The Snow White Bride (18 page)

Alexander chose his question with care, for there was clearly a great deal to this tale and he did not wish her to fall silent so soon. “And was rumor further encouraged by his young wife’s manner toward him? Did she wish him dead?”

Eleanor nodded with vigor. “Often and with great passion.” She choked on her words and Alexander recalled Isabella’s surety that Eleanor’s first husband had been
cruel. “She could not summon any grief for his passing, only relief that he could torment her no longer.” She marched the width of the chamber then, her features taut with some old fury.

“But there was no accusation made against her, was there?”

“There was rumor and there was her father’s desire to ally with the Black Douglas clan. Ewen Douglas arrived with the widow’s father to claim her before rumor could amount to a charge.” Eleanor granted him a shrewd glance. “But that does not mean that the charge would not have come. It certainly does not mean that Millard’s widow could not have been found guilty, nor that she would not have been executed for her sin.”

“Her sin? You speak as if she were guilty.”

Eleanor stared unseeingly across the chamber. “She did kill him, though not in the way that all believed.” Alexander started, but Eleanor did not seem aware of him, so lost was she in painful recollection.

“Millard died atop his wife, in what he called his favored place in all his demesne,” she said bitterly. “He heaved atop her with his usual vigor that night, then fell still so abruptly that she was gladdened. She was gladdened that the ordeal had been of shorter duration than was his custom. Then she realized not only that he moved no more, but that he was so large a man that she could not dislodge his weight.”

Alexander looked away, sickened.

But Eleanor stared at Alexander, her eyes glittering, her words hot. “And so she lay, all the night, feeling him turn cold atop her, awaiting a servant’s aid to be freed. During that night, she knew herself to be filled with sin
and recognized this as her punishment. She had wickedly yearned for her spouse’s demise.”

“That is not the same as killing him!”

“Millard had oft claimed that his wife’s very presence aroused his lust to such might that he could think of little beyond bedding her. And so, as it was the lust she fed that claimed his life, it could easily be argued that she did kill him.”

“I would not argue thus,” Alexander said, but she ignored him.

Eleanor took a ragged breath and her words spilled in a heated rush. “And it would not be a lie to say that she oft wished in later years that the charge had been made against her, and she had been found guilty of her sins, and that her time on this earth had been ended, for then she would not have been wed to Ewen Douglas.” She tipped back her head, holding Alexander’s gaze, daring and defying him once more.

“Because he struck her?”

Eleanor closed her eyes, then took a breath. “Often, but always where the bruise would not be seen by another.”

Alexander exhaled mightily, shaken by her confession. “But then, if she had been executed, that young widow would never have come to Kinfairlie,” he said.

Eleanor nodded agreement without hesitation. “And that would have been dreadful, indeed.”

“Why do you say as much?”

“Because here there is hope, and here there is sanctuary.” She crossed the chamber and reached a hand to him and he saw that elusive shimmer of tears in her eyes. “For here in Kinfairlie there reigns a laird who will not treat
his lady wife unjustly, a laird who puts no credence in rumor without evidence.” She swallowed. “Here, I hope, reigns a laird who has no violence within him.”

Alexander caught her hand in his, felt her trembling, and knotted his fingers with hers. “You are right, though I am awed that you grant me such credit so readily.”

Eleanor smiled thinly. “One has only to be bitten by a dog once to see the difference between good hounds an
d vicious ones.” She shrugged. “
Though I confess that my fear of hounds and their teeth is too deep to be evaded fully.”

“So now I am as complex as a hound,” Alexander teased.

“I am sorry. I did not mean…”

“I know your meaning. I merely sought your smile.” Alexander’s one hand rose to cup her face. He did not know how to begin to express his admiration for her, for she had endured much in her days. He was honored that she even granted him a chance to prove that all men were not brutes. “We had best end this conversation before I take insult with its direction.”

Alarm flickered across her features, despite his teasing tone, though Alexander now knew its root.

