Gargouille Ch. 07

Nicole was instantly suspicious of the nervous, fidgety expression that was so evident on Moira's face. Moira looked undecided for a moment, then gave her mistress a look of sympathy and tried to soothe her.

"Now, now, my lady, tis best ye not worry yerself. I expect the Lairds will let ye know more in good time."

"About what?" Nicole's voice was starting to have an edge to it. "Is something wrong?"

Moira tried to avoid Nicole's angry gaze. Lord, the mistress was persistent. When the Lairds had brought their mate home, they had expected to see a timid mouse of a human, all afraid and submissive to the men. But to their surprise, she was fiery, out-spoken, and kind. They were prepared to dislike her at first, but their hearts, which had been hardened against the dissolving of the betrothal to Aryan, had melted with love. But how could she, a mere cook, spring the news upon her mistress without causing her hurt and pain? She twisted her slender hands in indecision at how to break such terrible news to a mistress they had all come to love. Yet, deep down, Moira knew she had to reveal the secret!

Poor Aryan. It was dreadful and humiliating enough to have had the betrothal dissolved, but being locked up and ignored. Well, that was infinitely worse. What were the Lairds thinking? Moira found she had not the courage to shock the mistress' heart by telling her the news that would hurt her dearly.

"Have the men taken another woman?" Nicole asked, snapping Moira from her thoughts.

Moira gave Nicole a startled look and then slowly walked back into the room. She sat on one of the chairs opposite Nicole and wondered why the mistress would ask such an embarrassing question. But, she would answer it anyway, knowing the mistress would just keep asking until she got an answer.

"Aye, my lady--I mean...nay. Tis not like ye think. Perhaps I should explain. The Lairds didna kidnap her. There is no need to panic! When ye hear all I have to tell ye--to my sorrow as well as yers, my lady--yer mind will be at ease and ye can take it from there." Moira could see that the mistress had as little confidence in her soothing words as she did.

"What's that supposed to mean? Who is this woman!?" inquired Nicole, in low, shaky tones, her curiosity strongly aroused.

"Well, my lady...I knew it. Ye are getting upset and I am sorry for it. But I canna help it. And, indeed, I'm very much afeared, as I shall surely get in deep trouble for this."

"Then you'd best be quick. And leave nothing out," urged Nicole.

"Aye, madam--yer highness, I mean, my lady, I will be quick," Moira replied nervously.

Nicole gritted her teeth. "For bloody sake, Moira, what is it you have to tell me?"

Moira sighed deeply. "I know how much the Lairds love ye, and ye them. What I have to say, well, it might shock ye, but I dinna do this intentionally. I have great respect for the Lairds, known them all me life, good men they be. Now that they have you, sweet care... Oh! Dear lady--grace, I mean—I do hate meself for having to tell ye this. But, for yer sake as well as for hers, I must tell ye," said Moira, solemnly.

"What is it you have to tell me?" Nicole repeated, forcing her impatience under control.

"Well, then. My sweet lady, my Nicole--Oh, Lordy! I know that isna the right way to address ye, but--"

Nicole rolled her eyes. This conversation was going nowhere. "For God's sake, this is no time for servile manners. Just tell me what you have to tell, Moira!"

"Okay. Okay. Well, then, I beg ten thousand pardons, my lady, but did the Lairds ever tell ye about their former betrothed?"

"Why?" Nicole asked, frowning.

A sad expression crept into Moira's light gray eyes, as she slowly sighed. "Well, my lady, she's here. I wasna here the day she came or I fear that I'd not be here with ye now. It has been difficult, seeing her so sad. Mind ye, the Lairds meant only to help. Tis such a shame for her to be treated thus by her kinfolk, and as for her sire, Laird McCarran, that lazy old reprobate has been drinking himself into a stupor. I beg a million of pardons, my lady, for using such words, yer ladyship...I mean, yer honor. Oh...Lordy! Forgive me manners."

What the fuck?

Nicole stiffened her back against the debilitating pain, unable to meet the woman's sympathetic gaze. Their former betrothed...here? What sort of trickery was this? What part were the men playing in this game of emotions and deceit?

"When Lady Aryan was born, her father signed a betrothal agreement, binding her to the Lairds. Their lands bordered and the union would strengthen their alliance against outsiders. The two families would stand shoulder to shoulder against their enemies, of which there were an ever-growing number, shifters and humans."

