Books by Maggie Shayne (285 page)

Arianna managed to lift her head again, and saw the crowd moving still closer, while her mother hugged her hard, sobbing in terror. "I'll nay let them harm you, my girl! They'll have to hang us all!"

Stunned by the shock of seeing her friends so brutally murdered, and by the fear, her surprise took a moment to register. But then it did. This was her mother, the woman always so concerned with being proper and what the clan thought of her. On her knees, hugging her accused daugh-

ter, and defending her aloud! Tears stung her eyes. To have her mother defend her so fiercely and to show her love so openly! If only it didn't seem as if this would be the last moments they would share together.

Arianna looked up to see her father picking up a large limb from the ground. Lifting it high, he turned to face the threatening villagers. As if he'd fight them for her. But they'd kill him...

"Da, nay, you mustn't—"

And then a large shadow fell between Arianna and her neighbors. A tall, strong man, silhouetted by firelight. But she knew him just as she had always known him. She would know him even if she were blind.

"Nicodimus," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Thank the Fates."

"You can all stop where you are," he commanded. "Arianna Sinclair is under my direct protection, and the protection of your laird, Joseph Lachlan, as well."

His voice was harsh, powerful, and so icy it sent a tremor of reaction through Arianna, even though she knew she had nothing to fear from him.

"Any man who lays a hand on her... or any woman who speaks an ill word against her, will answer to me. And believe me, it will not go easy with them."

There was an angry murmur that grew louder. Nicodimus turned to her, ignoring the crowd. Gripping her shoulders, he helped her to stand. As her mother stood looking confused and afraid, and her father looked on in worry, Nicodimus searched Arianna's face. He pushed her hair away from her eyes, and brushed the twigs away from her borrowed dress. "Did any one of these pigs touch you, Arianna? Hurt you?"

She opened her mouth, but only a sob escaped. "Th-they
killed
them. They killed them. They—" She turned and pointed, and his gaze followed hers to where her beloved teachers dangled from charred ropes. As she stared, one of the ropes seared through, and gave way, sending one blackened corpse smashing to the ground.

"Celia!"
Arianna shrieked.

Nicodimus pulled her close, tucking her head against his chest so she could no longer see. "They'll answer for what was done here tonight," he said, and he said it loudly enough so the crofters could hear. ' 'Joseph will see to that. He won't tolerate murder being done in Stonehaven."

"An' just how is it you're speaking for Laird Lachlan," someone demanded.

"Aye," challenged another. "An' how is it Arianna Sinclair is under
your
protection?''

Nicodimus turned to face the crowd. "She's under my protection," he said fiercely, "because she is my betrothed. And I will kill any man who dares harm her."

Arianna stiffened in shock, dizzy now from the onslaught of so many emotions, all bombarding her at once. She was dimly aware of her mother's gasp, her father's perplexed frown, the shocked exclamations of the crowd. But all her mind could grasp at the moment were two things. That three innocent women had been murdered tonight because they were different. Women she had loved with everything in her. Women who had risked—and ultimately
lost
—their lives for her sake. And that Nicodimus had claimed her as his betrothed only to prevent her from being the fourth to die here tonight.

Oh, but his arms were around her now—strong, warm, and fiercely protective. Right now she never wanted to leave the haven they provided. Her heart pounded as if it would burst, and new tears welled to replace the old. He wouldn't go back on his word. He'd said he would marry her, whatever the reasons. And he would. She would be his wife. This man brimming with secrets ... who yet made her feel she knew him as well as she knew her own heart. His wife. She was uncertain she could survive the pain she felt tonight. But if she had any hope at all of facing everything that had happened this night, that hope lay right here in his arms.

Hoofbeats sounded, and she lifted her head from Nicod-imus's sturdy chest to see Laird Lachlan, his sons, and some forty of his men, come thundering into the clearing. The crowd broke apart. Cowards who didn't wish to be

identified quickly melted into the trees. As far as Arianna was concerned they were all guilty. Every one of them had been a part of this evil.

"Joseph will see to this," Nicodimus whispered. "Come, you need to be away from here. This is no place for you."

Shaking her head, she drew slightly away from him. Yet his embrace remained as she stared up into his dark eyes. "Nay. I canna leave them like that." And as she spoke her gaze strayed to where two of her friends hung charred and blackened. And one lay bent and broken on the ground.

