what a respectable woman would do, of course, and she played her part well, ignoring his baser needs. Ignoring the fact he had taken her sister to his bed.
They crossed through the last line of hills separating his farm from the coast and he watched her reaction as they followed the path down to it. It was nothing like the opulence of his chambers at Duntulm, for he preferred the easy comfort of the smaller chambers and the privacy of separate buildings for those who lived and worked there. The needs that became irresistible each month made it necessary for him to have a place where no one else lived. Those needs grew within him even now, calling to the one woman who could save his body and soul.
Margaret would see her safe until he could speak to her and try to gain her cooperation. Margaret was happy to help, just as anyone living in Uig who had benefitted from his ability to heal would be, if he asked. They kept his ritual secret and told no one who was not invited to it. They’d welcomed him into their midst and given him a place to call home, never treating him as the man without a name or a home that he was. And they would ignore Isabel’s past with only a word from him.
They rode into the yard, where his men took the horses from them. Climbing down, he noticed Thora could ride well. Sigurd walked to her side and they spoke quietly as Duncan gave instructions about the sleeping arrangements and the news of his betrothal. Clearly, it did not sit well with those who knew Isabel, but they gave him their begrudging acceptance and went off to carry out the tasks he’d given them. In a short time, he saw Sigurd and Thora settled in Gunna and Harald’s cottage while arrangements were made for the rest of Sigurd’s men to sleep in the empty barn.
Their vows would not be spoken until the next week, as close to the full moon as he could wait. The wedding would take place before five of the six witnesses who’d overseen the contracts. Davin had not returned to the farm with them, so Duncan would call on Harald who, as a freeman, could witness legal contracts and ceremonies. Gunna would hire a few women from Uig to help with cooking and preparing the wedding feast. Sigurd had asked him to delay so Thora could get accustomed to him before they married. Since Duncan had no intention of actually consummating the marriage, he agreed and made arrangements to take Thora riding in the morning.
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