The Captive Heart (Kathleen Kirkwood HEART Series) by Kathleen Kirkwood & Anita Gordon

Author:Kathleen Kirkwood & Anita Gordon [Kirkwood, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: ByDand Publishing
Published: 2013-07-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Rouen, Normandy

Lyting marked the center of the target, drew on his bow, and with unerring aim sent the arrow hissing to its goal to crowd four other shafts. Without a wasted movement, he nocked another arrow, pulled, released, and added a sixth.

God help the whoresons who took Ailénor, he thought darkly. If any harm came to her, he would personally . . .

“Lord Lyting!” a servant cried, hastening toward him. “Lady Ailinn asks you to join her in your chamber at once. There are arrivals from Valsemé.” The servant came to a halt, panting for breath. “Lady Ailinn says ‘tis urgent.”

Lyting handed off his bow and headed for the keep. Long minutes later he climbed the stairs by twos to the upper floor where his and Ailinn’s chamber lay. He arrived at the door just ahead of his brother, Rurik, who approached from the opposite end of the gallery.

As they entered, Ailinn turned and looked up from where she sat with Brienne and their visitors. Lyting directed his gaze to the couple who were now rising to their feet, and immediately recognized Ailinn’s stepcousin Lia.

Ailinn and Lia were as close as sisters, having been raised together from their youth. During the raid on Clonmel, they had been seized along with their kinswomen and transported to the Danish market town of Hedeby. ‘Twas there Lyting first set eyes on Ailinn. And there his old friend, Ketil, discovered Lia being sold as a slave. Ketil purchased her freedom, and together with his wife, Aleth, brought her to Normandy. Lia later married one of Rurik’s men-at-arms and made Valsemé her new home.

But ‘twas not her husband who accompanied her this day. Lyting did not recognize the man. Whomever he was, he appeared neither Frankish nor Norse by the look of him.

As Lyting greeted Lia, he could feel a fine tension layering the room. Ailinn appeared alarmingly pale, and fine lines etched Brienne’s forehead. Mentally he steeled himself, wondering what news Lia bore that could be so urgent.

“May I present my kinsman, Comyn of Clonmel,” Lia began. “He brings remarkable news from Ireland. Rhiannon is alive. She returned six months ago from the East.”

Lyting’s eyes leapt to Ailinn. She dropped her gaze, sealing her lips against the emotions she plainly felt. As Lyting returned his gaze to Lia, he wondered how she felt of this news. Rhiannon had been responsible for the death of Lia’s sister, Deira. He himself had witnessed the act. Try though he did, he could not save Deira from the fierce rapids of Gelandri. It had haunted his soul ever since.

Lia’s voice netted his attention. “When I heard the full of Comyn’s story, I knew we must come at once. I fear it may have some bearing on Ailénor’s disappearance.”

Lyting exchanged a look of surprise with Rurik. “How so, Lia?”

She turned to Comyn and spoke with him briefly in Gaelic. Again she looked to Lyting and Rurik. “Comyn does not speak Frankish, but I will translate his words for you.

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