Читать книгу Eternal Lover - Lynsay Sands - Страница 15

Alpin stretched, poured himself a tankard of cider, grabbed a couple of honey-sweetened oatcakes, and walked to the window to stare down into the bailey. He felt at peace for the first time in his life and it was a good feeling, one he savored and prayed would continue. A day and a night spent in the arms of his passionate little wife undoubtedly had something to do with that, he thought as he washed down the oatcake with a drink of cider and started to eat another one. He was loved and it soothed a lot of the pain he had suffered in his life. There were troubles ahead, but he no longer feared the future as much as he had.

As he finished his third oatcake and washed it down with the last of the cider, he realized there was a lot of activity in the bailey. It looked as if every resident of Nochdaidh were out there. He nearly gaped when he saw what he was sure were Eric and Nella dancing around like fools. It was a little late to still be celebrating his marriage, he thought as he turned to look at Sophie, thinking to rouse her to come and see what was happening.

The sight of her distracted him for a moment, even though only her head was visible above the covers. She looked so young, sweet, and delicate as she slept, but he well knew the strength beneath that soft beauty. Her thick hair was splayed out over the pillow and coverlet, looking more golden than ever with the morning sun gilding its length.

His empty tankard slipped from his suddenly nerveless hand as Alpin realized what he had just done, what he was seeing. Alpin stared at the tankard as he accepted the wonder of having eaten oatcakes and drunk cider. The only hunger the act of eating had roused in him was one for more oatcakes and more cider. The sunlight was filling his room. He had seen all his people so clearly because they had been hopping and twirling about in the sunlight.

“Sophie,” he called, realized his voice was little more than a soft croak, and cleared his throat. “Sophie!” he yelled.

When she just groaned and turned over, he ran to the side of the bed. He yanked the covers off her, grabbed her by the shoulders to pull her into a seated position, and shook her slightly. This time he was not finding her inability to wake quickly and be alert very endearing. Alpin knew he was in a precarious state of mind when he got a clear view of her lithe body and did not crawl back into bed with her, just snatched up her nightshift and yanked it over her head. He ignored her muttering as he dragged her over to the window.

“Look out there and tell me what ye see,” he ordered.

Sophie struggled to do as he asked. As she slowly woke up, she realized Alpin was acting strangely, could feel his tense agitation. She frowned down into the bailey, wondering just what she was supposed to be looking at.

“Weel, I have to say that the people of Nochdaidh are some of the worst dancers I have e’er seen,” she muttered and heard Alpin both laugh and curse. “And your mon Eric is the worst of all. He is leaping about in the sun like some sort of drunken—” Sophie’s next words became locked in her throat. “Jesu, Alpin, the sun is shining on Nochdaidh,” she whispered after a moment, then looked at him. “Did ye get hurt by it?” she asked worriedly as she looked him over.

Alpin sagged against the wall and put a shaking hand over his eyes. “Nay. I but sought to get ye to tell me whether I was dreaming or not.” He reached out and yanked her into his arms. “The sun is shining o’er Nochdaidh, Sophie.”

“Aye, and your people are hopping about like toads on hot sand,” she murmured and held him tightly, feeling almost as unsteady, disbelieving, and elated as she sensed he was. A minute later, she jumped in surprise along with Alpin when the door to their bedchamber was flung open so hard it crashed into the wall.

“Alpin, the sun shines again!” yelled Eric, then grunted as Nella ran into the back of him.

Nella stepped around Eric. “Did ye see, m’lady? It worked! Praise God, it worked! I kenned ye were right.” Her eyes slowly widened when she suddenly realized Alpin was naked. “Oh, my.” She cursed when Eric clapped a hand over her eyes.

“For mercy’s sake, Alpin, put some clothes on,” Eric grumbled.

Even as Alpin moved to yank on some clothes, he eyed Sophie with a growing suspicion. “What worked, Sophie?”

“That ye chose her o’er the Lady Margaret,” Nella replied and gave up trying to remove Eric’s hand from her eyes.

“Sophie,” Alpin pressed. “What plot or trick have ye been weaving?”

“No plot or trick, Alpin,” she replied, then sighed. “I was fair certain I had puzzled out the key to unlocking the curse.” She repeated the last lines of Rona’s curse. “Do ye see? ’Twas right there, right before our eyes.”

“And ye didnae think I ought to be told about what ye had learned?”

“Nay learned, Alpin, only suspected. It had to be your free choice, and I feared that if I told ye about it, the choice might not be so verra free. I also feared I might be wrong, and, if I convinced ye that I had found the answer only to have naught change, it would be cruel.”

Alpin stared at her for a moment, then yanked her into his arms and heartily kissed her before striding out of the room. Sophie grabbed his shirt, yanked it on over her nightshift, and hurried after him. When she, Nella, and Eric reached him, Alpin stood unmoving, staring at the doors leading outside with his hands clenched tightly at his sides. Sophie stepped closer and took one of his hands in hers.

“The last time the sun’s light touched me, it nearly killed me,” Alpin said quietly.

“I dinnae think it will this time, my love,” Sophie said, then drawled, “We will pull ye back inside if ye start smoldering.”

