Conquer the Night, page 25
“ ’Tis out!” one of his men said.
“Aye, and good work, my friends,” Arryn said quietly.
Ragnor had come, and stood at his side. “Aye, ’tis out. You lads!” he said, indicating the kitchen boys. “Fine work indeed. Seize those remnants, the charred remains, and get them out. The smoke will clear then, I think.”
“The lads will mop the water and finish with the debris here,” Arryn said. “Ragnor, see if we’ve injured any of our own, and if any of the fallen by the walls still live.”
“Aye, Arryn.”
“Take care, lest they’re planning another assault once the gates are open,” Arryn warned.
“Aye, we’ll be watching. I don’t think the dogs will be returning this night.”
Ragnor departed. The boys on the floor soaked up water with rags.
Kyra returned Arryn’s stare. She had listened to his exchange with Ragnor without realizing that there were no more sounds of battle coming to the room.
“Kinsey’s men have given up?” she asked.
He looked at her, watching her dispassionately. “Kinsey’s men turned tail rather quickly. Perhaps they’re not supposed to waste their lives here and now; I don’t know. Perhaps our defenses were far stronger than they had expected.” He watched her levelly.
“Sir?”
“Aye?” Arryn turned as one of the lads addressed him.
“I think we’ve taken the water up. The walls are scorched; if you wish, we can begin to scour them.”
“Nay, lad. Not now.”
Kyra stood still. The tapestries and the water were gone. It had seemed that the whole room had been golden, lit by the fire. But now, already, she could hardly smell the smoke. The walls were scorched in places, but most of the room was unharmed.
They weren’t leaving it, she realized. At the least, she wouldn’t be leaving it. This was the most secure prison.
Other than the bowels of the castle. Down there lay the crypts….
And old chambers with bars and chains. They had never been used in her lifetime.
“Go on now; that’s all for the night,” Arryn ordered the servant boy.
“Aye, sir,” the lad said, and departed, and Arryn closed the door in his wake.
“How did you know the tower was on fire so quickly?” she asked.
He pointed to the arrow slit. “I saw it,” he told her, his tone still tense.
She lowered her head. When his real home burned, he wasn’t able to stop it. When the woman he loved perished in the flames, he hadn’t been able to save her.
“You came so swiftly; you saved my life.”
“I was the one who ordered you locked in.”
She lifted her head. Here they were, together in the aftermath of fire, alone, and facing one another. And the most important thing seemed to be that he hadn’t left her to die.
And so she told him, “I don’t know what I can say to make you believe me, but I didn’t leave here to warn Kinsey, or to give him any information, to let him know that you were away, and that your men—your outlaws—were here without you, vulnerable and leaderless.”
He watched her from the doorway for a long time.
“You didn’t?” he queried, still waiting for an explanation.
“When you found me, I was fighting for my life. I saw Richard—”
“Richard?”
“Sir Richard Egan. Kinsey’s second in command. He’s—”
“I’ve heard of him. Go on.”
“He isn’t … overly fond of me.”
“Oh?” he questioned, still careful. “So he didn’t believe you?”
“Believe me? What do you mean?”
“Whatever you told him. What did you tell him?”
“I had nothing to say to him! I-I ran away from him and he was furious, and he told the men that it didn’t matter if I was taken dead or alive.”
“So you realized that your sainted Englishmen were not so gracious?”
“Damn you!” she cried vehemently. “I never left here to go to them!”
“But you did leave here. Why? If you weren’t trying to reach Kinsey to rescue you from Scottish barbarians, why were you so desperate to escape?”
She inhaled with a sigh, shaking her head, looking down again. “I didn’t wish to reach Kinsey, but neither can I stay here with you. Why can’t you see that? There is no sense to my being here. And … I don’t wish to be here when you leave.”
“My men would never hurt you. And I hadn’t actually left.”
“No, you went to see Wallace. To vow your aid to him!”
