Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (21 page)

“Where was there for him to go?” she asked. “If Duncan took his inheritance, how was he to pay for his

travel? You've seen the state of this place. There is nothing of value here. If he still had Revenge, I would

wager the beast would be housed here with him."

“I had not thought of the steed,” Nick answered. “I can't see him letting anyone take that beastie from

him."

“I couldn't care for him,” was the slurred reply from the bed.

Gillian stood and went to the bed. She laid her palm against his forehead. “You are burning up, Kaelan."

“Don't feel all that well, either,” he quipped. Pushing himself up in the bed, he asked for a cup of water.

“What happened to the well?” Nick asked as Gillian held a cup of melted snow to the prince's lips. “I

drew up a bucket and the mess tasted of salt. The pond water was worse yet."

Kaelan nodded. “Let me finish telling you what happened that night and you'll understand.” He patted

the mattress beside him and Gillian sat down, taking his hand in hers, knowing he needed the contact in

order to go on.

“It took me awhile, and before I was finished, my wrist was bleeding from all the twisting, but the blood

helped slip my hand from under the rope. The rope on my left wrist was tied tight, but I managed to work

the knot loose. Untying my ankles didn't take much time at all."

“Ned left your wrist loose on purpose,” Gillian said.

“Aye,” he answered. “I believe so."

“So you were able to get free."

The prince armed away the sweat on his brow, smiling guiltily as Gillian scolded him then took a rag to

wipe his face. “Go on,” she said as she wet the rag in a bowl of tepid water and wrung it out.

“There was no one about at that time of night. I thought to get dressed and leave this hellish place."

“But someone saw you."

Kaelan's eyes took on a glazed look. “Aye. Marie."

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Chapter Twenty-Four: The night Marie died; Holy Dale Manor House

His boots were in his left hand; his shirt clutched tightly in his right. He had just made it to the top of the

stairs when Marie's voice brought him to a standstill.

“Where do you think you are going, Kaelan?"

The prince jumped and swung his head toward the shadows there on the balcony. Marie was standing in

the doorway of her chamber, her voluminous nightgown draped around her slim body from throat to toe

to wrist. The lantern light behind her cast the lush curves of her body into strong relief beneath the white

cotton nightgown.

“I won't be your prisoner, Marie,” he said, his voice low to keep anyone from hearing. He could have

bellowed with frustration when a sound from below stairs drew his attention and he found himself staring

down into the wrathful eyes of his father-in-law.

“You're not leaving this house,” Sinclair shouted at him and called for his personal guards who were

never far from the Duke's side. No doubt the four of them—Master and bodyguards—had been in the

gaming room for Sinclair carried a brandy snifter in one hand and a spread of cards in the other.

“You are Marie's husband and as such you will not be permitted to shame her by sneaking away in the

middle of the night, Hesar."

The three guards came to stand at the foot of the stairs, but one was sent hurrying around to the other

side of the parlor where the servant stairs were located, just in case Kaelan attempted to leave that way.

“I told you what was going to happen, Kaelan,” Marie said as she came out of her chamber. Her bare

feet made no sound on the smoothly polished wood of the balcony. She clutched the bodice of the

nightgown in her fist. “Did you think I was lying to you?"

“Perhaps another lashing will help him see the truth of your words, Daughter” Sinclair chuckled. He

motioned for the thicker set of his two remaining bodyguards to climb the stairs. “Get him back to bed

and make sure he stays there."

“I told you I had feelings for you,” Marie said. Her hand was squeezing the material of her gown,

pressing it tightly against her chest.

“I can't live like this, Marie,” Kaelan said, backing away from the top of the stairs. The two guards were

advancing on him, grinning from ear to ear at his predicament. “I won't live like this!"

Hildy had joined the Duke at the foot of the stairs and was staring up at Marie with a look of genuine

concern. “Your Grace, you should be in bed.” She held up her hand. “I have the elixir.” Gathering up the

folds of her nightwrap, she started after the guards.

