“They are good people and have been through much,” Roarke said beside her.
“Tell me.”
“They were serving a selfish and cruel lord when Reena boldly entered the Legend’s land to seek his help.” Roarke smiled. “And she got it, and Magnus got a wife in return. They suit each other well.”
“I look forward to meeting her.”
“Are you ready?”
She took a deep breath, raised her chin, and said, “I am ready.”
As soon as they approached the village Mary could tell she was expected. There were whispers scurrying about and sorrow-filled faces at her arrival. A few women whispered bless you while others shed tears.
An older woman approached her and handed her a sprig of lavender. “You will not be sorry,” she said, her aging eyes filled with unshed tears.
Her own steps faltered when she caught sight of Decimus’s men. She recognized two that had chased her and one who had tormented her when she was a prisoner. Roarke was quick to grab her arm and keep her walking steady.
“When you entered the village you belonged to Decimus. His men know this and will not harm you.”
But what of Decimus? What could she expect from him?
She spotted Magnus on the top step of the keep and she hurried forward.
“Magnus,” she cried and dropped her bundle on the steps before throwing herself into his outstretched arms.
He gave her a hug, knowing she regarded him as a father figure, someone who had saved her and protected her these many years.
“I am so happy to see you,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from quivering.
“I wish the circumstances were different, Mary.”
“It is all right, I understand.”
Her words did not console him; they made him feel far worse than he already did. He had given his word to her parents to protect her and now he was breaking it. It did not sit well with him.
“This is Thomas,” he said, indicating to the large man beside him. “He is my second-in-command.”
“It is pleased I am to meet you, Mary,” Thomas said, and then tugged a beautiful blond woman from behind him. “This is my wife Brigid.”
The woman looked on the verge of tears. “You are so very brave.”
Then a small woman, her long dark hair in disarray and an ink smudge on her cheek, appeared out of nowhere, stepping between Mary and Brigid.
“I am Reena, Magnus’s wife.” She held out her hand.
Mary took it. “I am delighted to meet you.”
Reena lowered her voice, intending her words to be for the two of them alone. “Do not worry. We will talk and plan.”
“Reena,” Magnus said firmly.
She turned to her husband while wrapping her arm around Mary’s. “The poor lass is starving. She requires a decent meal immediately.”
Magnus stepped forward, taking them both by the arms and walking into the great hall of the keep. Once inside, and out of hearing range from everyone, Magnus spoke his piece.
“I do not wish to sacrifice one of you for the other, and it is for me to see what can be done. I will not have either of you jeopardizing your safety or your lives. You both will leave this matter to me.”
Mary spoke before Reena could. “You have protected me since I was young. It is time for me to defend myself. I freely made the choice to wed Decimus. It would seem he is my destiny, and you cannot take my destiny from me, Magnus.”
Reena smiled and poked her husband in his arm. “I like her.”
“Your parents would be proud,” he said, “but I gave my word to them and—”
“That promise is no longer valid. I am grown and capable of taking care of myself. My parents did not expect you to watch over me for the remainder of my life, only until I had grown and could look after myself.”
“You do not know that,” Magnus argued.
Mary grinned. “You were my father’s student and understood his ways. Tell me, then, do I not speak the truth?”
Magnus looked about to disagree when he stopped and shook his head. “You are truly your father’s daughter.”
Mary stepped up beside him and kissed his cheek. “Your words mean much to me.”
Reena reached for her hand. “You need a good, solid meal before you meet Decimus.”
“You intend to scheme with Mary,” Magnus accused his wife and sent her a warning look that would make most men tremble. Not so with Reena.
“I want to get to know Mary better, and I am certain she would be interested in my mapmaking skills.”
“You are a mapmaker?” Mary asked with excitement.
“See, husband. She is interested.”
“And what maps have you already drawn for her, wife?”
“None yet.”
“I knew it,” Magnus said with an accusatory shake of his finger.
“Mary needs to be prepared.”
“To get herself killed?” Magnus asked, keeping his voice low though firm. “I warned you about interfering, Reena.”
“This is true, but you said nothing of helping her.”
Mary laughed.
“Do not encourage her,” Magnus snapped.
“I do not think she needs encouragement,” Mary said.
“Nay, she is stubborn enough not to need it,” Magnus said.
“It is understandable that he worries over your safety,” Mary said in defense of Magnus.
“He will always protect me, so I have no need to worry.”
“Did you not suffer in my own dungeon?” he asked, wiping the smudge from her cheek.
“You rescued me,” she said with pride. “And”—she held up a finger to make an important point—“you forever wipe smudges off my face.”
Mary laughed softly and was about to comment on how perfectly suited they were for each other when her eyes caught sight of a man at the far end of the great hall. He leaned against the table on the dais, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared.
“Decimus,” she whispered.
Chapter 20
Magnus’s protective instincts had him moving to step in front of Mary, but his wife’s hand held him firm.
“She will face him with courage,” Reena whispered to her husband, and they both moved aside.
Mary approached Decimus with her head held high, though her legs trembled. He intimidated even with the distance that separated them. He was taller than she had thought him to be and his features were dark, his black hair lustrous. His garments were rich in texture and in colors that befitted royalty, gold and red. He looked fit, in fine shape for a man who did nothing but condemn and torture.
He remained braced against the edge of the table in an arrogant stance, as though annoyed that he had to wait for her approach. The closer she got the more she realized that it was his eyes that held the most power; dark and menacing, cold and calculating, a heartless man devoid of a soul.
“Do you intend to keep me waiting all day?”
His voice was strong, filling the great hall with a thunderous rumble.
Mary did not hasten her step, she could not, her legs trembled far too much; she felt lucky she was able to remain upright. To others she appeared confident and proud, and she intended to keep it that way. No one knew of her trepidation.