Isolde forced herself not to
scream. Why was everyone being so stubborn? Couldn't they see she was
doing her best to salvage the situation?
"I'm not asking you
to keep him forever, Connal," she said, adding emphasis where she
sensed Connal weakening. 'Only until the outlanders leave, and things
come back to normal. There's no other way."
Connal ran a calloused
hand through his shaggy hair. Curls snagged on the deep cracks his rough
life had left in his skin. "Dove, think! We're living without a
roof over our heads and winter coming on. Would you sentence a boy to
such a life when he could be warm, dry and well fed?"
"Or dragged away to
learn thieving from the best teachers to be found anywhere. That or lie
dead and unshriven in the mud somewhere when he could grow old and live
quiet."
Connal nodded slowly. She
knew he had come 'round to her decision, and felt a sense of triumph. At
least she had won one battle today.
Behind her, Hugh coughed
softly. "My lady, I don't grudge my grandson his chance in this.
He's got an opportunity many would give their right arms to have and be
glad of the chance."
She smiled as Young Hugh
hugged his grandfather. "I know, Hugh, but you must see this is not
the way. If it's the trade of a soldier you wish him to learn you are
far better a teacher than some upstart outlander who has no notion of
our ways. Besides, I would not leave you without family to see to you in
your age."
"I am not a
doddering old man yet, my lady!" Hugh drew himself up to his full
height and gave her such a look of offended pride she almost laughed.
"I realize that.
Still, I have thought this over well."
The chamber door crashed
open. "Not well enough!"
Isolde jumped inside her
skin. Sir Albion filled the doorway, fury plain on his face. Behind him,
Sir Josce looked shocked.
Connal immediately
grasped his dagger. Beside Isolde, Hugh laid his hand upon the hilt of
his sword. Neither drew his blade, but she sensed both men braced for
violence.
Young Hugh looked from
Sir Albion to Isolde, plainly confused where his loyalties should lie.
She laid a hand on his
shoulder. His hesitation hurt more than anything else in the past few
days. "Hugh, go with your grandfather."
He glanced at her. Then,
to her dismay, he looked to the Deryni knight. Only when Sir Albion
nodded did Young Hugh step out of the path of danger.
Isolde faced Albion with
all the courage she possessed. Beneath her simple wool tunic her knees
were shaking so hard she feared she would crumple to the ground.
"Is there some reason you feel compelled to barge your way into a
lady's bed chamber?"
He laughed. "My
lady, it seems you keep much company already in your rooms. What are two
more to you?"
She balled her hands into
fists to keep back the urge to slap the arrogant grin from his face.
"You feel you have reason to insult me, my lord, after I have
extended you my hospitality?"
"I do, when I find
you engaged in treason. And that, my lady, is what you are doing
here."
He swaggered into the
room and stopped only when his feet nearly trod upon her bare toes.
"Have you taken leave of your senses to flirt with a traitor in
your own chambers beneath my very nose? Or do you so greatly desire to
see your own death?"
Connal's dagger whispered
as it left its sheath. "If I were you, Outlander, I'd not threaten
the lady. I'll have your guts for it if it's the last thing I do."
"Peace, Connal! I -
- -"
Albion cut off her words.
"McQuillion, you are a dead man regardless. You would better care
for your own hide."
Isolde stepped back from
Albion the better to glare up at him. "I gave Connal my word no
harm would come to him here. I will not allow you to lay hands on him,
my lord, not if God himself should command it!"
Sir Albion favored her
with a bitter laugh. "Lady, are you ignorant? With your father's
death every portion of his holdings, including your own person, became
property of His Majesty, Festil. Your word means less than nothing.
"Besides, I wonder
at your care of your people if you so readily protect the outlaw who has
been raiding your livestock and leaving your crofters homeless."
Isolde sank her teeth
into her lips as she sought a stinging retort.
Connal was quicker.
"You lie!"
Albion's eyes narrowed.
Around his head his aura flared a brilliant crimson nimbus.
Behind him, Josce spoke
at last. "You deny you led that raid last night? What proof have
you?"
Connal's laugh came
bitter. Isolde felt her hope die. Indeed, how could he prove what he had
not done? She knew he was innocent of this, but how would strangers know
him so well? And, being outlanders, would they care?
