CHAPTER 13.

The barley was beginning to turn from bright green to beautiful shades of gold. Though it was a magnificent sight, watching the crops sway in the breeze whilst the sun beamed across the fields, was bittersweet. In just a few days they would begin the harvest which would signify that Alysander's time here was at an end. He and Moirra stood side by side in the yard, looking out at the acres of barley. She was explaining the harvesting procedure to him.

"Ye and I will cut the barley," Moirra explained. "Then Mariote and the girls will put it into bundles and tie them.

Alysander was only half listening, his thoughts turning to the following week, the time after the barley was harvested. Their handfast would end and he would leave. Each time he thought about that day in the future when he would be forced to say goodbye to Moirra and their - nay her - daughters, his chest would feel tight and his lungs constricted. Mariote and Muriale were taking turns churning b.u.t.ter, whilst Esa and Orabilis were off just beyond the barn picking wild flowers. Of a sudden, his stomach felt heavy.

"Alysander?" Moirra's voice cut through his woolgathering. "Did ye hear me?"

Alysander shook the thoughts from his head. "Nay, I fear I did no' hear ye. Me mind was elsewhere."

A line of consternation creased her brow. "I asked if ye could sharpen the scythes."

"Aye," he told her in a low voice.

The sun bounced off her golden braid, her eyes, though filled with a measure of concern, sparkled as bright as any jewel. It took a good deal of self-control not to pull her into his arms, kiss her soundly before professing his desire to never leave her, the girls, or this place. He'd found a home here, his first true home since his mother's death nearly twenty years ago.

Tenderly, Moirra touched his forearm, her eyes searching his. "Is aught amiss?"

Too much a coward to answer honestly, he shook his head and lied. "Nay, I be just a bit tired this day."

The look she gave him said she did not believe him, but mercifully, she did not push the matter. "Will ye take me to the woods after the noonin' meal? There are roots and herbs I need to gather."

"Aye," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

The girls had better hearing that Alysander had previously given them credit for. "May I go too?" Mariote asked hopefully and with a smile. A heartbeat later, her sisters were begging to join.

Typically, Alysander would tell the girls to ask their mother first. Moirra had the first and last say in nearly every matter when it came to her daughters. "Aye," he said, "ye can join us."

Moirra blinked up at him, a most curious expression written on her face. She stared up at him as if she could not quite think what to say next.

"We'll go after ye finish with the b.u.t.ter," Alysander said, offering a smile that did not quite make it to his eyes.

For days now, Alysander had been behaving strangely and Moirra didn't know what to make of it. During the day, he seemed far too quiet and distant, but at night? He made love to her as if 'twere his last day on G.o.d's earth; pa.s.sionately and with much fervor and zeal. Moirra would make no complaint in that area of their life, for she found she rather liked the pa.s.sionate and somewhat ferocious att.i.tude he took toward their loving. It oft left her feeling completely sated, if not exhausted.

Mayhap he was merely stocking up on their loving much as a man would stock his larder for the winter. She didn't rightly know and had not enough courage to ask. Silently, she walked beside Alysander toward the woods, and wondered if she weren't reading more into things than were truly there. With the children around, now was not the time to broach the subject. Mayhap after the girls were abed she could broach the subject. Hopefully she would have worked up the courage to ask by then.

"Do ye wish me to find the h.o.r.ehound and yarrow?" Mariote asked as she walked beside Moirra.

Moirra gave her daughter a warm smile. Mariote had seemed to blossom over the past weeks. She'd gone from a frightened and angry young girl to a happy young woman. That she was finally taking an interest in herbs and healing made Moirra quite proud. "Aye," she answered. "If how ill Orabilis was last winter is any indication of the winter to come, we'll need much more of both."

Orabilis had become so ill the past winter, with a horrible cough and fever, that there were many moments Moirra believed her daughter would not survive. For days, the child had been delirious with the fever and the cough so intense it was oft difficult for her to breathe. Had it not been for Thomas McGregor's sister, Deirdre, and her fine healing skills, the child would probably not have lived.

They had not gotten far away from their cottage when Mariote exclaimed, "I fergot the basket!"

Their forward procession came to an abrupt halt and all eyes turned to her.

"I'll run and get it for you," Muriale volunteered. "We've not gone far, 'twill only take a few moments."

"I wager I can run faster than ye," Orabilis challenged.

Muriale rolled her eyes at her younger sister and looked to her mother. "Will she ever stop challenging everyone?"

