Romancing the Rogue (191 page)

~~~~

“Da?” The voice was barely a whisper.

“Hmm?” Marek murmured, surprised the boy was still awake. He had taken Talon up on his offer to share the loft. The space was tight, but he was able to lay out a few blankets and make himself comfortable enough on the floor next to Talon’s bed. The open window allowed a comforting breeze to flow, cooling his skin and stirring up wonderful odors from the rooms below.

“What happens when we die?”

“Well, we become part of the earth, part of new life.”

“Mum says the gods take us, if we pray to them. Do you pray to the gods, Da?”

“Aye, I do, if I remember.”

The boy paused. “What gods do you pray to?”

Marek couldn’t help but chuckle. “Whatever one suits me best at the time, I suppose. Why are you asking all these questions about the gods?”

“I hear my Mum pray. Each night it is to a different god, some I don’t know. Perhaps she cannot pick the right one, so maybe she needs to pray to the same gods you do.”

“What does she pray for to these different gods?”

“It is always the same thing — she prays for her prayers to be answered.”

“Oh?”

“Aye — but this night she prayed to them all at the same time. I heard her in her room. She was crying and saying thank you over and over and over, for answering her prayers. Do you think, perhaps, she finally found the right one?”

Marek smiled in the darkness. “Perhaps she did.”

After patiently waiting for silence, Marek rose to his knees and checked on his son; Talon’s chest rose with each rhythmic breath. His eyes were closed — finally asleep.

He descended the ladder in three strides and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before turning the corner toward Brynn’s back bedchamber. Rufus huffed out a warning but soon calmed and resumed his guard by the front door when Marek hushed him. A tapestry nailed over the entrance served as a door to her room. Looping a finger around the edge of the worn fabric, he pulled it back, peering into the shadows. In the corner was the milky white glimmer of her skin, a beautiful contrast to the deep darkness encompassing her.

She slept like an angel with her golden mane spread about her pillow, shimmering like waves when the slivered moonlight from the window touched it. Without a sound, he slipped past the tapestry and crossed the room. A curl lingered atop her cheek, and he brushed it to the side with his thumb, leaving a gentle kiss in its place.

A breathe escaped her lips. “I have missed you.”

The Games

Three black ravens circled above her, eagerly awaiting her death.

Crimson spilled from her nose and mouth, cascading to the powdery blanket of snow below. It pooled around her toes, congealing into pale red clumps on her boots and carelessly staining the front of her pretty gown. Her breath crystallized in the air before her, but yet, she felt no cold.

A great sense of foreboding overtook her body then, paining her insides, and she reached up toward the ravens, searching the heavens for strength. She had been there before. She paused to twirl her palm in the air and watched it intensely as it slowly rotated. It felt disjointed from her body, as if it didn’t belong to her. She felt no immediate pain from the deep laceration on her palm. She gaped at the gash as it wept bloody tears — watched as they dripped in steady rhythmic beats to the perfect white earth.

There were others surrounding her — faceless, lifeless beings standing where hearts once beat to the tune of life. Blood trickled from their burning eyes and spouted from their fingers as if some strange death spell had been cast over their unmoving bodies. It kept them erect but frozen in time as swirls of white and crimson danced around their corpses in victory.

So much death.

Had she caused this?

No, the death swirl surrounded her as well.

It wanted her.

It took her.

Brynn shot upright, hot tears scorching her flushed cheeks. Fine beads of sweat gleamed over her pallid skin. Darkness surrounded her.

Just a dream.

Just a dream.

She drew in a ragged breath, forcing her lungs to accept it. With a trembling finger, she pushed a lock of matted hair from her brow and swallowed hard. She had dreamt this before. It seemed to come more frequently as of late, each time growing worse.

More death.

More destruction.

She shuffled from her bed, donned relatively clean clothes, and plunged her toes into a pair of worn shoes, eager to free her mind from the night terror.

“Good morning.” Abby greeted her with an obligatory smile.

The dark circles under her eyes told Brynn it had been a restless night for her friend. “Good morning,” Brynn muttered in return, her thoughts elsewhere. “Where is Talon? I’m surprised to not find him engrossed in deep conversation with you by now.”

Abby shrugged her shoulders. “I have not seen him. I assumed he was with you and Marek.” His name seemed forced from her lips.

“No, I have just risen. They are not with you?” Brynn yawned, stretching tall in the morning sun. Then the realization hit her. “Abby!” she breathed, clutching her chest. She darted toward the door without bothering to search the cottage. Could he have taken him during the night? Had he been so angry that he would punish her by taking the one thing her life depended on? “Talon!” she screamed, reaching the top of the drive. Her voice echoed between the hills and disappeared into the treeline.

The rocks dug into the tender soles of her feet through her shoes, but she wouldn’t stop running as she sped to the back of the property. She must search the river. Talon knew better than to play near it, but that hadn’t stopped him countless times before. Instruction seemed to flitter through his head like butterflies upon a breeze. “Talon, where are you?”

“I’m here, Mum!” The voice sounded like the tinkling of bells to her ears.

A yellow head bobbed just below the horizon of a hilly incline. Before long, Marek came into full view, toting Talon playfully over his shoulders. The boy clung to Marek’s neck and let his slight frame dangle down the great length of his father’s back. Both smiled and laughed as if nothing was wrong while Rufus trotted along beside them, tongue lolling.

“Talon!” she fumed, overcome with relief. “Where have you been?” She placed both hands upon her hips and glared at Marek.

Talon slid from his ride and beamed up at her. “Catching breakfast!” From across his chest he lifted a rope snare. Dangling from it was an all too familiar fuzzy brown hare. “I killed it meself, Mum!”

His proud, silly grin melted the anger from her heart.

“Oh did ye now?” Foolish thoughts ran through her mind. Brynn knelt down beside the boy and brushed the hair from his face. “Well, the next time you decide to go and catch breakfast, please tell me first. You had me very worried. I didn’t know where you were. I thought you had fallen into the river.”

“I was with Da, Mum…” Talon rolled his eyes, as if that made everything perfectly all right.

“And safe as could be.” She kissed his forehead. “That is a fine hare, Talon. I bet he will taste delicious in the stew I have been meaning to make out of him.” The critter had eaten so many of her herbs it probably would season itself in the pot.

The boy giggled. “I
knew
you would like it, Mum.”

“Do I get one?” Marek goaded, pointing to his cheek. “I set the snare.”

“When you decide to rid yourself of
this
.” Brynn returned the tease, lightly running her finger along his hair-covered jaw.

“What, you do not like it?” He feigned a shocked expression and smoothed the hair on his chin.

“It makes you look old,” she replied truthfully. In her dreams she still pictured him as the never-changing boy — she hadn’t yet adjusted to his change to all-man.

“I
am
old,” he snickered, “but if it makes my lady happy, I will do as she wishes.”