Nicodimus's palm cupped her cheek, turned her head gently, so she could only see him. "They'll not be left, Arianna. I promise you that. But remember all they taught you. Those bodies are but empty shells now. The Crones have moved on, and are beyond the touch of pain. They would not want you lingering here." One hand moved to stroke a slow path down her outer arm. "Gods, lass, you're shaking all over."

"He's right."

Arianna turned at the sound of her father's voice. "Come home, lass. I vow I'll let no harm come to you there."

Her lips pulled tight and her tears spilled anew. "Oh, Da..." Sniffling, she nodded. But when she looked down, she saw that her father still clutched the limb he'd snatched up in her defense. His hand held to it so fiercely that his knuckles had gone white. "You truly would have fought them all," she whispered in wonder.

Her father's brows rose in surprise. "You're my own child, Arianna. I'd fight the devil himself did he try to do you harm." His gaze lowered, but then he reached out and closed a hand around hers. ' 'I love you, lass. I dinna always understand you. But I love you."

He hadn't spoken those words to her since her sister had drowned, and hearing them now brought a surge of emotion that left her weak-kneed. "And I love you, Da."

"Come, then. An' you too." He nodded to Nicodimus. "We have much to discuss, you and I."

"Aye, sir. That we do," Nicodimus replied. And without

warning, he scooped Arianna up into his arms.

"I can walk," she said, her protest mild, for she truly wasn't sure she could make it under her own power. She still felt weak and ill. She was afraid she might vomit again before they ever made it back to the cottage.

"You tremble still," Nicodimus informed her. "Besides, let them all look on and know that I meant what I said. I want there to be no doubt among the clan of my intent."

She battled dizziness. "You ... had little choice, but to say what you did, Nicodimus. I'll nay hold you to such a promise..."

He was striding now toward the village, a step behind her father and her mother. She thought his arms tightened just slightly around her. But he didn't look down. "I meant what I said." He said no more as he carried her among the crofts and back to her home.

The Crones,
her heart moaned again and again. Gone. Executed like murderers when all they had ever done was try to live in harmony with nature by the old ways. The ways of their ancestors. Gods! It was so unfair! They'd taught her, initiated her into the ways of magick. Aye, they'd wondered at the strength of her power, but perhaps their true fear had not been of her, but for their own safety. Perhaps they'd sensed the disaster building. Perhaps they'd felt it coming. And though she hadn't wanted to believe it, the blame for all of this rested squarely on her own shoulders.

She'd been careless—rebellious. Almost dared the clan to discover her activities—to learn where she went at night, what she learned, and at whose tutelage. They'd suspected for some time. And if Arianna's thoughtless ways hadn't generated so much talk of Witchery in the clan then perhaps The Crones could have continued living here peacefully. Perhaps ...

But not now. They were dead. Murdered.

"And their killers must die...." Arianna whispered, blinking her eyes open, looking through floods of tears back toward the clearing they were leaving behind. "They must die!"

Twisting in Nicodimus's arms, she pushed against his chest so suddenly she broke his hold on her. She stumbled to her feet and snatched the dagger from her side—the dagger The Crones had given her, and had told her never to be without. She'd worn it hidden beneath her clothes. And now the time had come to stain its blade with the cursed blood of killers!

As soon as she had the dagger in her hand, Arianna ran. A feral cry rose from her, and baring her teeth, she lifted the blade high and charged forward, determined to slash to ribbons every man she came upon. "Murderers!" she screamed. "Murderers all, and if it's hell you believe in, then I'll gladly send you there!" She glimpsed movement in the trees, aimed her deadly attack that way ...

... and was snatched up from behind. Nicodimus's strong arm clamped tight 'round her waist, while his free hand closed gently, but firmly, about her wrist. "Let go the blade," he said hoarsely into her ear.

"Nay! I'll kill them all!" She struggled.

He held her, and let her fight him until all her fight was gone. Finally, her hand went limp, the blade fell to the ground, and her body began to tremble anew. Violent, back-bowing spasms that racked her to her soul. She couldn't breathe, and felt as if her throat had closed off. "They killed them. They
burned
them, Nicodimus. They..."

'
'Shh-shh.''
He turned her weakened body into his arms, held her close. She heard her mother's concerned questions, heard Nicodimus mutter, "It's the shock, Mara. I've seen it before. Come. She needs a warm bed, a cool cloth, and her mother's comfort. She'll be all right."

