Wild Is My Love (14 page)

Kyra took the items from Giselde’s hand and repeated the chant twice to make certain she knew it word for word. She asked the woman a few more questions, paid her generously, then left. With the rose amulet in her possession, Earnon and her mother could not dupe her to do their bidding. As to saving Alric, she would have to consider that good deed a while longer. Her next task was to convince Earnon to teach her all he could about his skills, no matter what she had to do for the sorcerer in payment. Whatever happened, she had the means to rid herself of one enemy…

Alysa waited for ten minutes after Kyra’s departure before approaching Giselde’s hut. When she entered, Giselde looked at her and sighed heavily in displeasure. “Do not scold me, Granmannie. I was following Kyra and she led me here. What did she want? Does she know who you are?”

Giselde warned, “It is dangerous to trail her or her
mother, Alysa. If you are seen, they will know you suspect them of evil. I fear you are going to defeat us with your blind intrusions.” Despite the hurt look on Alysa’s face, Giselde did not apologize or soften her words. “Kyra came to see the witch, not Giselde,” she disclosed, then related the girl’s visit, except for her teaching of the “Acumla me Ra” chant.

“Why would you help her, Granmannie? You know Kyra was speaking about my father. Do you think she will try to help him?”

“The burying spell and rose amulet are harmless tricks to fool her. I would never help Isobail’s daughter hurt those we love. She suspects her mother’s black deed, but I do not think she would thwart it. Why did you not listen at the back door?”

“I feared it would creak and warn her of my presence. You were right to warn me not to come here at this dangerous time. I shall obey you now.”

“Is your father better today?” Giselde inquired.

“I do not know, but others say he is. I thought it best to wait a few days before I try to see him again.” Alysa told Giselde what had happened to the court bard and what plans she and Leitis had made.

Giselde worried over Alric’s returning health. If Leitis was swapping the drugs, Alric should remain abed. How, she fretted, could he be getting better? “I know you wish to help your father, Alysa, but is it right to endanger your life and those of your loyal servants to do so? Do you realize what Isobail could do to you and to them?”

Alysa’s expression revealed that Giselde’s words had struck home. “Do not worry, Granmannie. After Leitis exchanges the poison for your healing herbs, she will take no more risks. I did not tell her I also suspect Father’s wine is being drugged. I will use the secret passage to swap the wine jugs each day. As soon as he is stronger and realizes what has been happening, he
will put a stop to it. We only need a few days and it will be over.”

Giselde knew about the secret passage from her daughter Catriona, but she had not given it thought since leaving Malvern Castle. Later she would think about the secret passage and its possible use. “What if you carry out your plans and Alric does not get well?”

“If they are poisoning him and we stop it, he must recover.”

“Yea,
if
they are poisoning him,” Giselde said.

“What about Guinn? He ate Father’s food and became ill.”

“What if the food was bad? What if he has the real gripans? Be careful until you possess the truth, Alysa, even if it is not the truth you expect. Be cautious of Kyra, my naive princess, she is wicked. Do not trust her despite her overtures of friendship.”

“I know she has not changed,” Alysa said. “One day she will be sorry for her wickedness. And I promise I will not chance coming here again unless it is urgent. Stay safe and well, Granmannie.” They embraced fondly and Alysa departed for home.

As Alysa walked Calliope from the hidden ravine, the sound of pounding hooves reached her, then Squire Teague rounded a bend in the dusty road’ and sighted her. Teague had lived at Malvern Castle since age seven, when he’d been sent there by his family to become a page, as was the custom. Often Alysa had played and talked with him as if he were her brother. She was delighted that her two closest friends—Thisbe and Teague—had discovered each other and hoped to marry. Now she joked with Teague and parried his questions about why she was in the forest by explaining her desire to seek a few hours of solitude. She felt guilty at not explaining her real reason for being in the area, but knew that by doing so she could endanger the lives of others.

