Twilight Magic (17 page)

“Surely your Welsh kin would object to our marriage.” “Perhaps. I gather you have had time to consider how to go about annulling our marriage.”

“The matter crossed my mind.” And the more he’d thought about it, the angrier he’d become on Emma’s behalf. “The king crossed beyond reason when he ordered us to marry. You should not be forced to suffer wedlock to someone so far beneath you in rank.”

Emma stared at him hard before asking, “So you believe we can have the marriage set aside because of our difference in rank?”

“Perhaps. If you have no male relative who can vigorously protest the marriage, perhaps Earl William would take up the cause. Emma, why did you come forward in court? This could all have been avoided if you had not lied!”

Emma closed her eyes briefly, wondering why Darian went over this ground again. They’d had this argument before. Why couldn’t he accept what she’d told him?

“I did believe you when you told the king and bishop you were innocent, and your emphatic search for the true killer has proven me right. Sweet mercy, Darian, the guards were about to haul you out to the gallows! I could not let them do so!”

“Whyever not? What does the life of one common peasant matter to a lady of royal blood?”

Emma tightened her arms around her midriff to keep from slapping him. “I am not so full of myself that the quality of your blood matters one whit. Noble or peasant, the character of a man is measured by the truthfulness of his word and the honorable nature of his deeds. I saw an honest man accused of a crime he did not commit and sought to save him. Is that not enough?”

“Nay. You could not have truly known I did not kill de Salis. How dare you try to convince me you destroyed your standing with your peers, and set aside your aim to help Nicole, on a whim?”

A whim? How dare
he
!
She’d agonized over the decision. “The king was ready to let you hang!”

“What matter if a man you have never met or seen before hangs?” He took hold of her upper arms, his warmth seeping through her chemise. His hazel eyes pleaded for the truth. “Why Emma? Why risk all for me?”

He would be appalled, perhaps incensed. Telling the truth might cost her dearly. But she knew he would never believe the reason she’d given, would continue to harangue her for more.

Perhaps the time had come to tell him and let fate have its way. With a great deal of trepidation, she wet her lips.

“Because I saw you...in a vision.”

His eyes narrowed. “Vision? Like in a dream?”

“I was awake, but entranced.”

Darian’s hands fell away. He stepped back. “You are a mystic?”

She rubbed at the chill his hands left behind. “I truly wish I could claim to be a mystic and my visions heavensent enlightenment. But they are not. I am merely a woman plagued by unholy revelations of people and places.”

“So I was part of an unholy revelation, and because of it, you saved me from hanging?”

Not entirely unholy. “I had no choice.”

Visibly confused, he sat on the bed. “Tell me about these visions of yours.”

She’d never revealed the existence of her visions to anyone but her mother, who’d looked on her with pity, then advised her to tell no one else. Emma had obeyed that command all these years, and disregarding her mother’s admonishment didn’t come easy.

“I began having them as a child. I discovered that if I stared too long into water, I could see . . . people or places. My mother cautioned me to not invite them and to tell no one of what had been revealed. I am sure she feared for my wits, so she wanted no one else to know. I did as she commanded.”

Darian listened intently, not seeming repulsed, so she continued.

“Some of the visions have not yet come to pass. Of those that have, one was of my mother’s death in childbirth. I did as my mother ordered and kept the vision to myself. I have wondered ever after if by warning her, she might have taken cautions that would have saved her life.”

He shook his head. “You were a child. You cannot be held responsible for your mother’s death.”

Except the child had possessed the power to interfere and had done naught. Others might excuse the child, but Emma would forever bear the guilt.

“Perhaps my mother would have died anyway, but I will never know if by sharing my knowledge, she might have lived.”

He waved a dismissive hand, apparently deciding not to argue further. “Go on.”

“From the moment of her death, I decided I would have no more visions, would never again stare into a pool of water. I had no desire to view anyone else’s death, not knowing if I should give warning or no.”

“You no longer have visions?”

Not if she could stop them.