"This is all very interesting, but what has it got to do with her being here?" questioned Nicole blandly.

"She's here for questioning," Moira blurted out, unable to put it off any longer.

Okay, now Nicole was curious. She wanted to know more. "What is she being questioned about?"

Moira cast Nicole a nervous glance. "Tis believed she knows the whereabouts of her brother ..."

"Aryan has a brother?" Nicole cut her off, startled by that revelation.

"Aye. No one knows where he hides out. Neal hasna been the same since the passing of his wife many moons ago. He had sought peace in the wine. That, in itself, was a source of annoyance to his father. When his wife died, their father was somewhat unsympathetic towards Neal, believing him better off without her. She was human. He wasna pleased."

A grimace twisted Moira's mouth as she silently admitted that even if the elder gargoyle had been a sainted angel, she would have been hard-pressed to feel any sympathy concerning his condition now.

Nicole's lips tightened as she digested the most important part of the conversation. Human? Dead? Why hadn't the men told her about this?

"My lady, are ye okay?"

Nicole looked up into Moira's face. Concern clouded the cook's features. God only knew how she must look, gritting her teeth in anger, lost in thoughts and fear.

"I am fine. Just peachy."

Moira didn't look convinced. "Do ye want me to continue, my lady?"

Nicole pondered the question for some time, finally asking, "Why are they searching for Neal?"

"I dinna know, so I canna tell ye that, my lady. They never told it to me. It'd be no place of mine to ask because they chose not to speak o' it themselves," Moira replied, shaking her head.

Nicole guessed that it was more of a big deal than Moira let on, but she could tell Moira didn't want her to press for details. Plastering on a smile that didn't quite match the dimness of her eyes, Nicole said, "Thanks. Let me get ready and I'll see you downstairs in a while."

Moira studied Nicole's faraway look and the sadness that darkened her eyes. As the mistress attempted to rise from her bed, Moira watched in dismay as she threw up her hands with a cry of anguish and then dropped them upon the bed in an attitude of abject despair.

"How could they not tell me?" Nicole cried.

"My lady, tis too much for ye, too much!" said Moira, weeping over the distress she had caused.

"I am fine. Just stupid, is all. I have no sense! No sense at all," moaned Nicole, in a muted voice.

"For mercy's sake, my lady!" exclaimed Moira, standing up and bending over Nicole.

"Please, just leave me. The last thing I want is your pity."

"Okay then..."

Slowly, Nicole's thoughts drifted as she waited for Moira to leave. Will the secrets ever end? Why was she the last to know anything? Why hadn't they told her? Nicole wondered if this had anything to do with her attack. Was Aryan's brother involved? Was it revenge for his sister? Nicole rubbed her throbbing temples.

"Are ye okay, my lady?" Moira looked at Nicole worriedly.

"I am fine," she replied absently.

She had turned her head away, her eyes shielded from Moira's penetrating stare. How she loved the men. She may have never voiced it, but in her heart she knew. Her skin and her nipples tightened, as always, as she imagined them caressing her body. She could never tire of being with them. But this...this was too much. Nicole felt like acting out, smashing things about and throwing a tantrum. Who could blame her?

"Bastards!" she spat.

"Beg yer pardon, my lady. What did ye please to say?" inquired Moira, bending toward the averted face of her mistress.

"Nothing ... Thank you, Moira, that will be all," she assured her, trying to hide her uneasiness.

She rolled to her side and sighed with her hands tucked beneath her chin, watching the flames leaping above the burning logs as she reflected. Would she lock herself in her room all day? Should she venture to the room that held Aryan herself? If so, how would she react?

The fire and the soothing hum from the clock did nothing to comfort her. She couldn't face Moira. Silence again fell between the two women until Nicole stood up abruptly. I wish to see this Aryan, she thought. Best to deal with one's problems sooner rather than later, and then she could decide what to do about this mess.

"My lady, where are ye going?" Moira asked, as if she didn't know.

"I wish to see this woman. Where is she being kept?" Nicole asked as she grabbed up her robe and headed for the door while Moira looked on in alarm, armed with the tray of crockery.

"In the lower rooms, my lady, but is this wise? Ye've been unwell, with all that shivering and sorts," Moira said, concern and worry etched on her face.

"I am quite well." Nicole managed a weak smile.

"No, ye're not. I'll do it. I'll go downstairs to the Lairds and I'll tell them ye wants tae see them about Aryan."

