The Snow White Bride (19 page)

8

A
lexander watched as Eleanor pursed
her lips and pretended to consider the conundrum of finding him a son. Her lips were so full and ruddy that he longed to kiss her, but he steeled himself to wait. It was a man’s violence that made her uncertain, though already he sensed that she overcame that memory.

Had Millard struck her, as well as Ewen? Perhaps her father, too, had been abusive of her. A part of Alexander seethed that any man would see fit to injure a woman to see his will reign supreme.

That Eleanor met him abed with as little fear as she did filled him with awe and admiration. She was valiant, there was no doubt about it, though Alexander knew that full trust between himself and his wife would only come when she was certain of his intent.

So he waited, his blood boiling, and let her seduce him. It was a sweet torture he endured for the sake of marital harmony, but he could not have done anything else and been the man he was.

Eleanor let her fingertips slide down his throat in a
light caress that left a trail of fire across his flesh. Her touch paused upon the thrum of his pulse in his throat and she met his gaze as if amazed by the power of her own touch. Alexander smiled, hoping she saw the fullness of his admiration for her.

She caught her breath and her lashes fluttered downward, as if she could not bear to look upon his passion. She fanned out her hands and ran them down his chest, her touch firmer as she felt him through his garb. Alexander stood utterly still and watched her, unable to discern her response.

Her hands landed upon the buckle of his belt with purpose and he caught his breath. Then she looked up, her eyes glittering with desire and his heart clenched. “You could claim a foundling and grant him your name,” she mused.

Alexander pretended to consider this. He clenched his fists at his sides, for he dared not reach for her yet and frighten her. “I could, if only
I
was not so proud of my lineage. Perhaps that would be more fitting for a second son, instead of my heir.”

Eleanor unfastened his belt and laid it aside, then slid her hands beneath his tabard. “Doubtless you speak aright,” she said as she coaxed the garment over his head. She unknotted the tie in his chemise with quick fingers. She wrinkled her nose, then cast him a playful glance. “But I have heard that your wife is cold, and does not welcome you between her thighs.”

Alexander shook a finger at her. “You should not give credit to rumor!”

“Is she not frosty, then?” Eleanor opened her eyes wide, then tugged his chemise over his head and cast it
aside. She swallowed as she looked upon him, then raised one hand slowly and laid it over his heart.

Alexander captured her hand within his, turned it within his grasp, and kissed her palm. She watched him, scarce seeming to breathe, and he smiled at her. “She has endured much,” he said softly. “And keeps her secrets closely as a result
.
Any man with his wits about him would see that time is the best salve for this wound.”

She pulled her hand free of his grasp, then reached for the lace of his chausses. “My father oft said that a woman has need of a babe in her arms to be truly content. Perhaps your wife could be persuaded to surrender that son to you.”

Alexander was confused by her persistent references to sons. Had her failure to conceive been at the root of her former husbands’ displeasure? “My father oft said that it is love that makes a woman truly content. Although I would welcome a son or even a daught
er, it is not imperative that I
have either.”

She glanced up, clearly surprised.

Alexander smiled. “
I
have two younger brothers: one has no title and the other has seen his inheritance collapse into rubble. Either of them would welcome the suzerainty of Kinfairlie, should I be without heir.”

“There are more of you than the sisters I have met?”

“Seven siblings do I have. Five sisters and two brothers.”

“That is astonishing,” she said, clearly amazed. “And your father had how many wives?”

“Only one. He loved her with such fervor that he would never have claimed another, had she died before him
.
” Alexander cupped Eleanor’s face in his hands while
she marveled at this and brushed his lips across hers. “But because of my brothers, my lady wife need not fret about bearing sons. There is no concern that she must prove herself useful to remain in my affections.”

Eleanor regarded him for a long moment, then her fingers eased into his chausses. She caressed him so that he caught his breath; then she smiled.

“You like this,” she said, though her manner seemed so dutiful that Alexander guessed the reason behind her deed.