He carried her cradled in his arms. But not safe. She didn't think she would ever feel safe again. Not now that the enormity of it had finally hit her. The Crones were Witches, and because of that, they'd been brutally tortured and murdered. More than likely, their killers would be pardoned, for killing a Witch was not only legal, but morally acceptable.

And she ... she was a Witch, too.

For the first time, she realized that that fact alone was enough to put her life in constant peril. She'd been in grave danger for some time now, only she'd been too blind to see it. Her mother had tried to warn her, her father. Nicodi-mus...

What about Nicodimus? Was he one, too? A Witch like her? He'd neither admitted nor denied it when she had asked. But sweet Goddess, if he were, then he had put his own life in jeopardy just now. By associating himself even more closely with her, his plan might go completely awry. Rather than restoring her good name, he might simply sully his own!

An image came to her mind. A vision too horrible to bear. Nicodimus, his body blackened and charred, dangling from a tree like The Crones. She released a horrified cry, and buried her face against his chest once more.

She could hear their voices, deep and hushed. Nicodimus and her father seemed intent on their conversation. A candle's gentle glow painted her mother's face as Arianna lay huddled, trembling still, beneath a mound of covers. How long she had been there, she did not know. She only knew dawn must be close. She must have slept at some point, though she only remembered the startled way she kept coming awake, the horrors of the night glaring in her mind's eye. And Nicodimus, coming to her each time, soothing her.

Nicodimus had carried her here last night, and had laid her gently down. Before he'd turned away, his gaze had touched her face, searched it, and she'd glimpsed genuine worry in the deep blue depths of his eyes. Or... she thought she had. His fingertips had danced over her forehead, brushing a stray wisp of hair aside. "Rest now," he had whispered, and then he'd straightened away.

She could see him now, for their home was small, and only a half wall and a curtain separated this room, and her sleeping pallet, from the rest of the cottage. Still here. He'd stayed all the night through. But why? He sat in a crude wooden chair, dwarfing it and the table and the room itself,

not so much by his size, which was substantial but not unusual. Nay, Nicodimus's force of presence was what made everything around him seem smaller by comparison. He need only walk into a room to have every eye turned upon him. Men looked upon him with respect and not a little fear. The women, with something far different in their eyes.

My Nicodimus,
she thought suddenly, and a fierce surge of pride welled up in her throat.
Mine, though he knows it not.

There was a fire burning in the hearth, and his hair gleamed with the flame's red-gold shimmer. He listened respectfully to all her father said in careful undertones. Nodding his head in reply, he himself spoke softly and glanced her way, catching her eyes and holding them for a long moment. There was something there, some tension she could not identify. Then her father spoke, drawing his gaze away again.

"Have they been talkin' the night through?" she whispered to her mother.

"Aye, lass. They've much to settle between them."

"Nay, they have nothing to settle. I can settle my own life, Mam."

Aging hands soothed Arianna's brow and placed a cool cloth upon it. "This sudden betrothal o' yours gave your da and me a shock," her mother whispered. "An' there remains much to be decided. Dinna worry your head about it, lass. You've had enough worry to last a lifetime."

Closing her eyes, Arianna lay back and sighed. She knew what they were discussing out there. Her. Her future, her life. When would they realize that she could make her own choices?

"There's something you must understand, Mam," she said slowly, and her mother looked down at her with a certain expectation in her eyes. As if she knew and dreaded what was coming next. But it didn't stop Arianna from going on. "Nicodimus only said what he did to keep them from killin' me," she whispered. And the memory of her dear friends, her teachers, hanging charred and lifeless from

the mighty oak, whispered coldly through her mind. She shivered and closed her eyes, but forced herself to go on, refusing to be distracted. "He canna truly mean to wed me, Mam."

Her mother's hand patted hers. "Aye, perhaps he did speak in order to save your life. But he's a man of his word, is Nicodimus Lachlan, an' if he says he'll make you his bride, you can be certain, he means to do it. You've naught to worry about on that matter, lass."

Arianna sat up a little, but her mother's hands urged her back again. " 'Tis unfair to expect him to marry me, Mam. He saved my life. I canna hold him to the lie he spoke to do it. I'm certain he thought he had no choice but to say what he did."

"Perhaps
you
canna hold him to his word, Arianna, but your father can.... Not that it's necess—"

"He wouldna!" She sat up in bed so fast the cool wet cloth fell from her forehead. "I'll nay have a husband who needs forcin' to the altar!"

