The rain fell hard and fast; lightning struck, followed by a deafening thunderclap.
Mary rubbed the gooseflesh that ran down her arms.
Michael stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her, his shroud completely encasing her, and rested his face next to hers.
She wished she could feel his warm flesh, but would that be wise? Once his skin touched hers she would want to feel more, touch more, and kiss endlessly.
The wind howled, screeching horribly.
“The banshees will ride this night,” Mary said, her voice a mere whisper, and then she crossed herself in protection.
Michael laughed, a sound as chilling as the banshee’s call. “You sleep with the Dark One. Do you believe the banshees would dare to disturb us?”
“You do not fear the night creatures?”
He pressed his lips near to her ear and whispered, “There is little I fear.”
“Do you fear the light?”
“Perhaps the light fears me.”
“Darkness and light, as one is born the other dies,” she whispered.
“I am forever.”
She turned in his arms and pressed her palm to his cheek, again wishing she felt his flesh and not the black shroud. “You cannot live in darkness forever.”
“Darkness has been my companion for many years and has served me well. I warn you, Mary, do not ask of me what is better left unspoken. Do not look to see what is better left concealed. Do not attempt to save what has already been lost.”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “And do not deny what we know to be the truth. The truth is always victorious.”
He abruptly stepped away from her and she heard the anger in his voice. “The truth is never victorious. Truth causes pain, sorrow, suffering.”
“Truth is an ally and is always there to help.”
“Your father’s teachings?” Michael asked more calmly.
“My father’s belief and one that he lived by.”
He shook his head. “And brought him sorrow.”
Mary reached out to take his hand and tugged for him to join her as she lowered herself down to their sleeping pallet. Michael followed.
“Nay.” Mary was quick to argue though her tone was neutral. “My father was a happy man. He spoke the truth as he believed it and would have it no other way.”
“And the truth earned him what?” Michael regretted his words. He did not wish to raise painful memories.
Mary did not take offense. The memories of her father had been good ones.
She smiled. “Truth earned him admiration, respect, honor, and a life that he cherished and loved.”
Michael remained silent. He wanted to remind her that truth also earned him his death, but he did not wish to hurt her.
“You hold your tongue so as not to cause me pain.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Truth did not kill my father, it was ignorance.”
“An ignorance that spreads like wildfire destroying all in its path, including the truth.”
She disagreed. “The truth cannot be destroyed. It may linger in silence for many years, but it eventually rises victorious as it will one day rise victorious over Decimus.”
He laughed. “You think a man as vile as Decimus will one day be destroyed?”
She thought on his words and recalled the seer’s words to her. You will be the demise of Decimus.
“His end will come,” she said confidently.
He took her hand and squeezed gently. “I wish it to come soon, though I doubt my wish will be granted.”
She smiled. “Wishes can only come true if you believe in them. They do little good if you do not hold your desire strong in your heart.”
He brought her hand to rest at his heart. “I wish with all my heart that I would kiss you.”
She giggled softly. “You better hold that wish tightly and believe with all your heart or it will not come true.”
“I believe,” he said, his gruff tone making his plea sound like a strange litany. “I believe, I believe, I believe.”
With each plea his face drew closer, and her eyes closed, and they kissed as they lay back on the sleeping pallet. His hands were at her waist, he did not dare move fearing that once he began he would not stop, and he sensed she would want the same.
Nothing mattered at that moment, not the storm, not their hunters, not Decimus, only the two of them and this moment in time.
They kissed and they hugged and settled deeper into each other’s arms with sleep.Chapter 13“Will you be gone long?” Mary asked, concerned over the sudden news of Michael’s departure the next morning.
“A week perhaps, but you will be in good hands.”
They walked out the castle door, a beautiful spring morning having greeted them.
Michael took hold of her hand. “A good friend of mine will arrive shortly after I leave and will remain with you until I return. His name is Roarke. He is a large Scotsman and you can trust him. He will protect you with his life.”