Claire Delacroix (24 page)

It was not an unpleasant place, despite its disrepair. There were diamond-shaped windows in the tower, one at the summit of each wall, and the sunlight poured through them in bright shafts. There was still a large trestle table, which had obviously been the altar, and a fine wooden sculpture of Christ upon the cross dominated the wall beyond. I crossed myself and took a deep breath as I proceeded further.

There were tombstones in the floor, great slabs of stone carved with images of knights and ladies and text, probably their names and deeds. The good dozen souls had clearly been people of wealth to have such tombs as this.

The chapel smelled of wet stone and the floor was marked with the droppings of the pigeons which roosted above. The air was musty, which only added to the impression that it had long been ignored.

Which was why my heart nearly leapt from my chest when someone coughed gently behind me. I spun to find a familiar man leaning against the stone framing the door.

“You are harsh,
chère
.”

Merlyn.

* * *

I flung back my hair, well aware that he caught me at my worst, and glared at him. “To hold your crimes against you? It is you, Merlyn, who so readily admit your own guilt.”

He smiled slightly, then clicked his tongue. “I meant with regards to Ada.” He shook his head. “You are uncommonly cruel, each to the other.”

I was not in the mood to suffer criticism from him. “So, you find me harsh with dear, innocent Ada. She is not so innocent as all of that, Merlyn.”

“But is she as guilty as you would imply? There is much talk of wickedness,
chère
, and little evidence of it.”

That he should accuse me of acting unjustly was too much to bear. Still riled, I pointed to the bench. “Sit and you will have your evidence.” To my surprise, Merlyn did so and waited.

Though I was startled by his compliance, perhaps telling him the truth would persuade him to confide more in me.

I began crisply. “Let me tell you something of Ada Gowan. Though she has been here at Ravensmuir since before my first arrival, she was born in Kinfairlie village. She was raised there, though in finer circumstance that we lived. Ada shows a face to you here that is unknown to me.”

I sat on another bench, keeping my distance from my watchful spouse, smoothed my skirts and frowned. I was surprised at how important it was to me suddenly that Merlyn should understand, that he should not think poorly of me.

“She has three brothers, she being the eldest of the family and the silversmith Malcolm Gowan being of an age with me. One brother there is between those two. His name is Michael and, as he was always a clever boy, his father marked him for the church.

“Malcolm, of course, learned the trade of his father’s silversmithy. And then there is Arnulf, born late and simple. Ada’s mother was lost in the delivery and if ever there was a lamb in need of its ewe, Arnulf was it. Ada was left the brunt of the task of mothering her simple brother.”

“You feel sympathy for her in that.”

“In that, yes. I could feel more if she had not ensured that none could nurse much compassion for her. Her lot was not all bad, for her father made a good trade with Edinburgh and North Berwick in finery. Certainly there were none in Kinfairlie who could afford his wares, but the travelling added a glamour to their status. They lacked for little and it could be said quite fairly that the family believed themselves of somewhat better ilk than all the rest of us.

“And Ada’s father adored his sole daughter. Perhaps she reminded him of his wife, I cannot say, but she was granted every frippery and every favor which she desired, for all the good it did her appearance.”

“
Chère
...”

“It is perhaps ungracious of me to speak the truth so baldly. You can gild a lily and make it finer than it was, but a gilded stick is yet a stick. And Ada suffered from the sin of pride - her father’s adornments did not become her for they were not worn with grace. She walked with her chin high in the market, our Ada, apparently believing herself a princess among the rabble. She gave no alms to beggars, she spoke to none, she grimaced when any of us dared to come near to her.”

I pleated my skirt between my fingers. “And so it was that she reached some twenty summers of age, without spouse or betrothed, for she was too haughty to even speak to any man she deemed beneath her. This was the beginning of the real trouble betwixt Ada and I.”

“How so?”

“It was the miller’s son, Alasdair, at root.”

A considering light dawned in Merlyn’s eyes. “A miller’s son would have been the sole man with financial prospects for the future, at least in Kinfairlie village.” Typically, he saw directly to the heart of the matter and I respected his intellect at least.