“Wretch,” he murmured, then, taking a deep breath and keeping a firm grip upon Sophie’s hand, he strode outside.

Sophie stayed close by his side as he went down the steps and cautiously moved out into the bailey. She stood quietly, feeling his tension and fear fade as his exaltation grew. His grip on her hand grew tight enough to be a little painful and she looked at him. His face was turned up to the sun, his eyes closed, and tears seeped from beneath his eyelids. Sophie moved to hug him, pressing closer when he wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

“I fear to believe it,” he said as he fought to compose himself, since nearly all of the people of Nochdaidh were there watching him.

“Weel, how do ye feel?”

“I think I might actually be feeling something that has long been missing from Nochdaidh—hope.”

“Trouble, m’laird,” said Eric, moving to stand beside Alpin.

Looking at the crowd of villagers rushing in through the gates carrying torches and crude weapons, Alpin drawled, “Mayhap I spoke too soon.” He kept his arm around Sophie’s shoulders as she turned to face the crowd.

The embarrassment Sophie felt over being seen so strangely attired by so many people faded quickly as she realized what had brought the villagers to Nochdaidh. Several smiles and small waves from a number of the women in the crowd told Sophie she would have allies if she chose her words carefully. The confusion that had beset so many of the crowd as they realized Nochdaidh was no longer shrouded in shadow and the laird was standing before them looking nothing like a demon would also aid her.

“This is my fault,” she told Alpin. “I neglected to solve poor Donald’s murder. I shall see to this.”

“Shall ye now?”

He had to bite back a grin as she stood straighter and frowned at the villagers. She wore only his loosely laced shirt over her nightshift, her feet were bare, and her hair was hanging loose and obviously unbrushed. Her appearance seemed to have taken some of the fight out of the mob, who were already confused by the sunlight warming the bailey, so he decided to let her rule for a while. She knew more about the incident than he did, and all his men were subtly moving into a defensive position around the crowd, ready to act if the mood grew dangerous again.

“I suspect ye havenae come to congratulate me on my wedding,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“M’lady, we have come seeking justice,” said Ian the butcher as he stepped to the fore of the crowd. “The killer of my son must pay.”

“Did I talk to the wind that day? I believe I said the laird had naught to do with it.”

“If ye will pardon me saying so, ’tis clear ye are under the mon’s power. Who else could have murdered my lad? He had no enemies. We cannae find a single mon who disliked him.”

“Then he will be kindly remembered, and that should comfort ye. But what about a woman?”

“My lad was true to his wife and, ere he wed her, he was a lad of strong morals. And he was a big, strong lad. What lass could kill him?”

Sophie shook her head. “One cutting his throat as he slept, just as I told ye was done. Aye, and one of those strikes upon his head may have come first to make sure he didnae wake whilst he was being murdered.”

“But, he wasnae one to play with the lasses,” Master Ian protested.

Although Gemma felt no guilt over her crime, Sophie sensed that the woman was afraid and her rage had not been satisfied with the spilling of poor Donald’s blood. That was the woman’s weak point and Sophie prepared herself to strike at it hard. “That doesnae mean there was no lass who wanted him to play.” She sighed and shook her head. “A vain woman he turned aside, mayhap? Some woman who couldnae accept that he, or any mon, could resist her charms. Or that Donald would resist her allure to hold fast to his sweet, loving, beautiful wife—”

“Who couldnae satisfy any mon!” Gemma yelled, then paled as she realized what she had done.

Sophie could not believe the woman had broken so quickly, then stepped behind Alpin as chaos ruled. Only the quick, occasionally rough intervention of Alpin’s men kept Gemma from paying for her crime at the hands of the mob. As she was dragged off to the dungeon to await judgment, she screamed out enough confirmation of her guilt to hang her. Sophie slowly approached a desolate Master Ian, noting out of the corner of her eye a plump widow of mature years who was having difficulty resisting the urge to do the same. Master Ian would not be alone for long.

“I am verra sorry, Master Ian,” she said, patting his arm. “Did ye love her then?”

He shook his head. “Loneliness and lust, m’lady. The downfall of many a mon, I suspect. Only, my weakness cost my lad his life.”

“Nay, Master Ian, ne’er think that. Ye did no wrong, nor did your son. The guilt is hers alone.” She leaned closer to him and cast a pointed glance toward the widow tentatively edging closer. “Learn from your weakness if ye must. I think the lesson might be that a good cure for loneliness isnae always to be found in the young or the bonny.” She squeaked with surprise when Alpin suddenly grasped her by the arm and pulled her back to his side. “I was comforting the poor mon.”

“Ye were matchmaking,” he murmured, but frowned out the gates as a troop of horsemen came riding into view. “A busy day.”

Sophie noticed that the villagers quickly slipped behind the men of Nochdaidh, then she looked at the approaching men and softly groaned. She should have taken time during the long, lusty night she and Alpin had just spent together to tell him a few of the truths she had kept to herself. Recognizing the four young men leading about a dozen others into Nochdaidh, she knew a lot of those truths were about to be revealed.

“Ye ken who these people are?” asked Alpin, feeling Sophie tense as the four handsome young men leading the others dismounted but a yard from them and eyed Sophie with a mixture of annoyance, shock, and amusement.

