Stay the Night (38 page)

“When I came back to find you, I had already become Kyn. I had long been branded an outlaw by the king. I could not keep a human infant with me in the forest.” He might as well tell her the rest. “Jayr, I wanted to raise you, and love you, and see you grow into a woman. It was all I ever wanted for you. To give you a home and a good life. But I could not. Claiming you would have destroyed any happiness you might have known.”

“Why did you save me at Bannockburn?” she demanded.

“I could never call you daughter, but that is what you were. What you are. I could not watch you die.” He held out his hand. “Come and sit with me. Let me tell you everything.”

She came, and she sat with him. She listened as he began with the days of his childhood, when he and Marian were fostered together. How much they loved each other as children, and how terrible it had been for him when Marian's father had taken her away to the convent. How it had changed her, and later, how it had made her refuse marriage to Guy.

In his mind's eye Robin saw once more her young, shining face, and heard the eagerness of devotion in her voice. “When her father ignored her wishes and forced the betrothal, she tried to run away. He had her beaten and locked in her room. And that was only the beginning.”

He spoke of the abuse Marian suffered as she resisted the betrothal, the strangeness that had come over her as a result of it, and when she had finally lost her mind.

“Her maidservant came to me and said that Marian's father had taken her to Nottingham so that he might lie with her and consummate the marriage before they took their vows,” Robin continued. “The maid said his servants had tied her to the bed and that she screamed and raved. I couldn't bear the thought of her being raped over and over, not in her wretched condition, so I went into Nottingham's manor on the night before the wedding, and I took her.”

“If you knew how she felt about men and marriage, if you meant to save her from rape, then why did you force yourself on her?” Jayr asked. “Why didn't you simply take her to the convent in Scotland?”

“I was seventeen. The same age you were when you jumped into that pit and saved Byrne's life,” he reminded her. “I loved Marian, and I wanted her to be my wife. But I had accepted that she wanted to give her life to God. It was on the journey to Scotland that I discovered how mad she really was. She waited until we camped and I went to sleep, and then she tried to kill herself. I woke to find her pulling my blade out of my belt. I barely stopped her before she stabbed herself in the chest with it.”

Jayr closed her eyes. “My God.”

“When I took the blade from her, she attacked me, and we struggled. I kept telling her I loved her, and kissed her, and then she stopped fighting.” Robin bowed his head. “I know it is no excuse to say that I was young and selfish, but I was. I loved Marian, and I thought that if I showed her that being with a man didn't have to be rape . . . that if I gave her pleasure . . .” He rubbed his stinging eyes. “I swear to you, she didn't resist. But by the end she had retreated entirely into herself. It was too late to do anything but curse myself for being no better than Nottingham or her father.”

“You were young.” She looked at him. “You might have married her.”

“I intended to do just that. I left her in the convent and went to petition the king.” Robin shook his head. “Upon my arrival at his court he had me arrested, and when I refused to tell him where Marian was, he had me tortured and condemned to death. My father arranged my escape and sent me to the Templars before he and the rest of my family were imprisoned and, later, executed. I never knew what happened to them or Marian until I returned.”

“Did you know, Aedan was jealous of you,” Jayr said unexpectedly. “Before the tournament last year he thought I might be sleeping with you. We fought over it. He is your best friend. Why did you never tell him that you were my father?”

“Before the tournament I thought that he was a better father to you than I could ever be.” Robin smiled at the sound she made. “Yes, well, men can be fools when it comes to the women they love, whether they are life companion or daughter. You should have seen my countenance when I discovered the two of you sleeping together in your bed the night after the dance. I almost stabbed him in the heart.”

Jayr laughed once, and then fell silent. Robin did not press her to talk; he knew that by telling her about her mother, he had placed as much weight on her slim shoulders as he carried on his own.

Finally she asked, “Do you love this Chris as much as my mother?”

He nodded.

“I am glad to hear it. Since you fell ill she has not left your side. She sleeps in the chair by your bed and ignores Alex's scolding. She followed you out here tonight.” Jayr smiled and turned her head. “She is waiting over there, by the fountain. You should go to her.”

Robin stood. “Jayr, I know you have no wish to call me father or friend, but I hope in time you will come to forgive me for abandoning you.”

“You put me in the care of the sisters in London when I was an infant,” Jayr said. “You saved my life at Bannockburn. I suspect now that you even came to America so you could watch over me.” She smiled as he averted his gaze. “As you say, it will take time.”

She sketched a bow and walked off.

 

Chris trailed her fingers through the water in the fountain's basin. She felt one hundred percent better since waking up after her faint. Alex had been there, keeping an eye on her, and had insisted on giving her a full exam. While the doctor checked her, she had told Chris that the siege of Robin's stronghold had been successful, and that Hutch and the other hostages had been freed.

“Your partner won't remember any of it,” the doctor admitted, “but other than the three-day gap in his memory, he'll be fine.”

The high lord, Richard, had also spoken to Chris when he stopped in to check on Robin. He hadn't been as warm and friendly as Alex, but he'd made it clear that he would give Chris anything she wanted as a reward for helping to stop Salva and save the Kyn.

“There's a priceless manuscript lying in pieces on the floor of a dungeon in Venice,” she told him. “I'd like to have it returned to the authorities in America. They have experts who can repair it and put it in a museum, where it belongs.”

“Consider it done.” The high lord put a gloved hand on her shoulder. “Your valor will never be forgotten among the Kyn, my lady.”

“You are getting your sleeve wet,” a mellow voice said.

“I won't melt.” Chris looked up and smiled as she drew her hand back from the water. “Alex is going to yell at you for getting out of bed.”

“I put pillows under the sheets.” Robin sat down beside her. “I have been told that you have acquired the habit of napping in chairs of late.”

