The Beauty Bride (The Jewels of Kinfairlie) (3 page)

Darg
fell back in astonishment. He could not see her, not in either form. She shrank
then to her usual form, for there was no point in expending herself for no
purpose. In truth, she felt somewhat disappointed, a bit cheated of his terror.
She watched the swarthy man, trying to discern what was different about this
mortal. She made no conclusions, because she knew very little about mortals.

Then
he lifted the box and turned toward the stairs.

Nay!
He could not flee with her treasure! Darg scampered across the chamber and
leapt onto the thief’s shoulder. She fit herself into the swinging hoop of his
golden earring, and rode to the root of the trouble.

She
would wager that the red-headed one was behind this mischief. Darg would also
have wagered that the red-headed one knew little of the kind of mischief Darg
could make. Darg found herself anticipating the havoc she could wreak with that
certain malicious glee which is unique to spriggans.

The
defense of her hoard could prove to be amusing, indeed.

Fortunately,
she was well rested.

* * *

Alexander
was still sitting with his head in his hands at Kinfairlie, though the sky was darker,
when his visitors arrived.

“He
does indeed look glum enough,” a familiar voice said, laughter beneath her
tone. “So we were warned.”

Alexander
looked up as his Aunt Rosamunde cast herself upon the bench Madeline had
abandoned. She shook the pins from her hair with characteristic impatience. The
sunlit tresses fell loose over her shoulders and she sighed with relief.

His
spirits rose at the very sight of her, for he and Rosamunde had plotted many a
jest together over the years. Hers was a mischievous soul and she was not
averse to defying convention or taking a risk.

She
winked at him now, though addressed the other visitor. “I would wager that
sisters are his woe, Tynan.”

“That
is not much of a wager,” Uncle Tynan said grimly, shaking out his cloak before
he leaned upon the lip of the window. He was a sober man, always weighing costs
and counseling caution. “They are too merry not to have recently triumphed over
Alexander.” The older man smiled slightly at his beleaguered nephew. “You are
out-numbered and further encumbered by honor. Those five will use any means
against you.”

This
pair had made an unlikely alliance these past years, since it had been revealed
that they were not blood cousins. Rosamunde had been adopted by Gawain and
Evangeline, which all knew, but was not Gawain’s bastard daughter, as everyone
had long believed. Tynan was the son of Gawain’s brother, Merlyn. Though sparks
had long flown between this pair, they had kept their distance, believing
themselves to be kin. None had been more surprised by the revelation that they
shared no blood than they.

There
was a new awareness between them in recent years, and one that Alexander did
not wish to explore. Who knew what happened at his uncle’s keep of Ravensmuir
when Rosamunde’s ship was docked in its bay? Rosamunde’s labor as a broker of
religious relics, both genuine and somewhat less genuine, meant Alexander knew
better than to ask questions.

He
shook his head now and grimaced. “I could strangle Madeline.”

Rosamunde
was dismissive of the notion. “But then you would have to face a court and the
king’s justice, and some misery of incarceration.”

“Not
to mention purgatory, if not hell itself,” Tynan added.

“Hardly
worth it,” Rosamunde said sagely, then winked at him again. “What has Madeline
done - or refused to do - this time?”

“She
refuses to wed. She thinks she does me a favor, by saving coin in the
treasury.” Alexander sighed, then lowered his voice. “But there is no coin and
there will be none soon. The castellan says the harvest will be bad, and I fear
I will not be able to feed all within these walls this winter.”

“The
others?” Tynan demanded, leaning forward in his interest.

“I
would guess that they refuse to wed afore Madeline,” Rosamunde suggested
softly.

Alexander
nodded glumly. His guests exchanged a glance, then Rosamunde cleared her
throat. “Do you not miss the old days, Alexander, when your deeds were the most
outrageous of all?”

“I
have duties now, and an obligation to Papa’s trust,” Alexander said, his very
tone dutiful beyond belief.

