A Nymph Without Mercy
XXX

This was not how he intended to introduce his wife to their new home.

He had not expected her to find such fault with dismissing the cleric who had seen to its care, but now that he granted it more consideration, he supposed that he should have known her soft heart would have found fault with his immediate action. In truth, he had not intended for the man to leave immediately—even he was not so unreasonable. But perhaps in his effort to exert his authority as new master of Endelmoor, he had appeared boorish and brash, unfeeling towards one who had seemingly taken great care of the estate while his own progenitor had ignored his responsibilities.

But seeing evidence of the deerhounds, once more a thriving breeding stock, had dredged up more memories than he would have expected. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Callum may have been his only friend for a time, but he had not been his first companion.

Cara had been the runt of her litter. Born far smaller than her littermates she struggled and fought through the puppy-pile for even a single suckle of milk, and while a few servants had been employed to care for the new additions for the household, none seemed to notice that the littlest one failed to receive her due, pushed away by her larger brother and sisters.

But Garrick noticed.

He had been but a boy himself, and even now he vividly remembered the feel of her as he carefully held her with both hands. She made tiny, helpless whimpers as she blindly looked for a teat, eventually sucking on his thumb as she tried to coax forth the warm stream of milk she sought so assuredly.

So small himself the large deerhounds appeared as large as horses, and he felt an instant kinship with the one who was so resolutely ignored and neglected.

It was one of the few times he exerted his place as heir to the castle.

Most of the servants disregarded his presence, the masked ghost that flitted through the halls, overlooked by any of them except when their duties strictly dictated they take notice of him. He preferred it that way, as attention usually incurred sharp cuffs and hateful words, although most were usually provided by his mother and not those employed by his father.

But when Cara needed help he demanded that the stable-master take heed, and he was taught how to best care for a pup in need.

She grew with him, and despite his mother’s adamant refusal that the beast be allowed amongst all her fine furnishings, her grey wiry coat that, while prised in its ability to withstand the harsher weather, was called a monstrosity as it clung to every tapestry it could.

Cara always slept with him, eventually taking up more of the large bed than he did, despite his ever growing height.

Until one day, a few days into his eleventh year, she was gone.

His mother seemed proud of her accomplishment and his father was his usual aloof self, caring little for Garrick’s broken heart. “You can have another, Garrick, if you wish it. But you should listen to your mother and keep it in the yard where it belongs.”

Garrick said not a word, knowing that his mother would never reveal the true location of his Cara. She could have been given to a neighbouring farmer, or killed by an obedient servant, simply to spite him.

But he left that day and knew that he would never return—not while those two heartless people still lived within those same halls.

He had begun by sneaking into the tenant’s farms, searching to see if his friend was held anywhere within. She was loyal to him and if it was at all within her power she would search for him. But as he continued to look and the seasons began to wane, he knew that his beloved dog had been killed, merely for having cared for him.

And it was not until years later when he had stumbled upon the half-starved Callum that he had allowed another creature into his heart.

“Garrick? What has you so troubled?”

They were walking toward the stables, as his sudden melancholy made him feel it a necessity that Callum be seen to properly before they set foot into the awaiting castle. He did not trust the servants that resided here, knowing that he would need to come to judge each of their characters personally before he allowed them to continue their employment—his Mairi was far too precious to allow just any to live near her.

The stable was well kempt and a capable lad, although surprised at suddenly having a new charge, was easy in manner and his hands knowledgeable as he deftly removed Callum’s saddle, and subsequently, their belongings. “He is a fine destrier, m’lord. I shall take great pleasure in caring for him.”

Callum seemed equally comfortable in his company, and Garrick trusted his judgement. Having suffered similar abuses in his own past, he was naturally wary and excellent at evaluating character—while still open to bribery in the form of carrots or apple cores.

Satisfied that the other member of their family was settled appropriately, Garrick returned his attention to his wife’s enquiry as they returned to the front courtyard and prepared to enter their home for the first time.

“Simply a memory. I had a dog once, long ago. Cara was a true friend, and I want you to know that I would never consider separating Johan from his familiars. Even if he had been required to return to his order, I would not have been so cruel as to keep them apart.”

