The Snow White Bride (10 page)

He pivoted and marched back to his men, snatching his gloves from the squire, then glared at Alexander. “This matter is not resolved between us,” he warned, but Alexander smiled.

“I say that it is ended, and rightly so.”

With that, Alexander turned his back upon the unwelcome visitor, fairly daring Alan to act upon his threat.

The other man left with a curse, as Alexander had guessed he would. The portal slammed and the sound of the horses carried throug
h the chapel, the echo of hoof-
beats gradually fading from earshot. The company heaved a collective sigh of relief, then began to chatter.

Alexander lifted the ring between himself and Eleanor once more, holding it between his finger and thumb. He held it before her hand, and met her gaze, letting her decide whether to don it or not.

She studied him for a moment, marvel in her eyes. It was clear that the lady had not been defended from innuendo and rumor before, but Alexander meant to show her that marriage could be better than what she had known.

Without a word, she solemnly pushed her finger through the ring’s circle. He saw her blink back her tears and was heartened that she could grant him a chance, after whatever she had endured.

Ewen Douglas had been a brute and would not be mourned by many.

“It looks right upon your finger,” he whispered to her
when its weight had slipped over her knuckle. “As if it was left to me, so I would have it to give to you.”

“I thank you,” she whispered. Then Eleanor smiled, a smile so brilliant as to leave Alexander dazed, a smile that he knew he would never cease to seek, much less that he would forget. “Your gift to me is beyond expectation,” she whispered, then tightened her fingers around his.

Alexander attended Father Malachy’s words only partly then, a lump in his throat and his bride’s hand fast within his. Against all odds, he had been granted a bride who made his blood simmer, and between them both, Alexander knew, they would make a marriage worth all the gold in Christendom. They might have had an unconventional beginning to their match, but that had not stopped his sisters from finding happiness.

So it would not halt him.

* * * * *

M
oira Goodall had a talent for taking whatever pittance God had granted her and making the most of it. She had been granted a nature best for service, and she had served Lady Yolanda faithfully until that lady died.

Further, she had undertaken the pledge that Lady Yolanda had demanded of her, upon that lady’s deathbed in the birthing chamber. She had served the lady’s daughter, Eleanor, from the moment that child made her first wail, and this despite the protests of Lady Yolanda’s husband and Lady Eleanor’s husbands. Moira had not always been made welcome in her mistress’s new households, but she had a talent for making herself useful and she had managed each time to remain by Eleanor’s side.

God knew that the child had had need of her.

Moira also was plain of face, but she had offered that burden to God and had found usefulness in it as well. A man’s eye would pass over her so readily that she could join any company and her presence would neither be noted nor remembered. So it was that she had joined the company of Alan Douglas, mingling with the whores who followed any campaign, when he set out in pursuit of his brother’s widow. Moira guessed that avarice would ensure that Alan found Eleanor and she knew that he would never take note of her presence among those who trailed his company.

And so it was that Moira found her errant lady, albeit in happier circumstance than she might have hoped. Her loyal heart fairly burst to find her lady in Kinfairlie’s chapel, the laird himself looking upon her with the respect she deserved.

Moira left Tivotdale’s whores while Alan Douglas argued with the laird of Kinfairlie. She eased herself amid the merrymakers from Kinfairlie village as if she had been in their company all along. Even the whores, so fascinated by events before themselves, never noted her departure from their midst.

So it was that Alan Douglas left Kinfairlie with one less soul in his party, none the wiser for Moira’s presence or her absence. No one would ever miss her at Tivotdale, this Moira knew well, and she could now serve her lady faithfully once more. There was but one soul in Kinfairlie who would recognize Moira, and Moira wished to be certain of her lady’s circumstance before she revealed herself.

Moira drew up her hood, remained within the com
pany, and listened to ever
y morsel that came to her ears. One never knew what detail one would have need of, especially in service to this ill-fated lady.

* * * * *

C
hoice.

How sweet it was that Alexander granted Eleanor the choice. He defended her, but then left it to her to decide to don his ring again. Eleanor had never been granted a choice, not by any man, and on this morning, she prayed with rare fervor, giving thanks that her footsteps had brought her to Kinfairlie’s gate.

She would give Alexander a son.

The notion came to her so suddenly that it might not have been Eleanor’s own, but she knew the rightness of it immediately. She would grant Alexander a son, for in so doing she would inherit her legacy and the survival of this precious sanctuary would be ensured. This was the gift she could give to him in exchange for the gift of choice he had granted to her.

This was what she could do to repay the debt she owed to him.

No sooner had she made her decision, no sooner had her heart begun to thump with the prospect of meeting Alexander abed, than Father Malachy raised his hands and the company sang the end to the mass in unison. Then the assembly cheered and exchanged the kiss of peace, the chapel erupting in happy chatter.

Alexander seized Eleanor’s hand, doubtless intending to kiss her soundly, but in so doing, inadvertently pinched the cut upon her thumb. Eleanor winced and caught her
breath at the stab of pain. The cut she had inflicted upon herself the night before was barely healed and began to bleed again.

Alexander looked down at her hand. He frowned at the clean cut, obviously guessing that it had been wrought by a blade. “You have injured yourself,” he said in some confusion.

“It was nothing,” she said so hastily that his gaze flew to meet hers.

“But it is a wound of considerable length,” he said, shaking his head. “I do not reca
ll you being so injured this morn
, though it is fresh.”

“It happened last night.”

“Surely I did not so injure you?”

“No, no. I did it myself. Foolishly. With my eating knife. At the board.”

He studied her, a suspicion dawning in his eyes. “But I recall the end of the feast, and you did not use your knife throughout the meal.”

