Mathis, Jolie (26 page)
Authors: The Sea King
Behind Stancliff the door crashed open, against the wall.
Above her, Stancliff raised the dagger— He slumped, staring down at her with his terrible, jealous eyes. A low death-sound burbled from his throat. She watched as he foundered to his knees, then fell, facedown, to the floor. The hilt of another weapon protruded from his back.
Isabel looked up.
Kol knelt upon the ground behind Stancliff. "Damned traitor."
Their eyes met for just one moment, before a ragged sigh broke from his lips and he, too, collapsed to the ground.
Kol refused to die at Caervon. Dying elsewhere would thwart the intentions of his enemies; enemies who, even now lay wrapped in linen, awaiting their own burials.
Isabel walked alongside his litter. Though too weak to grasp her hand, she held his in between both of hers. As they made their way toward their encampment, he heard the voice of Rowena, and also Aiken, who had sworn his loyalty, along with many other Saxon warriors, to Kol. Every Saxon account concurred. There had been no attack upon the abbey. Godric remained unharmed.
Kol did not meet Isabel's eyes, nor did he look at the faces of his men. Despite her own injury, when they arrived at his tent she insisted on tending the wound on his thigh herself. Afterward, she spread furs over his body to keep him warm.
"Isabel, bring Father Janus."
"I will not." She lowered herself to kneel beside the bed, and laid her cheek against his chest. "My prayers will reach God. There has been too much death this day, and I will not allow Him to take you from me." Her tears spilled onto his linens, but her tears alone could not wash Ranulf's poison from his veins.
"Love, bring the priest."
Epilogue
"Mmmmm. Very well done for a dead man."
"Are you certain? Aught we do it again to be sure?"
Kol lay beside Isabel. Both were naked, their limbs twisted into the bedclothes. Lovemaking had never brought him such bliss. With Isabel, he felt completed, on so many levels.
Isabel rolled onto her side, and planted a kiss on his mouth. Mischief sharpened her gaze. "Are you well enough?"
"Certainly I have proven myself."
"Beyond question," Isabel purred.
"I have only Ranulf to thank." His smile changed, grew more pensive. "He is the reason I live today. If he had not wiped most of the poison from his blade, I would have died upon the field."
"Then in doing so, he saved both our lives." Isabel clasped the bedclothes at her chest. "I suppose in some way, he achieved the redemption he sought. He held terrible secrets, but was not a wholly wicked man. I wish you could have known him as a boy."
Kol did not answer, but tucked a single, wild curl behind Isabel's ear.
After an extended silence, Isabel asked, "Would you think me wicked, for holding a secret of my own?"
Kol's heart stopped. He pushed her flat onto her back, and crouched above her, and glared down into her wide, violet eyes. "No secrets between us. I've had enough of that for a lifetime. Tell me what you meant by 'secret.'"
To his surprise, Isabel's eyes glowed with excitement. "Careful how you seek to pry the truth from my lips."
Kol's brow arched in question. "What dost thou mean?"
Isabel considered him from beneath lowered lashes. "What I mean is... you wouldn't want to hurt our child."
Kol froze above her. A thousand thoughts crashed through his mind, garbled and confused. "Our child?"
"Aye, beloved," Isabel whispered, her eyes agleam with sudden tears. "Your babe wilt be born before winter returns. Godric will have a brother or sister."
Kol's heart nearly fell from his chest.
"Isabel." He clasped her face in his hands, and kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids. Even her nose. An energy he could not contain charged his limbs. He leapt from the bed.
Isabel clasped the linens to her breast and sat up, her hair spilling over her shoulders. "Husband?"
He shoved open the shutters. Outside, Calldarington slept beneath a blanket of stars. Not for long. All would share in these good tidings.
He bellowed, "I will be
a father. A father!"
From the ramparts came the sound of cheers and the posts of spears thumped against the wooden walkways.
The last remnants of his mother's curses—whether real or imagined—fell away. The few demons who had lingered to taunt him that this bliss would never last, shriveled into dust.
He turned to Isabel. "How can I be worthy of a gift such as this?"
"Thou art worthy, Kol." She smiled, clearly content with her world. "Thou art worthy, and wanted, and never to be forgotten."
About the Author
Jolie Mathis lives in Texas with her husband, two small children, some spoiled animals, and a houseful of books. She loves history, flea markets, reading, and cooking.
Visit her website at
www.joliemathis.com
, or e-mail her at
[email protected]
.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I would like to extend my thanks to my agent, Kim Lionetti, and my Berkley editor, Gina Bernal. They saw the magic in
The Sea King,
and without their expert guidance, the story would not have become a reality. Because of them, I will forever recall the publication of my first novel as a truly wonderful experience.
Heartfelt acknowledgment also goes to my parents, Lewis and Ella Dawn, who raised me to believe I was capable of achieving anything I put my mind to. And to my brother, Army Maj. Kelly Eiland, who is an amazing writer in his own right.
To my fantastic critique partners and writer pals who supported me from the start: Kim Starrett, Julia Templeton, Sydney Miles, Pam Litton, Amy Loos, and all the ladies at Romancing History.
Much appreciation to the experts at the Northvegr Foundation, the Icelandic Language Institute, and to the Da Engliscan Gesipas. It was very important for me to do justice to this early time and place, and I would not have been able to do so without the resources, education, and assistance offered by their staffs. Also, much gratitude goes to Stephen Pollington, whose wonderful books on pre-Conquest England rarely, if ever, left my desk during the writing of this novel.
And finally, to those masters of the quill who continue to inspire me: Laura Kinsale, Judith Ivory, Kathleen Woodiwiss, Anita Gordon, Katie MacAlister, Susan Squires, JoAnn Ross, and the late Christine Monson.