Page 95 of Wild Hearts

"No!" She quickly pushed the thought away from her. Paris adored her; she was sure of him. Magnus, too, had managed to convince her of his love for Danielle. She bitterly dismissed the madwoman, Margaret, from her mind.

She could tell hard labor was rapidly approaching. She had hoped against hope she would be rescued before she gave birth, but the hours had gone by unrelentingly, and she knew now that she would have to face it alone. The child she had helped deliver a couple of months ago had been just practice for her. And so she went down to the gates of pain, in woman's usual way, and by some miracle, she bore the unbearable. She delivered herself of a son.

He immediately screamed his displeasure for his cold environment, and she quickly laid him against her bare breast and folded her cloak over them both. He found the nipple quickly, and as he drained away her body's warmth, he hushed contentedly. She did not feel cold, nor did she feel pain now, but somehow everything was drifting away from her. She had no strength left to hang on to things, so she let them slide gently away and closed her eyes.

Paris had struggled as quickly as he could through the heavy snow for the last five miles. He sensed a great relief when the towers of Cockburnspath came into view; however, the unease that had dogged him all day caused the pit of his stomach to contract as he saw the faces of Adam and Troy.

"Did you not take Tabrizia into Edinburgh with you?" asked Troy, already knowing the answer.

"Tabrizia?" demanded Paris.

"She's missing: We have been searching since noon," replied Troy miserably:

"Her mare is gone, didn't you see that?" demanded Paris.

"Yes, but we hoped she had gone with you," said Troy.

"Get all the stable hands. Someone must have helped-her to saddle. If she's been thrown in this storm, she won't last long," he said urgently. He questioned the young lad Troy had found, the one who had saddled Tabrizia's horse. "Where was she going?" asked Paris carefully.

"She was wi' the dark woman from Tantallon," the boy told the solemn group.

"Margaret!" exclaimed Troy.

Grim-faced, Paris shouted, "Where's The Mangler? Come, girl!"

Adam watched Paris mount and take off like the wind. "He shouldn't go alone."

Troy nodded. "I'll get Ian and his men. We'll follow him."

It was slow going, for the snow was a deep powder, which, in many places, reached up to the stallion's underbelly. The Mangler loped along, not experiencing the same difficulty as the horse and the man.

Paris's mind raced in a hundred different directions. Were the Fates playing with him? Had he finally found his heart's desire, only to have her snatched from him after a few short months? He forced his mind to be calm. Self-torture would gain him nothing. Though darkness had fallen hours ago, the moon upon the snow made it seem like daylight. He saw nothing. No tracks, no fallen horse, nothing! He turned in the saddle and saw that his men were out in full force. It took two long, slow hours to reach Tantallon.

He strode across the great entrance hall and stopped at the foot of the staircase as Margaret appeared and came down two steps. Relief had swept over him as he had seen Tabrizia's mare in the stables, and he knew they had made it through the storm.

"Margaret, thank God! Where is Tabrizia?"

"Tabrizia?" she asked, apparently puzzled. "How should I know?"

He looked into her blazing eyes and he knew.

"The game is over, Margaret. Her horse is in the stables, and you were seen at Cockburnspath today. You want her dead, don't you?" he asked incredulously.

"I rid you of one wife, and you married another," she cried, her eyes glittering wildly.

"You killed Anne, you and your mother, between you," he realized aloud.

She began to laugh. "She was my mother's creature from the moment she knew Anne married you while carrying another man's child." She laughed again. "My mother and I even got rid of that French bitch, Danielle, all those years ago. How ironic her bastard should come to haunt us."

"Where is Tabrizia?" Paris demanded urgently.

Magnus had quickly come up behind her, and they had her trapped now.

"Somewhere on the mountain giving birth! They will both be dead by now." She gave a triumphant laugh.

Magnus took a double-edged claymore from the wall and smote the woman he had lived with for all those years. Her body stood erect for a long moment after her head had left her shoulders, then it crumpled and lay crookedly across three stairs. The head rolled to one side, the face hidden by the sticky, black hair.

"Find her! Find her!" cried Magnus. "Call out all my men."

---