Alysander let loose with a hearty laugh as he patted Muriale on the shoulders. "'Tis doubtful, Muriale. But mayhap if she loses a challenge or two along the way, she might no' be as inclined to make them."

It did not take long for understanding to set in. Muriale smiled mischievously and gave Alysander a knowing wink. She gave a quick tap to Orabilis' shoulder. "Loser has to clean the chamber pots fer a fortnight!" she called out as she took off at a full run.

Orabilis made no attempt to argue over Muriale's head start. Instead, she was soon fast on her heels, squealing with delight as she raced after her sister.

Moirra giggled as she watched her children racing away, their laughter filling the quiet afternoon air. When they were out of sight, she turned to look at Alysander. A bright smile was alight in his face, and this time, it did reach his eyes. Something in that smile of his tugged at her heart and stole her breath away.

He was looking at her children as if they were his own, as if it were his blood that ran through their veins. He looked proud as well as happy.

'Twas in that tiny moment of time that she knew without equivocation, that she loved him. The kind of love that her mother and father had so often spoke of. The kind of love that made a person feel giddy with antic.i.p.ation and warm all at once.

'Twas in that small moment of time that Moirra realized she had fallen in love. The realization was so strong, so profound, that the slightest wind could have knocked her to her knees. A heartbeat later, sheer and absolute fear collided with those warm, giddy feelings. What if he did not, could not, or would not feel the same for Moirra? Worse yet, what if he did? What if Alysander loved her as much as she now realized she loved him?

Her thoughts of all the "what ifs" were suddenly interrupted by the sounds of her daughters' screams.

Muriale and Orabilis hadn't seen the wolves until they were crossing the threshold into the cottage. Out of breath, but ready to argue over who had reached the door first and who would have to scrub chamber pots, their smiles evaporated instantly when they heard the sounds coming from behind them. Muriale was frozen with fear, her trembling fingers resting on the door latch. Orabilis, either because of her young age and inexperience, turned around slowly.

Not more than ten steps away stood three wolves -hair bristling and teeth bared - emitting low, terrifying growls.

Muriale swallowed hard, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder. "Orabilis," she whispered fearfully. "Do no' scream. I'm goin' to open the door slowly. As soon as I say, ye run inside and up to the loft. I'll shut the door behind us."

Orabilis, with eyes as wide as trenchers, could only nod her head numbly.

Muriale closed her eyes, took a deep breath while she carefully and slowly lifted the latch with trembling hands. Taking another breath in through her nose, she counted to three, threw the door open and yelled for Orabilis to run whilst giving her a hard push.

Though she was terrified to the point of tears, Orabilis raced into the cottage and headed straight for the ladder to the loft. Muriale raced in behind her. The wolves would not be deterred. With them nipping and snarling at her heels, she slammed the door shut. Terrified, she didn't pause long enough to bar the door shut. Her only thought was getting to the safety of the loft.

The door slammed against the frame with a loud bang before springing open again. Orabilis was at the top of the ladder by the time Muriale reached it. The wolves ran inside the cottage, still growling and snarling, intent on making Muriale the main course. Scurrying as fast as her hands and feet would take her, she was nearly halfway up the ladder when one of the wolves lunged forward. When she felt his paws sc.r.a.pe at her legs, she let loose with a blood-curdling scream.

"Muriale!" Orabilis called out frantically from the loft. "Hurry!"

The wolf had latched on to the hem of Muriale's skirt and was doing his best to pull her down. Muriale continued to scream while Orabilis continued to shout. "Muriale, do no' let go!"

Terrified, Muriale tried to kick the wolf loose with one foot. She let out a yelp when she momentarily lost her grip and came close to falling. Unable to move up the ladder, she wrapped both arms around it and held on for dear life.

Orabilis watched in paralyzing fear as the wolves growled and bit and tugged at Muriale's skirts. "Muriale, please, do no' let go!"

Muriale could do nothing but scream. Wanting to do something other than watch her sister being eaten alive by wolves, Orabilis looked about the tiny loft. She grabbed the chamber pot from the corner and hurled it down at the snarling beasts, hitting one in its hindquarters. The animal yelped, but was undeterred. Immediately, he was back and trying to grab his own bit of her sister.

It seemed as though an eternity pa.s.sed while Muriale hung onto the ladder and Orabilis continued to hurl anything she could get her hands on. As she tossed the candle stick down, she heard the fierce bark of a dog. Relief washed over her when she looked up to see her dog in the doorway of the cottage.

