The Pendulum (6 page)

"My lady," Cerdwin said.

Airin startled from her thoughts. "What?"

The maid stood at the door, a question written on her face.

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The fire crackled, reminding her of her earlier thought to replenish the wood. "Forgive me. I—"

"You should rest, my lady," Deryll said. "Cerdwin and I can make the necessary preparations."

She shook her head. "Nay. I mean, the contract."

Deryll's brow furrowed.

"We have no marriage contract," she said.

"Airin," her father rasped.

She turned.

"Do not wait," he whispered. "Wed now."

"Now?"

"Hand-fasting," he said.

"But the contract."

"Signed."

"What?" She looked helplessly at Deryll.

"We signed the contract the eve I arrived."

Airin stared. "Signed?"

"Aye, my lady."

She frowned. "My signature is all that is required."

"Aye, my lady."

"What a fool I've been," she murmured. When he did not reply, she lifted a brow. "No
aye, my lady?
"

"Nay, my lady."

"Produce this contract," she said.

"My chest," her father whispered.

Airin's heart jumped into her throat. "Cerdwin, quick! We must see to the wound."

Deryll grasped her shoulders. "Nay—"

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"Nay?!" she shrieked. "You would have him die? And why not? You have what you will." She beat at his chest.

"Airin," Deryll said.

"Bastard! I will give you nothing." She beat harder.

"Airin!" Cerdwin seized her arm, yanked her from Deryll's grasp, and slapped her.

Airin's hand flew to her stinging cheek. She stared at her old nursemaid. Never in twenty years had Cerdwin lifted even a finger against her. Fury blurred reason.

"
How dare you?"

"Cease," Cerdwin snapped. "Your father did not mean
his
chest." She pounded on her own chest. "He meant, the chest in his bedchamber."

Airin gasped. "By the saints." She seized Cerdwin's hands.

"Forgive me." She brought the nursemaid's hands to her lips.

"I am a fool."

"Aye," Cerdwin agreed. "But 'tis not me you have wounded."

Airin nodded. She released Cerdwin and dropped her gaze, unable to look at Deryll.

With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up. "I would prefer to see my betrothed's face as she makes her vows."

She wanted desperately to look anywhere but into his eyes, see anything but him, be anywhere he was not. Then she remembered her father. No daughter of Douglas Keith slinked from a battlefield. She gave a single nod. Deryll released her, then bent on one knee and tore a strip from the plaide covering her father.

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He rose. "Cerdwin, stand with us and be witness along with Lord Arbothnott." The maid moved closer and Deryll clasped Airin's hand, then looked in her eyes. "I will honor and care for you. Never shall I break this bond."

"I will honor you," she replied. "Never shall I break this bond."

Deryll draped the strip of plaide over their hands.

A tremor tilted the axis of her belly as she said in unison with Deryll and Cerdwin, "So the first binding is made."

"I will share your pain and seek to ease it," he said.

"I will share your pain and seek to ease it," she repeated, She watched Deryll's hand as he grasped an end of the plaide and wound it around their hands.

Her belly shifted another notch as they repeated in unison,

"And so the binding is made."

Deryll caught and held her gaze. "I will share your burdens."

His voice somehow seemed deeper, with a quality she couldn't quite define. "I will share your burdens," she repeated.

Deryll, again, wound the plaide around their hands.

"And so the binding is made," they chanted, her belly pitching with each word.

"I will share your joy," he said.

"I will share your joy."

He wound the plaide a final time.

"And so the binding is made."

Cerdwin tied the two ends, then let them drop.

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Deryll held her gaze. "As our hands are bound, so our lives and spirits are joined."

The brooch shifted between her breasts. Her belly heaved, and the room went black.

* * * *

and her father lay dying. She threw back the covers and jumped from bed as Cerdwin entered.

"Airin," she called sharply.

Airin took a step toward her. "My father."

"Is resting. There is naught you can do for him. Return to bed."

"How is he?"

The maid's eyes softened. She set the blanket she carried on the foot of the bed and came to Airin's side. "I speak the truth." She took Airin's hand in hers. "He is resting."

"Will he live?"

"Only God can say."

"Has he lost more blood?"

"Nay. The bleeding has ceased."

Airin closed her eyes and sent up a prayer of thanks.

"Now, back to bed with ye," Cerdwin said. "Your father would not be pleased to learn you are taxing yourself. Neither will your husband, for that matter."

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"Husband—" The wedding ceremony returned in a rush.

Airin eased back onto the bed. "'Twas no dream."

Cerdwin laughed. "You never cared for accepting something you didna' like." Her expression sobered and she opened the blanket to reveal a document. She extended it to Airin and opened her mouth, but Airin cut her off. "The wedding contract."

"Aye," the maid replied.

Airin took the document, and Cerdwin fetched the quill and ink blotter from the small desk beside the armoire. She dipped the quill in the ink, then handed it to Airin. Airin signed her name. The maid took the quill, placed it in the blotter, then set it on the side table. She reached for the contract, but Airin waved her off and began reading.

All the land bordering the south was now Deryll's. The hectares that surrounded them to the west and butted the loch were his. He owned everything, she realized, except the castle.
The first male born will receive
—Airin thrust the contract toward Cerdwin.

"I am finished."

The maid regarded her, but took the document without comment.

"Where is Sir Deryll?" Airin asked.

"Your husband is with Gewain."

"They have learned something?"

"I know not," the maid replied Airin glanced at the sundial. Not yet noon. She had slept nearly an hour. She wanted to curl up in the bed, then shake herself awake to discover she'd suffered a nightmare.

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She stood. "I am going to my father."

"Airin." Cerdwin's brow creased in worry.

