Conquer the Night (40 page)

“Aye,” she said miserably.

“I don't think I can let a man meet such a fate and not tell him that his line will go on.” He lifted his hands. “A child is a man's immortality, my lady.”

“John …” She hesitated, not anxious to share what was personal. “He loved his wife.”

“Aye, he did.”

“She died, John. He is … he is clear that he wants no other.”

“My lady—”

“I am reconciled to that. But he may not want another child, either. And I don't know if I really am expecting a child. I need more time.”

“You know, my lady. You have counted and calculated since the night by the brook, and you know.”

“Whether I do or not, John—”

“Tell him, my lady. Or I must.”

He left her.

She rode the next day with his words heavy in her heart. She chafed, taking her place in the endless route. They traveled so slowly, it seemed! A journey that would have taken riders just a few days seemed endless with all the supplies. She couldn't bear the slow riding, the waiting, with every day more tension rising.

Then Arryn returned.

She didn't see him at first; he met in a secluded copse with his closest friends and advisers for what seemed like hours. Then he found Kyra. By then she had left the encampment for the stream that trickled nearby, and sat barefoot, her feet dangling in the water.

He said nothing to her at all when he came to her, but drew her up to him.

She held him close for a moment, then tried to draw away. “Where have you been?”

When he spoke, he didn't answer her question. “Time doesn't remain to take you as far as I wanted,” he told her. “Friends will be here tomorrow to see that you and others are escorted on.”

She felt cold and alone. He had just come back to her!

No, he had come back to his men, and all the people. She simply rode with them.

“So the battle will begin,” she murmured.

“Aye.” He was still for a moment. “Lady, put your shoes on.”

She did so, and he took her hand. They started walking through a winding trail in the trees. It brought them to a rugged clifftop; he had to help her scale the rocky heights. Yet when they were there, she could see forever. The night was clear. In the distance she could see campfires. “Abbey Craig,” he said. “We ride there with dawn to meet.”

“The English?”

He pointed in a different direction, toward more fires, what seemed like miles and miles of fires.

“There are thousands of men!” she said in dismay.

“Tens of thousands, on both sides, although …”

“Although?”

He shrugged. “I believe the English may have double our number.”

She turned on him. “You shouldn't fight. Before every battle such as this, the commanders send out negotiators, do they not? Edward can be merciful. He's forgiven many men who have changed sides time and time again. You can—”

“No, Kyra.” He touched her hair. “There will be no peace.”

She clung to him suddenly, leaning her head against his chest. “I do not want you to die!”

“My lady, I intend to do my best to oblige you!”

“Arryn?” she murmured, looking up at him. She needed to talk to him. There were words she needed to say.

“Aye?”

Words froze in her throat. No. It wasn't the time. He had just returned. She didn't want her words to send him from her now, to cause him to brood….

Remember his past.

“Aye, lady?”

“I just want to be with you,” she whispered.

He smiled, lowered his head, lifted her chin, and kissed her lips. “We'll return to the brook,” he told her softly, and started back down the craggy side of the high cliff that overlooked the smaller hilltops and valleys around them.

They came to the water's edge. He slid her clothing from her shoulders, and unwound the great length of his tartan. She stood in the forest, shivering as he discarded his linen shirt, shoes, and woolen hose. She listened to the magic of the water dancing over the rocks in its way. The breeze stirred, twisted, whispered around him.

She walked to him, stroked the sides of his cheeks with the backs of her hands. Her fingers moved over his chest, ran through the mat of hair there. The water in the brook seemed louder; the whisper of the wind seemed to rise in tempo. A gentle moon beamed down upon the trickling water, touched it with a glaze, gave light and shadow.

