Chapter Eighteen
Kyle awoke in the late afternoon as the afternoon sun streamed through his window and warmed his face. He left his eyes closed for a moment, pleasantly reminiscing on the morning, and stretched his arms out with a yawn, finally cracking open his eyelids. He had never felt better, never more complete, and never more at peace.
He began reaching out for Laila in the bed beside him, running his hand along the blankets, only to find that she wasn’t there. He blinked a few more times, ruffling the blankets as he began to sit up and look around, finding himself completely alone in the room.
Quickly, he sprung up from the bed, glancing around once more as if to verify that he, in fact, hadn’t missed her hiding behind the water basin or some other ridiculous explanation as to why she wasn’t alongside him. He tossed the blankets aside as he paced toward the water basin and splashed the water up onto his face, blinking once more as he purged the last remnants of sleep from his face.
Then he began to wonder where Laila had gone. Clearly, she wasn’t in the room. He pulled a stray tunic over his torso and hoisted up his britches, fastening the cords about his waist. As he brought his head up, he noticed his small fireside table and the parchment sitting on top of it.
He cocked his head in curiosity as he approached the table, eyeing the parchment more closely. It was curled into its natural curve, with one corner pinned down by the inkwell. Kyle looked tentatively at the parchment as he drew near, his head turning to match the upside-down letters. He saw the first line peering out to meet him,Dear Kyle,and he jumped forward to seize the paper. He unrolled it so fast he nearly tore the page and then sank slowly into his chair as he read the defeating words:
I have not been honest with you, and for that, I am devastated. When I came here, to your home, it was to hide, nothing more. My name is Laila of Willby. My father is the Lord Willby, with whom your brother has had so many dealings. It is through my father’s debt that I have found myself betrothed to a man I did not wish to wed. So, I ran.
I betrayed my family and my duty, and I found myself in your home, living a fantasy for a time. While it was a pleasant fantasy, it wasn’t to last. Now I have found myself at the end of that fantasy. I beseech your forgiveness for my deception, though I know it is not freely given.
I hope to see you again, but I do not expect it.
Kyle let the parchment fall from his hands, watching it idly drift down to the floor with a blank stare. The words did not make any sense. And they came at a time that made no sense. Just hours ago, they had held each other in such intense passion and euphoria, and now she was gone. Why? Just to do her duty? In that, she had already failed, so why would she run now?
Kyle let out a long breath, rubbing his temples as he watched the paper sit on the sheepskin rug, and could practically feel Laila’s heat against his. He jumped up from the chair, shaking his head wildly, feeling rage creeping in at the thought of rejection, of deception, and his lust for more of her body. Quite simply, Kyle was not equipped to deal with that confluence of emotions.
The first thing he did was smash his chair against the floor, using his massive strength to shatter the wood and send splinters scattering across the floor and the walls. Second, he kicked over the table and ripped off one of the table legs. Third, he hurled the table leg through the window, sending shards of glass flying. Fourth, he ripped the sheepskin rug from the floor and was about to hurl it from the window when he stopped, looking down the walls of the keep. He felt the cold air blowing in and frowned. Finally, he settled for pinning the rug over the broken window, letting it flap a bit with the breeze.
Kyle stood alone in a chaotic room, silently fuming, his chest heaving with his rapid breaths, feeling his temper altering his temperature. Nothing made sense. Now everything was spinning. He wanted answers, but most of all, he wanted Laila back in his bed and in his arms to smell her hair and touch her brow gently as they lulled off to sleep. But she was gone, just as quickly as she had appeared.
Kyle stooped down and pulled the parchment from the floor, reading it over once again, and then again, and then again, and still, he couldn’t make any sense of it. He dunked his head into the water basin and screamed, letting the sound warble in the water, and the bubbles shoot out all around his cheeks.
When he finally pulled his head out, he was out of energy, at least for the moment. He was dissolved, emotionless, and void. There was nothing left to do in his room. He had trashed the place, screamed, and read the letter a dozen times. With a silent grumble, he slung his cloak over his shoulder and went out into the corridor.
Kyle tramped down the hall with a stiff determination, passing the petite servant girl who lingered in the upper corridors as he entered the stairwell. Each step he took was a hammer from his heels, echoing off the tight stair walls, bouncing down and up and all around his muscular build as he reached the ground floor.
“Brither!” Gavin exclaimed, walking in from the yard to see Kyle coming out of the stairwell. “Where have ye been? Been lookin’ fer ye all afternoon, we have tae confirm the silver caravan.”
“Not now, Gavin,” Kyle responded coldly.
“And just what crawled up yer britches?” Gavin laughed back, following Kyle out into the yard back the way he had come.
“I told ye not now,” Kyle spat back, not even glancing over his shoulder.
“Will ye bloody wait a minute,” Gavin said, reaching out to take hold of Kyle’s shoulder.
“No!” Kyle screamed back, spinning round, rebuffing Gavin’s touch.
“Calm down!” Gavin shouted back, and Kyle struck him.
The blow was a mighty one, and it nearly spun Gavin all the way around. When he regained his footing, he had a face full of rage, and he went at Kyle with all he had, no longer particularly interested in the motives for the attack and now more focused on exacting immediate physical revenge, the way brothers do.
He launched back at Kyle with a grapple, and the pair went down into the mud, rolling and tossing and beating one another, grunting and grappling, the mud of the yard splashing up all around them.
“Enough!” Ella cried out, hurrying out to the melee. “That is enough!”
“Break it up then!” Domnal chimed in, and directed by Ella, he hauled the two of them apart, Kyle still kicking and flailing, but Domnal restrained him, holding his hands behind his back, and Kyle kicked out with his legs.
“Easy man!” Domnal said into his ear, still holding him tight. “Easy!”
“Now, what in all creation did ye do that fer?” Gavin shouted, staggering to his feet and wiping away a splotch of mud from his jaw. “It’s tae early tae be drunk! Shame on ye bastard!”
Kyle kept straining for a moment until the rage began to subside, and he began coupling with the truth of his actions and his blend of emotions. His face contorted with that energy as he took long breaths, trying to reign himself in.