~~~~

“It is wonderful how well he has taken to his father, is it not?” Brynn prepared the ingredients for the stew she would make once Marek finished showing Talon how to skin the hare.

“Let’s not be too hasty,” Abby replied, sweeping the floor in circles, distracted.

“I just still cannot believe it… that he is here.” Brynn smiled, recalling some distant memory that had pushed its way to the present. “He had a little boy before, did you know? He was killed with his mother by—” She paused; she couldn’t say the name. “By the Engels,” she finished.

“Marek was married?” Abby stopped her sweeping mid-stride. “You have never spoken of his past before. I didn’t think of Marek as the marrying type of man, but more as a rover.”

“Aye, and his faithfulness to his wife was what landed me in that hellhole to begin with. He saved my life, Abby, but couldn’t bear to hurt the woman he loved.”

“So instead he hurt the
other
woman he loved.” Abby chuckled, the hint of sarcasm still hanging on her words. She resumed her cleaning after shrugging off the thought.

“To have him here now, to be with his son, is a gift from the gods. He is whole again. I can see it in his eyes. And Talon just adores him. In a way, I guess I have saved his life as well.” Brynn paused to listen to their laughter as it wafted through the open window.

“You
do
realize the danger him being here puts us in?”

“Aye, I know.” Brynn heaved a heavy sigh. The thought had been a never waning constant in the back of her mind. “If word spread that a rebel highlander was here, that bounty on his head would lead to temptation in some. But I cannot deny my heart. I don’t want to hurt anymore, Abby. A few thousand tears I have cried over that man, and now the gods have finally given me the chance to make it right. I hurt him deeply, telling myself it was for the best. And right now Marek being here with his son is for the best. Please try to understand.” Brynn looked at her dear friend, seeking acknowledgement and perhaps even a tiny bit of permission to allow her heart a chance to heal.

“All I am asking is to be careful, ’tis all.” Abby continued her grumbling into the next room while she swept.

“We have skinned the hare!” Talon cheered, carrying the battered and headless body into the kitchen.

“And we managed to keep most of it,” his father added, shaking his head disgracefully at the badly butchered pieces of meat barely clinging to the bone in some places.

“Wonderful job, Talon.” Brynn praised, taking the dismembered hare from the boy’s outstretched arms. “Now go wash up — you are covered in filth.”