“Aye, I went to see Wallace, and you knew it, and you know that Wallace is very near, information you might have wanted to share with Darrow.”
“Damn you, I gave him nothing.”
“Neither did I actually leave you here.”
“Perhaps not, but you hadn’t discussed any plans with me.”
“Should I discuss my plans with Edward’s loyal subject?”
“Why do you condemn me for being English? Aye! I spent time in England—”
“At the king’s court, aye.”
“It’s natural to honor a king you’ve known.”
“Aye.”
She threw up her hands with exasperation. “You left without explanation, and aye—it was necessary that I escape you! Soon, very soon, you will take your army of men and leave here.”
“Aye, that’s true. And I told you that when I left, you would be free. But rather than accept my word, you would risk your life to escape—right when Darrow’s men just happened to be there.”
“Aye, that is exactly what happened.”
“Indeed.”
He still didn’t believe her. Or trust her. She’d spent years in Edward’s court, honored the English king, and she had been betrothed to Kinsey. So, despite everything that he had seen, she must be guilty.
She wanted to slam her fists against him. She knotted her fingers into her palms and slammed them back against the wall instead. “Oh, you are a fool!” she cried, frustrated beyond measure, staring at him, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“Excuse me, my lady?” he grated.
“You’re a fool! A wretched, incredibly stupid fool! Even a blind man would see—ask your new man-at-arms, Father Corrigan, if you would not believe me! I hate Kinsey, loathe him, despise him! I was on my knees praying God for any salvation from a marriage to Kinsey when you assaulted this castle! You were not at all what I had in mind, sir, but then, as we’ve all seen, God can be more than ironic. I had been desperately praying for some way to free myself from Kinsey. And you can be blind, and stupid, and an idiot if you don’t realize what was happening out there today—did you think those men would have dared take swords to me if they didn’t believe that they could injure me—or kill me—and still receive Kinsey’s pardon and forgiveness?”
Her words out in a furious rush, she found herself falling silent again, now watching him very warily.
He pushed away from the door, approaching her. She found herself stumbling back, reflecting upon the words she had used.
Idiot. Fool. Stupid fool, at that.
He came closer, his blue eyes dark and enigmatic.
“Don’t you understand?” she whispered, still backing away. “I never chose Kinsey. I used every means to—to keep him at bay.”
He paused, staring at her, just a foot away. Arms crossed over his chest then, he watched her, and waited. She held her silence, her eyes demanding that he believe her.
“I should believe you; I should accept all this! And if I don’t, I’m a stupid, blind fool? Come, come—don’t hold back now, my lady.” His voice grated.
“You’re blind!” she said simply.
“You remain Edward’s loyal subject, willing to trick and drug your enemy and risk your life to escape!”
“I have to escape—really escape. There is nothing else for me to do.”
“I never threatened your life.”
She moistened her lips. “But my life is threatened.”
“You are among the king’s favorites!”
“The king is in France! You are riding away. You met with Wallace, and there will be a battle, and—”
“I will be a part of it, and God knows, you don’t believe we outlaws could really defeat troops of your great King Edward?”
“You will leave here!” she repeated. “And I cannot be here when you do!”
He stood less than a foot from her, not touching her, studying her.
“Why are you so furious, so hateful?” she whispered.
“I was warned,” he said simply.
“Warned?”
“That you are … what you are.”
“And what is that, other than sick to death of the whole of it? A pawn, in danger with both sides now. You have to understand; you have to believe me. Kinsey …”
“Kinsey what? You are the wondrous prize granted to him, a bride with youth and beauty and riches untold! He loves you, so goes the rumor; he is obsessed with you.”
“No more! I saw …”
“You saw what?”
“His face.”
He frowned in earnest. “So you did see him!”
“For a second only, a brief second, after I saw you. When I ran through the trees … aye, damn you, I saw him, and I saw the way he looked at me, and he believes that I have betrayed him, and perhaps not until then, but at that moment I knew….”