Eleanor licked her li
ps, remembering all too well how he had fed her morsels so seductively. She dropped her voice, her thoughts upon what they might do abed this night. “I had no need of one, as I reca
ll
, for you saw me sated.”

But Alexander frowned. “Indeed, I did not think you carried a knife.” He looked to her belt, which was, in fact, barren of a small blade, for Ewen had forbidden her to possess one.

“I must have left it in y
our sisters’ chamber,” Eleanor li
ed.

Alexander turn
ed her hand and studied the cut, undeterred. Eleanor pulled her hand from his, but she knew he did not cease to think about the matter.

“We should adjourn to the hall,” she said, hoping to distract him.

But Alexander glanced over the company with a frown. “They all knew of the nuptials before I did,” he mused, and Eleanor feared he was overclose to the truth.

“But you were amorous last night,” she said with haste.

Alexander met her gaze. “I never have forgotten a lady abed,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “I heartily doubt that you would be the first.”

“Can there not be a first for every matter?” Eleanor heard the fear in her voice and knew she did herself no favors by answering him. Still, it seemed that she could not hold her tongue.

“There is an old trick,” he said quietly. His gaze fixed upon her, those stars notably absent from his eyes, and her heart began to pound. “When a woman wishes to be thought a maiden.”

“What would I know of such tricks?” Eleanor spoke too quickly, she saw, for Alexander’s eyes narrowed.

“What jest do you and my sisters play upon me?”

“None!”

“
Tell me the truth of this cut. Tell me the truth of what occurred between us last night.” He straightened, looking so grim that Eleanor feared his judgment. “Tell me the truth of what I have done. Did I strike you? Did I give offense?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what occurred?”

Eleanor glanced about herself, but Alexander’s sisters had left the chapel, abandoning her to their brother’s difficult questions. She, cursedly, was a poor liar and, even worse, Alexander was dangerously perceptive.

“I see no need for such confessions,” she said with a shrug. “We are wed and happily so.” She leaned forward, initiating a kiss for the first time in her life, though it was but a peck upon his cheek. “Let us retire to our chamber, my lord, and leave the others to feast in our stead.”

Alexander stepped away. “What is at the root of Alan’s false accusations? Why do you fear him so?”

“That is hardly of import.”

“I think it is.”

“He means to wed me, in his brother’s stead,” she admitted, hoping it would deter his curiosity.

It did not. Alexander’s frown only deepened. “Why does he anticipate that you would do as much? Such a match would be most uncommon; indeed, it would be against the church’s law.”

“Which was why I would evade it, of course.”

“It makes little sense.” Alexander paced the width of the now-empty chapel, shoving a hand through his hair. “Why did you not confess to being Ewen’s widow? Do you not think it of import which of my neighbors I offend? I am scarce in a position to defend myself against them all.”

“It is but a cut!” Eleanor cried in frustration.

“Had you merely surrendered your name to me, I would have known the truth,” he retorted. “Why did you hide it from me?”

Eleanor flung out her hands. “How did a single wound upon my thumb awaken such doubts within you?”

“They must have been there all along,” he said, his manner grim. “But your beauty distracted me from their importance.”

It was impossible to be flattered by his comment in
such context. “But these questions are not important, not to our match. Alan’s scheme is not relevant, not now!”

He folded his arms across his chest and regarded her. “Then answer my queries for me. If the truth matters so little, then your answers should not delay us overmuch.” Eleanor took
a deep breath, disliking the corn
er in which she found herself. Oh, fo
r a child in her belly already
!

But she had no child, and indeed they had not even met abed yet. She dared not confess as much to Alexander, though, for he could spurn her all too readily with that morsel of information.

And Alan was still dangerously close at hand.

“You are churlish to demand such confessions so soon after our nuptials,” she said, her tone light. “Surely we can discuss such matters at our leisure?”

Alexander glowered at her. “Answer but one question and I shall leave the matter be.”

Eleanor straightened, praying that he would not ask the one question that could send all awry. “Fair enough,” she said with a confidence she did not feel.

“Explain the cut to me.”

Eleanor felt her lips part, though no words erupted for a moment. “Your sisters saw me injure myself,” she said in sudden inspiration. “I am certain that they will recall how inadvertent it wa
s.” She forced a laugh. “Truly,
Alexander, you make much of little.”

He watched her, his expression insc
ru
table. “Understand this, my lady fair. I will endeavor to build a marriage from a poor beginning, but I will not tolerate one based upon a lie. Honesty must be the cornerstone of our match, Eleanor, for without honesty, we can build nothing at all. Trust rests upon honesty’s foundation, as does affection and even love. All are undermined by deception and, truly, there is nothing so
capable of infuriating me as a li
e.”

She did not like how his voice lowered. “And without honesty?” she dared to ask.

Alexander shook his head. “Then, in truth, we have no match and it is but a formality to see such a false marriage annulled.” His sudden glance was piercing and she feared he would see her many secrets. “Did we meet abed last night? Did I claim
your
maidenhead in truth? Do not lie to me, Eleanor.”

Eleanor held his regard, for in this moment, she had no choice but to tell a falsehood. “Of course we did,” she lied, hoping against hope that Alexander never learned the truth.

And she was a poor liar, as poor a liar as she had feared. He studied her for a long moment and she knew she did not imagine either his delay in offering his hand to her or the formality of his posture.

He did not believe her.

She had lied to ensure this match, but in so doing had condemned it. There was a barrier between them, one that had not been there before. Just as he had said, her lie undermined all they might possess together.

As Eleanor put her hand within Alexander’s, she wondered what she could do to make this matter come aright.