He laid claim to her hand, halting her fingers. “You have a beguiling touch, but I would not be embraced for duty alone.” He watched her, noting her surprise. “I welcome your caress, Eleanor, only if it is one you wish to give, not if it is one you feel obliged to give.”

She eyed him for a long moment; then her lips curved in a warm smile. She reached for her laces and quickly loosed her kirtle, stepping out of the ample silk folds. She untied her garters, her fingers shaking in her haste, then cast her stockings aside. She shed her chemise and shook out her hair so that it fell shimmering down her back. Her flesh gleamed in the morning’s light, her nipples beaded in the chill of the chamber. She was as beauteous as a nymph, as graceful as a fairy maiden in one of Vivienne’s favored tales.

But she turned and offered her hand to Alexander, her eyes uncommonly bright, a smile upon her tips. “Isabella speaks aright,” she said, her voice husky. “Her potion does indeed conjure a sweetness between man and wife that knows no compare. Come, my lord, join me in my bath before it cools overmuch. You may find your life complete, but my fondest desire is to surrender to you a
son. To succeed in that quest, I will have need of your aid.”

Alexander laughed and took his lady’s hand. He kissed her knuckles even as he shed his chausses. “I am only too glad to come to a lady’s assistance,” he said with gallantry, and she shook a chiding finger at him.

“You will aid only this lady in matters of creating sons,” she teased, a merry glint in her eye, and Alexander was content to cede to that request as well.

This time, he resolved, the lady would be atop him, the better to encourage her confidence. The very prospect of Eleanor’s surprise made Alexander smile, though it was a merry while before she discovered what so amused her lord husband.

And then she was so astonished that he laughed in truth.

* * * * *

I
t
was late afternoon
when Alexander descended to the hall. He called for some cold meat, for activities abed had ensured that he missed the midday meal, and joined Rhys at a table. That man looked more grim than was his custom.

“How fares Anthony?” Alexander asked.

“Well enou
gh, I suppose. He slept this morn
.”

“And what tidings have you of the wine?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “You have a busy hall, Alexander. It seems that every soul in Kinfairlie passed through your kitchens last evening. Some noted the wine and some did not; some know when they were there and others do not. All were savoring their measure of the laird’s ale, so their testimony reflects as much.”

“Ah. I had feared it might be so.”

“It is impossible to eliminate any one person from any list of possibilities.” Rhys braced his elbows upon the board and gave Alexander a steady look. “Which means, of course, that any man of sense must look at the best prospects first. Does any soul wish you dead?”

“Not as I know of it.” Alexander shrugged. “But then, it would be particularly witless to tell one’s victim of one’s intent.”

“This is no jest,” Rhys said sternly.

“I meant no jest. I meant only that someone who would conjure such a scheme, the better to ensure that he or she could not be named as responsible, must be keen of wit.”

“That is fairly spoken,” Rhys acknowledged. He traced a circle on the wooden table and Alexander guessed that he would not welcome whatsoever his brother-in-law said next. “It must also be said that whosoever is responsible must know something of poisons.” Rhys looked up then, his expression somber.

Alexander pushed aside the remainder of his bread, his hunger eliminated. “You speak of Eleanor.”

Rhys took a deep breath. “I confess that I possess a wariness of healing women and those who know much of toxins, but there is much uncommon in this, Alexander.” He ticked points off on his fingers. “Consider that Alan Douglas
has called her a murderess…”

“Alan Douglas is scarcely a man whose word is of repute!”

“Consider that he, too, alluded to some tale that she
had killed her first spouse as well
.
”

“She explained this to me. It is not of import.”

“Consider that she did not confess to you her full name,” Rhys said with resolve. “I do not excuse my wife and her sisters from responsibility in this ploy, but Eleanor was the sole one who knew that wedding her would pit you against your neighbors. She should have spoken of her alliances.”

“She and I have discussed this matter as well.”