“Knew what?”
“He wants me dead.”
He arched a brow, studying her. Then he turned away.
“Arryn!” she cried.
He looked back.
“I swear to you, I am telling the truth.”
“Oh? You would betray Edward now?”
“I loathe Kinsey. I-I would never betray you, or your men, to him. Before God, I swear that is the truth.”
He did not change; something in his face had hardened. He did not look at her any differently.
“There is soot all over your face,” he told her.
She wiped her cheeks. “Aye, there is soot all over me!”
He nodded. He reached out and she flinched, and he paused slightly before he touched her cheek, his thumb running over it. “Aye, there is soot all over you. And your gown is filthy. And torn. You’re quite a mess.”
“A swordfight, sir, is hard on gowns such as this. And fires … well, they cause soot.”
“Aye, and more,” he murmured, and his gaze was brooding.
He turned away from her abruptly and left the room. She stared after him.
The door closed behind him.
Tense, wary, she listened. She didn’t hear the bolt slide home.
He had chosen not to lock her in.
She suddenly felt her knees seem to give. She stumbled toward the bed and sat. A moment later, there was a tap on the door. She leapt up. “Aye?”
Ingrid entered tentatively, saw her standing there, and then rushed in, hugging her. “Ah, my lady, you’re alive and well still, though they say the wretch thinks you gave him away to Lord Kinsey! He failed this time, but I know he’ll be back.”
“Ingrid, Ingrid, it’s all right; but I’m very tired, and—”
“Aye, you’re tired!” Ingrid said indignantly, then sniffed. “But he’s ordered up a bath for you, and fresh sheets, and … it’s entirely too much bathing, you know! You’ll wash away the oils that belong on your skin, you’ll open up your flesh to the devil, they’ll be harm come from it, you mark my words, you wait and see.”
“Ingrid, I don’t believe that bathing makes the devil come to you.”
“Nay, lady? But then you swim, an ungodly capability, my lady!” she said, and crossed herself quickly.
Kyra smiled; then her smile faded. A bath … aye, he would not want her to smell like smoke! He must despise the odor.
Yet a burning smell was different when only objects had burned. And not people!
She shivered. She didn’t want to smell like smoke. She wanted him to come back to her, no matter how foolish it was to seek his forgiveness.
His touch.
“Ingrid, a bath would delight me tonight. I am covered in ashes.”
Ingrid sniffed again. “At least you are reconciled to … him! Ah, here come the lads again, as if they’re not weary enough, fighting fires in the very middle of the night!” She stepped aside then, ordering where the tub should be placed, and the linen towels, soap, water, and brushes. When the boys had finished, the room was still filled with maids who brought furs from elsewhere in the castle and clean sheets for the bed. At last Ingrid clapped the last of the servants out, took the borrowed priest’s robe from Kyra, and turned her around to find the ties at the back of her tunic.
“Perhaps it does not smell so much like smoke anymore.…” Ingrid admitted.
“And I will not smell so much like smoke anymore,” Kyra reminded her gently. “Ingrid, I … Ingrid, do you know what Kinsey did to Arryn’s home, and to his wife?”
Ingrid looked down. “I’ve heard … rumors.”
“They were true, Ingrid.”
“Wallace is a brutal man; the head of these outlaws is a very brutal man! I know that as well.”
“Ingrid, nothing compares with what has been done to them!” she said very softly.
Ingrid looked at her, huge blue eyes damp. “My lady, Kinsey was to be your husband. Your right and proper husband! This rebel …” She hesitated. “He has no title, my lady.”
“A title does not make a man.”
“He will never marry you!” Ingrid blurted. “You were your father’s daughter and he has made you an outlaw’s …”
“Whore!” Kyra suggested flatly.
“Oh, my lady!” Ingrid whispered, pained.
“It does not matter, Ingrid. It does not matter. Don’t go against these men, and they will not allow us to be maimed or hurt, and as to the rest of it … well, we will survive.”
