Page 45 of The Darkland

His expression wavered, the consummately controlled facade weakening in the face of her softly-uttered question. After a moment, he weakly lifted his shoulders. “What would you have me tell you, lass?”

She moved closer to him until the toes of her slippers were against the toes of his massive boots. Craning her neck back, she could literally feel the heat and power radiating from his body. But the look in his eyes reflected a weakness only she was capable of understanding. A characteristic flaw that occurred every time he gazed at her.

“Tell me it was awful and I will ask no more.”

His features softened, the reluctance evident on his features. “It was awful.” She hardly heard him.

“Did he hurt her?”

“I thought you said you would ask no more.”

“I lied. You answered one question, you might as well answer the rest. Did he hurt her?”

He sighed. There was no avoiding her logic or questions. “Aside from the obvious, he did not.”

“Was he cruel? Did he shame her somehow?”

Kirk nodded. He simply couldn’t lie to her. “He did.”

Mara continued to gaze into his eyes before closing them tightly, turning away. After a moment, Kirk saw the delicate shoulders heave.

“You promised,” she whispered tightly. “You promised to protect her.”

“I have my limits,” his entire body ached with sorrow. “There was nothing I could do for her.”

“But you promised,” her voice cracked. “You asked me to trust you, once. And now I see my trust has been destroyed.”

He drew in a deep breath, wanting so badly to whip her into his arms and tell her the entire story simply so she would understand how helpless he had been. But he had promised Micheline that he would not tell, and he intended to keep his vow. Even if Mara thought him a failure.

“I did not destroy your trust,” his voice was tight. “I did what I could, as much as I could. Mara, love, I could do no more. You must believe me.”

Her answer was to turn away from him and walk through the bramble. He followed on her heels, feeling desperate. She simply had to understand.

“Please, Mara,” he said softly. “Do not do this to me. I can take anything but your silence, lass.”

Mara wiped at her nose, her eyes. She had no idea what she was feeling, only intense pain that Micheline had somehow been shamed by her husband and that Kirk had stood by and allowed it to happen. If he wasn’t going to elaborate, she could do nothing more than draw her own conclusions.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she said, crossing the small clearing where Edmund and Johanne had titillated one another. “For the bitter words you dealt me last night or for your failure to protect my sister. You will stay away from me, Kirk. Go about your life and leave me out of it.”

He did grab her then, only to receive a sharp rake of nails across his face. His head snapped with the unexpected action, coming away with three bloodied lines just under his cheekbone. Slowly, and very deliberately, he ran his fingers through the gashes and stared at the blood.

Mara, her eyes wide, watched his movements. She’d only meant to strike him, to break his hold on her, but instead her nails had clipped his face. Her apology died in her throat when his stone-gray eyes fixed on her. She couldn’t have felt their harsh impact more if he had slapped her.

“Christ,” he breathed slowly and with great regret. “What I fool I was to ever think I was in love with you.”

He pushed past her, bloodied face and all. Mara watched him move across the dense foliage with tears in her eyes, wanting so badly to apologize, yet still embittered by his failure to Micheline and by the entire turbulent situation. Nonetheless, she had to literally bite her tongue to keep from calling out to him.

He disappeared in the grove of oaks. Mara could hardly follow, the pain in her heart rendering her weak and helpless. Collapsing in the rotting leaves, she wept through the nooning meal. The afternoon passed and still, she alternately wept and reflected on the course her life had taken. And when night eventually fell, Corwin found her dirty and asleep, her misery too deep for the tears that could no longer heal.

*

By morning, Marawas miserable with the chill and an aching heart. Sniffling and sneezing between bouts of tremendous sadness, she answered a knock on her chamber door only to find Niles’ wan face smiling at her.

“What do you want?” she wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

Niles was vastly uncomfortable. More so in her company because he had seen evidence of her rage on Kirk’s face, an event which he had refused to discuss. And the fact that Kirk had spent the entire night drinking only fed Niles’s guilt that, somehow, he had contributed to this nasty situation with his loose tongue. “Lord Edmund is sending a party to Quernmore Castle within the hour, my lady,” he said. “He asks that you accompany them.”

She sneezed, her foul mood worsening. “Why?”