Her voice had risen. The two men in the other room fell silent and turned to stare.

"You'll have the husband your da chooses for you, lassie," her father said.

"I'll have a husband who wants me as wife, or none at all." Flinging the covers aside, she got to her feet. Bare, they touched the dirt floor, and her toes instinctively curled against the dampness and chill.

Her mother's hands came to her shoulders, trying to pull her down again, but she stood strong. "Darlin', how do you know he doesna want you as wife?" she whispered. "You dinna ken, methinks."

"Nay, Mam. 'Tis you who dinna ken. I proposed marriage to him myself only yestereve. An' he made his feel-in's quite clear." She stared at Nicodimus as she spoke.

His lips pulled at one side, as if he battled a smile. So he was amused by her objections, was he? Was that what her pain was to him? Amusing? Did he not know how deeply his rejection had cut her?

"Can a man not change his mind?" Nicodimus stood up

from the table, his tone soft, but firm, his eyes holding here captive whether she wanted to be held or not. "Arianna... I was taken off guard by your... offer. I admit, my reaction was cruel, and thoughtless. But I swear to you, I regretted my words the moment I spoke them."

Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. He was lying to her, she was certain of that. "I would speak with you alone, Nicodimus."

He didn't agree or disagree. He looked to her father, and her admiration of him grew another notch. For he was her father's better in every way, and yet determinedly gave him his due. "With your permission, sir?"

Her father nodded but once and came to take her mother's arm in one hand. He drew her to the door, and took the empty water pail from its wooden peg on the wall beside it. "We'll walk to the well and back," he said. His way of letting them know he wouldn't be far, and would return soon. He sent Arianna a stern look, while her mother's parting glance was only worried. She'd have offered them both a smile of reassurance, if she felt capable of smiling at all. But her stomach was churning, and a large empty pit seemed to have opened up in the center of her chest. What
was
this feeling? She'd never been nervous around anyone in her life, no man, no laird, no warrior. Yet the moment she was alone with Nicodimus, her hands began to tremble and the odd sensations in her belly intensified.

At the sound of the door closing behind her parents, Arianna's forced mettle deserted her. She let her legs give as they seemed determined to do anyway, and she sat down on her pallet gracelessly. Nicodimus could see through her false calm as if peering through clear water. It was no use pretending, not with him.

"You dinna want to marry me and we both know it, Nicodimus. So let's waste no more time with this foolish pretense."

He walked slowly into the room, stood so tall above her that she wished she'd remained standing. But if she rose

now, she'd be far too close to him, so she remained as she was and tilted her head up at him.

"I don't intend to lie to you, Arianna. I'm going to tell you the simple truth. You are a spoiled, selfish wild thing and it is high time you gave some thought to the well-being of someone else besides Arianna Sinclair."

She sucked in a shocked breath, her chin coming up fast. "How dare you!"

"Like you, hellion, I dare anything. And I think you know it. Now go on, spew your defenses. Tell me how unselfish you are, and then tell me why you'll refuse me."

"I'll refuse you for one reason and one reason alone, Nicodimus! I'll nay have a man who needs be forced to wed me."

"I've never been
forced
to do anything."

His tone was soft, but impatient. He knelt in front of her, gripping her shoulders and turning her body until she stared right into his blazing eyes. "And this is no longer about what you want."

"And what do you ken of what I want?"

"Oh, I know. I can see it in those cat's eyes of yours, Arianna, just as plain as the sun on the Summer Solstice. What you want are declarations of undying love, and a man on his knees begging for your hand—"

"Nay, not any man. You, Nicodimus. Only you."

That seemed to quiet him for a moment. His face paled and his lips tightened, but he never dropped his gaze. He drew a deep breath that expanded his chest, and blew it out, very slowly, before he spoke again. "You'll never have that from me. I've no love to give, and I have never begged for anything in my life. But I'll wed you, Arianna. And because of our marriage, your father, the man who just proved himself willing to lay down his life for you, will be respected and his wealth will grow. And your mother, who nearly fainted in terror at that clearing last night, will be spared the grief of losing another daughter."

"She wouldna have lost me. I'd have run away, nay let the villagers kill me."

"If you had run away, you'd be just as lost to her. And

your family name would be ruined, your father destroyed and known only as the sire of a fugitive Witch. Is that what you want for them?"

She lowered her head. "It mayn't have happened just that way."