“Aye, lady, aye!” Ingrid tried a weak smile. “Come, let me wash your hair then, and let the steam ease the cares of the night!”
Kyra shimmied from the tunic, discarded her shoes and hose, and slipped from her undergown. She crawled into the steaming water, shivered, and lay back. She closed her eyes. God, but it had been an endless day and night!
“My poor lady!” Ingrid murmured. “I’ll bathe your hair in rose water, rub your scalp. Ease the torments inflicted upon you!”
“Aye, Ingrid.”
But it was a moment before she felt a gentle touch in her hair against her scalp. There were fingers rubbing her head, massaging, and the feel of them was wonderful, and sensual….
And it was not Ingrid touching her.
Her muscles tightened; she swallowed hard.
She turned, and it was Arryn. Ingrid was gone, and Arryn had returned. His mantle and the light armor he had worn were gone; he had gone somewhere else and washed away the imprints of fire and battle.
“Turn around; let me finish,” he told her, and she did so, and closed her eyes again, and felt the sheer pleasure of his talented hands against her head and hair. He worked soap into her, and the rinse of elderberries. She gripped the rim of the tub and felt both a delicious sense of being stroked and languid, and yet …
Tense. Little ripples of sunlight working through her limbs. Nay, big ripples, hot ripples, alive and vibrant, keeping her keenly awake and aware …
“It is done.”
He twisted up the length of her hair, draining water from it, reaching for a towel. Yet his grip drew her from the tub, and when he found a towel it was huge, and he used it to wrap her hair and her length. Sweeping it over her head and around her, he held her before him so enwrapped.
“Don’t run from me anymore,” he told her harshly. “I promised you freedom. When it’s safe, you will have it. I give you my word.”
She nodded, moistening her lips. “Aye. I will not run. Do you believe me?” she whispered.
“Does it matter to you what I believe?”
“Aye, in this, it does!”
He drew her closer. The towel fell from her form. He kissed her lips exploringly. His hand slid down her bare spine, caressed her nakedness. His head rose away from hers.
Still, he didn’t answer her. His words were a question again.
“Can it be, my lady, that you’ve come to care for me?”
He taunted her, she thought, no matter what his promises. She took care with her answer. “I have decided that you are not completely a wretched barbarian.”
He smiled. Despite the way he held her, there remained a distance in his eyes. “I am not wretched, and perhaps you are not such a deceitful, treacherous, and cunning witch.”
Her eyes widened in protest. “You don’t believe me. But what promise did you expect would simply come your way? You, sir, invaded here. You came to me! I did not come to your home and invade and demand….”
He laughed softly. “Demand? Well, I will not demand. I will request. Will you come to bed, my lady?”
It was an invitation—perhaps. And what if she refused?
But she didn’t want to refuse. Not tonight! She could still remember the way Sir Richard Egan had touched her, the things he had said to her….
She remembered Kinsey’s eyes when he realized that she did hate him, would run from him, refuse him at every turn.
She …
She wanted to be held tonight. By Arryn.
“I have told you the truth about Kinsey, about … me. I don’t want you to think that I would use … this as a means of seeking your forgiveness. I don’t seek forgiveness. I did nothing against you. You, sir, however, should ask my forgiveness.”
“Ah.”
“Well?”
“I have absolutely no intention of asking your forgiveness. This is what is, and that is that. And, again, I cannot ask your forgiveness for something that has given me such unique warmth and pleasure.”
She felt heat rise to her cheeks.
“Do you believe me? About tonight?” Kyra asked.
He watched her a moment, but his eyes remained enigmatic. “Perhaps. I will allow room for doubt. And God help me, Kyra—I pray that giving you such benefit does not make me a fool—a stupid fool.”
She flushed again, and watched his eyes reflectively. “I should not be begging you to understand me!” she whispered.