“My brothers,” she said and pointed to each as she introduced them. “Sir Adrian, Sir Robert, Sir Gilbert, and Sir Neil.” She took a steadying breath, knowing things could become a little chaotic, and took Alpin’s hand in hers. “This is my husband, Sir Alpin MacCordy, laird of Nochdaidh.” She winced when they all stared at her for a moment, then all cursed.

“Ye married this mon?” demanded her brother Adrian. “Do ye ken the tales we have heard about him?”

“Aye,” Sophie replied. “He lives in shadows, he drinks blood, he is a demon, he can change into a beast, and other such things.”

“Ye left without a word—”

“I left a note.”

Adrian ignored her and continued, “And Old Steven was sure that ye had been abducted. He had the men of Werstane searching and sent us word. We have spent weeks in the saddle looking for ye, going to Dobharach and e’en Gurby, then back to Werstane where we heard a chilling legend that made us think ye might be fool enough to come here.” He put his hands on his hips and scowled at her. “And we were right.”

“I had a plan,” she ignored the groans of Nella and her brothers, “to solve our troubles. Weel, my possible future troubles. ’Twas no legend, Adrian. Ye see, our ancestor—” She gasped when Alpin suddenly clamped a hand over her mouth.

Although shocked and wondering just how many secrets his wife had, Alpin kept enough of his wits about him to stop her tale. A bailey crowded with curious and avidly listening people was not the place to start speaking of magic, witches, and curses. It would be too easy for people to start thinking Sophie was a witch as well.

“I think we’d best go inside,” he said. “Eric, is there room for everyone?”

“Aye,” Eric replied. “The MacLanes left yesterday.”

Sophie grabbed Nella’s hand and hurried to her room to get dressed. By the time she joined the men in the great hall, however, she knew by the look upon Alpin’s face that she was too late to soften the shock of some revelations. She grimaced and took her seat at his side.

“I believe there are a few things ye neglected to tell me, wife,” Alpin drawled.

“Weel, mayhap one or two wee things,” she murmured.

“Wee things like Dobharach, Werstane, and Gurby—your lands? Or that ye have enough money to build a gilded cathedral? Or that ye have enough men to raise a small army? Ah, and let us not forget the eight brothers.”

“’Tis all that bounty which made us fear she had been abducted,” said Adrian. “She is a rich prize. Of course, since she lied to ye—”

“I didnae lie,” protested Sophie. “I just didnae tell him everything.” She waited a moment for the men to stop rolling their eyes and muttering insults about a woman’s trickery, then proceeded to tell them all about Rona’s curse and how she had been determined to find a way to end it. “And, so,” she put her hand on Alpin’s, relieved when he turned his hand to clasp hers, “I couldnae tell the truth or he may ne’er have made the choice, or would have made it for all the wrong reasons. If I was to be the choice o’er wealth and land, then he couldnae ken that I had any.” She breathed a sigh of relief when Alpin lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

Adrian shook his head. “’Tis so difficult to believe, yet hard to argue against. Too much of the history of both families follow the paths set out by the curse.” He looked at Alpin. “Do ye think the curse has truly been broken?”

“It would seem so. I think ’twill take more than one sunny day for me to feel certain, however.”

Those words troubled Sophie for the rest of the day, even as she enjoyed the company of her brothers. Even the pleasure of watching Alpin eat a normal meal, openly savoring each bite like a child given a sweet, did not fully ease her growing tension. It was not until she eased into bed beside Alpin that she realized he had noticed her troubled mood. He did not immediately pull her into his arms, but turned on his side and watched her closely.

“Why do I get the feeling ye are keeping another secret?” he asked. “More lands? More wealth? More brothers?”

“Nay, I believe I have enough of each, dinnae ye?” she asked, giving him a weak smile.

“Aye, more than enough. So, what are ye hiding?”

Sophie sighed and stared down at the small ridge beneath the blanket made by her toes. “I am with child.” She winced when she felt his whole body spasm with shock. “And, aye, I am sure, e’en though ’tis verra early in the game.”

Alpin flopped onto his back and stared blindly up at the ceiling. “Ye said ye had potions ye could take.”

Moving to sprawl on top of him, Sophie framed his face in her hands. “Do ye truly wish me to rid my body of our child?”

“Nay,” he said quickly, his heart in his words, but then he grimaced. “But, the curse—”

“Is gone. Think, Alpin, I conceived ere ye chose me.” She saw the glimmer of hope return to his eyes. “And I think ye also ken that I, er, feel things. I feel no taint in this child I carry. Have faith, Alpin.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “I do have faith in ye. Ye will just have to have patience if I waver. After all, ’tisnae easy to forget four hundred and thirty-five years of darkness.”

“The darkness is gone now. Ye chose love, Alpin, and drove the shadows away.”

“Aye, I chose love.” He tilted her face up to his. “And I shall teach our children the importance of all I have learned.”

Sophie brushed a kiss over his lips. “And what would that be?”

“That a mon’s real wealth isnae measured in lands, coin, or fighting men, but in the giving and receiving of a true and lasting love.”