He made a bed of his tartan in the soft grasses at the water's edge. He bore her down upon it. For eons it seemed that his eyes assessed her, so dark in the night that they seemed obsidian rather than blue, so intense she felt as if they stroked her flesh. Then he touched her, caressing her with an endless tenderness, and she ached, and reached out for him, and when he suddenly drew her up to him, she buried herself against him, dug her fingers into his shoulders, her teeth against him. She whispered like the breeze itself, which had become a wind, a tempest, and it seemed to swirl around them in the night, visible in the hazy moon glow. She wanted him so much … and so much of him, the scent and feel, stroke and touch and taste. He pressed her back, and he kissed her everywhere, and the damp touch of his lips seared, and the wind chilled, and he made her hot again, kissing her everywhere but the apex where she had begun to burn, and then kissing her there….

He rose above her, and the wind blew, and the night soared, and the moonbeams seemed to streak into her, and throughout her. Then they cast her down into the field of the earth once again, where she felt the forest floor, and the brook again began to trickle, the wind to whisper….

She didn't sleep. She turned to him and kissed him everywhere….

And then there …

And the woods were swept into a tempest again, wind rising, water cascading, the beat of the thunder, the beat of their hearts. The ground remained soft beneath the wool of his tartan. He covered her with his length and with the remaining wool of his garment, and so warmed, she savored the feel of him against her, the strength of his body, the smell of him, the warmth….

She woke with a start.

She was alone in the forest, beneath a great oak by the brook. Her clothing was folded by her side; she was enwrapped in her father's great cloak.

The breeze stirred, the water trickled.

She jumped to her feet and let out a cry. Then she sank back to the cloak, unable to stop a sudden wave of tears that racked her.

He was gone! Gone on to battle.

It had been best to leave as he had, yet almost impossible to do so. He had never seen her more beautiful, more tempting, than sleeping beneath the oak by the crystal water, with wildflowers peeping tenaciously from roots and rocks. The colors of summer could not vie with the red-gold of her hair; the warmth of the rising sun could not compare with the feel of her flesh.

But it had been time to leave.

And God alone knew what would come.

The men were ordered to their horses, to their weapons. The foot soldiers were ordered to form. Abbey Craig was just a few hours' ride; he would go on ahead with John, Jay, Ragnor, the priest, and some of the others. The horsemen would follow hot on their heels, and the baggage would follow more slowly.

Wallace believed that the battle would be met tomorrow. Riders had ranged the area throughout the previous nights. Negotiators had gone from Wallace to de Warenne, the Earl of Surrey, and from de Warenne to Wallace. Men had gathered, armies had formed.

Scots and English.

And those who supported each cause.

Finally the time had come.

Tonight they would sleep at Abbey Craig, and await the dawn.

And so Arryn left Kyra, tenderly wrapping her in her father's cloak.

Prepared to ride, to leave the men, he halted at the arrival of Harry MacTavish, who had been steward at Hawk's Cairn, Thomas Riley, and Ioin Ferguson, men from his homeland who had stayed behind, guarding their fellow survivors in the forest at the foothills, keeping news flowing throughout the countryside and safe havens open for those who were forced to flee at different times, and take refuge.

He greeted Harry first, then Thomas, who gave him more information about English movements through the night, and Ioin, who assured him that all was well in their craggy hideaway, where they could live simple lives, and disappear into the forests and Highlands if need be.

Arryn noted then that Katherine, Jay's sister, rode behind Ioin, and he dismounted from Pict to go to her, calling her name.

She was a beautiful young woman, fair where Jay was dark, with sky blue eyes and white-blond hair. He lifted her from her horse, greeting her with pleasure. “Katherine, ah, lass, 'tis good to see you. I'd not thought we'd be able to do so.”

“Arryn!” she replied, smiling, her hands on his shoulders as he held her high, studying her. He let her slip to her feet and be greeted by her brother, John, Ragnor, Patrick, and the others.

“So you ride even now!” she said with dismay.

“Aye,” Jay said gravely.

“We've arrived in time to say good-bye,” Thomas said.

“To say good-bye, and tend to wives and servants,” Arryn said gravely. “Harry, I'm trusting their lives to you. If the battle should go badly …”

“See that all disperse to the Highlands, keep low, aye, Sir Arryn, but I'll not believe this cause lost! And God bless you, if you win, why, we'll be with you at Stirling!”