“At times I am caught unaware, and one begins to form. If I turn away quickly and concentrate forcefully on other things, the vision dies. Do you remember at Hadone, that first night, when a servant set a washbasin before me? I looked into the water, saw it go bloody, then closed my eyes.”

“I thought you suffered the onset of a headache.” “The headaches are a result of halting the visions. If I do not act quickly enough, the ache can last for several days. I was fortunately swift at Hadone, so I did not suffer long.”

He rubbed his face, absorbing what she told him. Was he remembering how he’d carried her up the stairs, or their first kiss, which he surely hadn’t intended but happened anyway? Her head had ached horribly, but his thoughtfulness and touch had been comforting, his kiss arousing and... healing.

The thought brought her up short. No potion or poultice or prayer had ever eased her pain. Yet Darian’s kiss had seemed to lessen the ache, allowing her to sleep. Could that be possible?

How foolish! She’d stopped the vision swiftly, that was all.

“Have all your visions come to pass?”

“Not all, as yet. Of some I do not know the meaning. There is a room I have not yet entered, a door I have not yet passed through, a young girl I have not met. I suspect all will come to pass, someday.”

“So you expect your visions to come true, as the one of your mother did.”

“Aye.”

“The vision of me. Did you see me hang?”

Far from it. A smooth-skinned, muscular chest. A glorious smile. A man very much alive.

“Nay. You did not die in the vision.”

“Then you did not lie to save me from certain death, as you thought you should have done to save your mother.”

Damn visions. How did one explain her dilemma where they were concerned? How angry and fearful they made her feel? How confused and uncertain?

“When I saw you in court that morning, I recognized you as the man in my vision. As matters went from bad to worse, I had to decide if I could live with myself if I did not interfere. That is the horror of the visions, not knowing if I must allow matters to take their course, or if I am expected to intervene to allow the vision to come true. I did nothing to save my mother. In your case I decided that if you were to live, as you did in my vision, then I could not allow them to hang you.”

“So your interference had naught to do with your belief in my innocence?”

“I
do
believe you, Darian. I did then, as I do now.” “So what did I do in this vision?”

Emma took a long, steadying breath. She’d been honest with him thus far and foreswore turning coward now. “You became my lover.”

“What?”
He rose from the bed, took a step toward her, then stopped. “In your vision we were lovers?”

“That is likely where I got the notion to tell the king you spent the night with me. I knew we would eventually come together, so I—”

Angrily, he pointed at the bed. “Is that what last night was about? You seduced me to make some dream come true?”

She thought she’d explained clearly. “Not a dream, but a vision that I had when I was but twelve.”

His arm lowered, his anger faded somewhat. “Twelve? So long ago?”

“Nigh on ten years now. Imagine my dilemma when I saw the man I knew would become my lover about to be hauled out to have a noose put around his neck. I had to decide what, if anything, I should do. Whether to interfere or no. Are you truly sorry I decided in your favor?”

“Aye. Nay.” He tossed his hands in the air. “How were you to know the hanging might not take place? Perhaps a witness would come forward or . . . or the king would change his mind.”

King Stephen might be famous for his changeable mind, but she hadn’t been willing to take the risk with Darian’s life.

“I did not know. And no witness has yet come forward, has he? Darian, the bishop was so intent on his justice, I feared to allow you to leave the royal chamber with his guards.”

Darian sat back down on the bed and ran his palms over his face. “This is... madness. Impossible. If I told this tale to anyone, they would lock me away... which is why I suppose your mother told you not to tell anyone of what you... see.”

Emma shuddered at the thought of being reviled, locked away. “You believe me?”

“Heaven forefend, I do. I just do not know what to make of it.”

“Nothing at all. We go on as we have, carry on as we are meant to.” She sat next to him on the mattress. “In my vision we became lovers, that is true. But I also think I was meant to interfere so you would live. I believe you have some destiny to fulfill. Perhaps it has something to do with de Salis, or maybe there is something of import you must do in the future. I do not know, nor do I wish to. All I know is that you are alive to face whatever fate has decreed, and that is enough for me.”