"You'll do no such thing, Moira!" The last thing she needed was Moira going to the men on her behalf. She was no coward.

"I do not need you to nor asked you to send any message to the men, when they haven't so much as told me Aryan has been living here," Nicole responded, walking towards the door.

"Yes, my lady," Moira replied humbly.

"Lady Nicole, I entreat you," she cried, in great distress as Nicole headed out the door, but Nicole was heedless to her pleas. Moira stood in the middle of the room and watched Nicole leave. "Ohhhh... lordy, lordy," she cried and went flying behind her young mistress.

** MW**

Nicole made her way slowly downstairs. She wanted to see this woman with her own eyes. Her heart was pounding fast, and with trembling legs she made her way down to the lower rooms. Nicole had never been to this part of the mansion. It was so large that she hadn't had time to fully explore her new home. Even though both Eyon and Kieran had given a tour, surprisingly she hadn't been down to this area. Now, she knew why.

Nicole went through a series of doors, until she stood at a large oak door with a great brass handle. Without knocking, she opened it. Nicole walked into a dimly lit room, its walls bare except for a larger than life portrait of a gargoyle sitting on a throne. A fire blazed in the hearth. Flickering sparks whirled up to a massive chimney. The atmosphere was that of a medieval setting, it was awesome to look at.

Seated on an odd-looking chaise close by the fire, a female, Aryan she guessed, worked on a basket of embroidery in her lap. Startled at Nicole's sudden appearance, she dropped it and looked up at her in fright. Her long black hair shone in the dim light.

Their eyes met. Aryan had a natural beauty that did not need layers of make-up for it to show. She was beautiful; her eyes were huge pools, dark hair, pale skin, tall and willowy, she seemed to define fragile.

Nicole stared hard at the woman for two reasons. The first was that she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Why would the men refuse to marry this beautiful creature? Nicole felt like a drab grey mouse in her presence. The second reason she stared hard was because the woman's grey eyes looked so familiar. She has seen those eyes before, but where?

"Why are you here, Aryan?" Nicole demanded.

Lady Nicole! Aryan longed to curl up and die. Never had she been more aware of her shortcomings, her own cowardice. This woman, with her large brown eyes, petite in comparison to her and certainly not easily intimidated, was the one the men had chosen, their true mate. She cringed inside, for this beautiful woman was everything she was not...

"Ye are Lady Nicole?" The instant the words were out, Aryan felt awkward... Eejit... Idiot. Of course she was. Aryan tried to smile. But the mistress's face remained impassive.

So she knows who I am? Nicole studied her curiously, having picked up on her obvious discomfort. There was now an unsettling look of fear in Aryan's eyes and it did not appear to be easing anytime soon.

"Does it matter?"

Aryan flushed, realizing she wasn't equipped to converse with his woman. Growing up, she never had a female friend or companion. After the death of her mother, she had spent most of her time with Manig, the local healer, learning about herbs and sorts. Aryan shivered and hated that she suddenly felt at a disadvantage. Her nervous fingers gripped the blanket in her lap and she prayed they wouldn't shake and betray her unease.

"I suppose it dinna, my Lady," she murmured.

Not one to beat around the bush, Nicole said, "Do you know who tried to drown me?"

Aryan took a deep breath and glanced up at Nicole with a tortured gaze. "I am sorry, Lady Nicole. I dinna know."

Aryan had heard about the horrible incident. Who hadn't? It had been the talk of the Clan. It was the reason she was held in this room as a common prisoner. Somehow, the Lairds were led to believe that her brother Neal was involved, but Aryan knew this to be false. Lairds Eyon and Kieran did not believe her and she could hardly blame them, given the history between them and her brother. She felt such compassion for the new lady. This wasn't her fault.

As Nicole stared at Aryan, she saw that the woman was distraught. Certainly not because of her, that would be utter irony. Her pale gray eyes seemed to be filled with compassion and concern. Nicole wondered if she was seeing things, for this empathy could not be for her, could it?

Ignoring her train of thought, Nicole asked, "Was it your brother Neal?"

"No! Never, my lady!" Aryan exclaimed, her face ghostly white.

"Why should I believe you? How do I know you weren't behind the attack?" Nicole spat.

Heat flushed Aryan's cheeks. Her brother would never betray her, no matter what. He was the only person she ever trusted in the world. "I know my brother. He would never hurt ye. Neither would I."