“We don't intend to lose. But we surely lose the real war if we let the king annihilate us all, eh, my friend? If we do or do not take this day, it will not be the end of it. The rebellion lies in the hearts of the people; yet if we win, I wager, Edward will not let such a victory be the final word.”

“Aye, Arryn!” Harry said woefully.

“Keep special guard of the Lady Kyra,” John suggested, mounting his horse.

Arryn looked at him sharply.

“She may be in the greatest danger,” John said.

“The Lady Kyra?” Katherine demanded suddenly. She stared at Harry, who flushed. He'd met with Arryn a day before, arranging to come here rather than having the armed men move farther from the field of battle.

“The Lady Kyra, Kinsey Darrow's betrothed, is
here?
” she demanded.

“Aye,” Arryn said. “She will be among you.”

“She will not!”

“Katherine,” Arryn said. “She will.”

“Why?”

“Katherine, we haven't time for this.”

“Arryn, please! What do you mean, we have no time for this? This is our lives, and the deaths of so many! Why is she here?”

“I couldn't leave her.”

“Why couldn't you have left her?”

“She would have been in danger.”

“She would have been in danger?” Katherine said incredulously. Tears stung her eyes. He was impatient to be off, but she had endured much, and so he forced himself to answer calmly.

“Aye, she'd be in grave danger. Katherine, you don't understand—”

“I don't understand?” she whispered with angry indignation. “Arryn, I was there when Darrow and his men came to Hawk's Cairn. I saw what was done, I lived what was done, I heard the screams … I smelled the burning, the death…. How can you do this, how can you bring
her
here, among us?”

“Katherine, leave it be!” Jay said firmly.

“Leave it be? I cannot!”

“Katherine, she is here. I have done what I must,” Arryn told her.

“She'll betray us.”

“And how would that be?” he demanded with exasperation. “We're not hiding out in a forest now; we're not a small band of men seeking to strike and run, to hide from the authorities! We're thousands, gathering for a great battle! Today, the men and I join Wallace at Abbey Craig, and from there the battle is waged. What will she do, go out and tell the English that aye, there is an army of thousands formed to meet them? My dear, they are aware of it already!”

Katherine stared at him, having no answer. “She shouldn't be among us!”

“Katherine, if it distresses you, I am sorry. There was no choice,” Arryn explained. “Darrow might have killed her.”

“Darrow might have killed her; Edward would have killed him. Good riddance to them both!”

“Katherine!” Jay said.

“I wish they were both dead.”

Jay walked forward, taking her by the shoulders. “Katherine, I can't make you like it that she is here, but you must accept it. Be courteous; it's all I ask.”

Katherine stared at her brother, her jaw squared. “She is English.”

“Half English,” Jay corrected.

“She is here, and that is it!” Arryn said, understanding, but impatient again. The work ahead mattered, and if it did not …

Well, then, all was lost anyway, and he was not of a mind to make excuses for his actions to any woman.

“So she is here! And only half English!” Katherine said. She wrenched free from her brother and came to stare at Arryn stormily.

“Katherine, no more.”

“I watched your
wife
die, Arryn.”

“Katherine, no more!” he repeated.

“I won't stay with her. I won't eat with her, sleep with her near—”

“That must be your choice.”

Katherine gasped, blue eyes troubled and wide. “You would forget your own people?”

“Katherine, I've forgotten nothing. And I will explain no more. Don't eat with her, don't sleep near her—keep your distance from her. She is none of your concern.”

He turned sharply from her then, guilt weighing down on him. But it was not an argument that could be quickly won, and it was time that they rode.

“God go with you all!” he said, looking them over as he mounted Pict once again.

“Aye, Arryn! We'll be waiting!” Thomas said.

Katherine stood stubbornly, ignoring her brother as he mounted his horse. Then she suddenly raced forward, throwing herself against his leg. “Jay, you big bloody fool, you watch yourself in battle now!”