Master of Mayhem (The Enchanted Well #2)

Chapter Eighteen

F ebruary was a bitter month.

The wind howled down from the north. Everything was frozen and had been so for too long. The necessities of daily life were harder because of the need to open doors.

But no one in the Lindsey stronghold cared about the weather. They were clustered around the hearth in the great hall. A gaggle of younger boys were set to stand watch near the opening to the passageway. They took to their duty with firm expressions.

Norrie came down the steps, her pace quick. She looked at the boys and shook her head before she dashed into the kitchen. When she returned, she carried a kettle. There was steam rising from it. Norrie held it away from her body and took to the stairs once again.

Several women were inside Ruben’s chamber.

“Ye are doing well. Bear with it.”

Sabine leaned over, gripping the back of a birthing chair. It was a good thing the piece of furniture was sturdy because she needed support. Another pain began. It moved around her hips from front to back. But the moment it passed, sitting became intolerable. Sabine was up, walking around the chamber because it was the only thing that made the pain bearable.

“Breathe. Deep breath now,” the midwife instructed as the woman kept pace beside her.

The door to the chamber opened, allowing a wonderfully cool rush of air to hit Sabine. In naught but her smock, she should have been cold, but she was dripping sweat.

Well, it is called labor…

Sabine agreed with her inner voice. It was hard work to give birth to a child. The intensity built until the pains came nearly on top of one another. The women who had insisted on being in the chamber were now very welcome because they guided her to the birthing chair.

“There it is…I see the head…push hard…” the midwife instructed firmly.

It all felt like too much. Too much pain, too much pressure. But there was also an instinct stirring inside of her. Sabine gripped the arm rest of the chair and put all of her energy into pushing her child into the world.

In one moment, she felt the baby move. The women watching leaned in to see the baby. The midwife rubbed the infant. Everyone held their breath, waiting for a sign of life.

“Come on now.” The midwife rubbed vigorously. “There are so many people waiting to meet ye.”

Sabine felt a lump rising in her throat. But in that moment when dread was starting to fill her, the baby stiffened. It raised its arms and legs before letting out a wail.

A murmur of relief sounded around her. The midwife nodded. “That’s the way, my wee little one.”

The baby shuddered. It drew in a deeper breath and let out a cry that was loud enough to bounce off the chamber walls. Everyone smiled while the midwife swaddled the child.

“Ye have a daughter, mistress.”

The midwife laid the baby in Sabine’s arms. In that moment she was sure that she learned a whole new meaning of the word love. For months she had known a child was growing inside of her. She’d expected to love it. But the emotion that filled her was so much greater than any she had ever felt before.

Well, except for the love she had for Ruben.

That was a love that had filled her completely until now. Now there was even more room in her heart, the tiny little new life in her arms filling her even fuller.

A lifetime would be too short.

*

Oisin was waiting in the great hall as well.

“They’re coming!” one of the younger lads called out.

“I hear the baby!” another boy added on his way down the aisle toward the head table.

A collective sigh of relief rippled through the hall in response to the news that the baby was alive. Stern expressions eased and smiles of anticipation brightened the faces of those waiting.

Everyone turned to watch Morven enter the hall. She smiled radiantly, a small bundle in her arms.

“Shhhh…quiet down…” Arland ordered.

The hall grew silent enough to hear the wind howling on the other side of the closed window shutters. In sharp contrast to the winter storm, the baby let out a soft coo. The maids sighed and the retainers grinned.

Morven made her way to the head table.

“Ye have a fine granddaughter, laird.” Morven handed the baby to Ruben.

Ruben took the infant, a slightly uncertain look appearing on his face. Morven gently taught him the way of holding the baby. The child let out another little gurgle once Ruben had her cradled in his arms.

Oisin leaned over to look at the baby. He stuck out his pinky so she could curl her little fingers around it.

“She is perfect,” Laird Lindsey announced jubilantly. He looked up to find that people were waiting to see what he thought of the child’s gender.

“The Lindseys are blessed to have a fine, healthy girl born today. Me granddaughter is most welcome. Very welcome indeed! She shall be named Caire Ann. For she is very beloved.”

A ripple of approval went through the room.

“Allision? Gillan? Come and meet yer cousin.”

Allision was happy to do as her father instructed. Gillan held back, clearly uncertain. Allision turned around and grabbed Gillan by the hand. “Come. Ye are part of our family, as we have told ye. I will even let ye hold Caire Ann before me to prove it.”

Gillan brightened up. “Really?”

“Yes, really!”

“Go and see yer wife, son,” Oisin muttered softly. “She has brought a great and welcome blessing to this house. To the Lindsey. Tell her I said so.”

Ruben carefully took his daughter from Gillan. Morven watched him carefully while he secured the baby in his arms once more. The Lindsey stretched their necks and leaned in to get a glimpse of the child when Ruben passed. By the time he made it into the passageway, someone had started playing music.

Aye, it was time to celebrate.

Ruben felt as if the very air inside the stronghold was once again full of life and promise. Life would always be challenging, but so long as they had hope, they would face the future together.

It was a future that promised to be full of love.