He lifted his hands. “I am here now, and you are with me.”
“Aye, and good work, my friends,” Arryn said quietly.
Ragnor had come, and stood at his side. “Aye, ’tis out. You lads!” he said, indicating the kitchen boys. “Fine work indeed. Seize those remnants, the charred remains, and get them out. The smoke will clear then, I think.”
“The lads will mop the water and finish with the debris here,” Arryn said. “Ragnor, see if we’ve injured any of our own, and if any of the fallen by the walls still live.”
“Aye, Arryn.”
“Take care, lest they’re planning another assault once the gates are open,” Arryn warned.
“Aye, we’ll be watching. I don’t think the dogs will be returning this night.”
Ragnor departed. The boys on the floor soaked up water with rags.
Kyra returned Arryn’s stare. She had listened to his exchange with Ragnor without realizing that there were no more sounds of battle coming to the room.
“Kinsey’s men have given up?” she asked.
He looked at her, watching her dispassionately. “Kinsey’s men turned tail rather quickly. Perhaps they’re not supposed to waste their lives here and now; I don’t know. Perhaps our defenses were far stronger than they had expected.” He watched her levelly.
“Sir?”
“Aye?” Arryn turned as one of the lads addressed him.
“I think we’ve taken the water up. The walls are scorched; if you wish, we can begin to scour them.”
“Nay, lad. Not now.”
Kyra stood still. The tapestries and the water were gone. It had seemed that the whole room had been golden, lit by the fire. But now, already, she could hardly smell the smoke. The walls were scorched in places, but most of the room was unharmed.
They weren’t leaving it, she realized. At the least, she wouldn’t be leaving it. This was the most secure prison.
Other than the bowels of the castle. Down there lay the crypts….
And old chambers with bars and chains. They had never been used in her lifetime.
“Go on now; that’s all for the night,” Arryn ordered the servant boy.
“Aye, sir,” the lad said, and departed, and Arryn closed the door in his wake.
“How did you know the tower was on fire so quickly?” she asked.
He pointed to the arrow slit. “I saw it,” he told her, his tone still tense.
She lowered her head. When his real home burned, he wasn’t able to stop it. When the woman he loved perished in the flames, he hadn’t been able to save her.
“You came so swiftly; you saved my life.”
“I was the one who ordered you locked in.”
She lifted her head. Here they were, together in the aftermath of fire, alone, and facing one another. And the most important thing seemed to be that he hadn’t left her to die.
And so she told him, “I don’t know what I can say to make you believe me, but I didn’t leave here to warn Kinsey, or to give him any information, to let him know that you were away, and that your men—your outlaws—were here without you, vulnerable and leaderless.”
He watched her from the doorway for a long time.
“You didn’t?” he queried, still waiting for an explanation.
“When you found me, I was fighting for my life. I saw Richard—”
“Richard?”
“Sir Richard Egan. Kinsey’s second in command. He’s—”
“I’ve heard of him. Go on.”
“He isn’t … overly fond of me.”
“Oh?” he questioned, still careful. “So he didn’t believe you?”
“Believe me? What do you mean?”
“Whatever you told him. What did you tell him?”
“I had nothing to say to him! I-I ran away from him and he was furious, and he told the men that it didn’t matter if I was taken dead or alive.”
“So you realized that your sainted Englishmen were not so gracious?”
“Damn you!” she cried vehemently. “I never left here to go to them!”
“But you did leave here. Why? If you weren’t trying to reach Kinsey to rescue you from Scottish barbarians, why were you so desperate to escape?”
She inhaled with a sigh, shaking her head, looking down again. “I didn’t wish to reach Kinsey, but neither can I stay here with you. Why can’t you see that? There is no sense to my being here. And … I don’t wish to be here when you leave.”
“My men would never hurt you. And I hadn’t actually left.”
“No, you went to see Wallace. To vow your aid to him!”