Nicole certainly didn't know what to expect when she decided to confront Aryan. Should she believe her? She looked so sincere. Nicole suddenly felt uneasy when Aryan started to cry. Nicole released a deep sigh, suddenly feeling more miserable.

Every muscle in Aryan's body tensed as she avoided looking at the woman in front of her. More tears fell. She brushed them away with the back of her hand. She had no idea what the Lairds planned to do with her. She had seen them only once since being cooped up and held like a common prisoner. Well, she wasn't treated badly, but she wanted to see her brother, to see if he was well.

Never had she felt so afraid. The Lairds' mate was extremely intimidating. She suited them. Maybe if they had met under different circumstances, they could have been friends.

Gazing down at Aryan's tear-streaked face, Nicole almost felt sorry for her. But why should she? Aryan might have been involved in her attack. Her mind was already made up on what she was going to do. This was all too much for her and the reality of the situation was finally sinking in. Nicole drew a deep breath and exhaled to maintain her cool demeanor and asked again, "Why are you here, Aryan?"

"I...I am not sure." She dropped her gaze once again and stared back down at her hands.

"Liar."

Aryan gasped. She was as stunned by Nicole's obvious distress as she was by the accusation she had just made.

"I am not," she defended.

"Then why the secrecy?" Nicole retorted growing tired of this back and forth.

"Wouldna it be best if ye asked the Lairds why I am been held, my lady?" Aryan risked a glanced at Nicole when she spoke. Nicole had thought that exact question a couple minutes before, but the fact that Aryan had dared to say it rekindled her ire.

"You can go straight to hell, Aryan," Nicole hissed.

She'd just make sure both Kieran and Eyon got there first for their roles in this upheaval. Nicole struggled to control her temper. Her emotions were raw, as if her world was falling apart. How could she let herself fall in love? And with two men at that? For the first time in her life, Nicole felt truly hurt. She never even felt this way when she found out Devon was cheating on her. This feeling was heart-wrenchingly painful. It was frightening.

As Nicole drew back to go upstairs, she met Alana coming slowly out the passage. Alana looked steadily at her, as Nicole clung, trembling to the banisters. There was no alteration in her glance and Nicole suddenly perceived that what she now knew, Alana, the men, and the whole household had always known. She put her hand to her head. The thought that the men had thought fit to keep this from her was devastating.

"My lady, are you okay?" Alana asked in the warm voice to which Nicole was accustomed. "Should I get the Lairds?"

Nicole jerked her head in the direction of the study. "I am fine. Tell your precious Lords that I want to go home to my own family... my real family."

Alana was dumfounded as she watched her mistress run up the stairs. She did not know what to do. Then she turned hastily and ran towards the Lairds' offices.

Nicole stumbled swiftly upstairs. Clutching at the door to the room she shared with the men, she flung it open and went in. Nicole sat on the bed and stared out the window, the sun was just peeking through the clouds.

Men! She was all but fed up with them. She wanted her old life back. She wanted to do her own thing, live her own life, and not worry about other women or if the men were being faithful. By now, Alana must have informed them. She was no longer as angry as she was humiliated. Their actions spoke for themselves—obviously they did not consider her their equal. She was just their brooding mare, to carry on their bloodline. Fuck them!

"I'm such an idiot," she whispered to herself, tears welling up in her brown eyes. She hadn't the strength to lift her arm and wipe them away as they dripped down onto her lap. Nicole's feelings were jumbled together in a terrible commotion. She was shocked and taken back by the beauty and demureness of the woman she had just seen, but she smiled with a mixture of admiration and respect for the woman's display of courage.

She didn't seem traumatized, well, not to the degree she should have been. And she was just so bloody demure. "The woman was hiding something," Nicole spoke aloud.

Nicole looked around the large room, admiring the rustic country decor. She felt as though she had been living in this part of the country for years and years, for a century, and it seemed to her that she knew every stone, every corner of her house. Her past was here, her present was here, and she could imagine no other future than being here with the men. Their touches seemed to lighten her heart, with every breath she took. Their unique smells made her more relaxed than she had ever been. She felt safe being with them, waking to their touch and kisses each morning.

Nicole was so accustomed to the ritual that it had become a habit, and now, with one confrontation, the whole of her self-respect was, in one wrench, torn from her. It had been dragged from her and the shock left her faint and shuddering. She sighed, disgusted. Among all the harrowing thoughts that hurried through her tortured mind, one feeling was predominant--the necessity of instant flight.