As she mounted, Teague glanced at Alysa’s garments and frowned. He said, “Many would not deem it proper for our future ruler to be riding around the countryside dressed as a peasant girl, especially without an escort.”

Alysa laughed merrily and challenged him, saying, “Prove I need an escort by keeping up with me.” She kneed Calliope and raced down the dirt road until she almost reached the edge of the forest.

When Teague pulled up beside her, she laughed and joked, “See, dear Teague, I can outrun any man. I do not require an escort, not even a handsome one like you.”

Gavin’s heart sank at the obvious affection in his love’s voice. So, this is “dear Teague,” he thought from his concealed position. He wondered what she would do if confronted by both men simultaneously. Whom would she pick, her knight-to-be or her “wandering warrior”?

Just then, Alysa glanced over Teague’s shoulder and sighted Gavin, grinning devilishly. Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply. Teague missed her reaction to Gavin’s surprise appearance because he was striking at a bee.

Alysa felt her heart quicken as Gavin motioned for her to join him before he stepped out of sight. She hurriedly dismounted, calling over her shoulder to Teague as she hurried into the trees, “Meet me at the edge of the forest. I need a few moments of privacy.”

Gavin guided her a short distance from the road to speak privately. “What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly. “I thought you left this area yesterday.”

“I had to gather supplies for my men and me before we begin our journey. I shall be leaving immediately. I was returning to our spot to leave this for you,” he said, pulling a small bouquet from behind his back. The colorful flowers were bound with a strip of green yarn that matched his eyes.

Alysa’s hands trembled as she accepted the gift. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the wildflowers and lifted her eyes to meet his compelling gaze. There was a curious sparkle in his expression which she could not comprehend, but it intrigued her. If only she could yield to him as she did in her dreams, wildly, passionately, and shamelessly. She dreamed of him every night, which caused her desires to mount, her resistance to lower. Everything was so natural, so romantic, so uninhibited in her dreams. Why was it not like that in reality?

Gavin reached for her and drew her into his arms, and she eagerly sealed her lips to his in a knee-weakening kiss. He was pleased that she so willingly accepted his attentions, but not anticipating her unbridled desire, he was caught unprepared to control this assault on his senses. His arms tightened around her and his kisses intensified with longing. He was disappointed when she pushed him away, until she said, “I must go now. Please return soon, my wandering warrior; we must talk, for you haunt me day and night.”

As Gavin watched Alysa’s retreating back, he thought victoriously,
Giselde must be wrong, for you came when I beckoned. Next time we shall not part before we settle this matter between us, for you, too, haunt me day and night.

Guinn did not get well that day, and Earnon was baffled by the lingering illness. But the bard failed to mention his visit from Leitis and the drink she brought him, milk laced with the herbs from Giselde. Earnon concluded that part of Guinn’s problem must be the gripans, and he dismissed the minstrel from mind.

Earnon remained in his chambers most of the day while devising a plan to get rid of Baltair, Alric’s advisor and seneschal who was away from the castle on royal business. Baltair was too loyal to his prince, and a threat
to Isobail. He had to be dealt with soon because he’d begun to question Alric’s lingering illness. Therefore, it was the next day before Earnon learned that Alric had continued to improve, and he did not suspect it was because Leitis had again provided a healthy meal.

Responding to the knock on his chamber door, Earnon was surprised to find the beautiful daughter of Princess Isobail standing there. “It nears bedtime, Princess Kyra. Did you wish something from me?”

Kyra smiled as she boldly walked past him into his outer room. She turned provocatively and answered, “Yes, dear Earnon; I wish to talk with someone whose words are worth hearing and whose company is worth sharing. I have been restless for months, and now I know what troubles me: my life and energies are being wasted. You are a master wizard, and I hunger to learn the mysteries of nature. I wish to learn about the forces and powers in and around us. I wish to learn how they are controlled. Teach me all you know, Earnon. Let me study with you. It would be a great honor to serve you as your assistant. You have no child, Wise One; let me become heir to your vast knowledge.”