Rake Hell

1556

It was fine and warm now. June 23 marked the middle of the growing season and St. John’s Eve. Temperance drew in a deep breath and let it out. The fine weather made her long to strip her linen modesty cap off her head. But her family’s Puritan devotion forbade her to do so.

She was so tired of shall’nt’s.

Life seemed to be nothing but a list of things she could not do. Both of her sisters were held as examples of what happened to women who failed to be obedient.

Obedient…

There was another thing she was sick unto death of.

Was not joy part of a good life?

“Temperance?”

Her mother called from the front room of the home they lived in. Although “hid in” was a better way to phrase it. They were in hiding because Temperance’s father refused to obey the new queen’s law to return to the Catholic faith.

Temperance felt a chill go down her spine. There were soldiers in the village now. No one spoke of the matter, but she knew in her heart that those men might arrive to take them all away to trial. They no longer ventured into the village because Puritans were not welcome. People feared that if they were seen with those defying the royal order, they might be swept away into prison along with the Puritans.

“Temperance?”

“Yes mother?”

Her mother appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the outer room. Her mother was worrying her lower lip.

Temperance finished drying a bowl while her mother continued to debate whatever she was thinking of asking. Finally, her mother sighed.

“The cow broke through the fence. Your father and brothers have gone to mend it. They must also find the other cows….” Her mother’s attention strayed to the window. The shutters were closed now because the sun had set.

The night and those who cast spells under its dark cloak were strictly shut out of their home. Both of her sisters had gone out into the night, and they were gone now.

Temperance was suddenly warmed by the possibility of doing something forbidden. It wasn’t that she craved recklessness, but the night was warm and fine. Washing dishes wasn’t exciting in the least.

“What would you have me do, mother?” Temperance asked directly. She folded her hands in front of her, trying to appear calm. But her heart was thumping hard with anticipation.

To go outside beneath the summer sky. There would be starlight and moonlight…oh and it was St. John’s Eve too. Bonfires would be burning.

“The hens escaped. Since they have recently been fed, they are not returning. I fear the foxes will get them in the night. They are likely in the meadow.” Her mother’s hand was resting on her distended belly. Another child would be born within the month.

“I will go,” Temperance assured her mother.

Temperance began to head toward the side door of the kitchen. Her mother caught her forearm. “Remember your sisters’ downfall, Temperance. Do not be tempted by the night wind.”

Concern was etched deeply into her mother’s face. Guilt stirred inside of her for being so eager to get into the night. Temperance covered her mother’s hand with her own. “Thank you for reminding me, mother.”

Temperance loved her mother. It was a cruel twist of fate to have her parents so devoted to the Puritan faith. Cruel because inside of her, Temperance wasn’t calm or obedient at all.

No, she heard the music blowing in the night breeze. All the trees had their summer coats of leaves. They rustled with an invitation, calling to her to come out and dance beneath the moonlight. She felt as if she was bursting with the need to celebrate being alive instead of huddling in her burrow too frightened to poke her head out.

Hiding wasn’t living.

Somewhere up on the hills there would be bonfires tonight to celebrate the height of the warm season. People would jump over the fires for good luck. Her older sisters had gone to the Samhain bonfires. Now they were both gone, and her mother feared Temperance would follow.

She couldn’t break her mother’s heart.

Temperance drew in a breath and let out a sigh. The wind blew again, this time the clouds parted, permitting the stars to illuminate the meadow. Flowers were still in bloom, making a very enchanted setting.

Picking a few flowers wasn’t going to break her mother’s heart.

Nor would muttering the traditional St. John’s Day rhyme.

“Blossom…sweet blossom…the first that I have found…” Temperance paused with her fingertips gently resting on the delicate petals of a flower, “…in the name of Jesus Christ, I pluck it from the ground…” she snapped the stem with a little twist, “…as Joseph loved sweet Mary…and took her for wife without fear…” snap, snap, snap, snap, “…so, in a dream this night…” snap, “…I hope my true love will appear.” Snap.

Seven flowers.

Temperance held them in one hand, happily pleased with her little whimsy. Above her, the clouds shifted. Moonlight illuminated the flowers. Temperance felt her breath catch for the moon was bright and full. She tipped her head back to admire it.

A full moon.

Temperance looked at the well. It stood at the top of the meadow. Known as the Midnight Well, it was rumored to be enchanted.

Her sister Prudence had gone there beneath a full moon to seek a glimpse of her true love. Tonight was St. John’s Eve, the night when the fae folk were the most powerful.

But there would be no forest fruit to eat just yet.

Temperance frowned. But not for long. She brightened up because it was St. John’s Eve. So she could go and wash her hands and face in the water of the enchanted midnight well to wash away bad luck. It was only a slight twisting of the legend. And on this night, perhaps the fae folk might look kindly upon her. Somehow show her a future with love and in a place where she might still embrace her mother.

She tucked the flowers into her cleavage for safekeeping. The moonlight was so bright, she had ample light to see a path up to the well. Something else caught her eye. Bright and round, she felt herself compelled to kneel down and discover just what it was.

It was a strawberry.

Plump and bright red. Several more were scattered over the meadow among the flowers. She plucked one and then another. When her hand was full, she lifted them to her face so she could inhale their sweet scent.

