Page 109 of Come the Morning

“No!” she cried, startled as he reached for her. She tried to dodge around the Celtic cross, but he came after her relentlessly, his features grim.

“Waryk …”

He caught her arms, drew her hard against him. It was as it had been at the river; he cast her impatiently over his shoulder and strode back toward Mercury while she struggled to rise and speak some sense to him.

“Waryk, I swear, I never saw my father treat my mother so—”

“And did you ever see your mother rude to the guests in her hall, or refuse to take her place at the table, especially with a guest in residence?”

“Aye, she missed meals! When she was ill—”

“You’re not ill.”

“I’m terribly ill. You’ve made me quite sick to my stomach—”

“Then I’ll keep you by my side and make sure that you are well.”

She gritted her teeth, tightening her hands into fists, slamming them against his back. “Put me down now, Waryk. You cannot do this—”

“How amazing! I believe I can. Just like the old laird.”

“I am going to dig deep gouges into your back.”

“I don’t suggest it, or else I will create big blisters on your derriere.”

“Put me down! I will not go to dinner and pretend that all is well—”

“Then we will miss dinner together, my love.”

He mounted Mercury with her cast so over his shoulder, causing her a jolt when her chin slammed against his back. He kneed Mercury, and when the destrier began to race back toward the castle, stable, and his own food, she quit fighting to hold tight against the wild, hard motion. She was mortified when they rode through the gates, aware that the men in the gatehouse watched. She slammed her palms hard against his back again, furious that he seemed not to notice. She demanded, “Let me go, this has gone far enough!”

“Let you go?” he queried, slowing Mercury’s gait. “To walk freely, have your way, turn your back on me when we have a guest in the hall? Would Adin have allowed your mother such freedom had she determined to humiliate him in this way? I think not. If the lady refuses to appear in the hall, then she must be in the deepest distress, and a kind and gentle laird would not leave her side for a minute!”

“Waryk—”

“Ah, lady, here we are. A beautiful ride, a pleasant night.”

They had passed by the gates and into the center of the courtyard, and she knew that the men on guard around the parapets were watching. His men, her men. Were they amused, or angered? Many of the people, men and women, had always known what she had not—that the king was Norman in his ways, and that he would never simply allow her to have her father’s power on her own. And those who had known that one of the king’s men would be given Blue Isle were probably grateful of the man who had come, and thus they probably watched the spectacle below thinking her the willful one to cause trouble for such a powerful warrior laird.

“Aye?” he queried as Mercury trotted to a halt.

“Put me down.”

He dismounted, allowing her to slide to her feet before him, but not releasing her. She saw that his young armor-bearer, Geoffrey, was there, ready to take care of Mercury.

Waryk’s eyes locked with hers as she found her feet.

“What shall it be?” he said softly.

“Let go of me. The guards are watching.”

“Aye, they are, aren’t they? So, if I agree, what will you do?”

“Walk into the tower.”

He arched a brow, and released her. She spun around and started toward the tower, entering through the arched doorway, nodding to the guard there, and heading directly up the stairs. She came to the corridor. He was behind her, she felt his presence, his breath, his being, so close that she nearly screamed.

The concept of a pretense of domestic tranquillity suddenly seemed appealing; she wanted only to reach the great hall.