Marie was only ten feet away from her husband. In the striated shadows that fell about her, her face

looked ghostly white, too pale, and it glistened with a sheen of sweat. She paused under the dome of the

great skylight overhead and the silvery beams of moonlight fell around her, giving her an ethereal glow,

but then her face twisted with pain and she drew in a harsh breath.

Kaelan recognized the way she was clutching at her chest. His gaze shifted to her left arm and realized it

was hanging limply at her side. “Marie?” he questioned. He threw the boots and shirt away, ignoring the

guards who were now at the top of the stairs

“DON'T YOU TOUCH HIM!” Marie yelled as the men started toward her husband. She staggered

and gasped, bending over with pain.

“Marie!” her father cried out, hurrying up the stairs, himself. “Are you ill, girl?"

The guards stopped, understanding something strange was happening here. Hildy pushed past them and

would have gone to her mistress’ aid, but Marie flung out her right hand-palm outward-denying her.

“This is between Kaelan and me,” Marie whispered and her voice was slurred. She straightened up.

“Between my husband and me,” she amended.

“You've got to go back to bed, Milady!” Hildy pleaded with her. She threw Kaelan a frightened look.

“She's been having pains all evening."

Kaelan barely heard the servant woman. He started toward his wife, his hands out to her. “Marie, you're

ill. Let me take you back to bed."

“Aye,” Marie whispered, her hand at her chest once more. “Take me to bed, my husband.” Her face

filled with light. “Take me to bed and make me feel the terrible things you make me feel, Kaelan Hesar."

Sinclair shoved his two guards away. “Marie! That is a disgusting thing to say!” He would have pushed

Kaelan aside, but the prince stopped him, turning on the older man with a fury that shocked the Duke

into silence.

“Haven't you and that prissy mother of yours done enough damage to this girl?” Kaelan yelled.

“I love him,” Marie said, drawing both men's eyes to her. “How can that be, Kaelan? You are an evil

man. How could I come to love an evil man such as you?"

“He has bewitched you, Milady!” Hildy cried out. “The Demon Duke has bewitched my lady!"

Marie held out her hand again, keeping the servant at bay. “'Tis true, he has,” she whispered. “But I can

no longer fight him, Hildy."

“You are in pain, Marie,” Kaelan said, coming closer, but stopping when she held her hands out toward

him.

“As you were in pain, my husband,” Marie said. “I sat with you, night after night, hearing you moan.

Watching the blood seep from your wounds. Caring for you.” She cocked her head to one side. “I felt

pity for you. I hurt when you hurt; I cried when you cried. I wanted nothing more than to ease your

suffering. Why was that, Kaelan?"

“The man has bewitched her, Your Grace!” Hildy turned to beseech her mistress’ father. “He is a

warlock. Did I not tell you so?"

“Come, Kaelan,” Marie said, turning her hand so that her palm was up to him. “Come and take me to

your bed, husband."

Kaelan went to her, took her hand, and was surprised when she threw her arms around him and held

him to her. He stumbled under the force of her clutch and felt the balcony railing touch his hip. He tried to

move them away from the precarious position, but she was like a steel column, immobile in her fevered

grip of him.

“I am dying, Kaelan,” he heard her saying as her lips touched the growing whiskers beneath his chin.

“You are ill, true,” he said, barely able to breathe because her arms were so tightly wrapped around him,

“but you are not dying."

“Aye, I am,” she said and her tongue made little spirals on his throat. “But I will not spend my eternity

alone."

Even as she twisted, even as he knew what she meant to do, he didn't try to stop her. He heard the

railing crack—loud as a slice of lightning being hurled down from the heavens. He caught a final glimpse

of the skylight above him as he began to tilt out over the balcony rail. He felt her hands release him, knew

he was going over the railing, knew she was murdering him.

“MARIE!” Sinclair's shriek of horror was a death knell as the railing gave way from Kaelan's weight and

allowed the prince to plummet to the hard marble floor below.

