Page 91 of An Earl for the Archeress

“What do you say we make him talk?” replied an English soldier, stepping forward and cracking his knuckles through his gauntlets.

Lovely. This tackling would indeed be more authentic than Teàrlach had bargained for. Teàrlach set a defensive stance, pulling Madeline behind him, and judging by her gasp, it was the first time any man other than her father had touched her. Robert lunged at him with more ferocity than Teàrlach expected, and he fought back equally ferociously. The others tackled Teàrlach and Robert fumbled over his taut body, his bulk of muscles rippling beneath their grips, until his hands landed on a key ring.

“What have we here, man?” Robert remarked.

Teàrlach almost spat at him, though a quick glance at the surrounding weapons seemed to stay the reaction. “Laird Crawford ordered us to stay silent,” Teàrlach said.

“Your lord is imprisoned by King Richard and will be transferred to your king in due course.” An English soldier laughed, standing back up to sweep the wrinkles from his surcoat. “It’s safe to say he is incapable of disciplining you.” The Englishman shook his head as he backed up. “Daft highlander.”

Genuine offense darkened Teàrlach’s brow. “And what if King William lets him walk free, Sassenach?” Teàrlach countered. “’Tis nay a guarantee. Ye can nay fault me for remaining loyal.”

“No, can’t fault you there. I’ll be checking every locked door before departing today,” Robert said, standing, and trying his best not to run directly across the bailey to the far tower.

He lost the battle and bolted, his legs traveling over the dirt with such speed he was certain they didn’t touch the ground. Dipping through a portico in the inner wall, he grabbed a torch from its sconce and continued to the far wall across an upper yard overlooking the water. The tower was remote. He barely registered his men on his heels.

The door was locked.

“Mariel!” he hollered. “Mari!”

No answer, and the tower had no windows looking upon the yard. There were several keys on Teàrlach’s ring, but he managed to find the right one after several tries. Upon entering, he could no longer contain himself and leaped up the winding stairs two at a time, coming to another door. It, too, was locked, a thick oaken door beside a torch ensconced upon the wall. It was as if this tower and all things in it were abandoned and forgotten.

“Mari!” he called again. “Answer me, love!” No answer. He tried a key in the lock, but it didn’t work. He tried another, his hands shaking. “Mari! Answer me!”

He found success on the third key. It clanked in the lock, drawing back the latch, and he pulled the door open. Nothing prepared him for the sight before him.

At first he saw only darkness and ducked through the door, holding out the torch to give him sight. Mariel lay beneath an arrow slit blackened by the stormy, moonless night, curled in a ball, her eyes closed tight, her body dirty, a dead rat not but three feet from her.

“Jesu…” he cursed, thrusting the torch into a set of hands and crossing to her in two long strides. He knelt. “Mariel,” he said, feeling his throat choke with rage. She was ill. Her skin was clammy.

He brushed back her matted hair, noting the gown Charlotte had given her now ruined and filthy. Her eyes finally opened. At first they remained glazed over, as if she didn’t really see him. He scooped his arms beneath her head and into the bend of her knees, pulling her against him.

Then her eyes cleared. “It really is you…” she whispered. “You’re alive!” She threw her arms around him with such strength it knocked him off balance, and he landed on his rear, his wife cradled in his arms.

Clenching her head, his fingers gripped her hair, and he felt her chest convulse with unabashed sobs. He held her face to his scruffy neck, nuzzling her and feeling his eyes well with tears. Dammit! He chastised himself once more. If he ever saw her whoreson of a father again, he would slice his neck and relish every moment.

“My God, woman. I finally found you.” He gripped her face, tipping it up to him, and furrowed his brow with such intensity to stave off the watering in his eyes that most would consider him livid. “I love you, Mari. Bloody hell, I love you. I’m sorry I failed you,” he whispered. “I’ll never fail you again. This I swear,” he said, feeling her arms start to slacken. She needed nourishment and a healer, he realized, as she curled against him, falling asleep as if she had been waiting for his embrace to finally do so. “I wanted to marry you. Do you hear me? I did it because I never wanted to let you go.”

“I love you, too, husband,” she murmured.

Husband.

His chest nearly exploded with pride. He lifted her in his arms. Turning around to see John holding the torch and watching, he nodded at him, and John nodded in return, the rift between them bridged.

“She’s one of us,” John said as Robert carried Mariel to her prison door. “I swear to always protect her, Robert, even when she thinks she’s tough enough to protect herself. She’s part of our band.”

Robert strode out, placing a kiss to the top of her head nestled against his heart.

…

End of December, Anno Domini 1190…

Mariel walked down the stairs into the great hall of Castle Ayr and looked around, continuing to the door. It was Christmastide and yet, one would never know in the hall decorated with one heraldic coat of arms and hereditary banners. King William’s men and Ayr’s guards milled about, and servants scurried on their business. This would be the last time she laid eyes on the home of her upbringing. The only part about it she would miss was her sister. The rest, she hoped to burn from her mind with time, for it held only bad memories.

“Your husband is going to think you beautiful, Mariel,” her quiet sister spoke from the shadows beside her. “You look lovely. Your hair is so pure and golden, and that green gown makes your eyes glow. Now fasten your cloak tightly. ’Twill be cold.”

Mariel wanted to roll her eyes at her sister’s twittering, but she refrained. She might never see her sister again and the thought threatened to moisten her eyes.

“I’ll be saddened to see you go, but I’m pleased you found such a man,” Madeline said. “Indeed he is so very handsome. Like a sculpture.” She giggled. “I can tell he loves you deeply. He did nay leave your side whilst you were ill. He fetched anything the healer asked him to. He would have jumped on hot coals if she’d told him it would cure you. If I could find such a love someday my life would be complete.” She continued talking as Teàrlach held open the door for them, gazing at her.