“Perhaps we should christen our new quarters,” he murmured against her throat while cupping her bottom in both hands and squeezing.
“Bar the door,” she whispered while nibbling his earlobe.
With so many craftsmen and workers swarming the keep, a locked door guaranteed no interruptions by the living. Their silver crosses and her pouches of precious dust would help with any interruptions from the dead. And if the wraith made a showing, she was ready to face the thing and get rid of it once and for all. Enough was enough. Poor Father Rubric’s faith and goodness might have failed, but she possessed the determination and ferocity of a loving wife and mother in spades.
She noticed he remained overlong at the door, his hands on the heavy bar across it and his head bowed.
“Grant?”
“Aye?” He didn’t turn and face her.
“What is it?” She closed the distance between them and touched his shoulder, finding it tensed hard as stone. “What is wrong?”
“I feel as if I have returned to a battlefield I lost.” He slowly faced her but avoided eye contact. The need for her to understand shouted from the way he ducked his head and looked aside. “I want ye, m’love. More than anything right now. But I canna shake this damnedable fear that’s haunting me.”
She took his hands and tugged him to the window overlooking the gardens. With a pat on the cushions lining the wide ledge, she urged him to sit beside her. “Then let’s just sit for a bit and enjoy some time alone with no interruptions from babies, workers, or friends.”
Her courageous man had watched Father Rubric’s torture and found himself helpless to stop it. The torment he suffered made his eyes flinch at the corners. Her heart ached because he blamed himself for everything. Determined to ease his pain, she forced a smile. “I like these rooms better. More bedchambers for the children.” After a deep, exaggerated sniff, she added, “And I can’t smell any smoke at all. They did a fine job cleaning everything.”
His lopsided smile told her he knew exactly what she was trying to do. “I ken ye dinna like the bairns far from ye.” He patted her hand. “Rory and Fawna think themselves quite grown to have their own rooms rather than cots in the nursery.”
“I enjoy having all my babies close,” she said.
“They are notyerbabies!” The enraged shriek sent the silver coins suspended in the doorways spinning and knocking against the door facings.
Grant jumped to his feet, unsheathing the silver dagger. “Leave here. Go to yer rest.”
“I will never rest and neither will either of ye!”
Lyla fumbled the bag of silver dust from her pocket and worked it open. After pouring some into her hand, she pushed around Grant. “It’s time you moved on. Lift your eyes and go toward the light. You do not belong here.”
“I was here first!” The indignant scream echoed over and over, coming from every direction.
“Yes, but you didn’t want to be. You were forced, and we are so sorry for that.” Lyla slowly turned, scanning all around.
“Stay back, Lyla. Let me deal with this.” Grant caught hold of her and tried to shove her behind him, but she wrenched away.
“I shall deal with ye the same as I dealt with the priest!” The thunderous roar shook the room, charging the air with the crackling, hair-raising feel of a rising storm. Sunlight disappeared from the windows, blotted out by dark roiling clouds.
“Come at me!” Lyla widened her stance, ready to fling silver at the first opportunity.
“I ken what ye have in yer hand,” the thing said in a hissing moan. “And around yer necks!” A hollow cackling rose then fell, echoing as though shouted into a tunnel. “But I wager ye left yer bairns unprotected.”
“Then ye would lose.” Grant stepped in front of Lyla again and shot her astay putglare. “All in this clan, from the eldest to the least, carry the protection of silver.”
“Fire still burns, water still drowns, and stone still crushes,” the thing threatened.
“Coward!” Lyla slipped past Grant and ran to the center of the room. She held up her hand, showing the pile of dust. “So afraid of a little silver that you cheat? Wouldn’t you rather get your hands on me for a proper choking? Oh wait. I forgot. You don’t have any hands. Too bad.”
“Damn ye, Lyla!” Grant charged forward to yank her back, but she sidestepped and smacked him away.
“Did ye forget the clawing I gave ye?” a guttural groan asked.
Lyla shrugged, slowly turning, while watching all around. “You got lucky once. But now you hide behind lightning filled storm clouds like the coward you are.”
The entity squalled with an ear-piercing howl. “I will show ye cowardice!”
The room exploded in a brilliant white light, blowing Lyla backward as if she weighed nothing.