Kaelan hit the floor on his belly, the breath knocked from him. For one brief instant he was amazed that

he hadn't died in the fall. He tried to push himself up, heard Sinclair's scream, turned his head to see

Marie falling toward him, a look of supreme surprise on her face. She landed face down on his back and

he heard the snap of his leg as the weight of her body broke it, felt the intense pain that shattered his

thigh, then the awful squishing sound of her head hitting the marble; flinched as her blood sprayed his

face. He knew she was dead.

The last thing Kaelan heard before plunging into unconsciousness was Hildy's strident scream of rage:

“MURDERERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

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Chapter Twenty-Five: Holy Dale: The Present

“When I woke, I was alone.” Gillian felt his hand tighten on hers. “I was lying on the floor, her blood all

around me. Everyone was gone. I don't know how long I was out, but the fire had either died in the grate

or they had put it out hoping I'd freeze to death if I didn't eventually die from the fall."

“Oh, Kaelan,” Gillian whispered. Her eyes were glistening with tears.

“When I tried to get up, I screamed from the pain of it,” he said. His palm rubbed along his thigh. “The

bone was through my flesh, splintered."

“What did you do?” Nick asked in a breathless voice.

“I pushed it back in—fainted from the doing of it, too—then splinted it as best I could with a piece of the

balcony rail. It took me until morning to drag myself to the kitchen where a feeble fire was still going. It's

a wonder I really didn't freeze to death without a shirt and socks.” He closed his eyes. “For two days I

lay in front of the fire, throwing in what was left of the wood, eating apples and raw potatoes from the

bins. I tried to get up but the pain was too bad."

“It didn't mend right,” Nick commented, looking at the prince's leg. “Did it?"

Kaelan shrugged. “I didn't know what I was doing. It needed to be set, but who was there to set it?"

“How could they have just left you like that?” Gillian demanded, hating the people who had caused this

man so much grief.

“They didn't care, Gilly,” Nick snorted as though she should have known the answer to that stupid

question.

“Four days after Marie died, Sinclair showed up with six wagons.” Kaelan used his free hand to cover

Gillian's. “He came in and, without a word to me, started stripping the house of everything that wasn't

bolted down. He even took up the carpets.” He smiled ruefully. “Though he left me a few pieces of

furniture he didn't seem to want."

“He didn't say anything at all to you?"

“What was there to say? By law, Holy Dale belonged to the House of Hesar, but the furnishings he

considered to be Marie's. He had buried his daughter the day before and had come to take back all that

he thought of as hers.” A grim smile touched Kaelan's lips. “Hildy was with him and she even made sure

the clothes Marie had bought for me went into the boxes. Since all my old clothes had been thrown out

right after the Joining, they left me with only the stained breeches I was wearing and an old shirt I'd

salvaged from the rag bin in the kitchen."

“Bastards,” Gillian hissed.

“They took everything that wasn't nailed down. I begged him to take Revenge because I knew I couldn't

care for my horse. I thought for a moment he would refuse, but then he just nodded once and turned

away, then they all left. You can't imagine how silent this place was."

“Or how lonely you must have been,” Gillian said quietly.

“It took me over a month before I could even half-way walk,” he explained. “I lived off what was left in

the kitchen, which wasn't much; I learned to ration the food."

“No one from the village came to see if you were alive or not?” Nick mumbled.

“They believed I had murdered my wife,” Kaelan told him.

“But she tried to kill you!” Gillian protested.

“Aye, but they still blame me for her death. They always will."

“What happened when the food ran out?” Nick wanted to know. “Could you hunt or fish at all?"

“It was dead of winter, Nick,” Kaelan smiled. “Not much fishing: but, aye, I had my crossbow and I

bagged a few rabbit. A pheasant or two. By then, I fairly reeked. Those clothes were getting ripe. So I

decided to make it down to the village. As soon as they saw me coming, people went inside their huts

and shut the doors, closed and bolted the shutters. I had a little money I'd managed to bring with me from

the Keep and I had hoped to buy a few shirts and breeches.” He shook his head. “But no one would