Airin smiled softly. "Dear Cerdwin. You have served me well all these years. You have reared no fool. Do not fear. I am well. It is my father I would have you care for now." She grasped the maid's hand. "There is no one I trust more than you."

Cerdwin blushed. Airin hugged her, then started to turn.

She halted at sight of a rose petal stuck to Cerdwin's apron.

She plucked it from the cloth. "What is this?"

"The spices I am preparing for the wedding bed."

"Wedding bed?" Airin's gaze flicked to the bed.

"Aye." Cerdwin gave her a light elbow jab. "Be sweet when Sir Deryll comes to you. He is no fool, but ye need not throw the truth in his face."

Airin frowned. "What—"

"I have something for ye." Cerdwin stepped to the chest and opened it. She withdrew a small package wrapped in plain white cloth and tied with an ivory ribbon. She smiled shyly. "I saved this since ye were a girl."

Airin took the package, placed it on the bed, then carefully untied the ribbon. She laid it on the night table, unwrapped the cloth, then paused at sight of the snow-white flax fabric.

"Go on," Cerdwin urged.

Airin grasped the corners of the fabric and lifted it to reveal a shift. The tightly knit fabric was perfect. Blue embroidered flowers decorated the collar. "Cerdwin," she breathed, "'tis beautiful."

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"If anyone contests the marriage," Cerdwin said, "they will find everything in order, all the way down to the consummation before your father's death."

Airin looked up. "You said he was well."

"I said he was resting. There is no change. If he lives, it will be by God's grace."

Airin stared at her in shock. "How can I perform wifely duties while my father lay dying?"

The maid shrugged. "That depends on Sir Deryll. If ye are not cooperative, he can do the deed in minutes."

"I look forward to tonight with great anticipation," Airin said in a voice dripping with honey.

Cerdwin raised a brow. "Tonight? You will not wait until nightfall." She ran a critical eye down Airin's body, then sniffed. "Thank God ye do not smell."

"Cerdwin!"

"Och. Cease your bawling and listen. You love your father?"

"Of course."

She pinned Airin with a serious appraisal. "No man should carry his daughter into old age. Do your duty. Be a good daughter
and
wife."

Airin felt as if she would cry.

"Come now," Cerdwin said, "You have wanted children since ye were a bairn."

"Children?" She handed Cerdwin the night shift and left.

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At sight of Nathan guarding her father's door, Airin backed down a step on the stairway. Her heart pounded. Deryll feared for her father's life while he lay in his own bed? Her heart sank. Their safety—her safety—was truly gone. Live or die, her father had insured she now survived at the whim of another man.

She remembered the young man Deryll had been. How had that chivalrous boy become the infamous Scarlet Knight, a man who had decimated an English village that gave a fugitive refuge? That same bloodthirsty knight had posted a guard at her father's door when it would have behooved him to let her father die.

With a deep breath, she took the last stair and strode down the hall to her father's room. She nodded to Nathan as she opened the door and slipped inside. Airin paused. Douglas lay on his belly, face toward the door, eyes closed. The rise and fall of the covers was slight, but his breathing was steady. A low fire burned in the hearth. She crossed to the bed and lifted the covers. The bandage was fresh. Cerdwin was the finest nurse in the northern highlands. Airin returned to the door and opened it.

"Nathan," she said, "fetch Cerdwin from my room. If she is not there, find her."

He hesitated.

"Do not worry. I will bolt the door and not open it until you return."

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"Aye," he replied, and waited.

She closed the door, shoved the bolt into place, then turned her attention to the fire. When she had finished and Nathan had not returned, she knelt at her father's side and rested her head beside him. His steady breathing recalled a childhood memory of lying in his arms as the rise and fall of his broad chest lulled her to sleep.

She laughed softly. He used to tell Madeline and her that all children were born without guile. Fathers were the ones who taught them how to break God's law. Airin learned long ago her father lived as a pearl among swine. Why would such a man wed her to a killer? He insisted the stories about Deryll were rumors. She stroked his hair. Dark and wavy, like Deryll's, but peppered with silver. Her father was idealistic, but not stupid.

She buried her face in the blankets, afraid the tears she could not contain would wake him. If only she could—A door scraped against stone. Airin leapt to her feet to see the hidden door in the corner of the room being forced open. She jammed her hand beneath her father's mattress, located the dagger hidden there, then raced around the bed, slamming into the wall just as the door opened. As the intruder emerged from the secret passageway, she slashed downward before recognizing the broad shoulder.

Airin cried out as Deryll whirled, his forearm deflecting her blow. Bone jarring pain shot up her arm, and the dagger flew from her hand and hit the floor, skittering to the front door.

He shoved her against the wall and stared, eyes blazing. Her heart pounded against her ribs as if it would explode.

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"By God," she breathed, "what were you thinking?"

"Me?" He gave her a hard shake.

She stared, dumbfounded, then understood that he did not realize she hadn't recognized him before she struck. Stirrings of hysterical laughter gurgled in her belly. She pressed her lips together and gave her head a jerky shake. Deryll's eyes narrowed and her belly tightened with restrained laughter. By the saints, he would murder her—and she would not blame him! It was the strain of the day's events, she knew, but try as she might, she could not contain herself.

Deryll gave her another hard shake. "Has one murder given you a taste for blood, Lady?"

She shook her head, afraid to speak. His expression darkened.

"I—" she managed between gasps. "I, oh," she sputtered,

"'tis-tis too ri-ridic-u-lous. G-God for-give me."

Deryll glanced at the dagger.

"Deryll," she got out through laughter, "'tis you—'tis y-ou—"

He released her.

She doubled over. "I-I nearly k-killed you."

He gave her a recriminating look. "Not nearly. But it would have been a nasty wound."

"I thought you were an intru-der." She slapped her leg. "Y-you are a fool snea-king up on me."

Deryll stared at her.