The Beauty Bride (The Jewels of Kinfairlie) (18 page)

“Sell
it,” Rhys said, steel in his tone. “And the trap, as well.”

Thomas
straightened. Consideration lurked in his own gaze. “There is a good market for
horses in Newcastle,” he said with care, still stroking the beast, still
watching Rhys. “And I must go to the moneylenders there at month-end for the
abbess.”

Rhys
spoke in the same deliberate manner. “I hear the market is better in Carlisle.”

“Oh
no!” Madeline protested, wanting only to be of aid. Rhys was not from these
parts, after all, and she knew he would want the abbey to fetch the best price
for Kerr’s steed. They must make the most of his generous gift! “I know that
destriers fetch a far better price in Newcastle than in Carlisle. The king
himself sends men there to acquire steeds and the market is most competitive.”

Rhys
appeared to be gritting his teeth. He granted Madeline a dark glance, then
spoke with vigor. “Nonetheless, a beast of this size and hue will garner a
better price in Carlisle.”

Madeline
shook her head, certain of her facts. “No, Rhys. I beg your pardon but you are
not from these parts. My father bought only palfreys and ponies in Carlisle,
for he said the stallion stock was poor there.”

Rhys
glared at her. “Perhaps your father erred, my lady.”

Madeline
parted her lips to argue but Rhys held her gaze with such heat that she knew he
warned her to be silent. She closed her mouth with annoyance and glared at him
in her turn.

What
ailed the man? Did he not want the most made of his gift?

“I
know Carlisle to be a better market for this beast,” Rhys repeated firmly.

“Carlisle
’twill be, then,” Thomas said, looking between the pair of them with interest.
“Your counsel is always good, Rhys, though Carlisle is less convenient.”

“I
think it would be well worth the journey.” Rhys seemed to be fighting his
exasperation with the pair of them.

What
vexed him about Newcastle?

Then
Madeline realized the truth. Newcastle was closer to Ravensmuir and Kinfairlie.
Rhys did not want the horse recognized, for then retribution for Kerr’s death
could fall upon this abbey. It was entirely possible that no one would believe
the mercenary had been killed by thieves, equally possible that Kerr’s comrades
might question that conclusion if his horse was spied.

If
suspicion fell upon the abbey for having some involvement in the mercenary’s
death - or worse, if Kerr’s fellow mercenaries demanded a vengeance of their
own - that would be a poor reward to the abbey and its occupants for any favor
they had shown to Rhys. His aunt was abbess, after all.

And
she had nearly foiled his protective intent. Even now, Thomas was suspicious of
the horse’s origin, suspicious as he might not have been if she had kept her
counsel to herself.

Rhys
must think her a witless fool, so thoroughly did she err in his presence!

Rhys
frowned. “The trap, however, might sell for a better price in York.”

“A
horse with trap always fetches a better price,” Thomas said, amusement in his
tone.

Rhys
bent toward the older man, his manner intent. “Perhaps even Lincoln or
Winchester would be good.”

Thomas
grinned. Mischief danced openly in his gaze now. “Why do you not save the
horse, Rhys, and take it all the way to Wales to be sold? Surely the price will
be better there?”

“Perhaps
the gain would not be worth the risk.”

Thomas
chuckled and clapped the other man on the shoulder. “I welcome your advice,
Rhys. Fear not, old friend, all shall be done as you counsel. I shall ensure
that this horse is not recognized.”

Madeline
saw that Thomas had understood Rhys’ intent all along, and had only teased him.

“Can
you tell me more of who might recognize it?”

“It
is better that you know less.” Rhys spoke with such resolve that Thomas nodded.

Then
the monk smiled. “Aye, you are protective of those you call your friends, of
that no man can have a doubt. I hope you have espied this man’s true nature,
Lady Madeline, and not been deceived by his poor manners.”

Madeline
nodded. She had seen much of merit in her companion on this day.

Rhys
folded his arms across his chest. “Perhaps the abbess might be summoned, that
the lady could be aided as well.”

“My
lady, are you injured?” Thomas demanded with horror.

“She
is stalwart, but has had a shock,” Rhys said when Madeline might have demurred.
“Summon the abbess if you will.” He held Madeline’s gaze with sudden
determination. “I would ask another favor of the abbey, for I would have our
nuptials celebrated here this very day.”

Madeline
blinked. Rhys still intended to wed her?

On
this day?

“Here?”
Thomas echoed in astonishment. “But what of the lady’s family?”

“We
cannot continue to Ravensmuir until the steed is healed.”

“But
they could come here,” Madeline suggested. “Surely we could wait until they
arrived from Ravensmuir?”

Rhys
shook his head. “Surely, events of this day has shown that we dare wait no
longer. We will be wed before nightfall, my lady, and send word to Ravensmuir
in the morning, after our match is consummated.”

With
that, Rhys pivoted and strode toward the stables, leaving Madeline fuming at
his commanding tone. He might have asked her opinion on the matter, instead of
ordering her to do his bidding like a trained hound! Her anger must have shown,
for Thomas touched a fingertip to her arm.

“I
would remind you, Lady Madeline, that it is ill-advised to murder a man within
the walls of a community pledged to God’s work.”

“Then
I shall have to wait until we depart,” Madeline said with sweet ferocity.
“Doubtless the road is long and quiet to my lord husband’s home.”

Thomas
laughed. “I have oft thought murder too fine a fate for some rogues, my lady.
Let him live long, the better that you might to plague him with your wit.”

Madeline
found herself smiling at the monk’s counsel.

“There,”
Thomas said. “It is always a better omen if the bride is merry.”

That
reminder sobered Madeline utterly. She would be wed. And Rhys had made it clear
that their match would be consummated this night. Given her experience of this
day, that prospect filled her with a goodly quantity of dread.