He bent and brushed his li
ps to hers. “You should be warned, lady mine, that when I am insulted by a lady’s estimation of my nature, I feel an overwhelming urge to prove her expectations wr
ong.” She smiled ever so fleet
ingly, uncertainty sti
ll
fingering in her eyes; then Alexander kissed her fully.

He had to wait only a
heartbeat before she softened
and leaned against him. She shivered as he caught
her close, but she parted her li
ps to his embrace. He knew that
his lady fought her dragons with as much determination
as he.

Alexander had no doubt that between the efforts of the two of them, those unwelcome beasts would soon be banished from the realm.

* * * * *

T
he man defied expectation.
He was not one to use his fists, not like Ewen, which was a relief in truth. Still, Eleanor was cautious. Millard, after all, had been possessed of a smooth charm that disguised his cruelty.

She had learned early that welcoming him abed made the household more peaceful.

It was, however, far simpler to consider the merit of welcoming Alexander between her thighs. He kissed her with that seductive ease, his lips moving persuasively against hers.

Eleanor barely hesitated before she met his caress with an ardor of her own. He had not judged her. He had not struck her. He had listened to her with compassion. She did not feel stripped bare after having made her confession, and though she could not pledge to love Alexander Lammergeier, she was encouraged that honesty and trust might suit him well enough.

And a son, of course.

Their kiss heated with astonishing speed, her hands rising to tangle in his hair, his arms locking around her waist. He kissed her with such delicious abandon that Eleanor almost forgot the instruction he had given in the kitchens below.

Thus she jumped as high as Alexander when the heavy
rap came upon the portal. “Your bath, my lady!” cried some soul, then pushed the door open. Alexander beckoned and the wooden tub was rolled into the middle of the chamber. A veritable army from the kitchens followed, carrying kettles of steaming water and pouring their contents into the tub in succession.

Then Isabella appeared in the doorway. Her manner was cautious, as it had not been in Eleanor’s presence thus far, though she smiled at Alexander. “I would bring you a nuptial gift,” she said with a quick glance at Eleanor. She offered something in her fist, her cheeks coloring.

“And what is this?” Eleanor accepted the small glass vial, but did not know whether to loose the stopper or not. Was this a jest, or a comment upon her knowledge of herbs?

“It is for your bath,” Isabella said. “I knew it would be perfect when I heard you had summoned a bath for Eleanor. Rosamunde granted it to me upon my thirteenth birthday and told me to save it for my wedding night. She said it would conjure sweetness between man and wife, though I know not what she meant. I would give it to you, as an apology and as a nuptial gift.”

“Are you certain?” Eleanor asked. She had already noted that these siblings held this departed aunt in esteem. “Surely you wish to keep this gift for yourself, as you were bidden.”

“I have never done what I was bidden,” Isabella admitted with a laugh.

“There is truth enough,” Alexander muttered with some affection.

“While I suppose that you were as innocent as all the
angels!” Isabella retorted, giving her brother a poke in the shoulder. “I will never forget that frog you left in my best slippers.”

“That must have been a decade ago.” Alexander grinned, unrepentant. “How can you even recall it with certainty?”

“I never did get the smell of it out of the leather,” Isabella huffed. “A word of counsel to you, Eleanor. Keep a close eye upon your slippers—”

“Or your frogs,” Alexander inter
jected.

“—for this rogue is cursed quick.”

“I shall do as much,” Eleanor said, unable to keep herself from smiling. Kinfairlie must have been noisy indeed with these children underfoot, all playing pranks upon each other!

Perhaps she should surrender more than one son to Alexander, the better to ensure that her children grew up amid the noise and merriment she had never known. The very prospect made Eleanor’s blood heat and she found herself watching her spouse.

He spared a sparkling glance for the vial. “I thought you curious, Isabella. Do you not fear that you surrender part of the mystery, and that with it unexplored?”

“Trust you to make me regret my impulse,” Isabella retorted, and Alexander laughed.

“In truth, you will receive no other trinkets from Rosamunde,” he said, sobering. “If you change your thinking now, neither of us will think the worse of you.”