"That's the only way it could happen. And
will
happen if you continue with this stubborn game you play. At the keep, Arianna, when Joseph bade you choose, you obeyed. You chose me. And if you regret that choice now, well, I'm afraid there's naught to be done. Your recklessness brought you to this. And now you've naught left but to deal with it."

Lifting her head slowly, she stared into his eyes, searching them, seeing a spark there, but so deep, so distant, she didn't see how she could ever reach it. Her voice quiet now, barely above a whisper, she asked him, "And what of us, Nicodimus? What sort of husband will you be to me?"

He rose then, turning slightly away, on the pretense of watching for her father's return. "You'll have my protection. I'll provide for you. And you'll bear my name."

"But nay your children," she whispered.

His head swung around. "Never that."

She lowered her head quickly when she felt the sting of tears burn her eyes. Gods but she did not cry. She
never
cried. And she blinked the dampness away. ' 'Then ... ours will be a marriage ... in name only?"

Nicodimus came toward her, stepping close to the pallet She got to her feet and turned her back to him, surreptitiously dabbing her eyes with one hand, reaching for a wooden comb with the other. He said nothing as she began drawing it through her hair.

"Is it because you dinna want me, Nicodimus?" she asked, very softly. "Am I nay beautiful enough to stir the desire of a man such as you? Have you nay once thought of tasting my lips, of holding me close with nothing between us save the heat of our own bodies?"

She felt his gaze on her, burning into her back. And boldly she turned to face him. "Tell me."

"My reasons ... are my own. And an unmarried girl of

your tender years—a maiden—shouldn't be asking such questions. You know nothing of these things ... nothing of... wanting."

She lowered her head until her chin touched her chest. "If I know nothing of wanting, then what is this feeling burning inside me, Nicodimus? Why do I so crave your touch, if desire is something I'm too young to feel? Why do I yearn to be in your arms? I want you, Nicodimus. And though you may deny it until the day you die, I think you want me, too."

She saw it clearly, the reaction that lit his eyes for but a moment, quickly concealed, a fire instantly doused. "I will set the terms of our marriage, Arianna. And as my wife, you'll honor them."

She stepped forward, closer to him, but didn't touch him. "Do you think you can live with me as my husband and never touch me? Never know me?" She laid her hand lightly on the front of his shirt, and slid it slowly up his chest.

His hand closed over hers, stopping its progress and moving it away. "We will not be residing together for long."

He could have slapped her and shocked her less. "I... but I..."

"You will reside in the keep, of course. And I will, as well, until I am certain of your safety. The talk in the clan will die down soon enough."

Her lower lip trembled, and she caught it between her teeth. "And then?"

"And then I go my way. I have ... obligations. I come here only to rest in between them, Arianna. You know that."

"I only thought..."

"That I would change my life for you? No, Arianna. My destiny is set. Yours ... has become entwined with it. Irreversibly so, I'm afraid, but not endlessly. There is no need for me to remain here once your safety is assured."

"I... I'll go with you!"

His surprise showed in his eyes. "Your family..."

"As my husband, Nicodimus, you will be my family."

He reached out to stroke her hair, gently, softly. "I cannot take you where I go, Arianna. There is only danger for you there. More, even, than there is here in Stonehaven."

"But where is this horrible place you must go? Why do you return there if 'tis so dangerous?"

"Because I must," was all he said. He took his hand away, and a darkness seemed to settle over him. A finality. There would be no arguing him around to her way of thinking.

"Then... you'll go. You'll leave me. Bound to a man I can never have, free to know no other. Am I to die a maiden, then, Nicodimus?"

"There is,'" he said slowly, "a long, long time before that possibility will arise."

She shook her head. "You are meant for me. This I have known since the day I first set eyes on you. And you
do
want me, Nicodimus. And you
will
know me. I vow it on all that I am."

He looked hurt by her words. Just a brief flash of some old pain flitted across his face. And then she saw anger. His jaw went tight, and he opened his mouth. She had the most peculiar feeling he was about to reverse his offer. She only held his gaze, praying he would not.

He did not speak, seeming to change his mind. She nearly sighed with relief, all the while gathering her courage. She
wanted
to wed him. But she wanted him to want it, too. Either way, it would not matter. She would be bound to him, aye, but he would be bound to her as well, she reminded herself. No other woman would know him. She would kill any woman who tried. It was her he would grow to love—Arianna Lachlan, his wife.