Mairi took his hand, her previous irritation already having faded away—for which he was very grateful. “I am glad to hear it, even while I am sad to hear that you were separated from one of your few friends. She must have been special indeed to garner your attention.”

He smiled wistfully, remembering the feel of her coat beneath his palm, and her sure presence as she followed him about wherever he went. “Aye, she was.”

Garrick took a deep breath before giving the partially open door a gentle push. The entrance hall was much as it had always been—tall ceilings and grey stone walls made for a sombre effect, although rich tapestries and luxurious carpets had been fashioned to add depth to the space.

He waited to feel any revulsion upon treading on the once familiar stones, but there was none. There was only his wife’s warm palm against his, and a kind of detached fascination as he watched her take in his ancestral home.

Their new home.

“Why do your people use so many stones to build their houses? Did they know not to disturb the woods?”

Garrick sighed, considering just how many trees were felled yearly to ensure there was enough wood to see them all through the snowy winters. While he appreciated his wife’s delicate sensibilities, they were not very practical unless you could indeed live within the forest. The idea of all of mankind living in houses built precariously on tree branches as they sustained themselves on only nuts and berries was nearly laughable.

“I am afraid not, little nymph. Most of these were built to withstand an attack from a neighbouring kingdom. Stone is harder to destroy than a fortress made of wood.”

Her brow furrowed, and not for the first time she wondered at the docility of her people. To be free of war and death was a curious thought, and he supposed there was some intrinsic gentility that stayed any overly violent impulses.

And rather absently he wondered if their child would take after Mairi.

Her grip on his hand tightened, and he realised that they were still standing in the entrance hall, and he was uncertain where first to take her. “What should you like to see first?

She nibbled her lip and looked through the open archways, and he realised how foolish it was to ask. She would have little knowledge of which rooms comprised such a large dwelling. And if she entreated for him to take her to the bedchamber first...

Perhaps asking was not so very foolish after all.

But instead of asking to see where they would be sleeping, she was quiet for a moment before murmuring, “I should like to see your favourite room. What holds your fondest memories?”

He blinked, not expecting such a request. At first he could not decide which of the rooms was a favourite, as many held such poor recollections that they far outweighed the seldom happiness that could be found within these walls. Often, especially in his earliest years, he would find his way into his father’s study, amongst the musty books and large desk where he would watch his father pretend to work, his eyes wistful and his mind so clearly away from his family and responsibilities. Garrick would rarely make a sound or ask for attention, but instead would simply sit in the corner, hoping that even without begging his father should pay him some heed.

He was always left wanting.

His mother’s favoured rooms were out of the question. If any, those would be the ones that he stripped bare, allowing Mairi to discover what modes of decoration she found pleasing so that they would not hold a bit of remembrance from the hateful woman who had birthed him.

In some of his more morose moments he pitied her, barley more than a child when she was wed to a man who did not want her. But she had done her duty and had allowed him to bed her, and finally a child had been born, whole and perfect.

And when that had not made her husband any kinder or more attentive, she had cast away the very thing that would have cut through her loneliness and filled her heart with joy.

And Garrick could not forgive her for that.

Not when Mairi had proved capable of loving him.

He swallowed thickly and led her through the many passages, his feet seeming to remember the turns and steps better than his mind.

Eventually they discovered a lonely turret, northern facing and perpetually chilly as it was immune from the morning or setting sun. There was another nursery that had long since been abandoned. Garrick supposed at one time he had inhabited the traditional room for the Moore children to be weaned, but his beginning memories had been of a very different space.

The door still creaked as it swung open, just as it had always done. It was evident that even when he had abandoned this place no servant dared enter it, a thick coating of dust laying on every surface. The bed was still unmade, and he remembered his distraught self ignoring his first impulse to tend to the bedclothes—a hapless attempt to show his parents that he was a good boy and would tend to house duties himself since they did not instruct the servants to care for him.

Even now, so many years later, his heart still ached when he caught sight of little tufts of grey, hair clinging where wall met floor.

“This was your favourite room?”

Her bemused tone was not unexpected, for it was dark, cold, and ill-furnished. He was forgotten in this room, often sent here when he troubled his mother too much or when he tired of being ignored by his father.

“It was safe here, no matter how glum it may appear. I had Cara and we would spend many a contented afternoon here together when the weather did not permit us to make use of the outdoors.”