“Aye, I went to see Wallace, and you knew it, and you know that Wallace is very near, information you might have wanted to share with Darrow.”
“Damn you, I gave him nothing.”
“Neither did I actually leave you here.”
“Perhaps not, but you hadn’t discussed any plans with me.”
“Should I discuss my plans with Edward’s loyal subject?”
“Why do you condemn me for being English? Aye! I spent time in England—”
“At the king’s court, aye.”
“It’s natural to honor a king you’ve known.”
“Aye.”
She threw up her hands with exasperation. “You left without explanation, and aye—it was necessary that I escape you! Soon, very soon, you will take your army of men and leave here.”
“Aye, that’s true. And I told you that when I left, you would be free. But rather than accept my word, you would risk your life to escape—right when Darrow’s men just happened to be there.”
“Aye, that is exactly what happened.”
“Indeed.”
He still didn’t believe her. Or trust her. She’d spent years in Edward’s court, honored the English king, and she had been betrothed to Kinsey. So, despite everything that he had seen, she must be guilty.
She wanted to slam her fists against him. She knotted her fingers into her palms and slammed them back against the wall instead. “Oh, you are a fool!” she cried, frustrated beyond measure, staring at him, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“Excuse me, my lady?” he grated.
“You’re a fool! A wretched, incredibly stupid fool! Even a blind man would see—ask your new man-at-arms, Father Corrigan, if you would not believe me! I hate Kinsey, loathe him, despise him! I was on my knees praying God for any salvation from a marriage to Kinsey when you assaulted this castle! You were not at all what I had in mind, sir, but then, as we’ve all seen, God can be more than ironic. I had been desperately praying for some way to free myself from Kinsey. And you can be blind, and stupid, and an idiot if you don’t realize what was happening out there today—did you think those men would have dared take swords to me if they didn’t believe that they could injure me—or kill me—and still receive Kinsey’s pardon and forgiveness?”
Her words out in a furious rush, she found herself falling silent again, now watching him very warily.
He pushed away from the door, approaching her. She found herself stumbling back, reflecting upon the words she had used.
Idiot. Fool. Stupid fool, at that.
He came closer, his blue eyes dark and enigmatic.
“Don’t you understand?” she whispered, still backing away. “I never chose Kinsey. I used every means to—to keep him at bay.”
He paused, staring at her, just a foot away. Arms crossed over his chest then, he watched her, and waited. She held her silence, her eyes demanding that he believe her.
“I should believe you; I should accept all this! And if I don’t, I’m a stupid, blind fool? Come, come—don’t hold back now, my lady.” His voice grated.
“You’re blind!” she said simply.
“You remain Edward’s loyal subject, willing to trick and drug your enemy and risk your life to escape!”
“I have to escape—really escape. There is nothing else for me to do.”
“I never threatened your life.”
She moistened her lips. “But my life is threatened.”
“You are among the king’s favorites!”
“The king is in France! You are riding away. You met with Wallace, and there will be a battle, and—”
“I will be a part of it, and God knows, you don’t believe we outlaws could really defeat troops of your great King Edward?”
“You will leave here!” she repeated. “And I cannot be here when you do!”
He stood less than a foot from her, not touching her, studying her.
“Why are you so furious, so hateful?” she whispered.
“I was warned,” he said simply.
“Warned?”
“That you are … what you are.”
“And what is that, other than sick to death of the whole of it? A pawn, in danger with both sides now. You have to understand; you have to believe me. Kinsey …”
“Kinsey what? You are the wondrous prize granted to him, a bride with youth and beauty and riches untold! He loves you, so goes the rumor; he is obsessed with you.”
“No more! I saw …”
“You saw what?”
“His face.”
He frowned in earnest. “So you did see him!”
“For a second only, a brief second, after I saw you. When I ran through the trees … aye, damn you, I saw him, and I saw the way he looked at me, and he believes that I have betrayed him, and perhaps not until then, but at that moment I knew….”
