Page 2 of The Darkland

Kirk scratched beneath his helm in thought, giving Micheline a glimpse of rich dark hair. “How old is your sister, my lady?”

“Seventeen years, my lord.”

That seemed to draw a reaction from Kirk. “Impossible. You are her guardian, are you not?”

Micheline nodded. “Since our parents’ death one year ago, it has only been the two of us.”

He snorted. “Then she cannot stay. She will come to Anchorsholme Castle as the ward of Lord Edmund.”

He moved past the trembling lady and into the threadbare foyer of Haslingden. It was a cavernous place, hinting at the luxury of days goneby, but now, it simply looked old and worn. The stench of poverty was everywhere. As Kirk’s gaze moved over the dingy stone walls, Micheline was on his heels.

“My lord, I beg you, permit me to persuade her,” she pleaded fearfully. “She can be most unreasonable and… impudent. I fear she might offend you with her bold tongue.”

Kirk tucked his gauntlets into the folds of his breastplate. His armor, heavy plate protection of the latest style, glimmered in the dim light. “Where is she?”

Micheline was close to tears. “Please, my lord. I beseech you….”

Kirk turned to the woman, swiftly. “I would ask again where she is. Have faith that I can be quite convincing when the situation requires, bold tongue or no.” He paused, realizing he sounded rather harsh from the expression on her face. His next question was more gently delivered. “What is her name?”

Micheline twisted her hands with anxiety, wanting to protect her sister but unwilling to disobey a man the size of two average men combined. Fear won over and weakly, she gestured to the stairs, a great stone bank that disappeared into the second floor.

“Her name is Mara,” she murmured. “Last door to the right. She responds better to calm reasoning than outright violence, although the latter is acceptable if all else fails.”

Kirk cocked an eyebrow at the strange statement. Mounting the stairs, he found himself wondering what sort of she-cat he would be dealing with. Stubborn, young, and no doubt spoiled. A nasty combination.

The big oak door indicated by Micheline was firmly closed. And firmly locked. Kirk rapped his knuckles against the panel.

“Go away!” came the shout.

He sighed; obviously, his assumptions had been correct. Stubborn, willful, petulant; he could deduce everything simply by the tone of her voice.

“My name is Sir Kirk Connaught,” he announced. “I have come to escort you and the Lady Micheline to Anchorsholme Castle. Will you come peacefully?”

There was a long pause, and no doubt a surprised one. After a moment, the voice that had once been a distant bellow was somehow closer. But the door remained locked.

“I am not going to Anchorsholme Castle, Sir Kirk.” The shouting voice was now sweet in tone. Disarming if he would allow himself to think so. “I am sure my sister explained that I wish to remain at the home of my birth. There is no reason why I need go to Anchorsholme Castle.”

“No need except for the fact that you will be completely alone, unchaperoned, and unprotected.” Kirk leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms wearily. It had been far too long a ride for him to spare patience to an unyielding girl. “Does this not concern you?”

“Nay,” she said flatly. “I do not need anyone to take care of me. I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“I am sure that you are. But your sister is distressed at the thought of leaving you behind. Will you not come for her peace of mind?”

There was a stubborn pause. “Nay.” She was very close now. He guessed she was leaning against the closed door. “Micheline will have a new husband to occupy her time. She will soon forget her concern for me.”

“I doubt that.” Kirk found himself wondering if the lady on the opposite side of the door was as plain as her sister. Certainly, her voice was terribly delicious and the pleasing tone alone was enough to ease his irritation. “Lady Micheline demands you attend her. As her betrothed’s captain, it is my duty to see her wish fulfilled. Do you understand?”

There was a long, long pause. When the voice spoke again, it sounded as if it was on the other side of the room. “I understand perfectly. And unless you want a battle on your hands, I suggest you forget about fulfilling my sister’s wish. I am not going.”

Now he knew what Micheline had meant by acceptable violence. The young lady on the opposite side of the door was in need of a good spanking. And when he opened the panel, he planned to do just that.

“I am afraid that you are,” he said, his rolling Irish accent low and steady as his irritation returned. “Unlock the door, my lady. If you do not plan on obeying my request, then you will kindly step away from the panel as I break it down.”

He could hear her shriek of outrage. “Break it down and I… I shall jump from the window!”

“’Tis a long way down, lass. Opening the door would be less drastic.”

Behind the closed panel, he could hear a good deal of muttering and bumping. In truth, he had to fight off a smile at her pluck. She was certainly feisty in the face of a violent threat.