Connal smiled a smile
that left her heart trembling with fear. He was up to something, she
knew it.
"You're Deryni,
aren't you?" he asked with the assurance of a man secure in his own
future. "If I had led that raid and ridden back here this soon, my
horse would be exhausted. I went no farther than the woods west of the
keep this day. Ask my horse if you do not believe me." His grin
widened. "You can do that, can't you?"
Albion sighed and nodded
slowly. "Go with him, Josce. Check the damned horse. If he's lying,
kill him."
"And when you find
he is not?" Isolde held her breath, not daring to hope the Deryni
invader would show any mercy.
Albion's intense blue
eyes darkened to almost black as he looked at her. She fought to hold
back her fear. Never would she give him the satisfaction of seeing how
desperate she was.
His lips twitched a bit
at the corners. The fine liens at the corners of his eyes deepened
slightly. "If McQuillion is telling the truth in this I will spare
his life yet again. I swear this on my honor," he added before
either Isolde or Connal could express their doubt.
"And Isolde?"
Connal stepped in front of her before she could stop him. "What
guarantee do I have that she will be safe?"
"Connal!" Why
must he make it so difficult to save his life? She shoved at his
shoulders, but could not move him an inch.
"I'm waiting,
Outlander."
Sir Albion gave him a
slow nod. "You've more guts than brains, McQuillion. I'd not harm a
hair on her head, not for so much as a bit of maidenly defiance."
Connal's shoulders
tightened under Isolde's hands. "So you say, but you Deryni can
torture without leaving so much as a bruise. I will not leave her here
without some assurance of her safety."
Albion's eyes narrowed.
His lips tightened into a firm line that warned of imminent danger.
Isolde shoved at Connal's
back again. This time he shifted a bit, and she seized the chance to
step around him. "Make sense, Connal," she begged as tears she
could not stop slipped down her cheeks. "If he wants to enslave my
mind neither of us can halt him. He will not harm my body; he still
needs that. Do what you can. Save yourself!"
"The lady speaks
good sense, McQuillion." Albion's voice and posture reminded Isolde
of a crouching wolf bout to spring. "I offer you a chance only
once. Do not press me further."
Connal nodded, but every
muscle tightened as he moved. "I give you good warning, Deryni. If
she is so much as frightened, I come for you."
"Fair enough. I will
be waiting."
As Connal and Josce left,
shutting the door behind them, Isolde braced herself for whatever was
coming. She had no illusions she would survive this encounter unscathed.
In fact, she thought as the full impact of her loss settled upon her,
she had failed at every attempt. she could not protect Young Hugh from
the Deryni who would, no doubt, use him without regard to the boy's
welfare. Neither could she stop some invader from taking her father's
estate and doing whatever he willed with the land and people she loved
so well. She had lost everything.
She swallowed a great,
wrenching sob and straightened. Possibly her spine would snap as she had
held it so stiff for so long. That thought almost made her laugh. Though
doubtful, it would be an easier fate than now lay before her..
Albion approached, and
she forced herself to look at him. He moved with the grace of a
practiced swordsman. No doubt he knew just how attractive he was, and
used this to his best advantage to put her off her guard.
She would not be fooled.
He caught her chin in one
calloused palm. With his other hand he brushed the tears from her
cheeks, his touch so gentle it might have been the brush of a cat's
whiskers.
"It is no shame to
cry, little warrior."
Isolde blinked. His voice
was so soft, so warm she hardly believed he was speaking. When she
focused on him she saw a look of gentle compassion she would no have
believed possible for a Deryni.
The fingers brushing her
cheek paused. Somehow the touch seemed intimate, too intimate. Then
without warning he embraced her against his broad chest.
"Just cry, Lady. You
will feel better."
Isolde hated him at that
moment, for she lost control and drenched his tunic with her sobs.
"I've lost
everything, haven't I?" she asked as she caught her breath some
minutes later. Strangely though the emotional outburst left her
exhausted she felt less desperate, more in control than she had in
weeks.
Albion shook hi head. He
did not release her and for that she was grateful. Right now she needed
his strength, his support, his warmth and companionship even if he was
the enemy.