He shook his head, his mouth pursed. “So now you expect me to do great deeds in exchange for saving my life? You ask much of me, Emma de Leon.”

“I ask nothing of you, Darian of Bruges. You demand enough of yourself for both of us.”

He thought that over for a while. “So now your vision is fulfilled. You have done what you saw as your duty. What now?”

The vision wasn’t fulfilled. They’d become lovers, but not as she’d foreseen. Darian was upset enough without troubling him further. The vision would come true in time. Withholding a small piece of the truth should not matter overmuch.

“You find de Salis’s murderer to clear your name. We visit Nicole to determine her state of mind. I pray Earl William gives my petition to King Stephen and my request for her release is granted. We obtain our annulment and go on with our lives.”

“So easy as that?”

“What else can we do but go on?”

He turned to look at her fully. So somber. So weary. “This vision of yours. Any notion of how long we are to remain lovers?”

“For however long we wish to, I would imagine.” Then she kissed him to let him know that she wouldn’t mind being his lover for a while longer. And not just to fulfill a vision. Coupling with Darian seemed so natural, so right.

As they eased down on the mattress, she had the distinct feeling Darian was of the same mind.

Darian wanted the night to go on forever, with them tangled in the sheets, his body pressed against Emma’s.

He’d meant to sleep elsewhere and ended up in bed with her. Again. And at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Sated and bone weary, he couldn’t summon the will to move away from the woman sleeping in his arms.

Her revelations had been so astonishing Darian still wasn’t sure he’d absorbed all she told him of her visions—especially her vision of him.

A woman possessed of ancient and distinguished line-age, a Pendragon no less, had put reputation and life at risk to ensure her vision of him came true.

He pushed back several strands of silken hair from her cheek. How beautiful Emma was, inside and out. Of practical nature—most of the time—she was quick to smile and usually easy to talk to.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to a woman as much as he’d talked to Emma. On the ride to London, he’d revealed more of his past to her than any living being besides Earl William.

Emma had trusted him with the truth this time. As fantastical as her explanation sounded, he couldn’t believe she’d contrived the tale.

The visions she suffered bothered her immensely. She claimed the visions weren’t heaven-sent enlightenments but unholy revelations, and he could understand why she might consider them thus. How horrible for her to envision her mother’s death and not know what to do about it. So Emma had witnessed her mother’s death twice—in vision and then reality.

Unbelievable. Except he believed in her visions, just as she’d believed his innocence.

Not that he was an innocent.

What would Emma think of him if told he wasn’t merely a mercenary, but an assassin? If de Salis hadn’t been murdered on the streets of Southwark, the man would have died a few days later of a silent, secret assassination, of which Darian would have been guilty.

He could almost imagine her horror. Certes, she wouldn’t now be pressed skin to skin with him, sleeping peacefully.

He breathed in her enticing scent, deciding Emma didn’t need to know the whole truth. Were they in a permanent marriage, he might feel obligated to inform her of precisely how he served William of Ypres, of what he’d done in the earl’s service.

Except the marriage wasn’t permanent, so he saw no good reason to upset her. Emma believed him to be honest and honorable. The truth fell short of both.

Perhaps, when the time came to apply for the annulment, revealing the repulsive acts he’d committed might prove useful. No right-minded bishop, except perhaps Bishop Henry, would approve of a noblewoman’s marriage to an assassin. The pope certainly wouldn’t.

But that was for the future.

For now, ’twas probably best to do as Emma suggested and go on as they’d planned.

Too bad she disliked her visions so much that she’d stopped having them. What a boon if she could see de Salis’s murderer in a basin of water!

Could she control the visions? Likely not, or she wouldn’t fight them so hard, preferring the head pain to knowing what the future held. Had she ever tried to control the visions or merely learned how to halt them?

He shifted slightly to stare up at the ceiling he couldn’t see for lack of light. The brazier had gone dark and cold, pitching the room into blackness and allowing a chill to prevail.