"Wulver!" she cried out.

The dog barked once again, before he began to growl his warning to the wolves. While the one wolf remained firmly attached to Muriale's skirt, the two other wolves turned their attention to Wulver. With bared teeth, the animals growled and snarled at each other for long moments before the wolves lunged for the dog.

'Twas an all-out brawl after that point. Gnashing, growling, baying, the animals tore into one another, toppling over furniture and anything else in their path. The wolf that had been doing its best to pull Muriale down, gave up his struggle and went to help his friends.

"Wulver!" Orabilis cried out when she saw the three wolves pounce on top of him.

Muriale scrambled up the ladder once she realized she was free. Out of breath, sweat rolling off her face along with tears, she held onto Orabilis and tried to shield her from the fight below by pulling her into her chest. The sickening sounds coming from below made her chest feel tight while fear settled into her stomach. She chanced a glance over the railing.

Wulver was putting up a tremendous fight against the wolves. Yelps blending with growls filled the tiny cottage. Muriale's heart seized when she saw the small stool had been slammed into the fireplace. She could only pray that the low burning embers were not enough to ignite the legs of the stool.

Everything had happened so quickly that it was difficult for Muriale to wrap her mind around it. One moment, she and her sister were happily racing to the cottage, the next they were being chased by very hungry and angry looking wolves. And those wolves were now ferociously scrambling about the cottage floor, h.e.l.l-bent on killing Wulver. They slammed against the table, its legs sc.r.a.ping along the stone floor, the force sending bowls and dishes to the floor. In the next moment, the table where they kept the pitcher and bowl for washing up was kicked over and the wash cloths fell dangerously close to the stool.

She and Orabilis were trapped in the loft and there seemed no help in sight, save for the brave mongrel dog that was doing his best to fend off the wolves. Orabilis lifted her head to look at the sight below them. Grief stricken and worried over Wulver, tears ran down her cheeks as she cried out for Wulver.

"Wulver," she sobbed, "Run! Run away ye stupid dog!" She didn't truly believe him to be a stupid dog but they were the only words she could think to say.

Her next breath was stolen away from her when she saw the wash cloth ignite along with the stool. "Muriale!" she shouted. "Fire!"

Time came to a slow crawl as Alysander made his way toward the cottage. With sword drawn and believing the same men who had tried to attack Mariote weeks ago had returned, he was not prepared for what he heard and saw when he rounded the small bend.

From within the cottage, he could hear the growling and snarling of dogs as well the screams of two terrified little girls. As he ran toward the cottage, his heart sick with worry that wolves were now attacking his daughters, he yelled their names. "Orabilis! Muriale!"

He doubted they could hear him above the din of fighting animals. Moments later, he saw smoke swirling out the open door. His heart leapt to his throat as he ran toward the tiny cottage. The sight of flames bursting through the thatched roof and the sounds of children screaming and dogs fighting merged into one ugly heart-wrenching, stomach-churning, scene. For a brief moment, he felt his world collapsing around him, before anger and instinct kicked in.

He raced into the cottage, completely disregarding his own safety. To his left, he saw flames burning all around the fireplace, the floor and the wall. Through the heavy smoke that enveloped him, he could just make out a snarling, biting pile of fur and teeth.

"Orabilis! Muriale!" he called out to the smoke-filled air.

"John!" Muriale screamed from above. "Wolves!"

He rushed forward, toward the ladder and was nearly knocked off his feet by one of the huge, furry beasts. He sliced his way across the room with his sword, the blade hitting against something. Soon after, he could hear the sound of claws sc.r.a.ping across the stone floor as the beasts fled.

"Hurry!" he called up to the girls, reaching his arms upward. The smoke was intense and he was uncertain how much longer he could remain in the cottage without being overcome by it.

Orabilis all but fell down the ladder. Alysander caught her, set her on her feet and gave the order for her to flee.

"But Wulver!" she choked out a cry.

Muriale was next. As soon as her feet hit the floor, they raced out of the cottage and into the gloriously clean and smoke free air. They were met by a horrified and sobbing Moirra and two sisters.

"Wulver! He be inside! He saved us!" Orabilis cried and sobbed. "Please, John! Save him!" She fought against her mother who was trying to pull her to safety. "Nay! Wulver!"