As Earnon stared at her as if dumbfounded, Kyra realized he was caught unprepared for her requests. Her glance slipped over his almost ebony eyes, matching hair, and dark complexion: colors reflected in the same dark blue sheen of his tunic. Although not handsome, there was something compelling in his strong, dark features. Perhaps, she mused, it was an aura of power and mystery which drew her to him. Such an attraction would make her task easier, if he asked in payment what other men might demand. She stepped close to him, rested her hands on his chest, and coaxed, “Please, Earnon. Let me work with you. Share all you have with me, and I will do the same with you. Ask anything of me to test my honesty. Anything, Earnon, anything…”

Earnon gazed into Kyra’s upturned face and was ensnared
by her soft eyes and flesh. His hands longed to wander into her silky hair, hair as bright as the full moon, hair that reached below her tiny waist. Kyra was not cold, unreachable, greedy like the mother she favored. The thought of Princess Isobail and everything he stood to gain or lose flooded his mind. “I do not think your mother would wish me to instruct you in such mysteries as I know.”

Kyra noticed the heat in his expression, the trembling of his body, and the change in his breathing. She knew what she wanted from this man, and she was willing to do anything to get her way. She pressed her full body against his and murmured, “These matters are between us, Earnon, and no one, not even my mother, should interfere. Can you not sense the strong bond between us? Or feel the fires that burn within us? They have been growing stronger every day since your arrival. I have waited three years for you to seek me out as your student and lover, but you have avoided me. Your lips have not called to me, but I can resist your mind’s summons no longer. Tell me I am mistaken, that you grasp no bond between us, and I will leave your chambers and never enter them again.” She caressed his tense jawline and rubbed her loins against his. “I am of age, Earnon, but no man has appealed to me or taken me, for I dream only of you. Either it is fate drawing me to you, or you have bewitched me. If you are concerned because of your position with Mother, we will hold all things that happen between us a secret.”

Earnon’s desire was so large and his heart was thudding so forcefully that he had difficulty breathing. The only time he took a woman was when his body demanded appeasement and he forced a pleasing wench to do his bidding. This girl was ravishing; she was ripe and tempting, and she was offering herself to him. Maybe the liaison was perilous, but her offer was too stimulating to resist. “You must not reveal our closeness
to your mother,” he said. “She has many things on her mind, and she would be angry with us for distracting her. I am certain she would not agree to giving her daughter to a lowly wizard.”

Kyra’s arms encircled his body and she snuggled against his chest, hiding her victorious smile. “I swear she will suspect nothing between us. I wish to learn all things from you. But tonight, there is only one thing you must teach me,” she said, then pressed her lips to his.

Kyra grasped the height of Earnon’s lust when- his arms banded her body and his mouth claimed hers almost painfully. As if he could not master his craving for her, Earnon’s hands hurriedly undressed Kyra and guided her into his sleeping chamber. Casting aside his flowing garment, Kyra saw he was eager for her possession. Tasting a victory over her mother by proving her power over Earnon was stronger than Isobail’s, Kyra greedily feasted on Earnon’s mouth as the man took pleasure from her body.

In his chambers at Malvern Castle, Prince Alric was trying to walk, testing his gradually returning strength. His mild recovery delighted him, as he had eaten and drunk little for days.

For two days he had not suffered from vomiting, or soiled himself like an infant. As he did yesterday and the day before, Alric did not eat the thick soup. He nibbled on the hot, crusty bread and a delicious fruit treat he had been served. Neither had he touched his wine yet. He moved from bed to table to chair to window to door to bed again. He quivered from weakness and his body was damp from his exertions, but he felt good. His head was clearer than it had been in weeks; no, in months. Even his color was better today.