“Knew what?”
“He wants me dead.”
He arched a brow, studying her. Then he turned away.
“Arryn!” she cried.
He looked back.
“I swear to you, I am telling the truth.”
“Oh? You would betray Edward now?”
“I loathe Kinsey. I-I would never betray you, or your men, to him. Before God, I swear that is the truth.”
He did not change; something in his face had hardened. He did not look at her any differently.
“There is soot all over your face,” he told her.
She wiped her cheeks. “Aye, there is soot all over me!”
He nodded. He reached out and she flinched, and he paused slightly before he touched her cheek, his thumb running over it. “Aye, there is soot all over you. And your gown is filthy. And torn. You’re quite a mess.”
“A swordfight, sir, is hard on gowns such as this. And fires … well, they cause soot.”
“Aye, and more,” he murmured, and his gaze was brooding.
He turned away from her abruptly and left the room. She stared after him.
The door closed behind him.
Tense, wary, she listened. She didn’t hear the bolt slide home.
He had chosen not to lock her in.
She suddenly felt her knees seem to give. She stumbled toward the bed and sat. A moment later, there was a tap on the door. She leapt up. “Aye?”
Ingrid entered tentatively, saw her standing there, and then rushed in, hugging her. “Ah, my lady, you’re alive and well still, though they say the wretch thinks you gave him away to Lord Kinsey! He failed this time, but I know he’ll be back.”
“Ingrid, Ingrid, it’s all right; but I’m very tired, and—”
“Aye, you’re tired!” Ingrid said indignantly, then sniffed. “But he’s ordered up a bath for you, and fresh sheets, and … it’s entirely too much bathing, you know! You’ll wash away the oils that belong on your skin, you’ll open up your flesh to the devil, they’ll be harm come from it, you mark my words, you wait and see.”
“Ingrid, I don’t believe that bathing makes the devil come to you.”
“Nay, lady? But then you swim, an ungodly capability, my lady!” she said, and crossed herself quickly.
Kyra smiled; then her smile faded. A bath … aye, he would not want her to smell like smoke! He must despise the odor.
Yet a burning smell was different when only objects had burned. And not people!
She shivered. She didn’t want to smell like smoke. She wanted him to come back to her, no matter how foolish it was to seek his forgiveness.
His touch.
“Ingrid, a bath would delight me tonight. I am covered in ashes.”
Ingrid sniffed again. “At least you are reconciled to … him! Ah, here come the lads again, as if they’re not weary enough, fighting fires in the very middle of the night!” She stepped aside then, ordering where the tub should be placed, and the linen towels, soap, water, and brushes. When the boys had finished, the room was still filled with maids who brought furs from elsewhere in the castle and clean sheets for the bed. At last Ingrid clapped the last of the servants out, took the borrowed priest’s robe from Kyra, and turned her around to find the ties at the back of her tunic.
“Perhaps it does not smell so much like smoke anymore.…” Ingrid admitted.
“And I will not smell so much like smoke anymore,” Kyra reminded her gently. “Ingrid, I … Ingrid, do you know what Kinsey did to Arryn’s home, and to his wife?”
Ingrid looked down. “I’ve heard … rumors.”
“They were true, Ingrid.”
“Wallace is a brutal man; the head of these outlaws is a very brutal man! I know that as well.”
“Ingrid, nothing compares with what has been done to them!” she said very softly.
Ingrid looked at her, huge blue eyes damp. “My lady, Kinsey was to be your husband. Your right and proper husband! This rebel …” She hesitated. “He has no title, my lady.”
“A title does not make a man.”
“He will never marry you!” Ingrid blurted. “You were your father’s daughter and he has made you an outlaw’s …”
“Whore!” Kyra suggested flatly.
“Oh, my lady!” Ingrid whispered, pained.
“It does not matter, Ingrid. It does not matter. Don’t go against these men, and they will not allow us to be maimed or hurt, and as to the rest of it … well, we will survive.”