There was nothing like summer berries!

The scent combined with the flowers in her cleavage. Summer with all of its wonder filled her to the brim in that moment.

She headed up to the enchanted well. Temperance tossed the strawberries into her mouth so that she might pull up a bucket of water. Their sweet taste filled her mouth, making her smile. The rope became wet, glistening in the starlight. When she saw the bucket, the moonlight broke through and showed down onto the water filling it.

And the face of a man who was leaning over the other side of the well.

“Sweet Mercy!” Temperance exclaimed.

He chuckled at her. “I did wonder what words might escape your lips if I startled you.” He clicked his tongue. “I’d hoped for something more…explicit.”

Temperance sat the bucket on the edge of the well. Her heart was thumping away inside of her chest, but it wasn’t from fear. Somehow, she knew that what was agitating her wasn’t that emotion at all.

No, it was something altogether different.

“Jasper Hardwin.” Temperance recalled his identity from May Day morning a year and a half past.

He performed a reverence with a little flourish of his hand. “I am flattered to know you recall my name.”

“You should not be,” Temperance informed him. “For I recall very well that you are also a Rakehell.”

The sound of him chuckling floated across the opening of the well. A new emotion rippled through her. Something that hinted at a very deep enjoyment of standing up to him.

“Come now, mistress,” Jasper teased her and started to come around the well toward her. “I can hear in your voice how excited you are.”

“What arrogance, sir,” Temperance chastised him. “I am not here looking for you.”

“And yet….” he took another step around the well toward her, “…here I am. A much more stimulating question is…what will you do when I venture closer to you?”

He held his position, leaving her feeling suspended between heartbeats.

She caught one corner of his mouth just starting to twitch up. It heralded his intention to move. Jasper jumped to one side, but she was ready and nimbly evaded his advance. They ended up trading places with the well still between them.

Temperance hiked her skirts up higher. She was poised on the edge of anticipation. Breathless.

Jasper raised an eyebrow toward her. This time, he rocked back and forth, leaning to one side and then to the other and back again. She watched him, trying to decide where he would go. She heard his foot hit the ground hard. The sound spurred her into action, only he was faking.

Temperance bolted straight into his arms.

He caught her, spinning around and around while she tried to recoil.

He was so hard. His chest. His arms. All of them were solid and firm.

And she liked it.

His embrace made her head spin. By the time he stopped, she was clinging to him because he was the only solid thing for her to cling to. Their gazes were locked. She saw an answering flicker of excitement in his eyes.

The clouds above them shifted, obscuring the moon. Darkness closed around them like the window shutters being closed. Temperance discovered her senses intensifying now that her sight wasn’t keen.

She drew in a breath and noticed what Jasper smelled like. The scent traveled into her lungs and then deeper into her flesh, setting off a new awareness of him. One that came with impulses. Her fingertips had grown more sensitive. She caught herself spreading her fingers out so that she might brush her fingertips across the hard surface of his chest.

The wind blew harder now, causing all of the trees to rustle like a thousand witnesses gossiping about what she and Jasper were doing.

Temperance stiffened. She felt her eyes widen. “We must stop.”

“I suppose you are correct, mistress,” Jasper muttered in a bare whisper. “Shall I confess that I do not want to stop?”

His question confounded her. But then she recalled that he was a self-confessed Rake Hell.

“My parents have warned me to not have dealings with men such as you.”

“I wonder, dear lady…just who are your words meant for? Me or yourself?” Jasper asked in a wicked whisper.

He released her, leaving her standing alone with his words echoing inside her head.

“No rebuke?” Jasper inquired after a moment. He flattened his hand over his chest. “Careful, mistress, I might see an invitation in your lack of reprimand.”

“The only reprimand I have is for myself,” Temperance muttered. “For clinging to you.”

She hadn’t really thought her answer through. The words simply came out of her like a confession. She felt exposed and realized that she wanted to see what he’d do.

Would he try to exploit her weakness for him?

That was what Rake Hells did, or so her parents would say. As for herself, he was her very first true encounter with a Rake Hell.

So far…you are tempted…

Jasper stepped up close to her again. He was so close, her skirt hem brushed the top of his boots. So close that their breath mingled. Temperance discovered herself raising her chin so that their gazes remained locked.

She was captivated by him.

“You shouldn’t toy with me,” Jasper muttered. “I might take advantage of you.”

“You won’t,” Temperance retorted.

“That is a very dangerous gamble, mistress.”

Jasper was warning her. Temperance knew it and yet, venturing closer to the flames she saw in his eyes was all she wanted to do. He reached out, stroking one of her cheeks with the back of his finger.

The contact between their skin made her shudder. It was more than just a shiver for she felt the vibration all the way to her core. He drew in a stiff breath and retreated.

“I concede the victory to you tonight.”

He was gone a second later, like he’d materialized from the darkness and just melted back into it. Temperance felt him all around her.

But the truth was, her awareness of him was inside of her. Discarding it would be impossible.

Jasper Hardwin would be lurking in her dreams.

To be continued in Rake Hell, a Mary Wine novel.