The prince returned to his bed and leaned on the pillows lining the headboard. The slow walk had been tiring, but refreshing. Hope returned to him. He sipped the insidious wine as he sent his thoughts to wandering. For years he had been consumed by guilt over his secret seduction of Isobail and over not claiming his only son, Moran, born of that folly. Those burdens had weighed heavily upon him, but he felt there was no way he could remove them. If he held silent, Moran would never know he was heir to the Damnonian Crown after Alysa,
nor would Alysa know that Moran was her half brother, not her stepbrother, as she and all believed.

During these seemingly endless and miserable months in bed, Alric had time to reflect on his past and on his character. He had come to recognize his flaws. He realized how many mistakes he had made, most of them because he was selfish or a coward or a weakling. He realized he could have destroyed himself and all he loved if it had not been for Bardwyn, Catriona, and Alysa. If only he were more like them; but he was not, and never could be.

His life had been so lonely since Catriona died. How he wished he could find another love to replace her. Isobail was not that woman. If Isobail had not been carrying his child four years ago—or claimed she was—he would not have married her. The ravishing blonde was enormously pleasing and eager to sate his desires, but she did not know how to be a friend when a lover was not needed. Alric could not share his life with Isobail as he had with Catriona. He missed genial talk, smiles and laughter, romantic walks, leisurely rides, swims in the river, cozy evenings by a fire, and countless other things he had enjoyed with Alysa’s mother.

With Isobail at his side, he was not free to seek another special love like Catriona had been. He hated to think of his life remaining until death as it was now. Yet he could not cast Isobail aside without a just reason.

Just reason,
Alric mused as he sipped more wine. According to his spy Guinn, Isobail was not giving him cause to put her aside as she had done with Lord Caedmon Ahern.

Alric wondered if the warlord ever suspected about the other man, or men, in Isobail’s bed. If her husband had lived a while longer, the unborn Moran would have become an undeniable truth to Lord Ahern about his wife’s infidelity. There was no denying that Caedmon’s death had been most convenient for his deceitful wife.

Yet, Alric begrudgingly admitted, Isobail did have some good skills; she seemed to be running his castle and land efficiently while he was sick. And before his illness she had been excellent in bed. There was no denying that Isobail possessed the knowledge to drive a man wild, then slake his carnal needs most pleasurably. He had never forgotten those obsessive nights with her at Lord Caedmon’s, nor those following Catriona’s death; body-pleasing nights that had entrapped him. He mused: if only Isobail were a wife in ways other than feverish lovemaking… The only true wife and love he had ever known was Catriona. He still missed her, and feared this emptiness would never leave him, for how could any woman replace such a rare prize? Nothing had dulled Catriona in his heart, not removing all signs of her, nor taking another wife. He would give anything to have her back at his side once more, and the realization that her loss was permanent induced sheer agony. He prayed that she had died unaware of his lustful betrayal, as she would never have understood a man’s weakness or forgiven him for joining his body to another woman’s and siring another’s child, especially a son, when his true love had been unable to bear him one.

When he had married Catriona and taken her from her home in Albany, he swore to protect her, and he had failed. As he had failed his father, King Bardwyn. The king had once opposed his marriage to a “pagan savage,” a woman of mixed Viking and Celtic blood. But then his father had relented and given him the principality of Damnonia to rule. No doubt Bardwyn hoped he would become the son and worthy leader that he should be. But Alric felt he had failed himself, his land, his family.

It was the death of his and Catriona’s first child, a son, that had caused him to err. As always, he had blamed his flaws on innocent events. His beloved wife
had rushed into the arms of her people to heal her wounds, not into his, and he needed her desperately after that loss. He had been lonely, angry, and jealous during her year-long absence from his side, and had used those feelings to justify his wickedness and fail ures…

Now he could no longer hide from the dark truth tormenting him. He was a ruler who had appeared strong but was not; not without his love. When Catriona sought her comfort elsewhere, he had fallen into Isobail’s arms.