She stepped into the space, the hem of her dress leaving patterns in the dust upon the floor. “There is no place for a fire.” She stepped forward to the bed, larger than the one he slept in at the cottage, for he had company here to remind him that he was not quite so alone.

Her hands touched the bedclothes, sparse and thin, and he could not help but notice the tears that pooled in her eyes. “You must have been so cold in the winter seasons.”

He stared at her, not entirely certain he liked how deeply she felt for his younger self.

It seemed terribly close to pity, and that was the last thing he desired from her.

“You forget that I had one of those large beasts sleeping with me. It was difficult to be cold when she took up more than her fair share of the bed.”

That was not strictly true as there were many occasions when he would shiver and cling to his companion, cursing the white fluff that was so determined to see his fingers and toes remain cold and unresponsive.

On a few occasions the servant charged with locking his door at night would fail to do so, and he had finally discovered the hidden shelves in the lower levels of the castle that housed the extra bedding. No one questioned their disappearance, and he and Cara had slept far more warmly after that.

Mairi sniffed and continued to stroke the well worn blanket. “It is useless to lie to me, Garrick. I can feel your heartache as keenly as if it were my own. It saddens me greatly that this room should have been your favourite.”

Despite himself, he bristled. “You knew that this residence held few warm memories for me. Did you expect that I had exaggerated these horrors?”

Mairi closed her eyes before making her way to his side, resting her head against his arm but making no other attempt to touch him. “We are not to argue, Garrick. We are meant to christen. I shall be sad that this was your only place of refuge, just as you would mourn had this been my only home, and then we shall make it something new.”

How sure she could be when his own emotions were so disorderly. He preferred a quiet reflection, a detachment from all things that proved chaotic and too painful for him to reconcile neatly. But staring at this darkened room he realised that to live here in this home, even with his Mairi, would mean allowing himself to heal.

She wrapped her arms about him then, huffing in frustration as instead of the soft tunic that she so liked to nestle against she was met with the hard obstruction of his breastplate. “We are home now, Garrick, you have no need of it.”

He would argue that he very much did need it—that until he had secured the loyalty of those in his employ that they were not yet truly safe, but he had promised her that once they reached their lands he would be free of such confines.

And he did so like to feel her.

She helped him remove each piece, and with it came a sort of naked vulnerability that left him nearly breathless. Even in the confines of this room he had rarely been without his mask, yet here and now his face was bare, his clothes the finest quality and not the patched and ill fitting garments he had worn in youth.

As each piece fell away, he found that any lingering desire to continue his previous profession equally released from him. No more would his sigil instil fear and disquiet as he rode through these lands. Instead, his tenants would look upon him and know that their master came to care for them, to tend to their needs as a fair and just man. And while the thought of facing them without the protection of a mask or his armour might once have filled him with trepidation, he now welcomed the prospect gladly.

For life here would begin anew.

And this time when his little nymph wrapped herself about him it was with a contented sigh, before she quietly murmured, “Tell me about her.”

He did not question who. He could fill her head with stories of his mother, of the dreadful punishment she would doll out in her vindictive rage, or of the way the servants would hiss and threaten him with a beating should he ever make the terrible mistake of startling them from their work.

But his Mairi liked him to dwell upon the pleasant things, a gentle reminder that there were sweeter moments in between all of the pain and loneliness.

“Cara would wake me with a wet nose pressed against my neck, as that was the only place uncovered. Early in life she must have realised that I could not feel much through the mask, and she would whine and paw at my arm until I roused enough to pound at the door to be released.” Even now he could recall the feel of her dull claws against his arm, the exact pitch of her morning alarm that it was time to seek the freshness of the outdoors.

“I think often my guard would allow me out simply because he had a slight fondness for dogs and recognised she would need to relieve herself every morning. We would run through the halls and spend most of the day outside and in the forest. Most days we would hunt for our own food, not bothering to beg for scraps from the kitchens.”

Mairi’s grip about his waist tightened. “The woods were your friend. It is little wonder that they were pleased to welcome you home.”

He ran his fingers gently through her tresses, a strange peace settling over him as he considered the pleasant days of exploration in the forest, Cara by his side.

Perhaps not all of his memories were torturous ones.