She shrugged. “I can't sleep by myself anymore. I have no idea why I fainted. I never faint. Well, not counting that time I tried to slit your throat.” She turned, reaching for him and burying her face in his chest.

“What is this?” He set her back and looked down at her. “I stopped the contessa. I saved the world. I did not die. My mouth hurts from Jayr hitting me, but it will mend. We should be calling for wine and food and jugglers.”

Chris swiped at her tear-streaked face. “Alex told me that you're stuck with this. You can't change back. What are you going to do now?”

Robin thought for a moment. “Aside from spending a month at the beach sunning myself, eating cake until I retch, and making love to you until I pull every muscle in my body—twice—I would very much like to live out my second mortal life with you.”

She shook her head. “I'm still a federal agent, and you're still an international art thief. God, you're Robin Hood.”

“I understand that the authorities often consult with reformed criminals in order to crack difficult cases,” he said. “Perhaps you could put in a good word for me with the bureau.”

“Robin, I'm serious. This changes everything for you. What if you hate being human? What if you're tempted to make the change back to Kyn? Alex told me—”

“I am a man,” he said softly, “and you are a woman. We are both human now, and we never have to be alone again. I would not trade that for a thousand immortal lives.” He gave her a measuring look. “Unless
you
wish to make the change, and keep me in your harem as your chief mortal love slave. I could speak to Alex—”

Chris kissed him, still laughing, until he set her at arm's length.

“Before anything is decided, there is one more thing I must know.”

“What?”

“What is your bloody damn name?”

She let out a long, slow breath. “Christabel, after the poem. My mother loved Samuel Coleridge.”

“That's it? That's all?”

She eyed him. “Have you ever read it?” When he shook his head, her smile turned grim. “Good. If you ever tell anyone, I have to kill you. And I can now.”

Robin brought her to her feet and took her into his arms, swaying with her as they had the night they met. “Perhaps you could simply torture me. . . .”

Chapter 21

H
e made the journey to Scotland on foot, walking across England as mortals once had during his human life on their pilgrimages to holy places. The land of Wallace, like much of the British Isles, had become unrecognizable to his eyes. If not for the incomprehensible dialects and suspicious glances, he would have thought himself back in America.

Time and neglect had reduced the old Catholic abbey to a jumble of collapsed walls and fallen timbers. He hated to think of her in this place, cold and damp in a nun's cell, swelling with child, lost in her madness.

He went to the abbey's pitiful graveyard, looking forgotten in a fallow field, and walked through the short rows of old graves. The names chiseled into the stones were almost gone; he could barely make them out. SISTER MARY MICHAEL, 1272. SISTER BERNADETTE FRANCIS, 1244.

The ground before the oldest row of headstones had been disturbed, and he wondered if some inquisitive scientist had been at the graves, wrenching the sisters from their sleep so as to peer at their bones and decide whether they had starved or had been diseased. Modern mortals respected nothing, not even the dead.

“Are ye one of the protestors?” a sharp old voice asked behind him. “I'll not have you chaining yourself to anything.”

He turned and looked upon the elderly mortal. “No.” He glanced down at the lilies he had gathered from a nearby field. “One of my family is buried here. Her name was Sister Marian Christopher.”

“There's one Marian.” The old man pointed. “Over there, in the back.”

He went to the grave, which occupied a corner beneath the shade of an elm tree, and looked at the stone. Her name, Marian, was all that he could make out. The year of her death had been wiped clean by the wind.

He knelt and placed the bouquet of lilies before the stone. “I loved you from the first moment I saw you,” he murmured. “I would have tried to make you happy.”

The groundskeeper hobbled over to stand beside him. “The developers began moving the sisters to a Catholic cemetery down the road. They would have taken the stones, too, but the protestors raised bloody blue hell, and now it's in the courts.” He nodded toward the grave. “There's nothing there, lad.”

“I know.” His hell on earth had taken the dream of heaven from him, but he prayed she was there. “She is at peace now.”

“No, I mean when they opened that grave and took out the coffin to move it with the others in this row,” the old man said. “I remember the fuss they made about hers.”

Nottingham stood. “What are you talking about?”

“There wasn't a body, lad.” He gestured toward the empty grave. “That box was filled with stones.”

 

“It is good to be home,” Phillipe said as he carried Alex's suitcase into her bedchamber at La Fontaine.

“It sure is.” Alex sat down on the bed she shared with Michael and bounced on it a few times. She had to tell him why she'd needed to leave Michael in England and come back to New Orleans a week early, but she still hadn't decided how to explain things. “You don't have to unpack, Phil. I'll take care of it.”

He nodded but made no move to leave. “I called Suzerain Jaus downstairs. He tells me that there has been no word of your brother. He claims he never called you or told you that John had been found.”

“I know.” Alex faced him, and prayed that everything she thought she knew about her lover's seneschal was right. “I lied to you about that. John's still missing.”

Disapproval flashed in Phillipe's light eyes. “Why would you lie about such a thing? We are all worried about your brother.”

“I had to get away from Richard and Michael, and I needed you with me.” Alex took a deep breath. “I'm human.”

He frowned. “Yes, you are the most human Kyn who has ever existed, but—”

“No, I'm really human, Phil. I found the answer while we were in England. I found a way to synthesize more of Beatrice's Tears, and to create a serum. I injected myself with it and made the change back to human overnight. That's why I harassed you about leaving before Michael woke up.” She approached him and saw him take a step back. “Don't worry; it's not contagious.”

He hesitated. “You're ill again. I thought as much as soon as I saw your face; you're gone very pale. Let me call the master and summon him home. The high lord will understand.”

“No, Phil, I'm not crazy. I'm just not Kyn anymore.”