“And
so all the spark has gone from your days and your deeds.” Rosamunde sat back
and shook her head, her eyes dancing wickedly. “I think you should surprise
Madeline. You have tried to reason with her, after all, and without success.”

“Rosamunde...”
Tynan said, the single word filled with warning.

Rosamunde
leaned toward Alexander, undeterred. “We came this day to tell you of our
agreement to be rid of all the relics at Ravensmuir. Tynan will not suffer them
beneath the roof any longer, for he tires of my nocturnal visits to plunder his
treasure.”

Tynan
snorted, but said nothing.

“Surely
you cannot mean to abandon your trade?” Alexander asked in surprise. “I thought
you most successful in this endeavor.”

Rosamunde
shrugged, her gaze sliding to Tynan. A beguiling color touched her cheeks, then
she met Alexander’s gaze again. “I grow no younger, Alexander, and the risk of
the seas holds less allure than once it did. Perhaps I shall become a nun.”

Both
men laughed uproariously at this prospect, and Rosamunde chuckled in her turn.

“We
are agreed that the family trade will finally halt,” she continued more
soberly. “And also that the last of the relics must leave Ravensmuir to ensure
Tynan has his peace.”

“But
what will you do with them?” Alexander asked. “Surely you do not mean to grant
them as gifts?”

Tynan
chuckled darkly. “I would be a generous donor indeed.”

“We
intend to auction them, in the midst of May, when all are anxious for a
diversion,” Rosamunde declared, her eyes bright. “We will invite noblemen,
bishops and knights from all of Christendom to bid against each other for these
prizes. It will be a grand fête and a fitting end to my trade.”

“Madeline
might find a spouse there,” Alexander mused, but his aunt laughed aloud.

“Be
more bold than that, Alexander!” she declared. “You sound like a man three
times your age.”

“Rosamunde,”
Tynan warned again, but was heeded no more closely than the first time.

Indeed,
Rosamunde’s voice dropped low and she tapped a finger upon Alexander’s knee.
Mischief emanated from her every pore. “Perhaps, Alexander, you should auction
the Jewel of Kinfairlie. You said you were in need of coin.”

Alexander
glanced between the pair of them. Tynan had dropped his brow to his hand and
shook his head in apparent despair. Rosamunde looked so delighted with herself
that Alexander knew he had missed some critical detail.

“But
there is no Jewel of Kinfairlie,” he began cautiously. Rosamunde laughed and
understanding dawned. “Oh! But Madeline would loathe me forever if I auctioned
her hand!”

“Shhhh!”
counseled Rosamunde. Tynan, with obvious resignation, closed the portal and
leaned against it.

Alexander
looked between the pair of them, his blood quickening at the prospect. Oh, he
could well imagine how infuriated Madeline would be - and truly the prospect
gave him some pleasure. “I should not dare,” he said carefully.

Rosamunde
laughed. “There was a time when you would have dared far more than this to best
Madeline.” She braced her elbows upon her knees. “Do not tell me that I have to
dare you to do this deed? Alexander, what has become of you? Surely the ruffian
we knew and loved is yet within your heart?”

And
that was all it took.

Alexander
raised a finger. “We will do this upon one condition. I will compile a list of
those I deem suitable matches, and only those men will be advised that the
Jewel of Kinfairlie is for sale.”

“There
is nothing amiss with a private auction, provided all those invited have
weighty purses,” Rosamunde conceded.

“I
cannot believe that I am a part of this foolery,” Tynan grumbled.

“Of
course you are a part of it,” Rosamunde said crisply. “It is you who must pass
the word along.” She patted his arm and a spark danced between the two of them,
one so hot that Alexander felt obliged to glance away. “Who better to quietly
and competently ensure that our niece’s needs are met?”

A
ghost of a smile touched Tynan’s lips. “I came also with a proposition for you,
Alexander, and one you may find timely. It is fitting for an uncle to train his
nephews for knighthood. If you are desirous of it, I will take your brother
Malcolm to Ravensmuir, for he is old enough to be so groomed.”