“I suppose you are right, dear-heart.”

She hummed, and there was a distinctively pleased quality to the sound. “You needn’t sound so surprised, sweet Garrick. I am right about a great many things.”

He chuckled lowly. “Of which I am certain you shall remind me for many years to come.”

She was quiet for a moment before posing yet another question. “I expect you would not have had sisterlings. But had you no other young ones to play with? Little boys that liked to play seeker in the woods?”

Garrick shrugged. “From what I have seen of others, I gather that being the child of nobility is a lonely life for many, not only me. Farmers’ children are all within their station and may work and play as they please. There were few choices even if I had not already been...” he made a vague gesture over his face.

“Marked,” she quietly finished for him.

He swallowed. “Aye.”

“Yet your parents had no other children? Is it usually difficult for your kind to make seedlings?”

He could not help but kiss her temple, the use of her own native terms strangely enchanting. “Babies, Mairi. Mankind produce babies.”

Their bond must have tickled with her response for he was otherwise incapable of seeing her eyes roll at his correction. “But to answer your enquiry, I suspect that my parents simply did not dedicate themselves to the endeavour long enough to produce another. My father had no special inclination toward my mother, and he likely thought she would harm another just as easily as she maimed me.”

She shuddered at the mere suggestion. “Our seedlings will never face such a thing, Garrick. I hope you know that. I would even ban all fires from the castle if it would make you more comfortable.”

He smiled ruefully. “I appreciate the offer, Mairi, but you might rescind it once you have tasted one harsh winter away from your shelter of trees.”

Her brow furrowed and she peered up at him, the perfect picture of confusion. “Why should I be cold when you are there to keep me warm? Do you intend to leave me over the winter season? I shall protest that quite vehemently should you even suggest it.”

He sighed in mock exasperation. “I suppose if you consider it my husbandly duty to keep you warm then I shall be forced to postpone any plans to vacate the premises before next spring.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good.”

Before she could make any further examination into the nature of his upbringing, her stomach released an unhappy grumble in dissatisfaction. Although she never once came to ask him about the process of relieving oneself, it was clear by the determined sounds of her stomach that she did still require nutrients. He doubted he would ever fully understand how a person’s needs could also be governed by a tree. The rational part of him wished to prod and investigate, requiring satisfaction that a reasonable answer could be supplied.

But the larger part of him knew that no answers could be found, and it was better to accept it as some mysterious magic beyond his comprehension.

“Let us see if my skills as a meal thief have waned with age.”

She shook her head bemusedly. “Somehow I would venture that if anything your occupation has only made you all the more effective.”

He smirked, taking her hand and leading her from the unpleasantly cool tower room and toward the direction of the kitchens. “An astute observation, my lady wife. Although I doubt that the kitchen staff would appreciate a demonstration as their first impression of their new master and mistress.”

She glanced up at him coyly. “Then you would not be performing your task properly, lord bond-mate. Not if they should notice an item was missing.”

A lone eyebrow raised in question. “Are you challenging me, wife?”

She nibbled her lip, although he could plainly see it was to keep from giggling rather than from genuine nervousness. “Perhaps I am merely unwilling to share you just yet.”

A worthy enough reason if ever there was one.

On their way below stairs it was inevitable that they pass the family quarters, although Garrick had never thought of them as such. This was simply the forbidden hall where often his parents’ voices could be heard wafting through the corridors, his mother’s hysterics only silenced by a harsh slap and an equally venomous response by his father.

But now as they walked through the passage, there were only yips of displeasure in what appeared to be Johan’s chamber.

Mairi slowed and rather than continue on without her, Garrick too hesitated, Johan’s low voice barely audible through the heavy door. “Do not look at me that way, Abaigeal. I would never leave you of my own accord. But I told you when you were a pup that someday I might have to depart, and…” he was silent for a moment and even Garrick, with his only newfound compassion, could easily hear that his breath caught as he swallowed back emotion. “And that time has come. I am sure that if you are good for your new master he will treat you right. I will make a list of all your favourite things.”

Mairi gave a shuddering breath of her own before glancing at him. “You have to tell him, Garrick. They all must be suffering so.”