Once the realization set in that Wulver remained inside, Alysander turned back toward the cottage. The flames along the thatched roof were increasing, dark smoke continued to pour out of the door and windows in great waves. He was about to tell Orabilis that there was no way on G.o.d's earth he was going to go back into the cottage to save a wolf, when he caught sight of something dark making its way toward the door.

Prepared to kill the animal with his sword, Alysander quickly made his way forward. As he drew closer, he could see it was not a wolf. The animal was nothing more than a black, mongrel dog. It was in great distress, whimpering as it pulled its way toward the opening.

Alysander rushed forward, scooped the dog up into his arms and got away from the flamed-engulfed home as quickly as he could.

The scent of acrid smoke filled the yard. While Orabilis sobbed over Wulver, Moirra sobbed over what could have happened to her daughters. They huddled together on the ground near the barn, while Alysander, Mariote and Esa did their best to fight the fire. Esa drew up buckets of water while Alysander and Mariote did their best to douse the flames. Once Moirra saw that her daughters hadn't been injured by the wolves, she joined in to help her husband and daughters.

'Twas all for naught. The flames won out and nearly everything within the cottage was lost.

Sometime later, there was little left of their tiny home, save for the stone floors and a partial wall. It lay in ruins.

Alysander looked heartsick as he stood with his fingertips resting on his hips, staring at what remained of their home. Covered from head to toe in soot, smelling of smoke and sweat, Moirra went to stand beside him.

"I can rebuild me cottage, Alysander," she said as she placed a hand on his arm. "But I canna replace me daughters."

Alysander let out a frustrated breath before turning to look at her. Tears had left trails through the soot covering her face. Her beautiful blonde hair hung all around her shoulders. Though her dress was nearly black from the smoke and a sleeve was torn in spots, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever set his eyes upon.

"It will take time to rebuild yer cottage, Moirra," Alysander said solemnly.

"Aye, I suppose yer right, but at the moment, I do no' care one bit. All I care about is that everyone is safe."

Alysander turned to look at the girls. They were huddled together, doing their best to tend to the dog's wounds. He gave a shake of his head, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that the mongrel dog had tried to protect Orabilis and Muriale. "How fares the hound?" he asked.

Moirra sighed. "He's sorely injured, Alysander. They've cleaned his wounds as best they could. But all me herbs and poultices were in the cottage."

Alysander nodded his head. "I shall go to the village and get what we need. I canna let an animal suffer."

"I could go to Thomas McGregor's home and ask-"

Alysander spun sharply, his eyes wide with disgust and anger. "So ye run to him now?" he seethed.

Moirra thrust her chin upward and her shoulders back. "I'd no' run to Thomas McGregor if I were starvin' and had only gra.s.s to eat," she told him firmly. "But I would go to his sister for help."

Alysander blinked, the anger in his eyes fading, slowly replaced with embarra.s.sment. He swallowed hard before speaking again. "I didna ken he had a sister." He felt all kinds the fool at the moment.

"Aye," Moirra said as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I fear there be many things ye do no' ken, Alysander McCullum."

He could see her ire increasing as his own shame intensified. "Do ye no' ken me at all?" she asked rhetorically as tears pooled in her eyes. "Do ye think so ill of me that ye'd believe fer even a moment that I'd run to Thomas McGregor now? If I didna run to him when me crops failed two years ago, I wouldna run to him now ye foolish eejit!"

Suddenly, he wanted to crawl away and hide until she was no longer angry with him. Believing that might take years, years he did not want to waste, he did the one thing he'd been wanting to do for weeks. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. He did not care what Moirra or her daughters might think of this open and public display. Alysander's only thought at that moment was that he needed to feel Moirra in his arms.

Relief washed over him when he felt Moirra return the kiss with as much pa.s.sion and enthusiasm as he felt. When he broke the kiss, her eyes were gla.s.sy, her lips pink and swollen. She stood looking up at him for several long moments as if she had momentarily forgotten where she was. They stood looking at one another. Alysander feeling very pleased with himself and the apparent affect he had on his wife.

Moments later, the three oldest girls were on their feet, just steps away from Alysander and Moirra.

"Why do ye call him Alysander?" Mariote asked, breaking the locked gaze between husband and wife. The young woman looked puzzled, but not angry. Esa and Muriale were smiling happily.

Moirra paled visibly and trembled slightly. Alysander took her hand in his and looked at the three la.s.ses before him.

"La.s.ses," he said, giving Moirra's hand a gentle squeeze of rea.s.surance. "We need to talk."