“Aye, and if you wed a woman charged with murder, even if that is but rumor, you must wonder at the truth of it when your own life is in peril.” Rhys held up two fingers. “Twice in so many days your life has hung in the balance, Alexander. What does your wife gain in your absence? Kinfairlie is a prize, to be sure.”

Alexander turned away with a frown, not wanting to correct Rhys’s notions of Kinfairlie’s wealth. Any confession to Rhys would be certain to make its way to Madeline’s ears and thence to those of all his siblings. “It is not so rich as that,” he said gruffly.

Rhys snorted. “It is more than many can call to their names, to be sure. Do you not think it odd that a woman should be so anxious to wed as your lady has proved to be?” Rhys leaned forward. “Do you not think it odd that when you proposed to annul the match, the lady not only ensured that your nuptials were consummated, but that there were witnesses of her deed? You cannot easily put her aside after that.”

“I do not think she called for the witnesses,” Alexander said.

“Believe what you must.”

Alexander stared at the board, doubts roiling within him. “She has confessed only to wanting a son,” he said quietly.

Rhys scoffed “So with your demise, she would administer Kinfairlie as regent in that son’s stead. She would not be the first woman intent upon ensuring herself affluent and powerful without the burden of a spouse.”

“Rhys, you cannot know
this
…
”
Alexander protested.

“No, I cannot.” Rhys pushed to his feet. “It is no more than rumor and speculation, and I pray that I do not malign an innocent woman. But there were whispers in your hall, Alexander, and suspicion in the thoughts of many.”

“Alan Douglas does not have a word of repute.”

“Yet still his brother, Ewen, is dead, and still his lady wife came here with no more than the garb upon her back. Why else would she have fled Tivotdale upon her husband’s demise, other than her own guilt?”

Alexander stared at the table, his thoughts roiling. Rhys heaved a sigh. “We plan to depart for Caerwyn on the morrow, as you well know, though if you would have us linger at Kinfairlie, we will do this. I would not leave you in peril.”

Alexander forced a smile, defending his lady wife without a second thought. “Rhys, I appreciate your counsel, but I think you make much of little. Rumor has served the lady poorly, as have her former spouses, but I know our match will prove amiable.”

“Then ask her about this. That is all I request of you. At least have her explanation of what occurred at Tivotdale.”

“He struck her, Rhys.”

“That would not see a man dead.”

Alexander wondered, for Rhys spoke justly. What had occurred at Tivotdale? Why had Eleanor fled, and done so in such fear of pursuit?

Rhys studied Alexander for a long moment, then shrugged. “I thank you for the courtesy of accepting my honest speech for what it is,” he said, his tone more formal than it had been previously.

“I thank you for your counsel, Rhys.”

Rhys left him then. Alexander watched as Madeline came to her spouse with a smile and Rhys bent his head toward his lady wife. His hand landed upon her belly as he attended her words and Alexander was pleased at the light in his sister’s eyes.

He turned away, thinking it unseemly to watch them so openly, and considered the ale in his cup. Surely Rhys was wrong? But Eleanor had been too close at hand the night before, and she had lingered uncommonly long in the kitchens. There was no reason for her to have performed an inventory on Christmas night, to be sure. She could have brought the wine to him herself, instead of finding other labors in the kitchens.

Unless she wished to be certain that her victim was beyond aid by the time she ascended to the solar.

Alexander heaved a sigh, awkward with his own suspicions. He could not argue that her seduction of him had been deliberate, and even she had not protested that conclusion. He recalled Eleanor’s capabilities with accounts, her counsel on balancing his ledgers, her competent administration of his hall. What need had such a woman of a spouse, once she had a son?

The lady had as much as admitted that she had no intent to love him. Indeed, she did not believe in love, which meant that her objectives must all be worldly ones.

Like property and power.

Could Rhys be right?

Alexander pushed to his feet, newly restless. He strode to the kitchens to assure himself that Anthony recovered.

It would be reprehensible if that man’s loyalty was rewarded with malice. Alexander hoped and prayed that no one in his household paid the price for any foul intent toward himself.