Before he could even form a reply she gave a soft knock, and following the sounds of light footfalls and gentle rustling, Johan opened the door. The room he occupied was one of the guest chambers, and Garrick felt slightly mollified that even with his appointment as curate over the estate he had maintained some degree of detachment from the property. “My lord, had you need of me? I was only packing my things and can be gone before nightfall if you wish it.”

His voice was quiet and downtrodden, and Garrick could not help but stealing a glimpse into the chamber. Two dogs took up the entirety of the bed, their heads laid low and appearing utterly forlorn. The other sat in the corner, its long body hunched and eyes baleful.

It was a sorry sight to be certain, especially when the one in the corner released a long whine of despair.

Would he truly have parted them?

“It has come to my attention that I may have been hasty with you earlier. You have managed this estate for a long while and the title of steward still remains vacant. Perhaps you and your companions should like to relocate to a nearby cottage and continue your work.” And simply because he could not appear overly kind he added, “Under my supervision of course.”

Johan looked up sharply. “Your steward? And they shall remain with me?”

Garrick chuckled softly. “From the appearance of it, even if you had departed as you intended, I doubt I could have kept them penned for long. I am merely economising resources by saving the trouble of finding them.”

Entirely unbefitting his role as cleric the man released an exuberant shout, his dogs immediately raising their heads at his display as he ran to each of them and ruffled their scruffy fur. “I told you he would be a good master!”

Garrick sincerely doubted he had been expressing any such thing earlier, as he knew perfectly well that if he was to be sent away without the little pieces of his family he would curse and resent his oppressor with the entirety of his being.

But after Johan’s face had been appropriately licked in exaltation, the man returned to his new employers, a large smile replacing his once woeful expression. “I am very grateful to you, my lord. And I shall do my utmost to satisfy you with my work.”

Garrick sniffed. “You had better.”

Not at all rumpled by Garrick’s show of indifference, Johan turned to Mairi and he gave a short bow. “Somehow I think I have you to thank as well, my lady.”

She blushed and wrapped her arm through Garrick’s. “You may repay me by working hard for these lands, Johan, as I am certain you have been.”

He nodded and this time when he packed his belongings it was with far more enthusiasm. He was reduced in station from master to steward, his home once a sprawling castle as fine as any king could boast yet would now be a simple cottage where he would rest his head. But still he smiled and laughed and regaled his dogs with details of the isolated house that would suit them perfectly well and how much would need to be done to move to their new dwelling.

And as Garrick held Mairi close while they continued on their way to the kitchens, he realised just how right that was. The structure did not matter, it was the loved ones within that made for the happiness of a home.

And while he appreciated the companionship and unconditional adoration an animal—or three in Johan’s case—could provide, it was nothing in comparison to what he shared with his wife.

The kitchen itself had not changed much since he had last snuck into its stores. The staff however were unfamiliar, and for that Garrick was thankful. While he might appreciate the opportunity to better acquaint a few of them with the tip of his blade, he did not think that was the kind of christening to which Mairi generally referred.

Eventually they would introduce themselves to the staff. At some point he would ride Callum across the lands and introduce himself to his tenants, learning of their needs and trying to improve upon what skills were so very new and strange to him.

He would be a good master, for he had seen the strife and suffering that a poor one could bring.

And perhaps Mairi was wise, and the assessing and obviously compassionate heart of Johan would prove a fine counterbalance to his own pragmatism.

But in either regard, for now he would abscond with a few delicacies in the kitchens, proving to his wife that he could indeed be as stealthy as he claimed.

He would take her hand and lead her out into the forest and they would picnic amongst the trees as he introduced his little nymphlin wife to her new friends.

And then, after she had taken her fill and they were both once more contented that this could indeed be their home, he would allow her to check through the hosts of bedchambers and let her pick which one was most to her liking, before christening it properly.

For despite their unfortunate beginning, or perhaps in truth because of it, their bond was well forged and would only continue to grow stronger as they learned more of one another and how navigate this unchartered relationship called marriage.

She had healed his face because of that bond, but that had been the least of it.

She had healed his soul as it mingled and met its kin with hers.

And perhaps, should it prove possible, they would someday learn that Mairi’s womb would swell with life, and they would have a child of their own, a product of that love.

But for now, he placed an impish kiss upon her lips and revelled in the easy smile that graced her lips.

“Should you care for olives, little nymph?”