Eleanor offered the vial in silent agreement, but Isabella shook her head. “I must surrender something of import to make this matter come aright. My error against you was not small, Alexander, and this vial is a small price to pay for your forgiveness.”

“As well as a silver ring?”

“As well,” Isabella said with force. Eleanor could not help but admire that these siblings had been taught to make matters right, to apologize for their errors, and to ensure that justice was preserved.

“You have my forgiveness already,” Alexander said, and Isabella smiled.

“Then take it as a gift.”

Alexander lifted the vial from Eleanor’s grasp and viewed it with mock skepticism. “This and the silver ring,” he mused, considering the vial. “Methinks, my lady, that there must be something amiss with this potion, or else this is not truly my sister Isabella.”

“Truly?” Eleanor asked, lowering her voice to match his.

“Oh, she is a beauty, but is one with a keen grasp upon her possessions. It is unlike her to surrender much of merit.”

“Oh, you could simply thank me!” Isabella cried.

Alexander pulled the stopper; then he and Eleanor sniffed as one.

“Lavender,” Eleanor said. “With rose and honey, I would wager.” She laid her hand upon Alexander’s and met his twinkling gaze. “I must confess that I have always found that mingling of scents particularly beguiling.”

Alexander dumped the entire contents of the vial into the steaming tub, then smiled wickedly. “Are you beguiled, my lady?”

“By more than scent, to be sure.” Eleanor smiled, enjoying that they teased Isabella, but Alexander’s gaze heated.

He turned abruptly upon his sister and pointed to the portal.
“
Time it is for you to leave.”

“Oh, just as matters become interesting!” she protested good-naturedly. “I shall never know the truth of what happens between man and wife.”

“All the more reason to choose a spouse with haste,” Eleanor said. Alexander laughed at that, to her confusion, and Isabella cast her hands skyward.

“You even sound the same as he, and this in merely two days!” she charged, then laughed and was gone. Alexander shut the door firmly behind her and locked it with a flourish. He tossed the key into the air, caught it, then cast it to Eleanor.

She caught it, despite her surprise.

“
You were afraid yesterday when I
locked the portal,” he said quietly, his eyes gleaming. “I do not like fear in a woman and I do not think it fitting for a lady to feel compelled to flee the chamber she should think of as her own. This key will always be in your grasp.”

Eleanor smiled as she fingered the cold key. She tied it to her belt, liking that her new husband was perceptive and kind. Perhaps it was not all bad to confess a secret or two, provided such gems were surrendered to the right person.

Dare she hope that this husband was the right person? “Such thoughtfulness is deserving of reward,” she mused, then kicked off her shoes.

Alexander looked about himself in mock confusion. “Ah, but I cannot think of a single advantage lacking in my life,” he said with a frown. “I have a beauteous wife, my siblings are hale, my keep is sufficiently warm.”

That he could recount advantages with sincerity when
his treasury was empty warmed Eleanor’s heart. She halted before him and raised a hand to touch his jaw. There was a shadow of stubble there that prickled against her fingertips. He watched her, smiling slightly, neither rushing her nor demanding of her. Eleanor stretched to her toes and touched her lips to that smile.

“I can think of one thing lacking,” she whispered against his throat. The taste of him made her blood quicken and her mouth go dry. The height and breadth of him made her feel delicate and feminine. His patience made her feel potent.

“Then enlighten me,” he murmured, his words stirring her hair. “For I cannot imagine what it might be.”

“You do not have a son.”

“
True enough. But what might we do to remedy that?”

Eleanor met the merry sparkle in his eyes and pretended to consider this quandary. She liked that Alexander let her set the pace of their lovemaking, and liked even better that he was playful abed. His manner fed her confidence in her own allure and showed her much of her own desire for intimacy.

To think that she had always been called cold by her spouses. This one kindled a fire within her that could not be denied. His was a gift, one deserving of a gift in return, and Eleanor knew that the son whose birth would see Kinfairlie’s treasury filled was the sole gift that would suffice.

That Alexander courted her favor in ignorance of what she could give him was the most seductive detail of all.