Risk Everything (41 page)

“Alpin will not agree?” Mereck’s deep baritone asked.

“Aye. He refuses to allow it.”

“Ailsa is within the great hall of yon castle thinking all is well,” Bleddyn said. “For the moment, she is sane.” He moved his huge mount Thunder forward a pace. “Come.

Alpin will speak with me.”

He startled Rolf. How could the man know someone so distant would wish to address him?

In moments, Bleddyn stood alone in front of the barbican entrance. His great mantle whipped about him in the breeze, the brilliant-colored feathers adorning it shimmering in the sun.

Clasping a large talisman hanging from a heavy chain around his neck, he called out to the man waiting above.

“Alpin MacKean. Listen to me.” Alpin’s tormented gaze met Bleddyn’s, and then lowered to stare at the talisman.

Bleddyn continued. “Our armies will stay without. We must decide what needs be done together. We will not play you false. Open your door to us.” Alpin hesitated, looked behind him, then back down at Bleddyn. He tore his fingers through his hair and nodded, then whirled around and disappeared.

The iron door beside the portcullis screeched open, wide enough for one person to enter at a time.

No one spoke as they followed Alpin across the bailey and

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into the castle. They entered the great hall and saw Ailsa, who waited calm and serene at the high table.

Damron and Connor were first to enter. She stood and swept them a low bow. “Welcome to my home, sirs.” With her golden hair agleam and the flowing white dress she wore, she appeared a sweet angel. Rolf had not seen her look thus since she was ten and seven.

Meghan stepped through the doorway.

“Out! Out of my sight, murdering slut,” Ailsa screeched. She darted toward Meghan, her hands outstretched like claws. Alpin grasped her shoulders, and with soft, shushing sounds, soothed her. Meghan moved aside, out of the mad woman’s view.

As Mereck came forward, Ailsa stiffened. “I know of you,”

she said to him. “You are Baresark.” She tried to jerk away from Alpin’s grip. “You come to take my head as trophy for your belt.” She turned to stare at Bleddyn and calmed but a moment. “You are the Angel of Death waiting to carry my soul to the afterlife.”

“Nay, lady, I come to help you. Look into my eyes and you will see the truth there.”

Ailsa looked everywhere but at him. With a mad burst of energy, she tore from Alpin and dashed to the corner stairwell. As fleet as a doe, she dodged them all as she seemed to fly up the stairs.

By the time they caught up to her, she stood balanced in a crenellation on the battlements. A brisk breeze whipped her hair and clothing about her. Beautiful still, though madness peered from her eyes, she waved a small vial.

“I will prove ’tis naught but a love potion.” Her gaze wild and darting about, she removed the stopper with her teeth.

She looked at Rolf and then smiled at Alpin.

“Nay, sister, dinna.” Alpin’s voice filled with horror. “ ’Twill be your death!” He raced toward her, but she tilted the vial and drank it all. Alpin reached her. She clutched at him and in a frenzy, pulled him onto the open crenellation. In but a heartbeat or two, spasms shook her body. She began to froth at the mouth.

Alpin struggled to pull Ailsa back onto the rooftop.

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Horror clutched Rolf ’s throat in a strangling grip. He lunged for Alpin’s arm. For naught. As Ailsa toppled her brother over with her, Alpin’s gaze met Rolf ’s. A wealth of sorrow shone there before they plummeted into space. Ailsa’s shrieks were as nothing to but one scream torn from Alpin’s lips.

“Meghan!”

Love. Passion. Heartache. Sorrow. A plea for forgiveness.

All sounded in that one word. Meghan.

Late that evening, Donnall carried out his lord’s last wishes.

“Lord Rolf, Alpin ordered that I hand ye this should the time come that he couldna.” Donnall cleared his throat as he held out a parchment sealed with the MacKean crest. “Ye will see all is legal and proper. The priest will witness that last eve my lord wrote that which is here.”

Rolf broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. There in Alpin’s familiar hand was a document stating that should MacKean Castle fall to the MacDhaidh, he prayed that Rolf would heed his last wish. He asked that Garith be given MacKean Castle and lands and that until he was ten and eight, Rolf would train his brother. The document was brief. He also asked that Donnall retain his post as commander of the MacKean warriors and act as advisor along with Rolf. ’Twas obvious Alpin had expected to die in battle and had thought to make amends for the grief his sister had caused the youth.