“He learns fast,” Marek commented while watching the boy disappear behind a door. He washed his own hands in the wash basin on the table. “He wants to know…
everything
.”

“Talon is a very curious boy. He thirsts for knowledge. He has never had someone to show him how to do these things. I usually pay the help to do the hunting and… skinning.”

“You have farm hands?”

“Aye, five regulars. You don’t think I could run this homestead by myself, do you?”

Marek whistled in a low tune and raised an eyebrow. “A beautiful woman with a deep purse… the men must be lining up at the door to work for you, fumbling around like idiots to tend to your every need.”

She liked his light teasing. Why, she didn’t know. If the truth were to be told, she hadn’t had a man show her any sort of affection in a long while. When word had spread that she was a widow whose husband had suffered a terrible death, most let her be out of respect for the dead. The people in Dunlogh were very spiritual, and most honored her late husband’s position. And that hadn’t bothered her one bit.

His flattery, no matter how undeserved, was welcome. “They come every few days to help, and most barter with me. They help me, and I in turn help with injuries, healing herbs, or help their wives with the birthing of their babes.”

“You seem very happy here.” Marek took a piece of the hare and helped her add the chunks of meat to the already simmering stew.

“I am happy.”
Now that you’re here
. She looked up at him, at those piercing eyes, already lost in their depths.

“I want to be what makes you happy,” he whispered, cupping her chin with his palm.

She closed her eyes and tilted her mouth toward his but pulled back when Talon returned with Rufus at his heels.

