The Daring Twin Read online

  “A mulish one at that.”

  “You need not remind me so often.”

  “You would do the same for me and you have when it came to Erin.”

  “It was obvious the woman cared for you and you completely ignored the signs.”

  “Perhaps you do the same yourself,” Kirk said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are times one of the twins looks at you as—as”—Kirk threw his hands in the air—“the way a woman does when she is interested.”

  “You are sure of this?”

  “Erin is, and women know women.”

  “I have been trying to discover a way that would help me distinguish one from the other. Just when I think I have it, I find myself right back where I started. They are too alike.”

  “I know what you mean. Though I think it is a good charade they play. They make it seem that both twins can heal and both are good with weapons, but”—Kirk shook his head—“I do not believe it is so. It is a fine ruse they play on us.”

  “I agree and that is why I am determined to discover which twin is which, then I will marry—”

  “The one you care for?”

  “I do not care—”

  “It is me, Kirk you speak with, and we have spoken nothing but the truth to each other these many years.”

  “I am attracted to one,” Tarr admitted reluctantly.

  “You are not sure which one.”

  “As I said when I think I have just discovered which one is which, they play with my senses and then I am not sure.”

  “Watch their eyes, Erin says it is in the eyes that one sees love,” Kirk said, his voice growing lower and lower. “Start now, for one approaches.” Kirk stepped away. “I will see to the matter immediately.” With a quick grin he was gone.

  Tarr remained focused on the storehouse, hearing the footfalls grow closer.

  “Feeling well today?”

  He turned and felt as if he received a swift punch to his gut. She looked lovely, her round face freshly scrubbed and shining, her fiery red hair piled on her head with curls falling everywhere around her neck and face, her simple dress appealing since her blouse always hugged her ample breasts, and her eyes . . .

  He took a moment to stare at them. They sparkled with life. Was there love there somewhere?

  “You look as if you drift off,” Fiona said.

  Tarr shook his head. “I am fine, just giving thought to the storehouse.”

  “Strange, is it not?” she asked, walking over to the open door and peering inside.

  He bristled over the absence of her touch. He had not wanted to admit it to himself, but he favored her touch, be it simple or more intimate. He liked when she touched him.

  “That the storehouse was ransacked, but nothing was taken?” he asked.

  Fiona turned with a nod. “I have wondered over it since the men informed me of it.”

  “Your conclusion?”

  “As we had discussed, they searched for something.”

  “I still cannot figure out what or who they searched for. We have nothing here of value to the barbarians. They did not rob from the storehouse or take any cattle. We were right; they look for someone.”

  Fiona agreed with a nod. “The clue here is that they kept their distance from the keep, which means whomever they look for is not worthy enough to reside in your keep. Perhaps a traveler has passed this way recently?”

  “None that I recall, and I usually know when there are any strangers among us.”

  “We need to learn more about the Wolf clan.”

  “Agreed,” Tarr said. “I intend to speak with Raynor at length.”

  “I will join you,” Fiona said, and stepped next to him.

  He did not think of denying her. He respected her opinion and ideas and he liked that she did not hesitate to join him. He could count on her no matter the circumstances, a worthy attribute in a wife.

  They walked side by side and he unconsciously took her hand in his.

  She smiled and it was as bright as the sun, and it filled him with comforting warmth. He squeezed her hand and returned her smile.

  “I am glad you heal well.”

  “Miss my arms around you?” he teased.

  “Aye, I do,” she admitted freely to his surprise. “Why does that shock you? I like your kisses and your touch; it’s your bullheaded nature that annoys me.”

  “Me, bullheaded?” he asked with mock astonishment. “I think it is you who is willful, which makes us a matching pair. And a good match I think.”

  “We shall see.”

  They entered the keep and as they climbed the stone stairs, Tarr stopped suddenly and yanked her into his arms. She met his chest with a solid thud, which caught her breath.

  “I have missed you in my arms and, lord, do I hunger for the taste of you.”

  Instead of her lips he went to her neck and nibbled and nipped until her skin shivered with gooseflesh.

  He laughed softly in her ear. “I love when you shiver against me.”

  He captured her response in his mouth, his tongue turning it to a gentle moan, and then she eagerly joined him as her arms swept around his neck and she returned his kiss with an urgency filled with passion.

  He finally tore his mouth away and she went to rest her cheek to his shoulder; he grabbed her chin and tilted her head to look into her eyes. What did he see in the bright green depths besides the desire that raged there? Was that a gleam he had never noticed before? Or was it his own foolish thoughts hoping to see—what?

  Love?

  He released her chin and she again rested her head to his shoulder.

  Why did he think of love? He had not given it thought at all. He was to do his duty and marry a woman who would bring honor to his clan. She would bare him fine sons and daughters and remain by his side throughout their life together.

  Love had no place in his plans.

  It was his turn to moan when she began to nibble and nip at his neck. Her nips were full of fire and purpose. She knew what she did; she did it with intention. She pushed him to his limits and would soon push him past those limits.