“I would gladly honor Alpin’s wishes. Though mayhap I dinna have the right, Donnall.” He passed the parchment to Laird Damron and waited, knowing he must needs settle with Blackthorn for what he had done.

“I for one dinna object,” Meghan’s husky voice broke the silence. “Garith will make a fine lord. His arm grows stronger with each sennight. Donnall can take over his physical training.”

“I will speak with King Malcolm in favor of it,” Damron said quietly.

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“I agree with Meghan.” Connor turned to glare at his sister. “Were ye not carryin’ Rolf ’s bairn, I would happily spit him over a fire in place of a boar. That is, after I had Damron blister yer own hide.”

“Ahem.”

The harsh sound from Mereck’s throat came out as more of a bestial growl than a bid for attention. The people of Rimsdale quietly awaiting to learn what was to become of them jerked with worry and looked at the man known as Baresark.

“Speakin’ of bairns”—his face hardened as he looked first at Meghan and then at Rolf—“what is to become of this newest child of Blackthorn?”

“Meghan, forgive me.” Rolf burned with misery. “What I have done to you can ne’er be undone. I have taken your pride and shredded it. I have taken your person and treated you in-decently. You gave me your vow with honor. I gave you my vow in deceit, for I didna mean to keep it.

“Though I claimed I would take the bairn from your breast, I knew I couldna do it. Ne’er fear. You are free to choose whether to return to Blackthorn never to see me again, or to allow me to be a husband to you and father to our child.”

Rolf ’s shoulders slouched in defeat.

Rolf ’s eyes beseeched Meghan. Watching him, all the misery and scorn melted from her soul and slid from her shoulders. Never did she think she could fully forgive him. Only time would tell. She could meet him halfway, though. She squared her shoulders and cradled her throbbing arm against her chest.

“I will return to Rimsdale to assure myself all are well.” At the look of hope in his face, her expression hardened. She threw her next words at him. “I will remain there, but I willna be a wife to ye. I no longer wish it.”

“You canna mean it,” the startled words burst from his lips.

“I can. I do.” Meghan glared at him. “Where ye believed I was but good enough to be yer leman, I now believe ye will not be a suitable life-mate. Ye will be my lover. Not my husband.”

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“You will not live openly with him, Meghan,” Connor shouted.

“Dinna tell me what I can and canna do! None can force me to wed where I will not.” She eyed Damron, half afraid he would forbid it. When he spoke, she relaxed. Being married to Brianna, a woman with a will as strong as her own, he understood.

“ ’Tis Meghan’s life to do with as she wills.”

Epilogue

Meghan busied herself seeing that all was well at Rimsdale Castle. Ugsome was her constant companion. Sensing the rift between Rolf and Meghan, when Rolf was near, the dog placed himself between them.

Careful to give her the space she needed, Rolf saw to her every need and was cautious not to go too quickly with her.

At times, he felt she tested him. Like that first sennight after her arm had healed. ’Twas a lovely Monday morn, and knowing Meghan would prefer to be out of doors, he had sought her company. He found her in the solar sitting next to Ede, scowling at something in her hands. So heavy was her concentration, the tip of her tongue peeked between her lips.

Silently, he padded across the room to stop behind her and peer over her shoulder.

His Meghan was sewing?

She sensed someone there, and her hand jerked, stabbing the needle in her finger.

“Lucifer’s beady eyes! Dinna sneak up on me, Rolf, else ye may well feel my blade in yer flesh,” she grumbled.

“Here, love, let me help afore you stain the bairn’s wee garment.” Rolf knelt and placed her finger between his lips to suck away the blood. “Come, the day is yet fresh and the apples are ripe.” Her face lit. He was still on his knees by the time she reached the stairway.

“Hold, Meghan mine.” He scrambled to his feet and chased after her. “I would aid you down the stairway.”

He heard her explosive huff and did not catch up with her till

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she reached the great doors of the castle. When he snaked his arm around her to open the door, she rolled her eyes at him.

Two juicy apples later, when she started to climb high atop an apple tree, he became wise to her ploy. His hands reached to grasp hold of her shoulder and his mouth opened, ready to say nay. He spied her watching from the corner of her eye, stepped back, and kept his tongue behind his teeth.