"You have won most
of your battles, little one," he answered. One hand stroked her
back, found each tight muscle and released the tension held there.
Isolde focused her attention on how good it felt.
"You have managed an
estate that would give many men pause," he continued. "You
tend your crofters with care that shows you see them as people, not as
livestock. So many would not think of the welfare of a boy and an old
man, yet you risk treason for them."
"And I failed."
"You did not. You
merely reacted to a threat that did not exist. Look at me, Isolde,"
he asked when she did not respond.
From his tone she had the
feeling she could refuse him this. Oddly, that assurance made her want
to comply, just to see what he would say. She looked up, focused on his
incredible blue eyes. They glowed with a warmth that enfolded her soul
as his arms held her body, safe and close.
"Isolde, whatever
you think of Deryni, know this. I mean Hugh no harm. I will do all I can
to see him raised as far as his skill will earn him."
"If you care so much
what happens to him why did you take him from his home?"
Albion nodded. Silver
sparks flashed in the depths of his eyes. "You really don't trust
me, do you? Fair enough. Young Hugh saw the bandit leader and claims he
is a monster. From the boy's perspective he thinks we are
responsible."
"You? I'm certain he
knows you had naught to do with the raids."
"Not us personally,
of course. Hugh thinks the monster is of Torenthi origin." Albion
loosened his hold on her as he spoke.
With a bit of distance
Isolde found it easier to look up at him.
"Do you understand
me now?" Albion seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for her
answer.
She nodded.
He relaxed a bit.
"If Hugh told his tale to people already convinced we are the
epitome of evil the sporadic rebellion might flare into something Festil
could not treat gently. Nothing and no one would stand in his way."
His hands tightened against her as he spoke. "You cannot imagine
the horror that would be unleashed then. I had to stop the trouble
before it started."
Isolde knew he was
telling the truth. She felt like a fool. How could she not have seen the
caring in his actions? He might have solved his problem by killing Hugh,
but instead he had found a way to keep the boy's story contained and
still give him a life better than he might have had otherwise.
"I thank you, my
lord, for your care of him," she began, feeling like an awkward
maid at her first confession. "Many would not have taken thought
for a stranger."
His smile softened.
"I had a good teacher in you, my lady."
"So what do I do
now? How can I save my people from abuse at an invader's hands?"
Why was she asking him?
Because she knew he
shared her concern for common people. Albion would never mock her
efforts nor would he tell her to tend to her stitching.
One hand slid to the
small of her back as he drew her close again. "Take care. Do not
oppose more than you must. Never anger the king, and you will find you
have more power than you think now."
"I just wish - -
-" Isolde let the words die on her lips. What she wished for at
this moment she dared never ask. Her gaze focused not on his all too
seeing eyes, but on the warm lips a scant foot from her own. She had
never yet been kissed, never desired to be. Now she wished he would.
Albion bent over her. One
hand caught her chin and positioned her face as his mouth descended over
hers. He brushed her skin with a feather touch. Then he claimed her with
passion and possession.
Flame and ice shot
through her veins in equal measures as Isolde closed her eyes and gave
herself up to the madness. His scent, clean and male, filled her
nostrils. It seemed she could not catch her breath, and did not want to
now. She stretched on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck to
pull him closer.
Something brushed her
senses on another level. A finger of sensation touched her mind.
Then blinding, searing
pain shot through her skull. She cried out and shoved at him, frantic to
escape.
Albion released her
immediately. She straightened and glanced at him, then wished she hadn't
. The expression on his face told her she might as well be a three
headed calf.
"What are you?"
His voice shook with shock. Clearly he had not expected what had just
happened any more than she.
Isolde fought to maintain
some shred of dignity. "I, my lord? I am no more than you see. And
I think we have both made an error that must be rectified
immediately."
Albion's fingers clenched
into fists at his sides. When he spoke at last, his lips barely moved.
"No doubt you are right, lady. We are both over tired and not
thinking as we should." He gave her a short, stiff bow. "I bid
you good sleep."
Albion left her standing
alone, staring at the brazier, shaking with emotions she had no power to
control. |