“Of course. Even in a poor village, the miller always has his due. All must have their grain ground, all must pay the miller for his services or go without. Ada either discerned this or her mother guided her eye, for she marked the miller’s son as the man she would wed. No doubt she thought the match would be a fitting one: they were of an age and each came from one of the two favored families in the town.”

“And the miller’s son?”

“Alasdair was an amiable young man, honest and hard-working, good-natured, a man unlikely to abuse his ale or his wife. Any father in Kinfairlie would have been glad to have Alasdair’s eye land upon his daughter.”

“But?”

“But his eye landed upon Mavella.”

Merlyn smiled. “She is charming and sweet, as well as lovely.”

I was unable to suppress an answering smile of my own. Our gazes met, our admiration of my sister clear, and a tentative link was forged between the two of us once again.

I hastily averted my gaze, distrusting the way the chapel suddenly seemed warmer. I dared not trust this man! I knew better than to grant him anything more than a tale of the past.

“Alasdair was smitten with Mavella, and she was smitten with him. All the village sighed at their courtship. Mavella came home with flowers in her hair and winsome light in her eyes. The miller’s son smiled and whistled all the time.” My smile faded. “There was one, though, who did not smile.”

“Ada Gowan.”

I nodded. “I knew of her disappointment, of course, all in the village did, but I was perhaps not the only one to underestimate the extent of her malice.”

Merlyn slipped on to the bench beside me and captured my hand. “What did she do?”

I found his touch reassuring, for my memories were troubling. His thigh touched mine, his heat drove some of the chill of the stone away. I welcomed the scent of him, though I would have protested any such admission. In my weakness, I did not pull my fingers away. “How is Tynan?

“Well.”

I met his gaze and could find no hint that he lied to me.

Merlyn smiled. “Fitz is most competent with the custody of young boys. He did not fare so badly with me.” Then he sobered, seeing my worry. “He will let himself be killed before he allows harm to befall his ward. I did not trust Tynan’s care lightly to him,
chère
.”

I looked away and swallowed, reassured but not certain I should be. “Rumors began in the village shortly after the miller’s son made his intent clear. Rumors there were that my mother and her daughters were sorceresses, that the miller’s son had fallen prey to a foul spell. There were demands that we should be tried by the courts for witchery. I with my red hair was immediately suspect, though why it is that the ignorant assume that all witches would be so clearly marked makes no sense to me.”

Merlyn bit back a smile. “Nor to me.”

“But there was more than rumor. Foul tokens were left in places that we frequented, small dead creatures with symbols carved or burnt into their flesh, trussed with red thread, purportedly of my making.” I shuddered in recollection and Merlyn squeezed my fingers. “Those poor creatures!”

I caught my breath when he only waited. “Though at first the tales were greeted with skepticism, there are always some who will listen to any foolery. Over time, the consensus grew. Whispers began about my mother’s uncommon beauty and youthfulness, the sparkle she left in men’s eyes and the ease with which she attracted them. Of course, there was no witchery in that - she simply made no demands and offered the men pleasure in exchange.”

“Elizabeth had a rare ability to savor life’s pleasures.”

I slanted a glance his way, liking the lack of censure in his tone. “She was no whore.”

“Of course not.” Merlyn shook his head in recollection. “But neither did she do as one expected of her. She was a ray of sunlight,
chère
, and even in our brief acquaintance, I saw that she could confound and charm many a man.” He smiled at me. “Hers was a rare and generous soul, and you share her spirit.”

I looked across the chapel, my heart warmed that Merlyn did not hold my mother’s nature against her. Then I chided myself for softening toward him at all.

Confused by my mingled response, I continued doggedly with the tale. “Whispers there were that the miller’s son had been targeted by our sorcery and that the grain would be enchanted if Mavella wed into his family. A manner of madness ensued, the claims becoming more wild with every day. All men would abandon their wives if Mavella could but run her hands through the grain. All women would be left destitute by the men whom they had wedded. All men would be enslaved by we three.”