“You
are too kind, Uncle. And I know that Malcolm would welcome this trust. He has
great fondness for you and is most anxious to begin his military training.”

“And
should you desire it,” Tynan continued. “I could send word to the Hawk of
Inverfyre. I do not doubt that he would take Ross beneath his care, and train
him. It might be a good scheme, for the Hawk has so many sons of his own with
whom Ross could practice.”

“It
would see another mouth from your board this winter,” Rosamunde said quietly.

Alexander
felt his burden lighten. “You are too kind to aid me in this.”

“We
are family,” Rosamunde said firmly. “It is our solemn duty to aid each other,
and you have need of more aid than most in these times.”

“I
thank you for your counsel and your aid,” Alexander said, knowing his gratitude
showed.

“You
must contrive to bring Madeline to Ravensmuir for the auction,” Rosamunde said
with resolve. “For if she guesses the truth afore the nuptials are complete,
there will be trouble. We must act with haste and daring to succeed.”

“Woe
will come of this particular scheme,” Tynan said darkly.

Rosamunde
laughed. “You always say as much. I have a feeling, though, that Madeline might
well meet her match.”

“It
has long been said that you see more than most,” Tynan acknowledged.

“Yet
I do not see what is evident to all,” Rosamunde admitted with a laugh. “Given a
choice, I am not certain which I would choose, but the choice was made for me.”

Their
banter made all seem aright. For the first time in many months, Alexander felt
himself begin to smile. With such a plan, much could be resolved, and truly a
mischievous part of him looked forward to irking Madeline as he had for
decades. He would not have been her elder brother otherwise.

“I
mean to ensure that she does meet her match.” Alexander imagined Madeline’s
outrage and chuckled, even as he compiled a list of suitors he knew would treat
her well. Within a year, Madeline would forget about her lost betrothed James
and the wound in her heart would heal. He knew with utter certainty that she
would be happy once she was wed and had a babe in her belly. Within a year,
Madeline would thank him mightily for his daring deed.

Truly,
this was the best possible solution.

“But
I have been remiss,” Alexander said with a heartiness he could not have
imagined he would soon feel again. “You are my guests, yet you have neither
wine nor ale in your hand. Come to the hall, come and make merry with all of
us. Your presence at Kinfairlie is welcome. I thank you, Aunt and Uncle, for
you have brought good tidings and welcome counsel indeed.”

* * *

Meanwhile,
some miles down the coast that faces the North Sea, a warrior met with a
priest. The warrior was a stranger to all at Kinfairlie and at Ravensmuir,
though his quest would soon bring him to those gates. He sought another
Madeline, Madeline Arundel, a Madeline who should have been twice the age of
the Madeline Lammergeier we have met at Kinfairlie. Alnwyck was the keep where
priest and warrior met, and this was the day that a mystery would be solved for
the warrior.

Rhys
FitzHenry touched a fingertip to the name inscribed in the ledger. After many
months of searching, he had finally found his cousin Madeline Arundel.

She
had died in the winter of 1398, some twenty-three years before.

Rhys
looked out the window of the chapel, blind to the windswept shore beyond these
stone walls. It rained, a steady patter upon the roof that cast silver across
the sea and coast. But in Rhys’ mind’s eye, he saw his cousin on a summer’s
day, daisies woven into her raven hair, her hand clasped in the firm grip of
Edward Arundel. They had been young, handsome, and vigorously happy.

His
uncle Dafydd had called Madeline a tribute bride, a woman exchanged in
matrimony to seal a treaty between new allies, but no one would have believed
that Madeline wed Edward out of duty alone. There were stars in her eyes and
laughter in her voice: even those two old warriors responsible for the
nuptials, Dafydd and Owain Glyn Dwr himself, had smiled at her merriment. Rhys
had only been a boy, but he remembered the jubilation of that day well.