It happened while he was visiting Lord Caedmon, a vassal who always seemed to compete with him in words and wits. Caedmon Castle was located nearly at the edge of his land, bordering on the sea. Its surroundings were on black slate headland, a bleak area with a nearly impregnable dwelling. The rock coast and gloomy setting added to his sullen mood. The cliffs outside the castle windows were steep, and waves slapped angrily against them. It was a stronghold few warriors dared to challenge. Yet there was a wild beauty about the place with its coves and cliffs of serpentine rock, its gray granite lands and mystic moors.

He had needed something to appease the fierce emotions warring within him, and Isobail had been there. After days of quarrels with Caedmon, he had been filled with the malicious urge to shame his rival. Stimulated by the malicious thoughts of cuckolding Caedmon and of mentally punishing Catriona for her continued absence, Alric had sought out Baltair, his advisor. He had forced’ Baltair to prepare a potion to be slipped into Isobail’s wine.

Concealing himself in the woman’s chambers, he had spied on Isobail as she prepared for bed that night. Isobail had been, as she still was, a ravishing creature with long white-blond hair and sky-blue eyes. Her skin was as soft as freshly milled flour and nearly as smooth
and white. Her sleek body had caused waves of desire to flood his loins. He watched Ceit, her servant, brush her hair until it glimmered in the candlelight, then massage her shapely body with fragrant oil. As the two women talked, he learned about her passionate nature, and her husband’s impotency.

That night, and for six weeks of stolen nights, the potion that drugged Isobail enabled Alric to slip into her bed and have her without resistance. Baltair had warned him over and over of the consequences of his actions, but he had been too intoxicated by his sport and blinded by his pleasures to stop. Too, the secrecy and danger of the liaison had enlivened him.

Finally Baltair had persuaded him to cease his madness and to leave Caedmon Castle. Later, Alric learned of Caedmon’s sudden death and of Isobail’s pregnancy. Since the knight who had been her lover had died -before he left Caedmon Castle, Alric assumed the baby she was carrying was his.

He brought Isobail and her small daughter Kyra to Malvern Castle and placed them in a comfortable hut located in the outer ward. When Isobail bore her second child, Alric had raged inwardly at the injustice of his firstborn son bearing another man’s name. Moran should have been born a Malvern, not an Ahern. He had ached to claim him, but he could not.

Meanwhile, his beloved Catriona had returned, bringing her mother with her. The bloodthirsty Vikings had been raiding heavily again, and the people were afraid. Fearful of dissension in his land, he had resisted the old woman’s presence and had despised Giselde for tainting his love’s blood. He was trapped in a terrible dilemma, for even though he loved his wife above all else, he despised her for her heritage. Giselde had suspected his betrayal, and never forgiven him for it.

Wanting to keep his only child, his son, nearby, Alric made Lady Isobail Ahern his wife’s waiting woman, a
move Giselde had bitterly contested. He had no doubt that the canny woman had perceived his curious bond to Moran, and to Lady Isobail.

Over a year passed, and Catriona presented him with a beautiful daughter, Alysa, who was the heir apparent to the Crown of Damnonia and Cambria, since Alric could never claim Moran. For years he suppressed his secret, but could not forget that Moran was his firstborn, his only son, a royal bastard. When he feared he might cause suspicions by the way he treated the boy, he sent Moran to Sir Kelton’s as a page, to train there to become a squire and knight. In return, Lord Orin sent his son Teague to Malvern Castle.

The Viking threat lessened and life was quiet. Alric’s court traveled frequently, and Isobail was left behind at the castle. But tragedy struck when Alysa was nine—Catriona died. Alric raged at the gods who were punishing him for his black past, but nothing could bring his wife back to him.

Worse, Giselde had gone mad after her daughter’s death. The old woman had accused him of slaying his wife in order to claim Isobail and Moran. She had threatened him with vengeance, but instead Giselde had vanished mysteriously. He had never learned how she discovered the dark truth about him, or what she might have told Catriona.