That Wednesday, she resumed training his horsemen to be more agile on their mounts. Rather than roar and forbid her the activity, he bit that same tongue.

Bit by small bit, she began to relax in his company. He had asked Ede to see to the removal of all that had been Ailsa’s and distribute it among the women of the castle. All else the servants were to cart away. Nothing went to waste, for he bade them keep what they wished. They scrubbed the room from ceiling to floor. Carpenters built a new bed and room furnishings. The softest linens covered the pallet stuffed with down feathers, and weavers made a colorful yellow, leaf-green, and brown coverlet for the new bed. Brown fur rugs lay about the floor. All was done by the time Meghan’s belongings arrived from Blackthorn. If not at her side, her sword rested on a wooden stand close by the bed. A clothing chest holding soft, female garments stood against the wall beside a smaller one stuffed with Connor’s outgrown breeches and tunics. The room was as she liked it.

’Twas hers to do with as she chose.

To share. If she chose.

She didna.

Rolf courted her as he had dreamed of doing so many years ago. He did not send men afar to find trinkets of gold or give her jewels. Neither did he lay silken ribbons on her pillows to surprise her when she retired, nor did he ply her with flowers.

He bade the armorer and blacksmith to fashion a sword whose weight and length suited her. The fletcher made ten and five of the finest arrows, and the tanner sewed a new leather quiver. He had Ede and the women fashion tunics and breeches that would suit her expanding body, all in the earth

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tones she favored. Meghan’s back was to him the day Ede gave them to her. His heart lightened, for she gave a pleased cry and rubbed a light green tunic of the softest wool against her cheek.

What delighted Meghan most of all was the arrival of her own bagpipes, along with Simple and Storm. Each day, Rolf took her out to ride along the waterfront. Whenever Simple did some foolish thing, he gloried in Meghan’s husky laughter.

After a month of this, Rolf ventured to take her to the pool to swim. For the first time, he saw her changing body, though

’twas through a thin smock.

Had he thought Meghan lovely before, she was truly more beautiful now. Her face glowed with an inner light that caused everyone near to smile at her. Her breasts were fuller, their pink tips rosier than before. What struck his heart as the most beautiful change of all was the soft roundness of her stomach.

His bairn nestled there.

Under and around her he swam in ever-closing circles, watching her reaction. At first, she shied away. He did not stop.

He kept up his water play, courting her with his wet body.

A short time later, his heart quickened when he broke from the water and saw her avid eyes on him. Pretending not to notice her regard, he swam with slow, easy strokes over to the flat rock. Slinging his head to rid his hair of water, he took his time as he lifted his slick, dripping body onto the rock. He could feel her gaze like hands fondling his buttocks.

Slowly, he turned to face her. His tarse sprang to attention.

Upright. The thought that it searched the sky for clouds made his lips twitch as he stifled a grin.

Meghan held her breath. No man had the right to be so finely made. She watched as he flowed effortlessly around her. The water currents from his gliding body caressed her.

Each time he moved closer, she caught her breath. When he shot up into the air like a playful fish and made his way to leave the water, she felt forsaken. She watched as he pulled

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himself up onto the rock. How she wanted to grasp those sleek buttocks and place kisses on them, to slide her hands up over his wet back and shoulders!

Rolf turned. She caught her breath. Seeing his arousal, a shock of hot desire shot to her core. He stood there and let her have her fill as her gaze roved over his body. His tarse bucked.

How much longer could he wait?

Lucifer’s pointy ears! How much longer could
she
wait was the question. She needed him. Now. Taking her time, she gave him the same slow show as she moved through the water toward him. As her head broke free of the water near the rock, she saw his toes balanced on the edge. She looked up at him.

Slowly. Inch by enticing inch. She noted his ballocks, swollen and heavy beneath his tarse that began to seep with need.

Her gaze roved over his flat stomach, his corded muscles, his massive shoulders. Till she met his eyes. Love and eagerness shone there. In slow moves, he bent and lifted her from the water. As he brought her against his sun-warmed body, his arms locked around her in eagerness. He buried his face in her neck, and she felt his breath catch in a suppressed sob.