* * *

It
had not, perhaps, been the best way for Rhys to declare his desire and intent
to wed Madeline.

Rhys
brushed down his steed, cursing the fact that he had no abilities to summon
sweet words for this woman’s ears. Why could he not have been blessed with a
silver tongue? Why was he so incapable of saying what nonsense a woman wished
to hear? He could have eased Madeline’s fears, but no, he had redoubled them.
It had been brilliantly done.

So
engrossed was Rhys in his task and his recriminations, that he did not notice
Thomas’ arrival until that man cleared his throat.

Rhys
jumped and pivoted to find the other man leaning against the door of the stall.
Gelert watched with interest, though the dog had already flattened himself a
bed in the straw. The hound had become accustomed to this stable of late.

“Do
you mean to change her thinking, then?” Thomas asked.

“I
do not need your reminder that I know little of courting a noblewoman,” Rhys
said and turned back to his task.

“Perhaps
you need a reminder that she can spurn you until the vows are exchanged.” At
Rhys’ glance of alarm, Thomas smiled. “She could take the veil here, and you
know it well.”

The
prospect sent a new thread of fear through Rhys. He had not considered that
possibility. “My betrothed will never become a bride of Christ. It is not her
nature.” Rhys was not as convinced as his words might have sounded. Indeed, the
lady had already shown her desire to evade wedding him by fleeing Ravensmuir.

The
abbey had to offer a more alluring option than Kerr had presented. A cold hand
closed around Rhys’ heart and he brushed the horse down with renewed vigor.

Surely
Madeline would not do as much?

But
Rhys did not know and he dared not hope.

“Do
not be so certain of your suit, old friend,” Thomas said, offering no
reassurance at all. “Women are a fickle and unpredictable lot. The abbess would
be delighted to claim another noblewoman’s soul for her community.” Thomas
nodded, making the prospect sound dangerously plausible to Rhys. “It can never
hurt to have more coin in the coffers and more influence at court.”

“Perhaps
I should tell the abbess that the lady’s family has neither coin nor
influence.” That was not strictly true, Rhys realized, for the Kinfairlie clan
now had the coin he had paid for Madeline’s hand.

“Kinfairlie
have no coin? Are you mad?” Thomas gave a low whistle. “They are kin with the
lot at Ravensmuir, who are auctioning a considerable cache of religious relics
this week, are they not?”

“Indeed
they are,” Rhys agreed, seeing where this argument led.

Thomas
amiably plucked the brush from Rhys’ hand. “Leave the beast some flesh, Rhys.”
He shook the brush at Rhys. “Do you know what your aunt would do for a larger
relic than the one currently in our chapel?”

Rhys
stared at the stable floor grimly. “I dare not think about it.” His aunt had
taken the veil when widowed for the third time. She had survived not only those
three husbands, but the bearing of eleven children and a civil war. Miriam had
always been kind to him, but she had never had to choose between her own
objectives and his own.

Rhys
did not doubt that she would gladly trade his desires, if she knew that Caerwyn
was in the balance, for her own ambitions.

“I
would suggest that you do think about the matter, and do so quickly, or your
bride may be traded for a fingerbone!” Thomas chided, then flung out his hands.
“Why did you even bring the woman here? You should have ridden onward!”

But
Madeline had been frightened and her palfrey had been wounded. Rhys had known
that she had needed solace and the chance to recover from her ordeal -- and he
had thought no further than that.

It
was unlike him to underestimate a threat, like the one the sanctuary of an
abbey offered to a woman who did not desire to wed. Rhys exhaled and paced the
length of the stable, admitting only to himself how Madeline’s needs have
overwhelmed all other details in his thoughts.

In
truth, she had not been the sole one in need of a moment to recover after
Kerr’s assault.

“Your
aunt will twist the lady to her will,” Thomas insisted. “If you truly wish to
wed her, then no good can come of your arrival here.”

Rhys
knew that well enough. “Perhaps I too should greet the abbess,” he said, his
tone revealing his lack of enthusiasm.

“If
she lets you into her chambers.”

Rhys
looked up, angered at the prospect. “She will not stop me, not this day.”

“There
is the spirit you need!” Thomas grinned and brushed off Rhys’ jerkin, like a
squire preparing his knight for a battle. Rhys could not help but note that
Thomas showed an over-abundance of cheer, as if he anticipated that Rhys might
lose this particular battle. “You should have a squire, Rhys, to ensure that
you do not look like a ruffian,” he chided.

“Squires
talk overmuch. I would have my secrets be my own.”

“Perhaps
so, but I would advise you not to keep any desire you have for this bride a
secret any longer. Women like sweet confessions, Rhys. One such might serve you
well in this case.”

Rhys
frowned and glanced away from his friend. “And I am to take counsel in courting
a woman from a monk.”

Thomas
laughed. “I was not tonsured from the cradle. You, of all men, should know as
much.”

“Aye,
you took your vows to avoid the claims of all your bastard children.”

Thomas
laughed again, though Rhys’ comment was not that far from the truth. “You can
show a certain rough charm when you so desire, Rhys,” the monk insisted. “If
wedding this woman is of import to you, then you might summon a bit of that
charm. You will need the lady’s endorsement if you mean to thwart the ambitions
of our abbess.”

That,
Rhys knew, was true enough.

“Tell
her a tale of love redeemed, or one thwarted and reclaimed. You are better with
a tale than a compliment.”

That
was also true.

But
Rhys knew that there was no love betwixt himself and Madeline. He had bought
her hand, no more than that, and if he confessed to having tender feelings for
her, the lady would not believe him. Madeline was no fool.

Regrettably,
his aunt Miriam’s eye was cursedly sharp, and she too would note the lack of
affection between them. He scowled at the floor, uncertain what he could say in
his own defense.