Tormented by shame, Alric had gathered his retinue and left Malvern Castle, managing to stay gone for three miserable years. Gradually he realized that the agony he was trying to flee had been carried around within him, so he had returned home.

Guilt added to guilt to plague him daily, until he became ill. Lady Isobail insisted on caring for him herself. For days he wallowed in his misery and remorse while she tempted and enticed him day and night. Yet he resisted her, fearing what Giselde might do if she returned and found them together. Then a night came
when his sufferings were so intense that he recklessly allowed Isobail to soothe them with her gentle hands and passionate body; that erotic night led to others, and finally to marriage, when Isobail suspected she was carrying another child. He could not allow their second child, possibly another son, to be born unclaimed. In his crazed state he thought the gods were showing their forgiveness by giving him a chance to be happy again. He even imagined that they had chosen Isobail as his rightful wife, for he had been warned not to marry Catriona. It seemed as if he and Isobail were thrown together time and time again, so he had yielded, later discovering there was no child.

For three years he used Isobail’s exquisite body to slake his desires, used her with an almost punishing frenzy, which she seemed to enjoy. Then he suddenly became ill and his manhood ceased to do its duty. He could not help but think of Caedmon and what the man had endured, knowing he could not take his wife or appease his cravings with any woman. Perhaps, he thought, that was the reason Caedmon had been so quarrelsome, and why their former rivalry had developed: so Caedmon could distract himself from his torment.

A curious resentment toward Isobail sparked with Alric. He tried to conquer it, for the bewitching Isobail had been seemingly blameless in their affair; and she had been nothing but kind and patient with him since his illness began. In fact, she had done everything she could to protect him from public shame and to keep his princedom running perfectly, and had always been loyal to him. serving him in any way he commanded.

His illness had come and gone for eight months. Princess Isobail had apologized and moved into the other tower, vowing she could not sleep while he groaned and thrashed in agony, or tolerate the odor of his chamber. Humiliated, he had not forced her to stay with him.
Yet in his wretchedness, his mind played cruel tricks on him and wild suspicions plagued him.

Alric knew he did not love Isobail and never had; but he would never allow his wife, the Princess of Damnonia, to cuckold him in his own castle, as she had done to Lord Caedmon when he could no longer sate her desires. He had hired a gifted bard to live and entertain in his castle, and to watch Isobail and make certain she took no lover; he believed that Guinn had done both jobs admirably for five months.

Five long and agonizing months… That was how long it had been since this strange illness had worsened, often confining him to bed for weeks at a time. He was relieved that Isobail had taken over for him; she had protected him from total humiliation and had kept Damnonia from suffering as he was suffering.

Alric now realized with dismay that he was rubbing his rumbling stomach. “Ye Gods, no,” he shrieked in anguish, then grabbed for the chamber pot to heave over it. Afterwards, weak and shaking, he drank the rest of his wine, plus another goblet, to remove the foul taste from his mouth. He dropped his head to his pillow and closed his eyes, forcing the tears that had gathered there to roll down his cheeks. It had been only a brief respite, perhaps a taunting one by the gods. Wanting to end his misery, Alric consumed a third goblet of wine.

By the blood of Brutus!
his mind ranted angrily.
Will it never end? Will I never be the man I was long ago? Must I always suffer and pay for one black deed, one short period of madness? Ye gods, forgive me, or end it now,
he pleaded, then began to weep.

Alysa paced her chambers nervously. She had everything prepared to carry out her daring task: the torch, the wine jug, her locked door, and her courage. Now
she had to wait for a later hour before she could safely approach her father’s chambers.

Leitis had visited her earlier and told her she had seen the prince’s server hide a pouch behind a keg in one of the storage rooms. As soon as everyone was busy in other areas, Leitis had exchanged the baneful herbs for Giselde’s healing ones.