“You would know better than I, dear bond-mate.”

He hummed at that before waggling at finger at her silently to keep still before disappearing from her sight in order to spirit away with all manner of sumptuous delights.

And perhaps a bit of meat for himself to consume when her attention was diverted elsewhere.

While his height was far greater than when he was a lad utilising these same skills, little else had changed. Except now instead of Cara anxiously awaiting him outside the door, it was now his Mairi.

He found himself moving just a bit more quickly even as he ensured that he took only the choicest of items.

He took her to the lake. It was a little ways from the manor itself, but that only meant walking with a Mairi tucked against his side, and he would never protest such an occurrence.

There was something soothing about being out of doors. There were niggling voices in the back of his mind that he now understood were the trees of this property, beckoning and welcoming as they recognised and seemingly rejoiced at his return.

The people might have scorned him here, but apparently not everything found him a terrible blight upon the land.

And especially not his Mairi who ate pleasing nibbles from his fingertips as they lay upon the soft grasses, truly content for what seemed to be the first time this day.

“This is lovely,” she murmured, her head resting against his shoulder, a determined sunbeam coming to swathe her in light.

“Aye,” he agreed, pressing a kiss upon her temple as he allowed himself to bask in the simplicity of the moment.

But naturally his little nymph had other intentions.

“Garrick...”

“Yes, Mairi?”

He glanced down only to find her toying with a fastening on his doublet, her cheeks a rosy hue, from either the warmth of the afternoon or the turn of her thoughts he could not tell.

“For all our talk of christenings we have not managed to actually do so.”

He swallowed, the contentment immediately displaced with the prospect of more.

But keeping his voice level he feigned indifference. “Is that so? And is that displeasing to you, my lady nymph?”

And instead of nibbling her lip as she was so fond of doing when she toyed between embarrassment at his salaciousness and returning it in kind, she leaned forward and drew his between her own, even as her hands found his hair and drew him all the closer.

“Very much, my lord bond-mate. Take me home.”

And how could he deny her anything?

Especially not when she coaxed him so sweetly.

He carried her through the forgotten passages, determined not to be waylaid by curious servants that would interrupt their christening.

His Mairi merely distracted him with kisses upon his neck that only made him walk more swiftly, determined to make use of one of the bedchambers that had once been allotted for only the cruellest members of his family.

For now they were the master and mistress of Endelmoor, and it was only right for them to claim one for their use, although he would ask her to make a proper selection later.

He would offer her any room at all in their new home as long as she would agree to lie with him there, safe and content within his arms as they proceeded to work on creating the seedlings she seemed so confident could indeed come from their union.

Garrick ignored his parents’ rooms and favoured one of the guest chambers, still maintained although far enough from Johan’s living quarters so as to allow them privacy.

And despite the way his wife taunted and teased as they made their way into the large manor, he managed to quiet his desire long enough to carefully remove her garments, grateful that he had never found it necessary to introduce her to the complications of women’s underthings.

Their joining felt somehow different. It was as if a peacefulness had settled through him now that they were home. While he was certain that such a feeling could be recreated solely through the creature in his arms, there was something right and wonderful about being here with her.

He felt renewed.

Time might be required to make the shadows of his past leave this place entirely, and in truth some might remain for the remainder of their days.

But after, when she dosed in his arms, her head nestled upon his chest just so, he could not contain his fond smile as he realised she preferred the feel of his heart beating out a soothing lullaby to the softness of a feather pillow.

The bed was unfamiliar but comfortable, and as he lay there with his wife, his little nymph, his beloved, he decided that he was pleased to have it become so. Someday their new memories, their laughter and affection would be more prominent than the pain and misery, and that was enough for him.

For there was a promise of contentment that could only come from her.

Mairi’s sleep-warmed voice broke the silence, her sensitive fingertips rubbing small patterns upon his naked flesh that were only discernible to her. “Are you happy, sweet Garrick?”

He pulled her nearer and buried his face in her lovely tresses, revelling in simply the feel of her.

“Aye, little nymph. As long as I am with you.”

She hummed softly, the lull of slumber already overcoming her senses. “I am so glad.”

He chuckled lowly, and placed one last kiss upon her waiting lips. “As am I, dear-heart. As am I.”

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