“It is hard to believe that people would credit such nonsense.”

I nodded. “But over time, they did. No doubt the small tokens left in the belongings of those said to dislike us played a part in that.” My voice caught. “And eventually, as surely as the sun rises each day, the ardor of the miller’s son cooled. I should have anticipated as much, but I had thought his heart true.”

“Perhaps his father insisted upon the change of his course,” Merlyn suggested quietly. “He would be less likely to risk folk taking their grain elsewhere to be milled.”

“Perhaps Ada speaks aright, that there is no love, only advantage well secured.”

Merlyn’s fingers tightened painfully over mine and he spoke with sudden ferocity. “Never believe as much,
chère
.”

I glanced up at this unexpected insistence.

He smiled then, a slow smile that heated my loins. He raised one hand and touched my lips, tracing their outline with his fingertip. His gaze simmered and I could not catch my breath. “You are surprised,” he murmured.

Our gazes locked and my flesh tingled. In that moment, despite all I knew, I wanted to be Merlyn’s love. I wanted his heat within me and his hands upon my flesh. I wanted to unveil all of his secrets and share with him all of my own.

But that was foolery.

I spoke crisply. “It seems an unlikely sentiment to fall from your lips.”

“That you would say as much is a disappointment,
chère
.”

I did not trust this intimacy - no, it was my response to it that I feared most - and tried to ease away. Merlyn let me go, though still he held fast to my hand and kept his gaze locked with mine. “Did I not tell you that I meant to reform my ways, that I had pledged to surrender my father’s trade?”

I shrugged, hoping despite my casual manner. “Perhaps you sought only to win my favor.”

“Perhaps I do.” He frowned and looked at my hand, watching his thumb stroke across its back. “I have missed you,
chère
. Though you did not voice your concerns, in my heart, I knew why you had left. You are a woman of integrity and honesty.” He glanced up, his eyes dark. “Indeed, I never told you of my father’s proposition for that very reason. I knew that you would not approve and I feared that you would spurn me for thinking a balance could be achieved.”

I stared at him, transfixed.

Merlyn swallowed, a most unlikely hint of discomfiture. “I understand that the sole way to make our marriage whole again is to abandon my trade. I returned to Ravensmuir with the intent of putting this trade aside, of abandoning it and courting you anew.”

I could scarce believe my ears. “Why, Merlyn?”

His gaze bored into mine. “Because I love you,
chère
.”

* * *

IX

It was a confession I had never expected to hear from any man. That it fell from Merlyn’s lips was even more astonishing. I stared at him, but he smiled slowly, nigh daring me to believe him.

Love?

I pulled my hand from Merlyn’s and stood, needing distance between us. I paced across the chapel, then turned to face him, my arms folded across my chest. He seemed so sincere.

But then, was that ability not key to his trade?

“You never said as much before.”

“I had to lose you to appreciate the prize that had slipped through my fingers,” he said. “You had to leave me that I could know you possessed my heart.”

My heart fluttered. I wanted to believe him. Part of me was prepared to surrender fully and immediately. But I could not help recalling that his success in his father’s trade was rooted in his own persuasiveness. I could not help recalling that he had stolen Tynan to encourage my compliance.

“Forgive me if I do not believe you. My agreement would make matters too convenient for you.”

“I did not ask for your agreement, not yet,” Merlyn said softly. “I ask only that you listen and do not bar your heart against me.”

We stared at each other across the width of the chapel, a thousand desires in the air, a thousand doubts yet filling the chasm between us. My heart thumped painfully against my ribs and my mouth was dry.

Could I believe him?

“I dare not trust the man who kidnapped my brother.”

“Perhaps I had another reason to see him away from Ravensmuir,” Merlyn said with resolve. “I have told you many a time that I protect what is mine own.”

I turned my back upon him at that and pondered what he had said. From what did he protect Tynan? Could it be true? I was surprised at how much I wished it to be so.

“Tell me the rest of the story,
chère
,” he urged quietly, though he did not approach me.