  Ever so slowly she traced his lips with the tip of her tongue.

  “You play with danger,” he warned.

  “I am not afraid.”

  She sounded as if she challenged him, and that was all he needed.

  He grabbed her around the waist, hoisted her up, and braced her against the wall with the strength of his body.

  She gasped and he claimed her mouth roughly while his hand sought her breast with a firm squeeze. He thought she might protest, but instead she grabbed onto his shoulders and shared in his fervor.

  He rubbed her nipple between his fingers until it hardened and then he lowered his mouth and nibbled on the hard orb until it had both of them squirming.

  “Someone approaches,” she said in a fearful whisper, and pushed at his shoulders.

  He stopped and listened realizing she had repeated the warning several times before he could react. Now fully hearing the approaching footfalls, he released her to stand beside him.

  A servant soon appeared and excused herself as she hurried past them.

  Had their lusty liaison been obvious?

  Fiona then noticed the wet stain on her blouse and her hand went to cover it.

  “You will be my wife, we have done nothing wrong. The clan is proud we will join hands.”

  “That has not yet been settled.” Concern filled her voice.

  “It has. You are Fiona. I do not believe I kiss both twins and they respond the same way.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  He lifted her chin. “There is something about you that is different. I cannot tell what it is; I only know it is there and when I finally discover it, I will know which one of you is which. Then we will wed.”

  He sounded as if he commanded and she refused to be forced to wed. The choice would be hers or there would be no marriage. She would wed Tarr of Hellewy
k only by her say so, not by his command or demand.

  “You do not know me, if you think you can force me.”

  His laughter rankled her.

  “You are already willing.”

  “There is a vast difference between lust and love,” she informed him.

  He chuckled. “Lust is a good start to a marriage.”

  “Lust does not last. Love does.”

  “Love can be learned.”

  His seriousness startled her. Could he learn to love her? Was she willing to take such a chance?

  “Can it?” she answered honestly.

  “Are you not willing to find out?”

  She stared at him a moment for she had thought she heard a plea in his voice, or did she hear what she wished to hear? He did not really care if they loved or not. She fit the requisites he had set forth in a wife and that was all that mattered to him.

  “Your silence means yes,” he said.

  “There is much to my silence that you do not know.”

  He reached out for her hand. “Confide in me. Tell me what lies in your silence. I want to be a part of it.”

  His offer stirred her heart even more, but she wondered if he truly understood what he offered her. To be willing to go to the very depths of her soul, to share all her turmoil and happiness was more intimate than making love.

  She tested him. “You do not know what you ask.”

  He looked affronted. “I do not speak my words lightly. Talk with me. Share with me. I am willing to hear and to listen.”

  The idea of sharing her deepest emotions, her inner secrets with him, made her fearful and she stepped away from him, slipping her hand out of his.

  “Do not put a distance between us.”

  “It is a distance we both forged,” she said.

  “Out of stubbornness.”

  Her smile surfaced slowly. “I will agree to that.”

  “Finally, we agree on something, which means we can begin to build a bridge where we both can meet in the middle. It will take work building this bridge for it must be sturdy; stubbornness is at least a starting point, but trust will be the firm foundation.

  He was willing to work toward a middle ground for them both, instead of him dictating; it surely was a beginning.

  “This plan of yours for building a bridge sounds good to me.”

  “I am glad you like it.” He held out his hand.

  Fiona reached out and took his hand, the first block in the bridge being forged.

  Chapter 15

  “Tell me of my men, Aliss,” Raynor said, looking out the window at the now all too familiar scene. He had been a prisoner, by his estimation, near to two months—and that was far too long. He had fully recovered weeks ago and it was time to escape.

  He turned to look at her. She stood silent at the table that served as her work stand. Herbs, pots, flasks, pestle and mortar were arranged neatly on the table with a large enough space left for her to work.

  “I need to know where they are being kept.”

  She dusted her hands free of the herbs she worked with and wiped them on a cloth tucked in at the waistband of her brown skirt.

  “I know why you hesitate and I attempt to honor your request of not knowing my plans, but I need this information from you.”

  “I thought you would—”

  “Escape on my own?” He shook his head. “I cannot abandon my men, especially when you have told me that they have fully recovered from their wounds.”

  “That is why you have waited,” she said anxiously. “I wondered why you remained.”

  He ignored her remark. “My men, Aliss.”

  She remained hesitant.

  Raynor decided on a different approach. “Do you spend much time with my men?”

  Aliss stared at him for a moment.

  “A simple enough question.”

  She nodded. “I see them only when they are taken out of their cells and allowed the fresh air for a short time every few days.”

  “They must enjoy their brief reprieves.”

  “They sit and watch what goes on around them.”

  “I am glad to hear this, but tell me why have I not been given a breath of fresh air on occasion?”

  “Tarr will not allow it.”

  “Yet he gives it to my men?”

  She shrugged.