“Aye, lady, aye!” Ingrid tried a weak smile. “Come, let me wash your hair then, and let the steam ease the cares of the night!”
Kyra shimmied from the tunic, discarded her shoes and hose, and slipped from her undergown. She crawled into the steaming water, shivered, and lay back. She closed her eyes. God, but it had been an endless day and night!
“My poor lady!” Ingrid murmured. “I’ll bathe your hair in rose water, rub your scalp. Ease the torments inflicted upon you!”
“Aye, Ingrid.”
But it was a moment before she felt a gentle touch in her hair against her scalp. There were fingers rubbing her head, massaging, and the feel of them was wonderful, and sensual….
And it was not Ingrid touching her.
Her muscles tightened; she swallowed hard.
She turned, and it was Arryn. Ingrid was gone, and Arryn had returned. His mantle and the light armor he had worn were gone; he had gone somewhere else and washed away the imprints of fire and battle.
“Turn around; let me finish,” he told her, and she did so, and closed her eyes again, and felt the sheer pleasure of his talented hands against her head and hair. He worked soap into her, and the rinse of elderberries. She gripped the rim of the tub and felt both a delicious sense of being stroked and languid, and yet …
Tense. Little ripples of sunlight working through her limbs. Nay, big ripples, hot ripples, alive and vibrant, keeping her keenly awake and aware …
“It is done.”
He twisted up the length of her hair, draining water from it, reaching for a towel. Yet his grip drew her from the tub, and when he found a towel it was huge, and he used it to wrap her hair and her length. Sweeping it over her head and around her, he held her before him so enwrapped.
“Don’t run from me anymore,” he told her harshly. “I promised you freedom. When it’s safe, you will have it. I give you my word.”
She nodded, moistening her lips. “Aye. I will not run. Do you believe me?” she whispered.
“Does it matter to you what I believe?”
“Aye, in this, it does!”
He drew her closer. The towel fell from her form. He kissed her lips exploringly. His hand slid down her bare spine, caressed her nakedness. His head rose away from hers.
Still, he didn’t answer her. His words were a question again.
“Can it be, my lady, that you’ve come to care for me?”
He taunted her, she thought, no matter what his promises. She took care with her answer. “I have decided that you are not completely a wretched barbarian.”
He smiled. Despite the way he held her, there remained a distance in his eyes. “I am not wretched, and perhaps you are not such a deceitful, treacherous, and cunning witch.”
Her eyes widened in protest. “You don’t believe me. But what promise did you expect would simply come your way? You, sir, invaded here. You came to me! I did not come to your home and invade and demand….”
He laughed softly. “Demand? Well, I will not demand. I will request. Will you come to bed, my lady?”
It was an invitation—perhaps. And what if she refused?
But she didn’t want to refuse. Not tonight! She could still remember the way Sir Richard Egan had touched her, the things he had said to her….
She remembered Kinsey’s eyes when he realized that she did hate him, would run from him, refuse him at every turn.
She …
She wanted to be held tonight. By Arryn.
“I have told you the truth about Kinsey, about … me. I don’t want you to think that I would use … this as a means of seeking your forgiveness. I don’t seek forgiveness. I did nothing against you. You, sir, however, should ask my forgiveness.”
“Ah.”
“Well?”
“I have absolutely no intention of asking your forgiveness. This is what is, and that is that. And, again, I cannot ask your forgiveness for something that has given me such unique warmth and pleasure.”
She felt heat rise to her cheeks.
“Do you believe me? About tonight?” Kyra asked.
He watched her a moment, but his eyes remained enigmatic. “Perhaps. I will allow room for doubt. And God help me, Kyra—I pray that giving you such benefit does not make me a fool—a stupid fool.”
She flushed again, and watched his eyes reflectively. “I should not be begging you to understand me!” she whispered.
He lifted his hands. “I am here now, and you are with me.”