“Is it ready yet?” the boy chirped, peeking into the pot. “I’m half starved!”

~~~~

Lunch had been a welcome rarity, although Brynn couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt with eating the hare she had despised for so long. She was sad to see his antics come to an abrupt end but grateful her herbs might now have a starting chance at life. A few hired hands arrived shortly thereafter to see to her needs — the stables needed cleaning and the horses readied for her journey with Talon to Kaius. Abby was to stay behind to manage the property in her absence. Niall, the huntsman, would be accompanying them on the day’s journey to the games and act as escort.

Brynn stood in the entrance to the drive, watching the flurry of people scurry about the cottage. “Remember, Miss Claire should be stopping by to pick up the basket of lavender and oats for her daughter. I placed them on the shelf in the garden room. Oh, and don’t forget to pay Murray when he drops off the chickens.”

“Stop this fretting, child, I have everything under control. Enjoy yourself at the games.” Abby squeezed Brynn’s shoulders tightly. “Ask him to go,” she whispered while hugging Brynn close. “He doesn’t have the courage to ask.”

“Neither do I,” Brynn mumbled in reply, hoping Abby didn’t hear the words. Would this awkwardness ever come to an end?

“Mum, I’m set to go! I gave Niall my satchel, and my horse is ready.” A towering brown mare followed the small boy, reluctantly allowing herself to be tugged from the comfort of the stable. Rufus obediently trotted next to his master.

“Talon, I told you Rufus cannot come. The journey is too far and he might get hurt or lost.”

The boy crossed his arms and pouted his bottom lip.

“You might ask your da if he would like to go instead.” An easy escape from a torturous position.

The boy’s eyes lit. “Really?”

“Mmm-hmm. He’s by the spring, I believe. Hurry now, we haven’t much time.” Brynn took hold of Talon’s mount and fussed with the bags, triple checking that the straps were secure on the saddle and that the bridle was clean and the horse’s feet were clear of stones, trying to think of anything to keep her mind from worrying about the decision.

A horse snorted from behind, and she turned toward it. Marek sat with Talon on his stunning mount, loping toward the traveling party in long beautiful strides. Envy swelled in her chest. She would pay nearly anything to have a stallion of that quality in her breeding herd.

“I hear we are to compete in some games?” Marek flashed a wide — hairless — grin.

“Only if you so wish to.” Brynn fumbled with a bag that needed no attention, returning to the horse in front of her. She hoped he couldn’t see the fire burning her cheeks.

“Who is this?” Niall questioned, suddenly appearing. His gaze wary, he took a protective stance in front of Brynn. Niall was a large man, strong and thick. He was tall, older, but pleasing enough to the eyes. His yellow hair, peppered with flecks of white, caught the light under the brightness of the morning sun.

“Niall, this is my da!” Talon answered as Marek lowered him to the ground.

The man’s eyes narrowed and flashed to Brynn. Confusion seeped from his body. “Mistress Coinnich, how can this be? You yourself said your husband is dead and left ye a widow.”

“Niall, let me explain—” she muttered, but was interrupted by a hearty belly laugh. “You find this amusing, do you?” She scowled at Marek.

“I am very much alive, despite the rumors of my tragic death. It was very surprising, was it not,
Mistress Coinnich
?”

“Very surprising, indeed,” she said between clenched teeth.

“He will be joining us, then?” Niall asked, still eyeing the disrupter.

“I wouldn’t miss this, even if you bound me to a pig pole.”

“I could arrange it,” Niall sneered before helping Brynn to mount.

“Give it a go, old man.”

“Let us not fight like children,” Brynn scolded, giving them both a warning glance. “You are grown men — act like it.”

“Would you like me to ride beside you?” Niall asked her, clearly concerned for her safety.

“That won’t be necessary, Niall, I will ride beside my
wife
. I’m sure Talon would love to tell you all about my arrival, right, Talon?” Marek urged his horse closer to Brynn’s.

Brynn sighed, annoyed by his blatant jealousy. It dripped from his tongue like a dog hungry for meat. “Be nice. He is only looking out for my wellbeing.”

“It is not required.”

She glanced back at Niall, who was listening to Talon spew long sentences several paces behind, before continuing, “Just because you show up here unannounced and force yourself back into our lives does not give you allowance to behave like that. We have been living quite contentedly without you — you don’t have the right to just… take over.”

His jaw twitched, but Marek didn’t reply.

“Please,” she whispered, her eyes pleading. “Please do not ruin this for me.” Visions of the truth revealed flashed through her mind — her bastard child’s father arriving to lay claim to her fortune, which was based solely on lies. That wouldn’t sit well with the people of Dunlogh.

“You haven’t exactly told me to leave, have you? We will talk about it later,” he grumbled.

The silence ate at her insides. They rode for hours without so much as a word.

Talon happily chatted with Niall about every possible story his young mind could recollect about his father; most were misconstrued and intertwined within one another, but Marek seemed content to listen to them from a child’s perspective. Apparently Marek had felled seventeen men with one solid swoop of his sword, saving his mother from the death grip of a giant ready to eat her alive. Brynn asked Marek how he fared during that particular battle, as it sounded as though it would have been quite entertaining to participate in.

“What was I supposed to tell them?” she told him, unable to withstand the silence between them any longer. “Hello, I’m Brynn from the Engel manor of Galhaven and this is my bastard Archaean child and we would like to buy this property with this stolen money I’m giving you. Or how about… I have just escaped from an Engel encampment ruled by Lord Westmore, and I was his favorite you know, but I am ripe with my Archaean lover’s child, so I need to lie about my identity so I don’t bring on the downfall of the Archaean highlands. I’m sorry if it upsets you, Marek, that I told such a terrible lie to protect your child.”

“Well, when you word it like that…” A small smirk formed on his mouth. “But why
my
name? Why did not you just… give a false one? Cut all ties with your past and start anew?”

“Well…” She paused. “Yours was the only one I knew. And every day I would have had to live knowing my son would never have known his father’s real name. How could I look at my boy and lie when I saw his father staring back at me?”

He smiled that amazingly beautiful boyish lopsided grin at her then, the one she had always dreamed about. “I don’t mind that much. Honestly, it’s quite satisfying you would choose my name.”

“So I became the widowed mistress Brynn Coinnich of
Cinn Tàile
, whose husband left her a rather
large
sum of money when he died in battle.”

“A widow no longer,” he added, his thoughts quickly moving on. “So who is this Niall fellow? He seems quite… fond of you.”

“Oh, stop. He is not. He is my huntsman only.”

“He has eyes for you, Brynn. Any man with a cock between his legs can see that.”

“Why, I believe you are you jealous, Marek. Is it not possible someone other than you could possibly show affection toward me? He does not, mind you. He is married and leaves his children with their mother in order to provide an escort for me.”

“Do not play the fool and think just because a man is married he doesn’t want your body. We both know the truth of that. You could have just asked me to escort you.”

“You weren’t exactly here then, Marek,” she replied, her voice soft. The conversation had quickly become uncomfortable.

“Well, if he should as much as lay a hand on you, I’m ripping him in two.”

Marek’s words left her plenty to ponder during the remainder of the trip south. She hadn’t given much thought to the men she employed. After Marek, no one had ever again held her heart, so she’d foolishly thought the days of men doting on her had come to an end. She hadn’t stepped foot in a tavern in years and no longer needed to flaunt her body to earn a night’s meal. Had she been blindly overlooking such things? Did Niall now feel threatened with Marek’s sudden appearance as her husband? No, Marek was just playing the rival fool. He had always been the jealous kind. That trait hadn’t faded one bit during her absence. Perhaps it had only intensified it.