  He walked over to her. “You could get him to agree to it for me, could you not?”

  Aliss sighed, pulled the cloth from her waistband, and dropped it on the table. “Securing a bit of freedom for your men was one thing; trying to get it for you”—she shook her head—“impossible.”

  “I appreciate your efforts on my behalf. You have taken very good care of me and I am forever in your debt. I will never forget your kindness.”

  “Say no more,” she insisted with raised hands. “I do not want to know your plans.” She placed a few items in an already overflowing healing basket and walked to the door. “I am a healer, please make certain that in your absence you leave behind none who would require my skills.”

  She opened the door and saw Tarr and Fiona approach from the end of the hallway. “You have company.”

  Raynor nodded. “Thank you very much.”

  Aliss hurried down the hall with only a nod to her sister and Tarr as she past them.

  “She appears upset,” Fiona said, and turned to rush off after her but stopped and looked to Tarr.

  “Go, she may need you,” he said, and shooed her away with his hand.

  “I will not be long.”

  “Be as long as necessary,” he said, pleased that she had at least considered him before running off after her sister.

  Tarr entered the room to find Raynor seated in a chair by the window.

  “The days grow more chilled,” Raynor said without looking at him.

  “We are ready for winter.” Tarr glanced around the room, walked to the door and opened it. “Have ale and food brought to us,” he told the one guard, and closed the door.

  “Have you decided what will be done with me and my men?”

  “That is not why I am here. You know more about this leader of the Wolf clan than I do. I have heard stories, thinking them mere myths, for I have not seen him in these parts.”

  “He handles the unrest in his lands north of Scotland. From what I have heard he rules much of the land and its people by fear. None dare oppose him. I heard he is called Wolf hence the name of his clan.”

  “What would bring him here?”

  “I asked myself the same question,” Raynor said. “If his plan had been to seize your land, he would have arrived with a massive amount of warriors.”

  “You say you chased him off the island, the Isle of Non. What was he doing there?”

  Raynor stood, the ale and food having been delivered, as Tarr poured them each a tankard of ale. He gladly took one.

  “That was even stranger. He was there with a minimum of a dozen men, and his presence discovered by sheer accident. We gave chase and they took off without a battle. I followed them to the border of my land to make certain they were gone.”

  “This Wolf does not sound as if he would be spotted by accident.”

  “Another thought of mine also,” Raynor admitted. “Why, though, would he want me to know he was there? He plans something. But what?”

  “Whatever it is I’ll be ready.”

  Fiona caught up with her sister as she walked out the door of the keep.

  “The day hints at winter, you should have a shawl about you,” she admonished.

  Aliss slowed her pace as they walked down the keep stairs. “I was in a hurry and not thinking.”

  “What troubles you?” Fiona took off her green shawl and draped it over Aliss’s shoulders.

  “Now you will be cold.”

  “I am fine,” Fiona insisted, and took the basket her sister held, slipped her arm around hers, and led her to a favorite spot of theirs beneath a large tree near the meadow. It was a secluded enough for them to t
alk, yet they were not out of sight of the village.

  “I think Raynor plans his escape very soon,” Aliss said after sitting.

  Fiona plopped down beside her. “I really do not think Tarr intends to harm Raynor and his men.”

  “Confinement wears on Raynor and I cannot blame him. I would go insane if kept imprisoned for any length of time in a solitary room.” She shook her head. “That is not what is important. I think he will ask us to go with him when the time comes.”

  “This upsets you? Have you come to care for Raynor?”

  “Nay,” Aliss said firmly. “He is handsome and seems a good man, but I have no such feelings for him. I but worry about us.”

  “How so?” Fiona asked concerned.

  “What will become of us? I grow tired of this charade, of watching how I act and what I say. I miss being able to fully concentrate on my healing, and I miss my identity. Some people call me Aliss, others refer to me as Fiona. How long must we continue this?”

  “I think I am making progress,” Fiona reported proudly.

  “Truly?” Aliss asked surprised.

  “Tarr has suggested we build a bridge where we can meet in the middle.”

  “That sounds promising,” Aliss said excited. “Perhaps this will turn out better than we had expected.”

  “It is possible, but we must continue to have patience.” She rubbed her sister’s arm. “Can you do that awhile longer?”

  “Of course I can. I was just feeling worrisome today.”

  “Raynor must do what he must; you have done all you can for him,” Fiona said. “Are you certain, though, that you have not come to care for him?”

  “I am certain. I have enjoyed his company. He showed interest in me and it was easy to speak with him. We shared stories of our youth and of my healing skills, and he knew I was Aliss—that I will miss.”

  “It will not be long before our identities are revealed, but we will do the revealing.”

  “I will have patience till then.”

  Fiona was relieved to hear the confidence in her sister’s voice. “I think we will do well.”

  “I do like it here,” Aliss admitted. “The clan has generously welcomed us and genuinely accepted us. It is as if we have always been part of the Hellewyk clan.”