Conquer the Night by Heather Graham Page A

“Immediately.”
    He left the great hall, hurrying toward the kitchens. “The lady has her supporters!” Ragnor said softly.
    â€œSo she does. Pour me more ale.”
    Ragnor filled his tankard. He lifted it. “To Scotland. To our slain brethren.”
    â€œAye, to those we’ve lost!” he said, and watching Arryn added, “And why not drink to vengeance?”
    â€œFine. To vengeance.” Arryn drained the tankard. Finally, finally, he could begin to feel the soothing effects of enough ale in his blood. He walked to the fire in the great hearth, leaned against the mantel, and watched the blaze. Red flames, gold, yellow, crimson, even blue. Leaping, falling, warming the hall. Man needed fire. Fire warmed, fire heated, fire cooked. It staved away the sure death of the bitter cold that could come to the land. And yet …
    Fire burned. Fire killed….
    He could still close his eyes and smell the smoke, the rancid smell of burning flesh.
    â€œThere must be vengeance!” he said softly.
    â€œAye. And Darrow’s woman should know that vengeance.”
    Ragnor spoke with no conviction. She had bewitched them all.
    Arryn spun around, his teeth gritting in fury. “I should simply give her to every soldier who breached these gates and leave her thus for Darrow to find.”
    â€œBut you would not.”
    â€œAye, and why not?” Arryn demanded bitterly. “Tell me, why not? Why do we stop where our enemies would not?”
    â€œWell, knowing Darrow as we do, he would marry her still, and thus gain her wealth and many estates, both English and Scottish.”
    â€œIf he kills enough Scotsmen, the king will reward him with estates and riches anyway,” Arryn said bitterly. “He probably rose miraculously in the king’s eyes, simply by burning men—and women—to death.”
    â€œYou have taken this place, and his intended. You will drain him every time you’re able. In time you will catch up with him. And then …”
    â€œThen, so help me, if I die in the effort, I will see that he meets Satan.”
    â€œThe time will come.”
    â€œWell, then!” He strode back across the room and poured himself more ale. “I am to duty, and to bed.”
    â€œGood night, Arryn, and take care! You must know that she’ll fight back. That …”
    â€œThat?”
    â€œThat she’ll want to kill you.”
    â€œAye, I am aware.” He paused, placing his hands over Ragnor’s red-bearded cheeks. “She has already tried. Though it seems that this castle is filled with fools who fall quickly to her feet, I will not fall prey to the lady, my friend. Trust me,” he said earnestly, looking into Ragnor’s eyes.
    Ragnor watched him go. “Would that I had your duty!” he whispered softly, and yet he knew that demons plagued his friend, and that this was a strange vengeance indeed.
    Arryn walked up the steps, tension knotting his limbs. He felt a new surge of anger, and couldn’t help wondering if he would be so bitterly determined if Lady Kyra had been the broad servant girl, Ingrid. As in the words of Julius Caesar: “I came, I saw, I conquered!” That simple. Have her brought to him, brought away. Over and done …
    Why wasn’t he doing that? Why was she residing in the tower room already? He would have to take his longed-for steamy bath with her there; he wouldn’t dare shut his eyes—she’d be ready with a knife….
    He paused, frowning, forgetting his dilemma for the moment as he heard a thumping sound from the area of the parapets. Rather than taking the twisting steps on up to the tower room, he walked out to the parapets once again.
    The drop from the tower to the parapets was perhaps thirty feet. There was a guard above her, but as long as she had stared at the circular walkway below, she had seen no man make a single pass by. There was nothing to guard from